013 Encounter (1)

“Caw, caw, caw, caw, caw…” The owner of the voice sang tirelessly, performing a song that only it could understand. The melody lingered and spread, wrapping itself around the air with a bewitching persistence; if ever there was a sound that could drive one to madness, this was it. The singer seemed impervious to any disapproving glances, continuing its tune, heedless and unwavering.

“Niaoniao, aren’t you tired? Do you need to rest?” Nuoluo looked at Niaoniao hopefully, her voice soft and pleading.

“Niaoniao isn’t tired, Niaoniao is feeling quite energetic,” replied Niaoniao with conviction.

“Oh, then carry on,” Nuoluo said, resigning herself to silence. All along the journey, she had been battered by the relentless, demonic singing—her spirit and very soul worn thin by its torment.

At last, unable to bear it any longer, Nuoluo’s footsteps grew heavy, each thud an expression of her discontent.

Noticing Nuoluo’s exhausted demeanor, Niaoniao rolled its eyes in displeasure. “Fine, I’ll stop singing now.” It would rest for a while, then resume. After all, everything they encountered on this journey was so different from the Sunset Mountain—fresh and intriguing. Was it wrong to express joy through song in such circumstances? Niaoniao was baffled. Truly, it had no idea that singing to express happiness was, in itself, blameless; but to do so with such a voice was madness for any listener—including Nuoluo.

Once the demonic music stopped, a certain someone instantly regained her energy. “Let’s hurry on, then.”

“You—” Niaoniao began.

So that was it—she just wanted it to be quiet. With a huff of indignation, Niaoniao fell silent. If her companion didn’t enjoy the singing, what was the point? Heavily, it flopped onto Nuoluo’s shoulder, expressing its deep dissatisfaction.

Having left Sunset Mountain, Niaoniao was especially excitable, gazing in wonder at everything it had never before seen. Nuoluo couldn’t tell whether it sang out of happiness or simply out of newfound freedom; whatever it was, the little creature was in a state of euphoric excitement.

Returning to that familiar place brought Nuoluo a quiet joy, but as they drew nearer to the Mortal Realm, her heart grew heavier, happiness slipping away. A suffocating sense of oppression pressed down on her, and she dreaded the thought of witnessing those tragic scenes again—the carnage, the fields littered with corpses. So much time had passed; had anything improved? She could only hope that the situation was, if only a little, better.

The Mortal Realm

At last, she had returned to the continent of mortals. This was the threshold of the human world, and everything was silent, so still that even the sky had lost its color, shrouded in a hazy pallor. In the distance, heaven and earth seemed to merge into one.

The ground was swathed in endless white—snow blanketing every feature. Only the undulating shapes hinted at what might have once lain beneath. A world of pure white, softly veiled in a crystalline shroud; yet there was nothing sacred about this color. It was more like a vast white net, snuffing out countless lives with ease.

For Niaoniao, newly arrived in the mortal world, this snowy expanse was a source of delight. It had never seen such a pure and gleaming world.

“It’s so beautiful here.”

“It’s truly beautiful.”

“This place…”

Niaoniao’s chatter continued unabated, until it realized it was speaking to itself. Nuoluo had given no response.

“Nuoluo, why aren’t you saying anything?”

Glancing back, Niaoniao suddenly understood and fell silent.

Nuoluo did not reply, lost in sorrow. Her eyes were fixed upon the scene before her, as if she could will the earth itself to bring forth the living from its frozen depths. The world of ice and snow was so clean, so cruel—without sound, there was no sign of life. The silence was so profound it was almost the silence of death.

This world had turned white, and the only splash of color was Nuoluo’s crimson robe. Having endured the trials of Sunset Mountain and the baptism of the Sacred Flame of the Earth Spirit, the red was more vivid than ever, like blazing fire—a garment as bright as the spark of life. In this bleak landscape, it resembled nothing so much as a trail of blood in the snow: a cry of grief in crimson against a world of white.

Everything before her reminded Nuoluo that the catastrophe was not yet over, and her mission had only grown more arduous.

Step by step, Nuoluo walked, feeling everything beneath her feet—the lives extinguished, the spirits weeping beneath the ice and snow.

With every step, she seemed to hear crying. She heard wailing, the sudden, desperate longing of souls in their final moments.

After a long while, she spoke. “Niaoniao, perhaps you can’t imagine what this place once looked like. Where I stand now used to be a small village. I saw it change, watched babies born and grow, saw the joy on every face. Now, nothing is left—not even the faintest trace of their existence. The snow has covered everything, hiding it all away. As I stand here, I feel as though I can hear their cries…”

Nuoluo could not bear to recall happier times. Those lives had been stolen of their right to bask in the sun.

