Chapter 230. Nüwa Mends the Heavens (3) Fire-keeper, Bridal Entourage, Ghost of the Netherworld

     Meanwhile, over 100,000 survivors over a hundred thousand survivors were distributed among tens of thousands of tribes, both large and small, across the Divine Land Continent.

     The basic rules of distribution were as follows: Except for Ye Mo, those who awakened elemental abilities or had innate talents were assigned to the most suitable tribes. If no elemental abilities were awakened, the system randomly assigned them.

     The system did not enhance the survivors’ strength, so the identities they assumed matched their own capabilities. Their future was in their own hands. 

     Wang Xue arrived at the Suiren Tribe, one of the most ancient tribes, second only to the Yanzi Tribe. After the Zhīnǚ’s death, many claimed that the Suiren Tribe had become the strongest in the Nine Provinces.  

     However, none of this had much to do with Wang Xue. She had no way of knowing about the conflicts between tribes—because she had transmigrated into the lowest-ranking role in the Suiren Tribe: a Fire-Keeping Child.  

     Wang Xue’s current body was that of a thirty-year-old youth. Everyone called her Xue-shi(Snow Clan) because she was born in winter and her surname was Huo(Fire), the same as all members of the Suiren Tribe, because the leaders of the Suiren tribe were all from truly unknown people.

     In her memories, 90% of her life had been spent tending fire, guarding a single cluster of Celestial Flame, said to originate from the primordial chaos of ancient times. It was the foundational core of the Suiren Tribe.  

     There were thousands upon thousands of such flame clusters in the Suiren Tribe, and the one Wang Xue guarded was an exceptionally small one. As for fire-keeping child like her? There were at least hundreds of thousands in the tribe.  

     When Wang Xue transmigrated into this body, Xue-shi and three others had already been on duty for three days and two nights straight.  

     One more night remained before their shift ended.  

     Among the five fire-tending children, Wang Xue was the weakest. She tried to strike up friendly conversations, but the others ignored her even scorned her for not standing properly, failing to embody the Suiren Tribe’s “spiritual vigor.”  

     “!!!”  

     Wang Xue stood at rigid attention for five hours straight before the relief team finally arrived.  

     Every member of the relief squad was stronger than her—well, except for one. Today, there was a new recruit among them.  

     Wang Xue’s eyes suddenly lit up, the new recruit looked to be only sixteen or seventeen, with delicate features and an air of refreshing purity. Now this was the real young man.  

     She attempted to strike up a conversation with the fresh-faced boy. To her surprise, he responded with polite courtesy.  

     They exchanged clan names, and then the boy said, “Greetings, Xue. I am Fuxi-shi. You may call me Fuxi.”  

     “What?” Wang Xue’s entire being short-circuited. She dug a finger into her ear, unable to believe what she’d just heard. “Fuxi?”  

   【”Fuxi: One of the earliest human ancestors of the Chinese nation, one of the Three Sovereigns, and a righteous deity who, along with Nu Wa, blessed the nation. He is one of the earliest documented creator deities in Chinese mythology @Excerpted from Baidu Encyclopedia】

     Fuxi didn’t understand her reaction but nodded again. “Yes, I am Fuxi.”  

     Wang Xue flashed the boy a dazzling smile before stumbling out of the fire chamber as if walking on clouds, her mind reeling. “…Sister Jing, come quick! I just bagged a Fuxi and he’s stuck as a lowly fire-keeping child like me!”

     Decision made: her first goal would be to recruit Fuxi himself as her underling. Just imagine bragging about that back on Earth—she could practically taste the glory. Oh, this was going to be fun. 

     …

     Wang Xue could at least still be a fire-keeping child, but as soon as Watson transmigrated, he was met with a torrent of scolding from his new body’s parents, who, frustratingly, seemed to have a limited vocabulary of just a dozen or so words.

     “???”

     Watson had been born into the Changxi Tribe, where members took the surname Yue (Moon). Unlike older tribes that derived surnames from their founding leader’s elemental affinity, the Changxi Tribe’s naming tradition stemmed from their unique cultivation methods, which revered the moon as sacred. 

