071 The Light of the Temple

Nuoluo opened her eyes, feeling as though ages had passed—so long that she had nearly lost the will to awaken. The last scene in her memory was the reignition of the Sacred Fire at the Earth’s Core; after gazing into those flames filled with hope, she had fallen into darkness. Who had brought her here?

Rising to her feet, she looked around. Wasn’t this the first temple she had built in the mortal realm? Though countless years had gone by, everything here still bore traces of the past. Every existence in this place could summon vivid memories of those unforgettable days.

The recollections of carnage, bitter suffering, blood-soaked years—they were all etched into the foundation of what had been.

With a creak, she pushed open the door.

Inside the main hall, the King of the Underworld and Fuli were studying the murals on the wall intently, while Niaoniao, clearly bored, was glancing about. Upon seeing Nuoluo approach, Niaoniao ran over joyfully, exclaiming, “Nuoluo, you’re awake!”

Nuoluo nodded and asked, “How did I get here?”

The King of the Underworld offered no reply, nor did he show any intention of responding; his gaze remained fixed on the stories painted along the walls.

Niaoniao’s eyes rolled as she thought for a moment. “It was me, of course! Who else would it be? This place is so hard to find—you were down and out! I had to work so hard to bring you here!” the little bird boasted shamelessly.

“Really?” Nuoluo was doubtful. That embrace had reminded her of her mother, yet it had carried a determination her mother never possessed. It couldn’t have been Niaoniao, but thinking it over, it couldn’t have been Fuli or the King of the Underworld either. Apart from Niaoniao, there seemed to be no other possibility. Still, she sensed there was more to this than met the eye.

The King of the Underworld gave no explanation, and Fuli was even less likely to clarify. In fact, he preferred if Niaoniao took the credit—anything to keep the King of the Underworld from gaining the upper hand.

Nuoluo’s gaze drifted; perhaps Niaoniao had managed to take human form again. Let it be. The matter passed.

“Nuoluo, are all these scenes real?” Niaoniao asked, staring at the murals, shocked by their depiction of those violent days—far more brutal than he had ever imagined.

Nuoluo nodded but said nothing further. The murals recorded only a portion of her past, meant to remind herself that danger was never far away.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Go where?” Niaoniao asked, puzzled. This was the Goddess’s Temple—where else could she want to go?

Nuoluo smiled faintly. “This is merely a branch temple, abandoned for ages. I told you about it only because it’s closest to the barrier of the Sacred Fire at the Earth’s Core. If I’d failed to gather enough strength to rekindle the flames, you could have brought me here for safety. But now that we’ve succeeded, we can leave.”

“The next place isn’t going to be even more decrepit, is it?” Niaoniao worried. If the real Goddess’s Temple was worse than this, he’d rather stay put.

“What do you think? The mortal realm may be at the lowest tier of the four worlds, but it’s not as bad as you imagine.”

Nuoluo gestured for the King of the Underworld and Fuli to follow her out.

As she stepped outside, Nuoluo looked back, recalling her first arrival here. Compared to those days, her current predicament might be even more perilous.

She had previously reached an agreement with the King of the Underworld—he would never let an opportunity slip by. And as for Fuli, his demeanor suggested he was eager for a share of whatever would come. Once the balance of power was disrupted, it would take ages to restore it. She had foreseen this; the double-edged sword was now aimed at herself.

Nuoluo signaled for Niaoniao to perch on her shoulder. Now that she was awake, there was no need to trudge along the ground.

Obediently, Niaoniao landed on her shoulder, muttering, “If I had to fly by myself, I’d be left behind in no time!” He now had a new goal: to reach the level where he could soar freely.

Nuoluo led the way, and in a flash, three streaks of lightning vanished into the distant sky.

In the blink of an eye, Nuoluo stopped—they had arrived.

Upon the open, level earth, a magnificent complex appeared before them, encircled by auspicious clouds reminiscent of the divine realm itself.

This was the true Main Temple of the Goddess of Earth. At its center, countless branch temples formed an impressive cluster.

“Now that’s more like it—befitting your stature,” Niaoniao said as he strode in.

Nuoluo shot him a glare. Did he really think she had built such splendor for her own enjoyment?

“Your Majesty, King of the Underworld, Your Highness from the Hall of Justice, welcome to the mortal realm. Please, come in!”

