Chapter 2: The Dream Has Ended
Chapter 2: The Dream Has Ended
Three years later.
A colossal tree-person descended from the heavens onto Taichu Island. It observed the peculiar structures before it and waited silently. Soon, two more formidable auras arrived—Ling and Kun. The three chaotic beings exchanged glances before retreating to separate corners.
“I… Peng Zu!”
A gigantic roc landed with earth-shaking force, ready to unleash its aura. Instantly, the overwhelming presence of the three primordial Chaotic Beings crushed Peng Zu’s confidence. His mind reeled—he’d believed himself the world’s mightiest creature since birth. Yet here stood three beings far more terrifying. Who else lurked within that building? The source of the mysterious voice he’d sensed? Swallowing his pride, Peng Zu suppressed his aura and slunk to the back rows in submission.
Three months later.
Taichu Island trembled and faded from existence, severing all connection to the outside world.
😌😌😌Golden Novel translates the best Chinese web novels for you!😌😌😌
Zuo Meng had decreed this timeframe. Any creature failing to arrive within three months lacked either intelligence or strength—unworthy of his attention.
When Zuo Meng emerged, every being prostrated—even Huang and the two other primeval Chaotic Beings. To them, he appeared as an incomprehensible entity, a higher-dimensional deity beyond mortal understanding.
Zuo Meng surveyed his creations with dismay. Furred, scaled, or armored monstrosities filled his vision: a tree-monster with thirty branch-arms, a lava-oozing stone abomination, a thorn-covered weed creature. The most normal-looking was a one-clawed roc dragging a barbed tail.
What wretched spawns of creation!
His initial desire to communicate evaporated. Yet he couldn’t dismiss them outright—these creatures had struggled mightily to reach him. Those in the back still gasped for breath. Resigned, he decided to impart some wisdom, recalling legendary tales of Daoist ancestors’ teachings.
“I am Tai Chu.”
He borrowed the island’s name, too indifferent to invent another.
Though the creatures couldn’t comprehend complex speech, Zuo Meng altered Taichu Island’s fundamental laws. Suddenly, understanding flooded their minds—a feat that left them awestruck. Compared to their primitive name-roaring, this was godlike mastery.
“Today I open the immortal gates to spread the Dao.”
Mimicking legendary sages, Zuo Meng launched directly into his sermon.
Novelty soon gave way to tedium. Abandoning original insights, he mechanically recited memorized texts from ancient scriptures. Whether they understood mattered little—the Dao transcended mere words.
“Heaven’s Dao flows ceaselessly, thus all things are formed…”
Three months later, Zuo Meng rose from his stone dais.
“My teachings end here. Seek your own enlightenment.”
With a sleeve-flourish reminiscent of Bodhi Ancestor from Journey to the West, he expelled all beings from Taichu Island. The creatures experienced a whirlwind of change before finding themselves mainland-bound. The immortal island had vanished like morning mist.
Huang, Kun, and Ling exchanged knowing looks before dispersing. While lesser beings grasped fragments of wisdom, these three primeval Chaotic Beings had forged complete paths to power. Other notable creatures also departed with hard-won insights.
As the three-month teaching concluded, an Old Turtle etched the event into its shell:
‘In chaos’ dawn, the Immortal Ancestor taught Dao on Taichu Island for three moons…’
Such record-keeping was turtlekind’s eternal habit.
Bong! Bong! Bong!
The bell’s toll snapped Zuo Meng to awareness. Taichu Island’s contours wavered as dream-reality fractured.
“Of course—this is but a dream.”
“Am I waking?”
Closing his eyes, he felt reality twist like disturbed water. An unseen force yanked his consciousness upward then plunged it downward. When his eyes reopened, he lay in a familiar bed.
Zuo Meng sat dazed in his Liuhe Sect quarters. Dream memories dissolved like morning frost—only fragments remained. Like ordinary people’s forgotten dreams, his century-long vision left mere echoes.
“This is Taiyuan Mountain of Liuhe Sect. I’m Zuo Meng, raised here since childhood.”
The Liuhe Sect had formed from six merged clans, akin to the Five Mountains Alliance from legends. Taiyuan Sword Sect’s token resistance before absorption became elder’s tales—Zuo Meng cared little for bygone politics. Two decades of merger had erased old loyalties; newer disciples knew only Liuhe.
His master Zuo Han Sheng—former Taiyuan Sword Sect Headmaster turned Liuhe elder—embodied Daoist non-contention. Under his influence, Zuo Meng grew steeped in Daoist texts, their verses resurfacing in his dream-teachings.
In twenty years, Zuo Han Sheng accepted only two disciples: Zuo Meng and Junior Sister Zuo Qiu—both war orphans named and raised by the master. Their shared surname bound them as family.