     In this mythical era, parent-child relationships differed vastly from later generations. Once children discovered their life’s purpose, they would part ways with their parents to forge their own paths, rendering parents, in a sense, little more than blood-related clan members. 

     This was true for all of Watson’s older and younger siblings.

     Only Watson, who lived for forty or fifty years, had yet to find his life’s purpose and was still a freeloader.

     The real Watson who had never mooched off his parents in his entire life—was speechless: Well… this is a novel experience.

     His current identity was named Sheng, taken from one character of his real name (Watson/HuaSheng(華生) 生, “life” or “to be born”). Sheng was also one of the oldest Chinese musical instruments, indispensable for festive ceremonies—“play the sheng and strike the reed pipes” as the saying went

     After a long, tedious lecture, his parents finally dropped the bombshell: “There’s an opportunity for you. Since you’re named Sheng, you can go play the sheng at the wedding of the chieftain’s second daughter and the Shennong-shi second son.”

     “…”

     Watson’s memories did include playing the sheng, but the owner of this body, like him, was only an ordinary sheng player, possessing neither talent nor interest. If not for his name being Sheng, he’d never have landed this gig.  

     He missed Wang Xue so badly that he agreed to his parents’ proposal: become a temporary wedding performer.  

     By convention, the wedding between Changxi-shi’s daughter and Shennong-shi’s son should’ve been held in the Changxi Tribe. After all, this was the matriarch’s domain.  

     But the Changxi Tribe’s status paled next to the Shennong Clan. Just the name Shennong (神農, “Divine Farmer”) echoed 神龍 (shénlóng, “divine dragon”)—though they masked their ambition behind a facade of wood-element talents. It was obvious their chieftain, Shennong-shi, hungered for far more.  

     And her ambitions didn’t stop there.  

     She only had two sons. Her eldest son was marrying into the Xi He Tribe, which worshipped the sun and bore the surname Yang (Sun). Her second son was marrying into the Chang Xi Tribe, which worshipped the moon.

     The Changxi Tribe couldn’t compete with the Shennong Clan—hell, they couldn’t even measure up to the Xihe Tribe. So they had no choice but to hold the wedding in Shennong territory.  

     Which meant Watson would be part of the Changxi princess’s bridal entourage to the Shennong Tribe. They’d depart in three days.  

     “……”

     First time being a wedding dowry attendant.  

     But for a chance to reach the Shennong Tribe? Worth it.  

     Hua•Bridal Entourage•Sheng didn’t wait for his parents’ nagging. He marched back to his cave, grabbed his sheng—crafted from eighteen purple bamboo pipes—and began practicing with grim determination. The notes came out halting, uneven, but relentless.  

     …

     Compared to Watson and Wang Xue, Ji Li was neither a young attendant nor part of a bridal entourage – after all, he was a wandering ghost who had been dead for over twenty-nine years.  

     “……”  

     In this world, fierce battles between powerful figures often ended in complete soul dispersion. For ordinary people, the chances were slightly lower. Few retained strong lingering attachments, with most becoming main souls awaiting reincarnation.  

     Ji Li’s original self belonged to the rare minority of spirits who stubbornly refused to move on due to unresolved grievances. His obsession was simple: the Ruo Clan tribe he belonged to had been completely annihilated – a blood debt that demanded vengeance.  

     The Ruo Clan was an ancient mid-sized tribe – not among the most powerful, but certainly above the lowest ranks.  

     While many knew about the Ziwei Star Yanzi Clan’s mutual destruction with the sudden appearance of unknown monsters, few were aware that the Ruo Clan had actually been these creatures’ first victims.  

     After the Ruo Clan’s tragedy, rather than offering help, every other tribe except Yanzi had attempted to annex this mid-sized territory.  

     The Ruo Clan had always relied on the Yanzi Tribe’s protection, paying annual tributes in exchange for security. As long as Yanzi stood, the Ruo Clan remained safe.  

