Chapter 15: The Gaze of the Divine

A merfolk had come ashore.

High above, on the beams that held up the vault of the heavens, Liang Yuan shifted his posture, watching the unfolding events with great interest.

The Xuan Bird—was it a swallow? He hadn't expected that among all the birds, the first to attain wisdom would be the dainty, nimble swallow. The other avian species, though their brains had not evolved to perfection, had nonetheless succeeded in transforming their forms into something akin to humans. The essence of life had allowed the larger birds to undergo ‘atavistic evolution,’ yet their intellect lagged behind. As for the Xuan Bird, its body was too small for such a reversal; thus, its brain developed first, making it the first intelligent race upon the land.

Still...

This was a minor surprise, one that Liang Yuan had not foreseen. Yet it hardly mattered. The Xuan Birds were few in number; though their intelligence matched that of a nine- or ten-year-old child and they could communicate briefly in birds’ speech, it would be difficult for them to form a civilization. Only the Feathered Folk, transformed from the larger birds, might truly achieve such heights.

Even so, the birth of the Xuan Bird was not without merit.

And now, with the merfolk coming ashore, Liang Yuan found himself genuinely delighted.

Aeons ago, Liang Yuan had let a drop of his blood fall into the sea, not merely to propagate life, but to create all things. Some plants and peculiar objects had been imbued with a measure of his divine power; whoever consumed them would find themselves changed in wondrous ways.

The merfolk who had grown legs must have eaten such a thing.

Quanxi had grown legs first but never set foot on land; now another had overtaken him and was walking upon the earth. This was precisely the sort of surprise Liang Yuan savored—an outcome beyond his own design, a sudden delight.

Otherwise, life was too dull. Such small, unexpected pleasures stirred emotions in him that ordinary days could not.

With this thought, Liang Yuan continued to watch, curious to see how far the merfolk who set foot on land might go. If the outcome pleased him, perhaps he would grant a reward, just as he had once rewarded Quanxi.

As for the Xuan Bird...

Liang Yuan shook his head, and suddenly, a new idea formed in his mind.

...

Even with the gaze of a god upon him, Quanxi’s journey to learn to walk did not go smoothly. Three or four days passed before he could manage a shaky gait, still stumbling from time to time.

In those days, whenever hunger struck, he would dive into the water to catch fish. It was a pity—for the eldest son of the former king, who had never once hunted his own food, it was now necessary to do so with his own hands.

Worse still, after losing his tail fin, his swimming speed plummeted; he could barely catch even the slowest of fish. In three days, he caught but a single fish, his stomach so empty that he saw stars before his eyes.

Hunger is a miserable thing.

Especially for Quanxi.

He had been pampered from birth, the beloved heir of the king. He ate whatever he pleased and wasted much without a second thought.

Now, huddled by the shoreline, his body bent, he felt as though a fire raged inside him, making it impossible to stand up straight.

Just then, something dropped from above, landing right before his eyes.

“Huh?”

Quanxi blinked in surprise and looked closer. It was a cluster of ‘grass’ of some sort—round, red, and seemingly very hard.

It must be a fruit.

Fruits on land were apparently different from those beneath the sea.

“Chirp-chirp-chirp!”

The clear cry of the Xuan Bird sounded in his ear. Quanxi looked up; the bird that had followed him all this time seemed to be urging him toward something.

What did it mean?

Quanxi rose, gazing at the crimson fruit, brow furrowed in confusion.

Soon, a new thought formed in his mind.

Was it... was the bird trying to feed him?

With this in mind, Quanxi glanced up again at the bird circling overhead, and, half-believing, placed the fruit in his mouth and began to chew.

It was tart, yet sweet.

At that moment, Quanxi understood something.

This bird, always hovering near him, was indeed intelligent.

“Can you understand me?” Quanxi called out once more.

The Xuan Bird responded with a series of chirps.

Seeing this, Quanxi could only sigh. The barrier of language was a helpless thing.

Still, the bird’s offering had taught him something important.

He didn’t have to seek food only in the sea; he could forage on land as well.

There seemed to be plenty of fruit on land, enough to stave off hunger.

With this realization, everything became much simpler.

Taking a deep breath, Quanxi struggled to his feet, legs trembling, and began walking inland.

This time, he would truly set foot upon the land, rather than merely practice walking on the shore.

The Xuan Bird followed at his side, watching over him like a caretaker, filled with a sense of pride—as if a child had finally grown.

Thus set forth a merfolk and a bird on their journey.

Quanxi had landed at the southeastern tip of the Northern Continent, a place with a mild climate, perfect for plants and a paradise for birds. There were few animals, and apart from birds, only insects. These insects were naturally the food of birds; unlike the giant insects of the central and southern continents, those in the north were small, rarely exceeding a meter in size, and were preyed upon by the great birds. Thus, there were no real threats in the Northern Continent.

Strolling through the dazzling forests, Quanxi was awestruck by the scenery. Such sights had never existed beneath the sea, and the novelty made him feel like a country bumpkin entering the city—everywhere he looked was worthy of wonder.

His only discomfort was the pain in his feet.

The stones and gravel of the land were harsh, chafing his soles. His legs, newly grown less than ten days ago, were smooth and tender, without a trace of callus. The sand of the shore had already toughened them a little, but walking on land was far worse.

Sharp stones, decaying wood—countless hazards threatened his untested feet.

In just a few steps, the soles of his feet were already bleeding.

After a moment’s thought, Quanxi looked to a nearby tree, tore off two large leaves, and wrapped them around his feet. He used some weeds to bind them in place, finally breathing a sigh of relief as he seated himself on a boulder to rest his aching legs.

At that moment, the Xuan Bird, which had been circling above, landed beside him on the stone, watching him closely.

Quanxi smiled and was about to speak, when suddenly he felt his heart race wildly and a wave of urgency surged within him.

Water—I need water!

The thought struck hard, and Quanxi’s face changed. He leapt to his feet, desperately searching for a source of water.

Deep inside, he knew: if he could not find water, he might die.