The temple was empty, not a soul to be seen. Nuoluo was curious—where was everyone? Surely Shaoguang had received news of her return; when warmth returned to the land, she must have known Nuoluo was back. What had happened?

As she walked, Nuoluo noticed subtle changes within the temple. In times of disaster, this place should have been a refuge for the people—so where had they all gone?

Within the main hall, the vastness felt almost illusory. Aside from the high altar in the center, there were no other furnishings. The surrounding walls were adorned with exquisitely carved murals, far clearer than those she had seen before—everything here was strikingly real. As the murals stretched on, time seemed to flow; true scenes from the past unfurled before their eyes.

Niaoniao gazed around, finding these images more acceptable—less bloodshed, more creation. Life emerging from nothingness, growing strong, returning to the earth, cycling through countless reincarnations.

The murals extended endlessly, leaving blank spaces to record even more wondrous scenes in the future.

“So you didn’t build such a grand temple for pleasure—it has a greater purpose,” Niaoniao nodded, approving of the idea.

Fuli agreed—the design was indeed ingenious.

The Main Temple of the Goddess of Earth stood not as a lofty perch for the gods, but as an integral part of the mortal realm’s development. It was truly woven into the fate of this world.

Upon the altar, a flame long extinguished stood—the Light of the Temple.

The Light of the Temple and the Sacred Fire at the Earth’s Core were intimately connected: when the Sacred Fire burned, it shone; when the Sacred Fire died, it dimmed.

The Light of the Temple symbolized warmth for the mortal realm—its changes reflected all that transpired upon this land.

Nuoluo ascended the altar, her excitement mounting with every step. At last, the time had come to relight it—the fire symbolizing hope and warmth for the mortal realm. Now that the Sacred Fire at the Earth’s Core had been rekindled, it was only right for the temple to be aglow once more.

No matter what the future held, in this moment, the light of hope and brightness had returned.

Once the Light of the Main Temple was ignited, the flames in every branch temple would be rekindled as well, sending the spark of hope across the mortal world.

Descending from the altar, Nuoluo’s excitement began to subside; with each step, she became more composed. The sensation was eerily similar to when she had ventured into the underworld’s temple in search of the Infernal Fire—her heart brimming with uncertainty. Clearly, something had happened. Despite the rekindling of the Light of the Temple, no one had appeared in the main hall after all this time. What had they encountered?

Nuoluo betrayed no sign of unease, suppressing her emotions. Now, she faced not only the imminent upheaval in the mortal world, but also the formidable interference of both the divine and underworld realms. Until she understood their true intentions, she could not afford to reveal her own.

The King of the Underworld regarded the empty temple thoughtfully. Why was there no one here? Was it a sign of unwelcome, or something more?

Fuli, too, found it odd. Had the Earth Goddess’s lineage truly fallen so low, that the entire mortal realm depended solely on Nuoluo’s return?

Perhaps the only one at ease was Niaoniao, who paid no mind to such concerns, instead curiously studying the murals.

As the Light of the Temple was rekindled, the previously static images began to move.

What had once only been imagined now played out vividly before their eyes.

Through cycles of the seasons, all things grew; yet, inevitably, there were people struggling on the brink of death beneath ice and snow.

It had been that brutal—scene after scene, which Niaoniao had never experienced, though he had seen the vengeful spirits in the underworld and felt their resentment.

He approached Nuoluo and finally voiced his question, “Is this temple just you alone? Where are the other deities? Or is it really only you?”

“Of course not. They each have their own temples—they should be in their own domains right now!” Nuoluo replied, though even she doubted her answer.

“Oh!” Niaoniao feigned understanding, then shook his head. “Wait, if they know you’re back, why haven’t they come? Could they have become spirits in this disaster while you were away?” In truth, what he wanted to say was, “Or have they found a new master, seeing the Earth Goddess’s line fallen, and betrayed you?”

He thought better of voicing this, lest his poor head suffer the consequences.

“Spirits?” Nuoluo still rapped his already battered head. “How could you think that? The Earth Goddess’s lineage may have lost its former power, but we haven’t sunk so low. Or do you think I’ll meet the same fate?”

Niaoniao shook his head obsequiously and swallowed the rest of his words.

Just then, as Nuoluo and Niaoniao spoke, a figure flashed before Nuoluo like lightning.

With tears welling up in her eyes, she gazed at Nuoluo in rapture. “Your Highness, you’ve finally returned!”