Life

Shu Zi looked back in a daze. He had glanced to the side just a moment ago—had he seen someone familiar on a rooftop?

That sense of familiarity was so distant that he had completely forgotten where he might have seen them before.

Shu Zi looked toward the rooftop once more.

Bathed in the setting sun, the roof was already empty.

Did I see wrong? Shu Zi thought with a touch of regret, leaning on his cane as he walked away with a slight stagger.

His back seemed to have aged several years in that moment.

As Shu Zi walked along the road, he recalled the Xiao Hua he had just seen.

There were many people surrounding Xiao Hua, so many that Shu Zi felt a faint sense of envy.

Because what those people revealed was genuine admiration.

The people who usually surrounded him, however, wore only expressions of hypocrisy.

He knew that when he left, Xiao Hua was watching him from behind, but he could not turn back.

Everything was already beyond the point of no return. He admitted that he had changed; time could alter so many people, and no one could remain unchanged over the course of forty years.

He was old, so he had compromised on many things and learned to let them go.

How could any person possibly endure the ravages of time?

That was why he found Xiao Hua terrifying.

A person whose heart had not changed in forty years...

One year later, the territories of the Human Race grew increasingly unstable, with rebellions threatening to break out at any moment. Shu Zi no longer had the strength to suppress them, for he could barely protect himself.

All Shu Zi could do was use the God Bow in his hand as a deterrent to ensure the safety of his own family.

His excessively decayed body and spirit were no longer enough to keep him striving for power.

Shu Zi relinquished most of his authority, retaining only the empty title of patriarch.

Another half-year passed, and Shu Zi's life reached its end.

He lay on his bed, surrounded by many people.

There were his wife, his numerous sons and daughters, his relatives, his subordinates, and several friends whose sincerity he could not discern.

Watching countless faces move back and forth before his eyes, Shu Zi could not help but think with sorrow: Among all these people, how many truly wish for me to keep living?

He fumbled, slowly drawing the God Bow from behind him.

The appearance of the God Bow remained as it had been in the past; after all, it was a divine creation, completely untouched by the wear of time.

As soon as this legendary weapon, which had established the entire Human Race, was brought out, several gasps echoed through the room.

Many eyes were fixed upon the God Bow—some with greed, some with longing, some with yearning, and some with curiosity.

There was no longer anyone who continued to look at Shu Zi once the God Bow appeared.

A cold smile formed in Shu Zi's heart.

"Ying Zi, come here! You take it!"

Shu Zi said with great effort.

Although Ying Zi had previously clashed with his father over matters concerning his mother, he was overjoyed to hear that he would inherit the God Bow.

One had to understand that the God Bow was not merely a weapon; it was the symbol of authority over the Human Race.

It could be said that whoever held the God Bow was the undisputed next patriarch.

At this moment, a voice spoke up from the side:

"Father, I object! The God Bow should be used by me!"

The speaker was a man of extremely tall and sturdy build. He was in his thirties, much younger than Ying Zi and far stronger in body; he was Shu Zi's fifth son.

Although Ying Zi usually maintained an air of indifference toward fame and fortune, he would not back down when a divine artifact was at stake, and he immediately began to argue with his fifth brother.

Shu Zi lay on the bed, gasping for air. It hurts so much, he thought. Every inch of his body felt as if it were being sawed back and forth, tormenting him repeatedly.

Several times, he had nearly fainted from the pain.

He knew he was reaching his end. Today, as soon as his consciousness had cleared slightly, he had hurriedly called everyone over to settle his affairs.

Shu Zi watched the few people swaying before his eyes.

He was on the verge of death, yet they were still bickering in front of him.

He had toiled his whole life, carving out a territory for the entire Human Race and building a massive estate for his family.

But what was the use of it all!

The God Bow, the position of power, his children—could any of these things save him when he was dying?

Haha, how meaningless, Shu Zi thought, watching those who were staring at the God Bow.

"One day, you will all end up just like me."

"No matter what you fought for while you were alive, in the end, you cannot escape... sickness, aging, death..."

Shu Zi stared blankly, thinking that there was, in fact, one person who would never have her gaze stolen away by the God Bow.

