Chapter 367: Evil Poem

The young warrior and the princess both acquired the most beautiful colors.

All the civil and military officials of the court came to offer their congratulations.

Holding her red skirt, the princess carved a piece of wood. She painted a golden crown and splendid robes for the monarch, while the young man colored his eyebrows, eyes, and hair.

“To have such a daughter, you must possess an extraordinary discerning eye,” the young man praised the monarch wholeheartedly.

They became the first people in the Land of Perpetual Day to possess colors.

That night, the young warrior finished writing down the colors of all things and gave the record to the princess. He told her that all who wielded a painting stick must adhere to this palette and imbue all things with their correct colors.

The princess nodded in agreement.

The process of painting the world with colors took seven days.

After seven days, the previously black world became a vibrant spectrum of colors.

These colors radiated an unprecedented light, illuminating their very souls.

People discovered that they had always been embraced by light; what had prevented them from finding it was a color called black. They despised black.

On the seventh day, the princess and the young warrior journeyed through the colorful kingdom. After the young man meticulously examined every detail of each object, confirming their colors were correct, they arrived at the edge of the Sea of Hope.

“This world is still missing one color,” the young man said.

The princess asked curiously, “What color is missing?”

“Black,” he replied.

The princess was puzzled. “Isn’t black the root of all evil?” she asked.

The young man said, “Every color has its purpose; without it, this world would not be complete. Now that everyone has just encountered color, they passionately despise black, so I cannot bring it out, or it will be destroyed.”

The princess could not understand, but she trusted him.

The young man said, “From now on, colors will grant you power. These seven colors are just the beginning; more and more colors will be born, and those who master more colors will become more powerful.”

The princess nodded, seeming to understand yet not quite.

The young man looked at the sea, spreading his arms. His body grew increasingly ethereal in the sea breeze.

“Now, my dearest princess, after I am gone, you shall take the black. Divide each day into twelve segments, and paint the sky black for six of those segments. Only then will this world be complete,” the young man said.

The princess felt he was about to depart and quickly asked, “Where do I retrieve the black from?”

The young man’s voice became a soft murmur, “My hair is black, my eyes are black, my bones and blood, all are black…”

As he uttered these words, much black blood flowed from beneath his armor. The princess gasped, suddenly remembering that when he emerged from the deep well in the sea that night, he was covered in wounds—wounds that had not healed but were now claiming his life.

“Do not weep for me; I have fulfilled my mission. Guard the colors I have given you, and remember, never resist the truth.” These were the young man’s last words.

He spread his arms and, like a bird, plunged into the sea, where the surging, cerulean waters engulfed him.

Weeping, the princess carefully collected all the black pigments, placing them gently into a stone box.

She looked at the beautiful world, already determined that one day she would paint a bold stroke upon it.

Thereafter, everything unfolded as the young man had foretold. The world acquired more and more colors; even a simple leaf boasted rich hues. The princess rejoiced, feeling that all they had done was immensely valuable.

The darkness on the Eyelash Dais could no longer invade, and the world beheld the most beautiful light.

However, when everything was settling into order and the princess sought to paint black onto the night sky, a major event occurred—the monarch, it turned out, was colorblind.

This incident originated during a grand sacrificial ceremony.

As the monarch represented the people in venerating the colors, he suddenly pointed at purple and shrieked, “Black is back! Destroy it quickly!”

People exchanged bewildered glances, utterly astonished. They could not tolerate anyone misidentifying this sacred color, not even the monarch. Yet, the monarch insisted that what he saw was black.

The matter escalated, gradually becoming an irreconcilable dispute.

The monarch wished to cover it with other colors, but those who defended the sacred colors vehemently opposed him. Some even united, aiming to overthrow the monarch.

The princess knew things were going awry. If this continued, more and more people would focus their attention here, and she would be unable to paint the night.

So that night, holding a branch formed from congealed black blood, she secretly went to the foot of Rainbow Mountain, intending to paint the sky. Unfortunately, that very day, rebel forces attacked the city, and she was captured. People were startled to see the black, unable to associate it with the pure princess.

