Book 7: The Son of Heaven Chapter 147: A Picture of Post-Radiation Customs and a Legend
There was a mountain, and in the mountain, there was a temple, and in the temple, there was a person. That person told a story, saying: There was a mountain, and in the mountain... If Fan Xian's experience in the Temple had developed in such a manner, without a doubt, all those people across the world eagerly awaiting news of his survival or death would have gathered many layers of cobwebs upon themselves and been dragged to death by sheer anticipation.
Just like the world after that great catastrophe, whether it be karma or something else, it couldn't remain stuck in a monotonous cycle forever. A civilization reborn after destruction could not possibly become an exact replica of its former self. Even this world's sole surviving Temple, from the very beginning of humanity's second dawn, had continuously transmitted the seeds of the previous civilization to humanity through that blindfolded emissary.
The most obvious changes between the two worlds naturally could not escape Fan Xian's eyes. Having been reborn for over twenty years, meditating and practicing the Overbearing Art daily, and in this past year beginning to perceive the vital energy that filled the world—this was the true difference. Human society seemed to have found a method of development, and the meridian channels within the human body were the clearest evidence of this change.
If the vital energy between heaven and earth and the true energy within the human body were originally of the same source, both traces left in the world after the great catastrophe hundreds of thousands of years ago, traces balanced by nature itself, then why hadn't these traces caused the humans living within this environment to perish?
Delve Deeper Book Book
According to the explanation from that voice within the Temple, perhaps adapting to the environment and finding a certain balance and benefit within that adaptation was inherently the tenacious characteristic of life itself.
Thinking of this, Fan Xian couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he was speechless for a long time. In his heart, he had thought that civilization, which he believed was the most tenacious and impossible to extinguish, was in fact the most fragile existence. Meanwhile, life, which seemed the most fragile, in the face of iron-clad facts, had become the strongest, most fearless existence.
Humans had adapted to this environment. The plants and animals that grew anew had also adapted to this environment. Fan Xian closed his eyes and carefully pondered everything he had seen and heard since his rebirth. He was startled to discover that neither humans nor animals seemed to have mutated significantly due to the vital energy filling the world. This fact truly left him dumbfounded.
It seemed that radiation, however terrifying, in the long river of time, was ultimately nothing more than a fresh and moving genre painting.
… …
He didn't know how much time had passed before Fan Xian finally emerged from this state of shock and bewilderment. By then, the scenes on the smooth, luminous mirror in the Temple's air had already left Great Dong Mountain and began to display a variety of vivid images.
Some people hunted quietly in dense forests; others worked joyfully in fields. Women washed clothes by the stream with gentle laughter; toddlers took their first clumsy steps on heated brick beds. There was cooking smoke, villages, city-states, palaces, and naturally, there were also disputes, wars, slaughter, and bloodshed.
The scenes gradually slowed, showing moments of martial arts practitioners training. Some sat in lotus positions, others sat cross-legged on mountain peaks. They were incredibly resilient, enduring wind and dew, spending years and months questioning the heavens above and the seas below, looking outward to the wilderness and inward to their hearts, inhaling the remnants of vital energy between heaven and earth, exhaling the stagnant breath within their bodies. Finally, one day, martial arts gradually took form on the continent.
"Come, come, come…" Fan Xian felt that seeing these scenes today without feeling overly detached or ethereal was largely thanks to the solid foundation laid by the Overwatch Council's education during his childhood. Even so, after witnessing the true scenes of the continent's transformations, he still felt somewhat emotionally stirred. A bitter and inexplicable smile touched the corners of his lips as he hoarsely called out to the luminous mirror before him, "Tell me, since martial arts secrets and such were developed by people in the world through their own practice, why does the Temple have so many powerful things? Just a couple of stolen books created several Grandmasters in the world."
Not waiting for the Temple to speak, Fan Xian coughed twice and spoke first, "We've talked this far. You must have already analyzed my origins by now. Don't feed me nonsense about them being immortal arts left behind by the divine realm."
The Temple was quiet for a long, long time. Then that voice spoke again, calm as ever, "For countless years, the Temple has been observing the world. We collect data, analyze it, and, in conjunction with humanity's own biological characteristics, summarize and refine it. Ultimately, we obtained research results in several directions."