“Niaoniao knows you are sad. So, where will you go next…” Niaoniao seemed reluctant to name the place.

“That’s right. I must go to the Underworld. Niaoniao, will you come with me?” Nuoluo looked at Niaoniao; it was the first time she had seen it display such intense aversion to a place.

“Niaoniao doesn’t want to go, but Niaoniao must,” it replied, as if steeling itself with great resolve.

In the distance, a figure appeared before Nuoluo and knelt. “Your Highness, you have returned.” It was Aurora, the Goddess of the Northern Lights.

Aurora looked at Nuoluo with excitement. “I am so glad you’re back. Congratulations on acquiring the Sacred Earthfire.”

“You’re as clever as ever. Aurora, what is the current situation?” Nuoluo asked.

“After you left for Sunset Mountain, I, along with the Goddesses of Time and Seasons, tried every means possible, but with little effect. Only a few places have been preserved; most are like this one. And… many of the demons you sealed have broken free…” Aurora’s voice grew softer as she glanced at Nuoluo for her reaction.

Nuoluo regarded her. “I know you have done your best. The truth is probably even worse than you say.” She no longer wished to imagine the chaos unleashed by the freed demon gods. If the Sacred Core Flame could not be rekindled, the mortal world might be doomed.

“Aurora, you’ve done well. Issue my command: all deities of the Earth Goddess’s Temple must do everything in their power to protect the surviving beings.” Now, it was a race against time. What could be accomplished remained an open question.

Aurora hesitated, her eyes flickering. “Aurora, is there something else?” Nuoluo asked.

“Your Highness, the Divine Realm has issued a decree: except for the deities of the Earth Goddess’s Temple, no other gods may intervene in mortal affairs.” Aurora struggled to keep her sorrow in check.

“What?” Nuoluo was stunned. “What is Leiling planning?” She thought for a moment, then understood. What else could it be? If the mortal world failed to weather this disaster, the lineage of the Earth God would lose all sources of power and abandon their dominion. The Divine Realm could then remake the world as they wished. How vicious.

“I understand. Carry out my orders.”

After sending Aurora away, Nuoluo fell into deep thought. Her only hope was to obtain the Netherfire as soon as possible and rekindle the Sacred Core Flame. Only then would there be hope for the mortal world. Otherwise, the consequences would be disastrous.

The Underworld—a world steeped in darkness—what dangers would await her there?

And how could the Netherfire be obtained? The road ahead was more perilous and uncertain than ever.

Nuoluo’s heart was heavy with sorrow. After all that happened at Sunset Mountain, the Earth God’s lineage had nearly been annihilated to obtain the Sacred Earthfire. What price would have to be paid for the Netherfire? Could she truly persevere to the end? Would she really emerge victorious?

Would the lineage of the Earth God end with her? How she longed for her mother’s warm embrace, for a pillar to lean on, a comforting arm to guide her forward. Now, she stood here alone, in this world of utter desolation.

The King of the Underworld—the legendary ruler of that realm, the sovereign always hidden in the shadows—what power did he possess? Would he truly be as invincible as the legends claimed?

The nether butterfly on her palm fluttered its wings again. What message was it trying to convey? Would it bring her fortune, or misfortune? Everything felt like a great shadow looming over the dim sky.

In her right palm, the Sacred Earthfire still burned fiercely, but her right hand was now little more than a decoration—an ornament whose true nature was invisible to the eye. Having lost a hand, how was she to confront all the challenges of the Underworld?

“Nuoluo, you must be strong. Don’t forget what Niaoniao always says. Don’t forget who you are. Don’t forget who you are!” Niaoniao’s sharp, familiar voice rang out.

Nuoluo lifted her head, looking at Niaoniao—her companion, her friend. She was not alone. She was the Earth Goddess, the inheritor of the Earth God’s lineage. How could she give up so easily?

“Thank you, Niaoniao. Thank you for always staying by my side in my loneliest moments, for protecting me in times of danger, for supporting me when I was helpless, and for reminding me when I was lost.” Nuoluo thanked Niaoniao sincerely.

Nuoluo set out on her quest for the Netherfire, embarking on a path more dangerous than any before—a path that would shape the rest of her life. The road to the Underworld.

Step by step, she walked forward, drawing strength from the earth, feeling the world the Earth God’s line was sworn to protect. Every inch of this land would be etched into her memory, reminding her always of her duty and her mission. The burden she bore upon her shoulders was heavy, but every patch of earth called out to her, waiting for her triumphant return.