Chapter Two Hundred Fourteen: Heaven and Earth in Peace — Spirit Qi Fills the World

Volume Six: Spirit-Life in Dahuang — Dao Grace Everlasting

Dusk was the quietest hour of the day.

The sun was sinking in the west. Sunset clouds spread across half the sky — from the horizon to overhead, deep crimson grading into orange-gold, then fading into gray-blue. Xiwei descended slowly from the heights and hovered in the air not far above the ground. She had learned, by now, to draw in her radiance at this hour, letting the fading daylight and the cool evening breeze set the mood of her movements.

In the distance, the mountain range had become a row of black silhouettes against the sunset. Near at hand, the treetops glowed with transmitted light, every leaf's outline traced in a rim of gold. The river's surface shimmered with scattered fragments of light.

Watching all this, Xiwei thought of Pangu. Not with sorrow — with something faint and warm, like the sunset itself suffusing the sky.

The wind carried the scent of earth and growing things. Pangu's scent was in it. It always would be.

From the soil beneath her feet, Yuanji sent up a low pulse of energy — his way of saying, "I am here too."

Xiwei did not answer. She only continued to gaze at the fading afterglow and the stars about to rise, slowly sinking into the most tranquil darkness of the day.

Deep within the earth, Pangu's bone marrow had transformed into the Earth Veins. Like the blood vessels within a living body, those veins crisscrossed the subterranean world, conveying an invisible, intangible yet utterly real force to every corner of the world. That force was spirit qi — the purest breath Pangu had bequeathed to this world.

A thread of spirit qi rose from the depths of an Earth Vein. It passed through strata of rock, through numberless ores and crystals. Wherever the spirit qi seeped, stone grew warm and smooth; some even took on a jade-like luster. The qi rose further, passing through the tangled roots of trees. Those roots spread like countless hands, catching every passing wisp of spirit qi.

An ancient giant tree absorbed that thread of qi. The qi followed the roots into the trunk, ascending through the xylem vessels. As it rose, it mingled with the tree's sap and was delivered to every branch, every leaf. The leaves of this giant tree became an extraordinary emerald green — thick, fleshy, their veins standing out in sharp relief. When the wind passed through them, they sang with a clarity and sweetness no other tree could match.

A caterpillar crawled onto a branch and chewed a leaf. The spirit qi within that leaf entered the caterpillar's body along with the leaf-flesh. The caterpillar, which had been a drab, dusty gray, now showed clearer markings on its skin, and a faint cyan glow emerged. It grew faster than other caterpillars and entered the pupal stage earlier.

The caterpillar emerged as a butterfly — one that shimmered with blue light under the sun. Its wings bore golden markings, like words written in light itself. The butterfly flitted among the flowers, drinking nectar and carrying pollen from blossom to blossom. Spirit qi coursed through its body, letting it fly higher and live longer.

The butterfly was snatched from the air by a bird. The qi entered the bird's body. The bird's plumage grew sleek and glossy; its song became louder. It sang from a high branch, and its voice rang through the forest, carrying far, far away.

The bird drank at the river's edge. A single droplet of water bearing traces of spirit qi fell from its beak into the stream. That droplet flowed downstream, merging into the brook, into the small river, into the great river. The fish and shrimp in the water absorbed the qi remaining in that drop. The water-weeds swayed in the qi, driving their roots deeper, spreading their fronds wider.

The river merged into the sea. That thread of spirit qi — the thread that had risen from the depths of the Earth Vein, passed through roots, trunk, leaf, caterpillar, butterfly, bird, droplet, river, and at last reached the ocean — dispersed into the sea's vastness. But dispersal was not disappearance. It dissolved into the seawater, absorbed by drifting water life, by seaweed, by every form of life growing in the sea. Waves beat against the coastal rocks, flinging vapor into the air. That vapor carried spirit qi, rose into the sky, and condensed into clouds.

The wind drove the clouds toward the land. When the vapor condensed into rain upon the mountains and fell once more to the earth, the spirit qi returned with it. The rain seeped into the soil and was absorbed by new roots. Another tree's leaves unfurled after the rain, and the droplets upon them glittered in the sunlight.

A complete cycle was thus fulfilled. From the depths of the Earth Veins to the highest clouds, from the crown of the giant tree to the floor of the deep sea — spirit qi was everywhere. It flowed among the Myriad Things, passing Pangu's gift to every living being.

The mountain mists also carried spirit qi. Morning mist rose from the valleys and spread among the treetops. As animals moved through the mist, tiny droplets of water condensed on their fur and feathers. Those droplets seeped into their skin, carrying spirit qi into their blood. Dew-drinking insects drew qi from every bead of moisture. Even the mosses and lichens, those most inconspicuous of plants, absorbed spirit qi from the air day after day, transforming it into the power of growth.

Flying over a stretch of grassland, Xiwei felt the earth breathing gently beneath her. It was no illusion — the earth truly breathed. The pulse of the Earth Veins beat with the rhythm of a heart, pumping spirit qi to every corner. Where spirit qi was abundant, the grass grew greener, the flowers bloomed brighter, the animals ran faster and flew higher. Where spirit qi was slightly thinner, life still grew — only more slowly, more inwardly. There were differences, but the current never broke.

Late at night, starlight fell. The mountain forests in the darkness gave off a faint phosphorescence — it was the spirit qi gathered on leaves and moss glowing in the dark. Not terribly bright, but visible to anyone who looked closely. The entire mountain was shining, like a colossal gemstone resting upon the breast of the earth.

Xiwei extended her hand, and a wisp of spirit qi coiled around her fingertip. Gazing at that light, she thought of Pangu. His body had transformed into the mountains and rivers; his breath had become this spirit qi that filled Heaven and Earth. He had not departed — he was still breathing, still flowing, still nourishing every living thing upon this land.

Xiwei had once pondered a question: could spirit qi ever run out? Pangu's breath was, after all, finite — yet this world was so vast, and its Living Beings so numerous. If spirit qi were ever exhausted, what would become of this world?

But she soon discovered that her worry was unfounded. Spirit qi could never run out, because it was ceaselessly cycling. Plants absorbed it; animals ate the plants; when animals died, their bodies decayed, and the qi returned to the soil and the air — to be absorbed by new plants. It was a perfect cycle, without waste, without end.

She sat down upon the stump of a dead tree. The stump had been dead for many years, but its roots still connected to the Earth Veins. A thread of spirit qi seeped from the roots and condensed on the surface of the stump into a thin, frost-like film. That frost glowed with a faint white light under the moonlight. A small insect crawled up and began to nibble at that white film. It was absorbing spirit qi, transmuting this power from the depths of the Earth Veins into its own life-energy.

Xiwei suddenly understood. Spirit qi was not something that could be "used up." It was a flowing force — it nourished the Myriad Things in its flow, and renewed itself in its flow. Like water — water never vanished; it only changed form, from liquid to vapor, from vapor back to liquid, cycling without end, never exhausted.

Her gaze traveled into the distance. On a moonlit ridge, a solitary pine swayed gently in the night wind. Its posture was gnarled and powerful; every branch stretched toward the sky as though embracing the stars that filled it. From the very moment Pangu had opened Heaven and Earth, spirit qi had begun its flow. And it would flow forever.