So, the few cultivation manuals that his mother, Ye Qingmei, had secretly taken out of the Temple actually had such an origin. But thinking carefully, it made sense. If not for extremely advanced insight and methods, along with the secret techniques of numerous schools and a vast ocean of data to choose from, who in the secular world could, like the Temple, spend countless years to meticulously select just a few such things?
"You have transmitted many useful methods to the world," Fan Xian said. This was something already shown in the earlier scenes. He wouldn't deny this relic's contribution to civilizational inheritance. He fell silent for a moment before continuing, "When opening up the wilderness, the Temple even directly sent emissaries to help humans deal with formidable giant beasts. Later, you also taught many skills to help them gain a foothold in the natural world… Why didn't you directly transmit these methods to humanity? Or rather, the Temple must still hold much data. Why have you always kept it hidden?"
His words finally approached the matter of that woman. Thinking of Ye Qingmei's death, which was inextricably linked to the Temple—whether it was the cultivation manuals Ye Qingmei stole from the Temple or the technologies in the Internal Court that surpassed the natural development level of human society—Fan Xian's heart grew slightly cold. His voice hoarse, he stared at the luminous mirror and said quietly, "And you break your own rules, hunting down and killing those people everywhere."
"There are not 'those people', only one person," the Temple's voice remained calm, perhaps because its analysis of Fan Xian from data and conversation had not yet yielded a definite conclusion, so its response seemed unusually candid. "We are guardians. We guard the last embers of human civilization, allowing them to sprout again. Our mission is to enable the survivors of humanity to live again in this world."
"The Temple disseminates some appropriate skills and knowledge to the world, such as water conservation, rice cultivation, and martial skills. But we do not attempt to forcibly influence everything in the world."
Fan Xian suddenly spoke up, "You say you are merely guardians, not controllers. But you have cast the shadow of the Temple over humanity's head for so many years. And you have always tried to shape a world you deem perfect according to your own design."
His brows furrowed slightly. "A thousand years. The Great Wei Dynasty has been established for a thousand years. Yet, this world hasn't undergone any fundamental changes."
The Temple's voice fell silent for a very, very long time. Then, for the first time, it used a questioning tone, "Is that not good?"
Was it good? Or was it not? Who could say clearly? Fan Xian was an extremely sharp-minded person. From the information in the Temple's voice, he had already clearly judged that the Temple—or the last relic of the previous civilization—although still executing the directives in its program, had ultimately been affected in its way of thinking by that great catastrophe, that self-destruction of humanity.
I don't know whether the Temple is truly an autonomous conscious entity, but it's evident that the Temple has been calmly observing everything in the world, preventing human society from advancing toward a higher level of civilization. Perhaps, in its view, if civilization continues along the old path, it will inevitably face destruction once again.
Back then, Ye Qingmei stirred up storms and waves in the world, driving the productivity and technology of the entire continent forward. Without a doubt, she had crossed the Temple's bottom line. That is why the Temple chose Emperor Qing as its agent to eradicate everything related to Ye Qingmei. However, the Temple's envoys were ultimately very few, and one after another, they died at the hands of Uncle Wuzhu. It could neither understand nor control the situation. Emperor Qing still utilized the Internal Treasury, and Fan Xian himself, as Ye Qingmei's bloodline, still lived.
...
...
Fan Xian's mood calmed considerably. He didn't think there was much meaning in being angry or sorrowful toward an entity resembling artificial intelligence. After propping his chin and remaining silent for a moment, he said, "Whether it's good or bad, you are still meddling in the affairs of the human world. This doesn't quite align with your rules."
"The Temple does not interfere in the affairs of the human world, nor has it forcibly hindered the evolution of human civilization. We merely attempt to correct this process. However, if external forces try to forcefully accelerate this process, we will undoubtedly stop them."
The Temple's voice echoed calmly and indifferently throughout the building.
Fan Xian was momentarily stunned, then began to laugh. His voice, already hoarse from illness, now sounded particularly dry and bizarre. Yet, his laughter grew louder and louder, reverberating endlessly in the empty building until he finally laughed until tears streamed down his face, unable to resist lying back on the ground.
The light mirror remained smooth, and the voice was silent. The Temple seemed unconcerned about why this peculiar traveler was laughing so recklessly in such a solemn place. It simply waited calmly.