The princess recounted the young man’s last words to them, but her explanation was futile. They loathed black so much that they even suspected the princess was responsible for the young warrior’s mysterious disappearance, believing her to be a witch who wished to re-pollute the world with black.

The rebel forces were victorious. At the foot of Rainbow Peak, they executed the princess and the monarch, then neutralized and destroyed the black by mixing it with other dense colors.

From then on, darkness vanished from the world, and people rejoiced. They passionately worshipped colors, even painting their eyelids in vibrant hues so that they would never have to face darkness again.

Many years passed thereafter.

People also attempted to sail out to sea, but they never found the legendary well. However, the young warrior’s prophecy had come true: people indeed gained power from colors, and this power became their confidence to declare war on the Demon King of Eyelash Dais.

People’s lifespans also gradually extended, from an initial ten years to fifteen, twenty, and even sixty years…

The older generations had all passed away, and new generations were thriving. Their sole goal was to slay the ultimate darkness, which resided atop the Eyelash Dais.

But the Eyelash Dais was a sheer cliff, too incredibly high; with their current strength, they simply could not climb it.

Finally, after three hundred years of arduous cultivation, the first mighty warrior, watched by all, ascended the unscalable Eyelash Dais.

He became a hero in the hearts of the people.

But he never returned.

People believed that the warrior’s understanding of colors was not comprehensive enough, which was why he was defeated by the Demon King.

Thereafter, every few years, a warrior would attempt to climb the Eyelash Dais, but without exception, none returned. Moreover, many great color-devouring demons emerged on the land, against whom the people were no match.

Fortunately, a great warrior appeared in the Rainbow Kingdom. This warrior possessed extraordinary innate talent, born with knowledge; within three years, he recognized hundreds of different colors.

He slew the Fire King who devoured red, gaining the purest red. He slew the Ocean King who devoured blue, gaining the purest blue… Ultimately, he killed all the demons that consumed the seven colors, thereby obtaining the purest colors.

He became stronger than ever before, for he had recognized all the colors in the world.

Bearing everyone’s hopes, he ascended the Eyelash Dais and met the Demon King deep within it.

But even with his immense power, he was utterly helpless before the Demon King, for he did not recognize the Demon King’s color.

“What is it you seek to banish?” the Demon King asked.

“Darkness,” the warrior replied.

“What is darkness?” the Demon King asked again.

The warrior could not answer, for he had never seen black.

The warrior died in the royal hall. All the colors from his body were stripped away by the Demon King, mixed together, and transformed into a thick black. The Demon King then embedded this black into his crown, which now bore another obsidian-like gem.

And this Demon King possessed a face identical to that of the original warrior.

“This is the story Evil told me,” Ning Changjiu said slowly, having finished.

He usually dared not recall it, but now, as he slowly narrated, he also pondered the entire story. He felt as though Evil was trying to express something, yet he couldn't quite grasp it.

Ye Changong listened, nodding calmly. “Yes, I understand,” she said.

It was a simple, unadorned statement, with no further words.

Ning Changjiu asked, “What is this story trying to say?”

“I don’t know either,” Ye Changong replied.

Ning Changjiu asked curiously, “Is there anything in this world that Master doesn’t know?”

Amidst the golden Buddha’s shadow and candlelight, Ye Changong’s words floated out, devoid of emotional impurity: “If I were omniscient and omnipotent, what use would I have for you?”

Ning Changjiu smiled and asked, “Why have you done so much for me, Master? What is your ultimate goal?”

Ye Changong’s reply was unexpected: “I don’t know either, but I am a little tired.” Ning Changjiu was momentarily stunned; he had never imagined the word “tired” would escape his Master’s lips.

Behind the white veil, Ye Changong’s jade-like head slightly bowed. She asked, “It has been over three years since your rebirth. What are your thoughts on walking among mortals this time?”