But that person... Shu Zi looked out through the gaps in the crowd again; she had not come today, either.

In his long life, Shu Zi had seen countless tribesmen. Yet, in truth, none of them could compare to Xiao Hua.

On his deathbed, facing his own heart, Shu Zi had to admit that Xiao Hua truly possessed a spirit far stronger than his own.

He could not understand it, nor could he accept it, but Shu Zi felt a flicker of envy toward Xiao Hua.

How wonderful it would be if he could be like her... to hold a belief that never wavered, never retreated, never changed, and pressed ever forward. That, too, would be a life of great happiness...

Shu Zi fantasized, and with a smile, he quietly closed his eyes.

His sons had been arguing over the God Bow for a long time, and it was only when someone nearby screamed that they realized Shu Zi had already passed away.

After Shu Zi died, the Human Race fell into chaos.

The God Bow changed hands several times before finally falling into the possession of Shu Zi's fourth son, Luan Zi.

Unfortunately, while Luan Zi possessed martial strength, he lacked prestige; he had cunning, but no grand vision.

He gathered a group of followers around him, but the lands of the Human Race were vast, and the flames of war were already rising everywhere.

Shu Zi had been the old patriarch, the one who had carved out their world. His name carried weight and his shadow loomed large; during his tenure, he held enough prestige that no one dared to rebel lightly.

Once Shu Zi died, those people became unscrupulous.

Three years later, the Human Race finally split completely into four tribes.

To the south of the center, entrenched upon Fang Mountain, was the tribe led by Luan Zi. Because they possessed the God Bow, they were habitually called the God Bow Tribe.

Another, slightly larger tribe occupied the vast territory between the Great Wilderness and the Si River, known as the Wild River Tribe.

The remaining two tribes were smaller: the Burning Mountain Tribe in the north, and the Giant Stone Tribe along the coast to the south.

The tribes were hostile toward one another, each watching the others with predatory eyes.

From that moment on, the world of the Human Race was plunged into war.

Meanwhile, Xiao Hua traveled amidst the chaos, preaching the faith of the Ancestral Deities.

In the midst of war, many people's lives hung by a thread, making them all the more likely to pin their hopes on ethereal things.

Consequently, the number of devout believers in the Ancestral Deities grew.

Fifteen years passed, and at the age of eighty-four, Xiao Hua's life reached its end.

Among the Human Race, this was an unprecedentedly advanced age.

She lay in a temple—a building known as the Central Temple, constructed brick by brick by countless believers who braved the dangers of war to build it at the intersection of the God Bow, Wild River, and Giant Stone tribes.

In this way, the hearts of many believers found a sanctuary; they came from different tribes to worship the Ancestral Deities here.

In the main hall of the temple, a bed was set up, and Xiao Hua lay upon it.

She was surrounded by many shamans and believers.

Xiao Hua had become the most revered existence to them all.

They looked at her with sorrowful expressions, as if the person about to pass away was their own kin.

On her deathbed, Xiao Hua thought of Shu Zi.

"Will he blame me? Before he died, I was on the other side of the Si River, helping those wounded by the war, and I couldn't look after him."

"Regardless, we will soon meet again, for after I die, I will go to the Ancestral Deities."

"I hope he can forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye."

In the faith of the Human Race, although there was no concept of a soul, they assumed that people continued to exist after death and would go to the Ancestral Deities.

The place of the Ancestral Deities was the Heavenly Realm, a place far better than the mortal world.

There was no war, no famine, and no pain or sorrow.

Xiao Hua felt her life slipping away, yet her heart was strangely calm.

She knew she was going to the place where she belonged.

There, beyond the Ancestral Deities, there must be some even greater existence.

Her entire life had been dedicated to this great existence.

This life had been worth it.

For the last time, Xiao Hua tremblingly raised her withered, skeletal arm toward the sky.

"Oh God, please do not abandon me!"

She shouted these words with every ounce of strength she had left.

The Great Shaman of the Human Race passed away in silence.

Beside her, the sound of weeping grew louder, soon merging into a single, continuous wail.