Chapter 6: The Sacred Tree

Clouds drift across the sky like white robes, changing swiftly as if they were mottled hounds. Branches entwine and overlap, luxuriant leaves spreading out like emerald clouds, thoroughly veiling the blue heavens. As the breeze passes, the foliage rustles, echoing the sighs of dragons.

After fifty years immersed in the vastness of the sea, Liang Yuan stepped onto land and was struck by an unprecedented clarity. Here, too, was an ocean—the ocean of trees, a paradise for birds. Branch connects to branch, leaf overlays leaf. There are no roads, no traces of humanity, nor any pollution. Liang Yuan drew a deep breath; though the sea was profound and brilliant, the land suited his tastes far more.

The air was alive with the persistent chorus of insects. Now, the realm of earth belonged to bugs and birds. Large insects and avian creatures were everywhere; though other animals had begun to appear, they were insignificant beside the dominance of insects and birds. A centipede, three or four meters long, roamed with impunity, a veritable lord of the land, breaking branches as it passed. Dragonflies and mosquitoes took flight, their wings humming in chorus.

Far off, a massive bird soared past, its flight stirring the leaves and whipping up a wild wind. Liang Yuan exhaled, gazing at this age ruled by insects and birds, and could not help but feel a pang of emotion. He had once sown seeds of hope here on land. In the sea, too, creatures transformed into amphibians, grew lungs, and became land-dwellers. Yet, despite all this, no race akin to the merfolk—capable of wisdom—emerged on land. Instead, it became the domain of invertebrate arthropods.

Among the myriad creatures of the land, surely some would attain intelligence. With this thought, Liang Yuan spread his consciousness throughout the entire realm of Nine Provinces. The land was vast; unlike before, he did not merely scan it roughly, but searched slowly, kilometer by kilometer, each taking ten or more minutes.

As time passed, Liang Yuan finally discovered, in the far east of the continent, a life unlike any other.

East beyond the Eastern Province.

With the location roughly determined, Liang Yuan appeared there in an instant. Before him stood a towering tree, its presence overwhelming. The trunk was gnarled and rugged, etched with the wrinkles of ages, as if it had endured tens of thousands of years, emanating a profound sense of desolation and antiquity. Liang Yuan looked up; the giant tree stretched hundreds of meters skyward, its silhouette visible for thousands of meters around.

Upon its branches lived creatures reminiscent of squirrels—but cuter and more petite than their counterparts. What struck him as remarkable was the absence of birds on this tree. Ordinarily, such a great tree would be teeming with birds, especially in this era where birds and insects dominated. Liang Yuan focused his attention; indeed, the peculiar sensation emanated from this giant tree.

Though outwardly similar to the surrounding trees, Liang Yuan sensed that this tree was continuously emitting a signal—a low-frequency message that no other creature could comprehend.

But Liang Yuan was not like other creatures.

He could distinctly feel the tree radiating a mournful, ancient aura—a loneliness unrecognized for millennia. Liang Yuan understood this feeling, for he, too, had experienced such a time. Only after creating this world did that sorrow dissipate.

He reached out, placing his palm upon the trunk.

“Who are you?” came a thought, transmitted through his hand. Liang Yuan smiled gently, replying in kind, “Just a traveler passing by.”

“There is something familiar about you; I like it very much,” the tree communicated again. Liang Yuan replied, “You feel familiar to me as well. If I am not mistaken, you must be one of the seeds I sowed at the beginning.”

Upon hearing this, the tree fell silent for a long while, yet that silence brimmed with overwhelming joy—a rapture bordering on ecstasy.

“It is you. I remember you… You are the Primordial God.”

Listening to the tree’s voice, Liang Yuan neither confirmed nor denied it, but gazed calmly at the giant tree, moving his palm to another spot. “You are the first intelligent life on land… though that is somewhat unexpected.”

The tree was puzzled, uncertain of Liang Yuan’s meaning.

“Primordial God, I do not understand.”

Unlike the reserved merfolk king Quansen, the tree’s thoughts were pure and straightforward; it spoke openly, without reservation.

“It’s fine not to understand.”

Liang Yuan smiled, sending forth a warm current through his palm into the tree. The giant tree felt a surge of warmth coursing through its branches. Where insects had gnawed, new life began to bloom; the wrinkles of age slowly faded, and a mysterious energy formed within the tree.

The sensation was superbly pleasant; its leaves grew vigorously, rustling in delight, eager to express its gratitude. “Thank you, Primordial God!”

“Your existence is both accidental and inevitable. But since you have survived as the sole intelligent being on land, I shall not let you perish.”

Liang Yuan’s voice was tranquil, untouched by joy or sorrow. “The merfolk beneath the sea are evolving, yet no corresponding race has appeared on land. Such is the fate of the times. I need you to study with me, to help determine what the first race of land shall become.”

His words were calm, though the tree could not fully comprehend, nodding in simple assent—so long as it could be of help, it had no other thoughts.

Suddenly, Liang Yuan asked, “Do you have a name?”

“A name?” The tree was bewildered, about to ask what a name was, when a chill swept over it, instantly illuminating the concept. “I do not have a name.”

The tree had no name; being the sole intelligent creature on land, and unable to move, it naturally had never needed one. Yet, it had named the animals that dwelled upon its branches. Unable to travel, it placed its hopes in the animals, wishing they could journey further and higher on its behalf.

Thinking thus, the tree felt it ought to have a name as well, and in a simple voice, asked, “Primordial God, please grant me a name.”

Liang Yuan looked up at the towering tree reaching into the clouds, and suddenly spoke, “Its leaves are like silk, its fruit like the luan, its wood like the ou, its name is Jianmu.”

“It cannot be called a World Tree, for that does not suit you. Let you be known as Jianmu.”