006 Origin of Fate (6)

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“Niaoniao, how much farther is it? We’ve been walking for so long,” Nüluo couldn’t help but ask.

An arrogant, haughty bird looked down with disdain at what it called its entourage, rolling its eyes. “You’re really so annoying. I’ll tell you when we arrive. Niaoniao doesn’t want to talk to idiots.”

Nüluo fell silent.

She had heard such words too many times along the way. Maybe in this bird’s heart, everyone except itself was an idiot. Nüluo barely suppressed the urge to strangle it and pressed on. The flames grew ever hotter, the fire rose higher, and waves of searing heat surged, threatening to melt everything before them. Nüluo began to feel unwell; her steps were weakening. The sky-high flames, the blistering heat, and, above all, the presence of that infuriating, sharp-tongued Niaoniao made every moment harder to bear.

Niaoniao observed the state of Nüluo and Liu Jia, seeming pleased with their condition, wearing an expression that said, “I knew you couldn’t handle this.” The venomous Niaoniao would never pass up an opportunity for sarcasm.

“Oh my, you can’t take it anymore? Earth Goddess, you’re so useless. If you can’t keep going, Niaoniao won’t take you any further. Niaoniao is the mightiest, the greatest bird under heaven and earth!”

“No matter how mighty you are, you’re still just a bird. A bird that only knows how to chirp,” Nüluo rolled her eyes, unable to endure the creature any longer.

“You must be jealous of Niaoniao! Your Majesty the Heavenly Emperor, you think Niaoniao is the greatest too, don’t you?”

Liu Jia had entirely lost the will to respond.

“You’re just jealous of Niaoniao. But Niaoniao won’t stoop to your level. Now, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Why so many questions? Do as Niaoniao says. If you don’t want to go blind, close your eyes right now.” Annoying as it was, Niaoniao’s advice along the way had always been right, so Nüluo closed her eyes without hesitation. At that instant, a blinding red light flashed. Though her eyes were shut, her spiritual senses barely perceived something—a multitude of strange filaments drifting amid the flames, like kites cut loose, wandering aimlessly, utterly out of control. Suddenly, Nüluo realized that some of those auras seemed faintly familiar, almost connected to her own.

They walked on for a long time.

“You can open your eyes now,” Niaoniao announced in its sharp, lingering voice—the most pleasant thing it had said since their acquaintance.

“Niaoniao, what were those auras drifting in the flames just now? Why did some of them feel so familiar to me?”

Niaoniao shot her another disdainful glare. “Of course they’re familiar. Those are shattered divine souls—your kind, aren’t they!” Shattered souls, vanished bodies, forever roaming the burning flames atop Sunset Mountain, never resting, never at peace.

Niaoniao regarded them curiously. “Why so sentimental? Without the kind and capable Niaoniao, you’d be lost here too. You know, this sea of fire is called the Devouring Flame. It starts by devouring your eyes. If you hadn’t closed them, you’d be blind now, and next your soul would shatter. Luckily, you met Niaoniao—the all-powerful Niaoniao! You should thank me, hurry now, thank me!”

“Niaoniao, how can you withstand the Devouring Flame?” Liu Jia finally asked his first question.

Niaoniao’s crafty eyes spun in three circles. “You want to know?”

Nüluo nodded, and Liu Jia looked at it expectantly.

“Niaoniao’s not telling you.”

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Liu Jia: “…”

Nüluo: “…”

Damn bird.

They continued forward. A cool breeze, source unknown, drifted by, bringing long-awaited relief, gently caressing cheeks flushed by flame. Ahead, a vast lake gleaming sapphire blue emerged atop the fire-wreathed Sunset Mountain. The brilliant firelight made the blue shine even more vividly. Soft ripples danced across the water in the breeze—leisurely, peaceful.

Mirror Lake.

Niaoniao pointed with its claw. “Down there.” The Sacred Earthfire was beneath the lake.

The Sacred Earthfire was within reach.

Nüluo reached out, letting her fingertips graze the waters that endured amid the eternal flames.

The instant she touched the water, a chill pierced straight to her core. The waters of Mirror Lake were bone-chilling cold.

The Sacred Earthfire actually thrived within the frigid Mirror Lake of Sunset Mountain.

Such extreme heat entwined with absolute cold—an opposition of extremes.

“Caw caw caw, see? I knew you’d find it strange,” Niaoniao flapped its short wings, looking more like a little chick fluttering in the air.

