Chapter 29: The Voice Beneath the Sea-Genesis Begins with Creating the Universe(Little Quilted Jacket Sprite)

Warmth surged from the wound on his palm, filling Yu Wu with astonishment. This sensation… Yu Wu frowned, unable to describe the itchiness that accompanied it. Glancing down, he saw that the wound, which had just been bleeding, was already scabbing over, as if several days had passed in an instant.

“You…” Yu Wu’s expression grew slightly agitated. He looked at the girl, words on the tip of his tongue but unspoken.

The girl, afraid of being reprimanded, lowered her head and murmured softly, standing on tiptoe, “Yu Wu, I only saw that you were hurt…”

“It’s alright, good child, you’ve done very well.”

Yu Wu comfortingly patted the girl’s head, then gently drew her behind him, glancing at the dozens of feathered folk gathered around. In full view of all, Yu Wu took the girl’s hand and declared loudly, “She is the next Yu Wu of the Feathered Clan!”

Although the girl had long studied at Yu Wu’s side, and the people of the Feathered Clan were aware of her likely future status, it had never before been formally stated. Now, Yu Wu’s public proclamation was tantamount to naming an heir apparent.

At these words, those gathered around broke into jubilant cheers.

“Yu Wu!”

Amidst this fervent atmosphere, however, Quan Xi seemed out of place. He approached the lotus with the Xuan Bird, who, familiar with the routine, slipped into the spot the girl had just vacated and began to peck eagerly at the lotus leaves.

Perhaps sensing its end drawing near, the Xuan Bird could clearly feel the abundant energy stored within the lotus leaves. Perhaps this was the key to prolonging its life. The Xuan Bird thought so, and acted accordingly.

Standing by the lakeshore, Quan Xi watched the joyous feathered folk, feeling distinctly out of place. Soon, he noticed Yu Wu’s figure moving in his direction.

“Quan Xi, Steward of Creation, there are some matters I wish to discuss with you.”

Yu Wu’s voice was hearty, yet Quan Xi could detect a trace of decay beneath it. To cling to life, Yu Wu had long since ceased flying and other activities; today had been his most strenuous in nearly twenty years. Though he appeared fine, Yu Wu was, in truth, suffering.

Quan Xi understood well: he was like a fish raised in the ancestral home of the Feathered Clan, liable at any time to be taken and roasted over the fire.

“When Yu Wu commands, how could I dare refuse?” Quan Xi replied.

Smiling, Yu Wu led Quan Xi back to the lakeside cottage. Around them, the feathered folk bustled with excitement, cleaning up the remnants of the recent events while discussing everything that had transpired. It was as if nothing extraordinary had happened—except that this time, the girl was kept firmly at Yu Wu’s side.

…

Beneath the sea, in the Sharkfolk Royal Court.

The Sharkfolk had developed at a remarkable pace. Unlike the feathered folk on land, the Sharkfolk faced few natural enemies in the ocean. Their only rivals were the sea monsters of the deep, but with their intelligence, the Sharkfolk soon subdued even these. Those that could be tamed became tools for the Sharkfolk; those that could not were hunted and eaten.

With fire impossible underwater, the Sharkfolk’s main diet was still raw food. Yet after more than four centuries of progress, the royal family had invented many unique ways to eat, and for a time even sent slaves ashore to gather fallen fruits from the land to sample terrestrial delights. However, for Sharkfolk lacking legs, going ashore was inconvenient, requiring considerable effort and sometimes resulting in fatalities—as happened a century ago, after which King Quan An issued a strict ban on going ashore.

At the same time, King Quan An visited the sacred temple and returned with a divine edict: the sea belonged to the Sharkfolk, but the land did not. Thereafter, Sharkfolk rarely set foot on land, except for a few who, by the king’s order, checked the shore at dawn and dusk each day.

In addition, under King Quan An’s rule, a formal calendar was established. Based on the observed cycles of sun and moon, a year was set at three hundred and sixty-five days, beginning on the day the former king first encountered the primeval deity. The coronation days of the previous and current kings were also made court festivals—thus, the Sharkfolk Royal Court now observed only three major holidays a year. Birthdays were private matters of the royal family, unacknowledged by the court.

During Quan An’s reign, a series of penal codes was also enacted. Though rudimentary, these laws sufficed to regulate the behavior of ordinary Sharkfolk, ending the previous era when punishments depended on officials’ whims. However, these laws did not apply to the royal family—no punishment could be imposed upon them except by the king himself.

Quan An had three sons. The eldest and second sons remained at court, while the youngest was appointed governor of Haoming City. The Sharkfolk Royal Court now presided over seven cities, all orbiting the court itself in a protective formation like stars around the moon.

Haoming City was second only to the royal court in its prosperity.

Yet now, a storm seemed to be brewing in the Sharkfolk Royal Court. The noble houses all sensed the coming tempest—a struggle over the succession.

Unlike in the days of King Quan Xian, when the court was still in its pioneering phase and king and ministers united in harmony, distinctions of rank not yet firmly established, Quan An’s era saw a rapid crystallization of hierarchy and the institution of formal rites. There was no established tradition of primogeniture, as Quan An himself was not the eldest son. Now, by keeping both his eldest and second sons at court and not sending either away as he had the youngest, Quan An left the nobles with an open question: which prince was his favored heir, the candidate for the third Sharkfolk king?

Quan An was more than three hundred years old. Though he still had a century or more to live, it was urgent to establish a crown prince, for no one knew when death might come—after all, the illustrious former king had died at just such an age.

The noble houses split into factions supporting the two elder princes, and the court was rife with turmoil. In this strange vortex, few were untouched.

Yet some, after all, remained unaffected—such as Quan Xi’s two sons. It had been over a hundred years since the eldest son of the former king disappeared. When Quan Xi vanished, there was a minor rebellion among the Sharkfolk, but it was soon put down. In a century, the two boys had nearly forgotten their father’s face. Once, they had been angry and confused, not understanding why he had left. Now, they were numb.

Sometimes they gazed up at the sea’s surface, wondering what lay beyond, what could compel their father to forsake even his royal status to seek it. Just then, a Sharkfolk maid burst into their private sanctuary and berated them bluntly:

“Quan Zhi, Quan Xu! King An summons you to court. Why are you hesitating here? Do not waste time!”