**Part 1: The Rise of Cheng Tang**
Cheng Tang was a descendant of the Yellow Emperor, born into the Zi clan. Back in the days, Emperor Ku's consort, Jiandi, prayed for a child. When a black bird descended from the heavens—a blessed omen—she gave birth to Xie. Xie rose to become Minister of Education in ancient times. Through his virtues, he educated the people and was granted a fiefdom in Shang for his merits.
Thirteen generations later, a child named Tai Yi was born—the man who would become Cheng Tang.
Tang heard of a man named Yi Yin, a farmer in the wilds of Shen, who was said to possess unmatched wisdom in statecraft. Without hesitation, Tang sent emissaries bearing lavish gifts. Three times they went, and three times they sought him out. Tang first recommended Yi Yin to the current ruler, King Jie of Xia.
But Jie was a tyrant—debauched and cruel. He surrounded himself with sycophants and banished every man of talent. Humiliated and ignored, the realm's brightest minds fled Xia and flocked to Tang's side.
Jie only grew more depraved. He executed Long Feng, a loyal minister who dared to speak the truth, and terrorized the court into silence. Tang sent envoys to mourn Long Feng's death—an act of decency that infuriated Jie. In retaliation, Jie had Tang captured and thrown into the Xia Tower prison.
When Tang was finally released, he returned to his domain a wiser man. One day while traveling through the countryside, he saw a hunter spreading nets in all four directions while praying:
*"From the sky, from the earth, from east, west, north, and south—may all creatures fall into my trap."*
Tang's heart ached at the cruelty. He ordered three sides of the net removed, leaving only one.
"Let those who wish to go left, go left," he said. "Let those who wish to go right, go right. Let those who wish to soar or flee do as they please. Only those who defy fate itself will fall into my net."
When the lords south of the Han River heard of this, word spread like wildfire: Cheng Tang was a man of unparalleled mercy. More than forty states bowed to him without a single battle being fought.
Meanwhile, Jie's atrocities reached a fever pitch. The people could bear no more. With Yi Yin at his side, Tang raised an army, crushed the tyrant, and exiled him to Nanchao. The lords of the land gathered in alliance. Though Tang refused three times, they eventually pressed the crown upon him. He established his capital at Bo and took the throne as king.
No sooner had he ascended than Tang overturned Jie's brutal laws. Hearts and minds followed. But the land had suffered seven years of drought under Jie's misrule. Tang walked barefoot to the Mulberry Forest and prayed for rain. The heavens answered with a downpour.
He melted copper from Mount Zhuang to mint coins and ease the suffering of his people. And he composed a sacred hymn, *Da Huo*, to honor his vow: to protect all under heaven.
Cheng Tang ruled for thirteen years and lived to be one hundred.
---
**Part 2: The Rise of King Zhou**
The Shang Dynasty lasted six hundred and forty years—from Cheng Tang to Tai Jia, Wo Ding, and generations of kings, until the throne passed to one man: Shang Zhou.
Zhou was the third son of Di Yi, born Shou Wang. His older brothers were Weizi Qi and Weizi Yan. During a royal banquet in the peony garden, a beam collapsed in the Flying Cloud Pavilion. Shou Wang caught it with one hand, holding it steady with godlike strength. The Prime Minister Shang Rong, along with high ministers Mei Bo and Zhao Qi, knelt and urged Di Yi to make him crown prince.
When Di Yi passed away after thirty years on the throne, he entrusted his young son to the Grand Master Wen Zhong. Shou Wang ascended the throne as King Zhou and made Zhaoge his capital.
The realm was in good hands. Wen Zhong managed civil affairs, while Huang Feihu, General Who Pacifies the State, commanded the armies. The queen, Jiang—along with Imperial Consorts Huang and Yang—were virtuous and wise. All was peace. The four barbarian tribes paid tribute. Eight hundred lords governed the land, overseen by four mighty dukes: Jiang Huanchu of the East, E Chongyu of the South, Ji Chang of the West, and Chong Houhu of the North.
In the spring of King Zhou's seventh year, riders came to Zhaoge with grim news: Yuan Futong had risen in rebellion with seventy-two lords of the Northern Seas. Wen Zhong departed with the imperial army to crush the uprising.
One morning, Zhou held court. The golden hall glowed with incense smoke as civil and military officials stood in two columns.
Zhou surveyed them lazily. "If there is business, present it. If not, we adjourn."
From the right side stepped Shang Rong. He knelt before the jade steps. "Your Majesty, tomorrow is the fifteenth of the third month—the holy birthday of the goddess Nüwa. I beg you to visit her shrine and offer incense."
Zhou frowned. "What has Nüwa done to warrant a personal visit from the Son of Heaven?"
Shang Rong answered gravely: "She is the divine maiden of antiquity. When Gong Gong struck Mount Buzhou and broke the pillars of heaven, Nüwa melted five-colored stones to mend the sky and saved humanity. All who dwell beneath the heavens owe her their lives. To honor her is to ensure peace for the realm: good harvests, calm winds, and blessings without end. She is the supreme guardian of the land. You must go."
Zhou shrugged. "Fine. We'll go."