“Earth Goddess, you’re such a fool. Only water of ultimate cold can bring forth the Sacred Earthfire’s greatest power. So jump in! Don’t give up, you fool. Don’t forget who you are, never forget who you are, and don’t forget what Niaoniao says, never forget Niaoniao’s words.”

Nüluo couldn’t make sense of the bird’s rambling. Forget who she was? How could she?

She and Liu Jia exchanged a glance, rose, and leaped in. The lake quickly swallowed their figures, and the ripples stilled.

As Nüluo plunged into the water, the clear lake turned thick and murky like dense mist, as black as midnight.

Liu Jia’s form vanished completely, as if he’d never been there. Suddenly she was alone, like a kite with a severed string—no anchor, no support, drifting who knows where. Invisible threads bound her limbs, her powers useless, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier. She fought to keep her eyes open, but her consciousness grew ever more diffuse, until at last she succumbed to darkness.

Endless darkness wrapped the unconscious goddess.

As Nüluo fell into disaster, Niaoniao hovered above the lake, gazing solemnly at the water, all trace of previous sarcasm gone. “Nüluo, don’t forget my words. Don’t forget who you are. I hope you can return.”

With that, Niaoniao’s tiny body transformed into a crimson arrow, shooting into the lake. The surface quickly swallowed the bird, leaving no trace behind, as if nothing had ever happened.

The unconscious Nüluo let out a faint moan, drifting aimlessly in a haze. She struggled to open her eyes—her vision was a void. She gazed up at the sky.

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She didn’t know when the sun had been swallowed by thick clouds. Dim light filtered through, casting a powerless gloom across the space.

Nüluo reached out, trying to see clearly, but after much effort, she had to give up. Everything was so unreal—her eyes couldn’t focus on anything, only indistinct shapes, barely perceptible.

Where was this? Her last memory was entering Mirror Lake, but what was this place? Could it be another illusion conjured by the lake? She tried to walk forward, but her feet seemed bound by something, each step requiring a struggle to break free from immense resistance.

The light was so dim, her vision so ethereal—like dust adrift in the air, ready to be blown away, to vanish at any moment, disappear at the edge of the world, dissolve into the fabric of time and space as though she had never existed at all. So slight, so small that even her disappearance would go unnoticed, causing not the faintest ripple.

“Luo’er, hold on. Keep moving forward.” A gentle voice reached her. It was a beautiful sound—her mother whispering in her ear as she had in childhood, singing sweet songs, as warm as the softest spring breeze, as bright as summer sunshine, bringing warmth and hope.

Was it her mother? Was her mother encouraging her? But her mother was long gone—who did this voice belong to?

Nüluo tried to discern the source, but at last gave up. She imagined it was her mother’s voice, imagined herself wrapped in her mother’s warmth, surrounded and protected. Her feet felt steadier, and she stepped forward with renewed resolve.

Gradually, the illusory haze began to clear, and the vague shadows slowly revealed their true forms.

A scene seemed to take shape ahead.

It was snowing—yes, snowing. Flakes as large as feathers drifted down, blanketing the earth, covering every corner, shrouding the world in white. Sunlight on the snow reflected an unearthly light, as if everything were veiled in radiance. Amid the blizzard, a small red dot appeared on the endless white.

What was that red dot?

Nüluo approached. It seemed to be a figure—a small silhouette, a little girl. Her bright red garment was as striking as a drop of blood, dazzling and strange.

The swirling snow seemed intent on burying her, already covering most of her body. Yet the flash of red remained vivid. Why was she standing here? How long had she been here?

Nüluo slowly walked up to her. “Who are you? Where is this place? Why are you standing here? Why don’t you go home?”

The little girl didn’t answer, didn’t seem to hear, standing motionless amid the falling snow.

Nüluo gazed at her face. Though still childish, it was etched with resilience.

Her eyes were as clear as spring water, the lines within visible, each detail distinct. Life itself seemed to shimmer in those eyes, and her red garment was as brilliant as Sunset Mountain’s flames.

Nüluo looked at the child, at her face, and a familiar feeling welled up inside her. It was as if she were seeing herself as a child—yes, this girl looked exactly as she had in her youth. Back then, she had loved to wear red, to stand in the midst of swirling snow, in a world of crystal and white, a flame that lit up the pale expanse.

Red against white snow.

It was the most familiar scene from her childhood.