Chapter 53: The Wood Spirit

Jianmu’s words lingered in the hearts of every wood spirit.

The naive wood spirits nodded one after another. They did not understand what this meant, but judging from Jianmu’s demeanor, it seemed to be something important and grave.

As the stars wheeled past and night descended, all things prepared for slumber. The wood spirits, too, lay down in rows, ready to sleep. Though trees possessed abundant vitality, there always came a moment when it was exhausted.

Seven wood spirits lay together. Many had already fallen asleep, but the one who had previously voiced his thoughts to Jianmu remained awake, blinking and gazing at the stars above, yawning.

“Ling, what are you thinking about?”

Suddenly, the wood spirit beside him asked curiously, seemingly intrigued by this one called Ling. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“Duo, I don’t feel like sleeping.”

Ling shook his head, glanced at the towering Jianmu in the distance, and said to the wood spirit named Duo beside him, “I just want to know... what does Lord Jianmu’s treetop look like?”

“We’ve climbed every other tree before. In fact, we are part of the trees themselves. Only Lord Jianmu’s crown has remained unattainable to us... My curiosity is unbearable.”

Duo was startled by Ling’s words. Instinctively, he covered his mouth, glanced around nervously, and whispered, “Are you... are you mad?! Lord Jianmu has said no one is allowed to climb up there, and we’re supposed to help watch over it for him. That’s the dwelling place of the gods!”

“Gods?”

At the mention of “gods,” Ling’s curiosity only grew. He widened his eyes, looked at Duo, and asked, “Duo, have you ever seen a god?”

Hearing this, Duo shook his head in confusion.

He had never seen a god either.

Usually, the seven wood spirits often heard Jianmu recount the commandments of the gods. The gods were said to be the great beings who created this world, who could overturn it with a single thought. Whether sun or moon, if they willed it, all could be destroyed.

All wood spirits held the gods in the highest reverence, but to Ling, the gods seemed somewhat unreal.

In Ling’s view, Jianmu himself possessed immense power. No matter how ferocious the beast, none could approach Jianmu in the slightest. Only when Jianmu slept did small birds perch upon his trunk.

Moreover, even the birth of the wood spirits themselves was thanks to Jianmu.

Thus, Ling believed the gods to be a fabrication, a concept invented by Jianmu merely to keep them obedient.

Soon, Ling voiced his thoughts: “Tonight, while Jianmu sleeps, I want to climb up and see whether the gods truly exist.”

These words exploded in Duo’s ears. He was utterly shocked, and when he looked at Ling, his words tumbled out in stammering fragments, “If... if Lord Jianmu finds out, we... this... no, absolutely not.”

“Don’t worry. Lord Jianmu won’t blame us... Remember before, even when we made mistakes, a little punishment was all.”

Ling was full of confidence.

Wood spirits had no distinction of gender.

Although trees, their former selves, were divided into male and female, the newly born wood spirits were simply that—wood spirits. They could be male, or female, as they wished, following their own nature. Born between heaven and earth, they had no parents nor would they bear children. For the wood spirits, Jianmu was their collective parent.

Ling was the very first among all wood spirits, and the most favored by Jianmu. Yet, sometimes, favor was not always a good thing. There was but a thin line between favor and indulgence. Jianmu, in the beginning, failed to grasp this balance, leading the world’s first wood spirit to become so mischievous, always seeking to challenge Jianmu’s authority and prove itself.

Ling continued, “Besides, as long as we don’t tell, and Jianmu is asleep, he’ll never know.”

Duo seemed to waver at Ling’s words. He glanced at the towering Jianmu not far away and murmured, “But...”

After only a moment’s hesitation, Duo was persuaded by Ling. He, too, was intensely curious about what lay atop Jianmu’s crown.

“Shall we tell the others and all go together?” Duo asked.

“No.”

Ling answered without the slightest hesitation, his voice resolute: “They’re all Jianmu’s obedient children. They would never do this with us.”

“In fact, if they found out, they might even report us to Jianmu.”

This thought dispelled Duo’s hesitation, and he nodded. “When do we set out?”

“Now.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now!”

...

Under the cover of night, the two little wood spirits set off.

They moved cautiously, not daring to make a sound, fearful of waking Jianmu.

Originally, Jianmu had no need for sleep. But to grant the surrounding trees intelligence and create wood spirits, he had expended too much divine power. Now, for thousands or even tens of thousands of years to come, he needed to enter slumber regularly, to ease the drain upon himself.

Each slumber would last from three months to a year—never very long.

But sleep was not death. In a sense, Jianmu could still perceive some things from the outside world. For example, if someone tried to attack him, Jianmu could react at once. But to small animals nesting on his body, Jianmu was less aware. In a way, Jianmu’s perception was guided by intent—killing intent, hostility, and ordinary events differed greatly.

By now, dawn was approaching. The pale blue sky was studded with a few lingering stars, the horizon streaked with the white of a fish’s belly, while clouds clustered at the edge of the sky, tinged with blood, glowing faintly red.

After a whole night of climbing, Ling and Duo had not yet reached the top of Jianmu. They felt as if the treetop was boundless, utterly unreachable.

How tall was Jianmu?

They only knew that, when the gods named him, they spoke of “Jianmu, a hundred ren high,” and thus he was given the name “Jianmu.” This was what Jianmu had told them; they had no idea how high or vast “a hundred ren” truly was.

When the other wood spirits awoke and found Ling and Duo missing, they simply assumed they had gone off to forage, and so were not alarmed, continuing to play merrily.

And so, for seven days and seven nights, Ling and Duo climbed, until finally they touched Jianmu’s crown.

At the treetop, clouds and mist swirled everywhere.

Countless golden rays rolled into scarlet rainbows, auspicious vapors spraying purple mist in myriad streams.

This floating haze gave everything an illusory air.

Gradually, as the vague mist receded before Ling and Duo, they looked up to see several giant pillars towering higher still into the clouds.

Golden dragons were engraved upon these pillars, coiling upwards as if alive, writhing within the pillars, ready to burst forth and roar at the sky at any moment.

Farther still, golden light flowed, shining through the mist, and in the face of such a scene, anyone would feel compelled to drop to their knees in worship.

“This...”

Ling’s eyes widened as an overwhelming pressure descended. Both Ling and Duo were nearly suffocated by the sheer force of it, their heads spinning, unable to endure.

At that very moment, the Jianmu beneath their feet suddenly shook violently. Then, two vines whipped out and entwined them, instantly pulling them down!