Chapter 332: The Legend of the Spirit Realm's Holy Emperor
Within the Spirit Realm —
Let time return to one thousand years ago.
The moment three million eight hundred thousand mortals stepped into the Spirit Realm, heaven and earth first opened, and myriad things were newly born.
They stood on a vast and boundless fertile land; beneath their feet was soft soil, and above their heads was a clear azure sky.
Spiritual energy swirled between heaven and earth like a thin mist.
With every breath, one could feel a vitality that was a hundred times more intense than the mortal world circulating within the body.
The stream water was so clear one could see the bottom, and the scales of swimming fish flickered with spiritual light.
The vegetation was lush, and faint spiritual rhythm flowed between the branches and leaves.
The initial migrants knelt on the ground, lifting a handful of soil with both hands, and tears silently slid down.
They kissed this land, as if worshipping the grace of a god.
"Holy Emperor..."
This name echoed lowly within the crowd, carrying reverence and gratitude.
They believed it was the Holy Emperor who split the chaos and opened up this eternal blessed land for them.
In the first few decades, whenever night fell and bonfires were lit, the old people would sit in a circle.
They recounted the deeds of the Holy Emperor to the younger generation.
"The Holy Emperor overturned tyrannical rule and established a new dynasty, making everyone in the world equal."
"The Holy Emperor struck down demons and evil with his sword, saving the common people from water and fire."
"The Holy Emperor led us across the World Gate to come to this eternal home."
The young children listened intently, their eyes shimmering with the light of longing.
They imagined just how great a being that legendary Holy Emperor must be.
However, the years are ruthless.
Those elders who had seen the Holy Emperor with their own eyes passed away one after another.
Their stories gradually gained a mythical color.
The Holy Emperor was no longer a specific person but became a supreme symbol.
Some said he was a god descending to the world, pitying the suffering of sentient beings, thus coming down to save them.
Some said he was the reincarnation of an ancient Immortal Venerable, having experienced ten thousand tribulations just to open a pure land.
Even more said he was originally the incarnation of the will of this heaven and earth.
He was the compassion of the Heavenly Dao bestowing a Savior upon mortals.
His name changed from the initial "Ye Fan" to "Holy Emperor," and then to "Heaven-Opening Holy Ancestor."
And the true history had long been annihilated in the long river of time.
Now, the people of the Spirit Realm only know that their ancestors were once guided by a supreme existence to come to this blessed land.
As for who that existence was, where he came from, and where he went, no one knows anymore.
Only in extremely few ancient books might a trace of the truth remain.
"Ye Fan, titled Holy Emperor, once led ten thousand people into the Spirit Realm, opening ten thousand years of peace."
But such records are ultimately too few, too few.
...
The Spirit Realm had no demons, no devils; only fertile land stretching continuously, and spiritual energy like the tide.
The initial migrants stood on the vast plains, gazing at this untilled land, their eyes filled with shock and hope.
There were no fierce wild beasts lurking in the mountain forests here, no sinister magic creatures wreaking havoc on the human world.
Only pure spiritual energy flowed in the air, nourishing every inch of soil.
They put down their luggage and began to build their own homes.
The rise of villages.
The first village was built beside a clear river.
Men felled trees for beams and rammed earth for walls; women wove straw mats and fired pottery.
Children ran in the fields, their laughter echoing over the empty wilderness.
Farmland was quickly cleared, and the seeds sown grew at an astonishing speed under the nourishment of spiritual energy.
Rice ears hung down heavily, wheat stalks were thick as wrists, and fruits were so plump they were about to burst.
"This... this is simply a miracle!"
An old farmer knelt on the ridge of the field, trembling as he held up an ear of rice, tears in his eyes.
"In the past, harvesting three dan per acre was already a bumper year, but here... not even ten dan is the limit!"
Livestock also grew exceptionally sturdy.
The meat of cattle and sheep was fresh and tender, and their milk was abundant.
Chickens and ducks were in flocks, eggshells were thick, and yolks were like gold.
In just a few years, the village expanded into a small town, and the market in the town was bustling every tenth day.
People exchanged grain, cloth, pottery, and ironware.
A few decades passed, and the small town turned into a city.
Tall city walls rose from the ground, and streets were paved with smooth bluestone slabs.
The iron tools forged by craftsmen became increasingly exquisite; farm tools were sharp and durable, and swords and blades shone with cold light.
Farmers cultivated new rice seeds; the grains were larger, resistant to pests and drought, and the yield per acre reached new highs.
At the market, vendors' shouting sounds rose one after another.
"Top-grade spirit grain! Three coins a dou!"
"Newly forged iron plow, turns soil like cutting tofu!"
"Grapes from the Western Regions, sweeter than honey!"
There was no oppression, no famine, and everyone lived and worked in peace and contentment.
The Spirit Realm seemed to truly become the legendary "Land of Bliss on Earth."
However, humans are ultimately humans.
The initial unity was gradually replaced by selfish desire.
"Why does their family have more land than us?"
"That Spirit Spring was clearly discovered by us first; why should we share it with them?"
"My family's ancestral forging craftsmanship, how can it be easily taught to outsiders?"
Jealousy, greed, and suspicion surged like undercurrents beneath the blessed land.
...
Everything began with a Spirit River.
At the border between Qinglan City and Chiyan City, a winding Spirit River flowed quietly.
The river water was clear to the bottom, and the spirit fields on both banks were lush and green.
This river became the beginning of the first crack between the two city-states.
"The Spirit River has been the lifeline of our Qinglan City since ancient times!"
The envoy of Qinglan City stood up abruptly and slapped the table; the sword at his waist collided with the desk, making a crisp sound.
The representative of Chiyan City sneered, his rough fingers tracing across the sheepskin map.
"The river water originates from North Mountain, and North Mountain is the territory of my Chiyan City!"
At first, it was just a verbal dispute, later evolving into shoving on the riverbank.
One dusk, a farmer from Qinglan City was found dying by the riverside, with an arrow from Chiyan City stuck in his body.
War thus broke out unexpectedly.
...
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