The next morning, the procession left Zhaoge's southern gate. Thousands of iron riders and royal guards escorted him, led by General Huang Feihu. The streets were lined with incense and silk offerings. Zhou stepped from his palanquin and entered the shrine, personally offering incense while his ministers knelt behind him.
After the rites, Zhou wandered through the temple, admiring the gilded statues, the jeweled curtains, the glowing lanterns, and the swirling incense smoke.
Then a sudden gust of wind swept through the hall, lifting the silk veil that shrouded the goddess's sacred statue.
Zhou froze.
Nüwa's face was breathtaking. Graceful, radiant, ethereal—she seemed more beautiful than any mortal woman, more dazzling than the moon goddess Chang'e herself.
Desire coiled in Zhou's chest. He stared, transfixed. *I am the Son of Heaven*, he thought. *I have every luxury under the sun. But never have I seen beauty like this.*
"Bring me brush and ink," he commanded.
On the white wall of the shrine, he wrote:
*In halls of splendor framed in gold,*
*Her form divine does heaven hold.*
*Her brows are distant hills in spring,*
*Her sleeves like clouds on raven's wing.*
*Fair as rain-washed pear blossoms bloom,*
*Sweet as mist-wreathed peonies' perfume.*
*If but this goddess lived and breathed,*
*I'd bring her home—in silk bequeathed.*
Shang Rong's face went pale. He rushed forward, kowtowing. "Your Majesty! Nüwa is the sacred protector of our dynasty. I begged you to come here seeking blessings for the realm—not to profane her sanctuary! Please wash away these words at once and beg her forgiveness. If word of this spreads, the people will question your virtue!"
Zhou waved a dismissive hand. "I merely praised her beauty. What harm is there? Let the people see my poem. Let them admire her grace and my calligraphy alike."
Then he returned to the palace, leaving his ministers in stunned silence.
---
**Part 3: The Goddess's Wrath**
That same day, Nüwa had been visiting the legendary Three Sovereigns—Fuxi, Shennong, and Xuanyuan—at the Fire Cloud Cave. Upon returning to her shrine, she noticed the poem on the wall.
Her divine eyes scanned the lines. Her expression darkened.
*This degenerate king*, she thought. *He neglects the realm, ignores the rites, and dares defile my temple with filth like this? Cheng Tang seized the Mandate of Heaven and built a dynasty that has lasted six hundred years. But this—this is the beginning of the end.*
She summoned her celestial attendants and flew toward Zhaoge on her green phoenix, intent on punishing Zhou herself.
But as she approached the palace, two beams of red light shot up into the heavens—the protective auras of Zhou's two sons, Yin Jiao and Yin Hong, who were at that moment bowing before their father.
Nüwa halted, her expression unreadable.
She calculated the threads of fate. King Zhou still had twenty-eight years of rule left. The Mandate could not be overturned yet—not by divine hands, at least.
She turned back to her shrine, her heart burning with cold fury.
"Bring me the golden gourd," she commanded.
The gourd sat at the base of the palace steps. She removed its lid and pointed. A beam of white light shot forth, and above it floated the Demon Summoning Banner.
The skies darkened. Winds howled. Demons and spirits from across the land gathered at her command.
She dismissed them all but three: the Millennium Fox Spirit, the Nine-Headed Pheasant Spirit, and the Jade Stone Lyre Spirit—all dwellers of Xuanyuan Tomb.
They knelt before her. "Long live the goddess!"
Nüwa spoke, her voice serene yet terrible:
"Listen well. The Shang Dynasty's fate is ending. The Mandate of Heaven will pass to the sage lord of the West—Ji Chang of Zhou. You three will infiltrate the palace. Use your arts to bewitch King Zhou, cloud his mind, and corrupt his rule. When the time comes for the Zhou army to march, you will aid them. Do not harm innocents unnecessarily. Fulfill this task, and I will grant you the path to transcendence."
The three demons bowed. "As you command."
They vanished into the wind.
*The fox answers heaven's call with treacherous art,*
*And seals the doom of Shang's six-hundred-year heart.*
---
**Part 4: Seeds of Ruin**
After that day, Zhou could think of nothing but Nüwa. His queens, once deemed beauties, now seemed like dust to him. He lost sleep. He lost his appetite. He drifted through court in a haze of obsession.
One morning, he summoned his favored minister, Fei Zhong—a fawning sycophant who, with his crony You Hun, now held great power in Wen Zhong's absence.
"Fei Zhong," Zhou said, his voice low, "I visited Nüwa's shrine and beheld beauty beyond mortal form. I have thousands of women in my palace, yet none compare. What would you have me do?"
Fei Zhong grinned. "Your Majesty, you are the Son of Heaven. The realm is yours. Issue an edict commanding the four dukes to each select one hundred beauties for your court. All the fairest women in the land will be yours."
Zhou's eyes gleamed. "Excellent. We'll issue the decree tomorrow."
He dismissed Fei Zhong and leaned back on his throne, a dark smile curling at his lips.
The wheels of fate had begun to turn. Shang's six hundred years were drawing to their final, bloody close.