     Those greedy tribes had only dared to fantasize… until now.  

     But after Yanzi’s death, the entire Yanzi Tribe was thrown into chaos. With no new chieftain being elected for a long time, they became too preoccupied with their own survival—and perhaps somewhat unwilling to mention the Ruo Clan’s plight.  

     In short, amid this turmoil, the Ruo Clan was completely annihilated by a coalition of over a dozen tribes.  

     Their resources were plundered. The strong were slaughtered, while the weak either perished or were enslaved.  

     Ji Li’s original self wasn’t particularly powerful, but rather than live as another tribe’s slave, he chose to face death with dignity.  

     In the Nine Provinces, there existed a common towering tree known as the Great Peach Tree. Its roots sprawled even more extensively than its sprawling canopy aboveground, with the strongest tendrils stretching thousands of miles.  

     This tree was a rare pure-Yin entity. Through it, wandering spirits could enter the sunless Netherworld, gaining shelter until their conscious souls dissipated, leaving only their main souls behind.  

     But Ji Li’s original self refused to enter the Netherworld—for legend said that once inside, none could leave unless reduced to their main soul, destined to drift back into the world for reincarnation.  

     Fortunately, he possessed pure Dark-element talent. His conscious soul remained intact, his spiritual power undiminished, and he could even grow stronger. Enough to withstand the sun’s rays. In this world, most people were indifferent to spirits, perceiving them no differently than flowers or trees… unless they recognized them.  

     For nearly thirty years, Ji Li’s original self had been evading the Great Peach Tree’s pull.  

     Just as Ji Li’s soul took hold of the body, he found himself near a Great Peach Tree, while in the middle of brawling with a few suspiciously crow-like creatures.  

     The result?

     The original owner had successfully evaded capture for 30 years, only for Ji Li to get immediately sucked into the tree the moment he arrived. Passing through the Ghost Gate, he was dragged into the Netherworld, a realm teeming with ghosts of every kind.  

     “……”

     The Netherworld matched his expectations in one way: it was pitch dark. But everything else was utterly different. Here, the spirits idled aimlessly, too lazy to cultivate. After all, even if they grew stronger, they couldn’t leave. They fought, but never to the point of soul dispersion.  

     Because the Netherworld had its rulers: the two strongest Dark-element cultivators in the Nine Provinces—Shen Tu and Yu Lei, the earliest recorded Door Gods in history.  

     Every ghost knew that defeating Shen Tu and Yu Lei was the only way out. But for tens of thousands of years, not a single soul had escaped this damned place.  

     Some ghosts said that even if Zi Wei star Yan Zi-Shi came to the Netherworld, she wouldn’t be able to defeat Shen Tu and Yu Lei. And it’s not like no one from the Yan Zi Tribe had come down here before.

     Ji Li then asked, “…What about Nu Wa?”

     The ghosts erupted in mocking laughter. “Who’s Nüwa? Is she strong? Could she even defeat Yanzi?”

     Nearly none of them recognized Nüwa’s name and that told Ji Li everything he needed to know about Ye Mo’s Nüwa. A Nüwa who hadn’t yet become famous.

     Well damn. His little comrade’s status was legit legendary.

     —

     In the Netherworld, cultivation wasn’t the trend. Instead, the popular path was shedding one’s conscious soul—letting it disperse to reincarnate, praying for a better next life. By those standards, Ji Li’s strength was far from weak.  

     His days weren’t hard, though his relentless training made him an outlier among the idle ghosts.  

     He would never abandon his memories just to reincarnate. Who knew if his core self would remain intact? No—his only option was to train like hell.  

     Luckily, this Netherworld was practically paradise for Dark-element talents.

     No matter what it takes to escape, Ji Li refused to believe he’d be trapped forever. The apocalypse had taught him one truth, whether for human or ghost, power was everything.  

     He even tried recruiting other Dark-affinity ghosts to train together. But his persuasion skills were… lacking. Very few ghosts genuinely listened, mainly because their lives were like stagnant water, completely without purpose.