Ning Changjiu replied, “The mortal world is filled with revelry, while the temple offers serene breezes and bright moonlight. Both lives have their own beauty; neither is superior to the other.”

Ye Changong nodded gently and asked, “Are you satisfied with the marriage contract?”

Ning Changjiu immediately nodded. “Master possesses a keen eye for people. Xiang’er and I have lived in harmony and gotten along well to this day, not betraying your expectations, it’s just…”

“Just what?” Ye Changong asked.

Ning Changjiu asked, “Why did Master grant Xiang’er and me this marriage contract?”

“It was one of my agreements with Vermilion Bird,” Ye Changong said, her voice calm as still water. “You came from the Thunder Prison Kingdom, and she was born in the Vermilion Bird Kingdom. As you are a perfectly matched dragon and phoenix pair, a child betrothal was arranged.”

Ning Changjiu felt something was amiss.

“So, have you been watching my affairs all these years, Master?” Ning Changjiu asked cautiously.

“I am not that idle,” Ye Changong said. “Besides, when you entered secret realms like the Luo River Map or the Underworld, even I could not perceive you.”

Ning Changjiu nodded gently, lost in thought.

He pondered for a moment, then asked, “By the way, who is Evil? And why did he tell this story?”

Ye Changong did not conceal it. “Evil’s identity is no secret to the Twelve Kingdom Lords. He is the Seventh God, as you call him.”

These calm words stirred a tempest in Ning Changjiu’s mind.

The Seventh God…

The God of this mother star!

“What?” Ning Changjiu exclaimed in surprise. “Isn’t the Seventh God long dead?”

Ye Changong replied, “He is dead in relation to the legendary, all-powerful Seventh God. At this moment, he has lost most of his power, is confined to the Heavenly Register, and cannot transcend.”

Ning Changjiu asked, “Who imprisoned him?”

Ye Changong did not reply.

Ning Changjiu softened his voice and asked, “Then… who is Poem?”

Ye Changong’s answer was again unexpected: “Also the Seventh God.”

Ning Changjiu was dumbfounded.

She explained, “Initially, the Seventh God was slain to the brink of death. However, being connected to this star, he could not truly perish. To prevent him from recovering and growing strong again, a certain entity split his originally neutral form into two halves: the boy half remained connected to the main body, while the girl half was taken into the Heart Demon Tribulation for purification.”

Ning Changjiu’s mind reeled, and he murmured to himself, “Evil and Poem…”

Who imprisoned them? Was it the Shopkeeper Poem mentioned? Was it the Dark Lord? And what was the Spark? Why didn’t Evil convey such an important thing himself? Or perhaps the secret of the Spark was also hidden in that story…

A multitude of questions flooded his mind all at once.

Just as Ning Changjiu was about to speak, from behind the white veil, Ye Changong’s ethereal voice softly drifted again, clear and touching, yet devoid of emotion.

“Enough,” Ye Changong said. “I am weary. Someone is waiting for you outside the door. Go back.”

Ning Changjiu paused, realizing he could no longer inquire about those hidden secrets. He quietly asked, “Then, in the days to come, what should Xueci and I do?”

Ye Changong’s voice grew fainter: “Once you have recovered, you may descend the mountain. Your junior sister is still waiting for your sword.”

Her voice gracefully faded into silence.

The candlelight in the room suddenly dimmed. As the white veil stirred, the woman sitting silently behind it seemed to have entered a state of meditation.

Ning Changjiu pushed his wheelchair and departed silently.

Outside the door, Siming was waiting anxiously.

Ning Changjiu smiled faintly. “You’ve waited for so long; you must be tired.”

Siming naturally walked behind him, pushing the wheelchair. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “I was just wandering around the temple earlier, bored out of my mind, and only came back here to find you emerging.”

“What a coincidence,” Ning Changjiu said, too lazy to expose her, merely smiling. “Let’s go back to the room.”

“What for?” Siming asked.

Ning Changjiu clutched his forehead, feigning weakness. “I think I need to take my medicine,” he said.