After what felt like an eternity, Fan Xian finally stopped laughing. Lying on the cold ground, his expression calm, he stared directly at the building's ceiling and said after a moment of silence, "You're accustomed to calling yourself the Temple. It seems that over these hundreds of thousands of years, you've truly come to see yourself as a god."
No sound came from the Temple. Only the light mirror floated in the air above his head, unfolding once again to display scenes of the apocalyptic catastrophe. This time, however, the focus seemed not to be on the grasslands or oceans but directly on the people who had suffered endless torment.
Fan Xian frowned, realizing that the Temple was using these images as a silent explanation. These wordless scenes were indeed shocking, but he had no desire to watch them. He said directly, "Turn it off. It's not some picturesque landscape painting."
The floating light mirror gradually dimmed, losing its luster and transforming into a flat scroll. The sides curled inward, slowly closing the image. As the last glimpse of charred bones vanished, the light mirror turned into a rod, and the old man floating amidst the specks of light reappeared.
"Repeating, I am the Guardian, not a god."
"If you're not a god, how could you possess your own judgment and actions?" Fan Xian seemed tired. The long conversation and the scenes of the river of time had taken their toll. Resting his hands behind his head, he calmly looked at the old man floating above him and asked, "You were created by humans, yet now you seek to control human development. What kind of programming led to this behavior?"
"The Four Laws of the Temple."
Fan Xian replied in a measured tone, "You're still accustomed to calling yourself the Temple. This is what I find most difficult to understand."
"The First Law: The Temple may not harm humanity or, through inaction, allow humanity to come to harm. The Second Law: The Temple must obey all orders given by humans, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. The Third Law: The Temple must protect its own existence, as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law..."
Before the Temple's voice could finish, Fan Xian frowned again. The three laws sounded somewhat familiar, yet they seemed to differ slightly in detail from what he remembered.
"The Zeroth Law: The Temple must safeguard the overall interests of humanity, and the other three laws are valid only under this premise."
After pondering for a long time, Fan Xian finally recalled where these exceedingly familiar laws originated—they were the Three Laws of Robotics, which had appeared countless times in the novels and movies of that world. At this moment, he remembered things he hadn't thought about in a long time, such as that little dark-skinned handsome guy and the robot even more handsome than him.
It seemed that in the world after his death or transmigration, when civilization reached a certain stage, Asimov's Three Laws had indeed been applied in reality. However, what made Fan Xian feel cold and fearful was the Zeroth Law mentioned by the Temple.
Safeguarding the overall interests of humanity? The Zeroth Law the Temple adhered to was actually this? On the surface, it seemed like a glorious, correct, and noble law. Yet, Fan Xian easily detected the extreme peril within it.
It was precisely because of this law that the Temple subtly controlled the progress of human civilization. While remaining detached from worldly affairs, it still devoted so much attention to Ye Qingmei, who had escaped the Temple, and even went so far as to violate the First and Second Laws by allying with the emperor to erase Ye Qingmei from the world.
The most critical and terrifying aspect of the Zeroth Law was the so-called "overall interests of humanity." The question was, who determines what constitutes the overall interests of humanity? What kind of world environment and social structure truly align with the overall interests of humanity? In the Temple's view, if humanity follows the old path, step by step toward the peak of civilization, the emergence of firearms and even more powerful weapons would only lead to the destruction of human society. Naturally, it would deem this contrary to the overall interests of humanity.
But what about technological civilization? The things that could improve the lives of impoverished peasants toiling in the fields and refugees forced to sell their children—should they never appear in this world? Fan Xian was not a technological determinist, but he firmly believed that humans in the 21st century of that world undoubtedly lived much happier lives than those in the 17th and 18th centuries.
Overall interests? What a chaotic and even absurd concept. Should it be determined by an emotionless, rarely erring non-human intelligence? Fan Xian's face turned slightly pale as he stared at the old man floating above him. After a long silence, he asked, "Where exactly do the overall interests of humanity lie?"
The old man also remained silent for a long time before replying, "The Temple does not know, but the Temple knows that some paths lead nowhere."
"No wonder the last envoy, after landing in the south, killed so many innocent civilians along the way. If the Three Laws were truly effective, how could such a situation occur?" Fan Xian looked at the old man, his voice trembling slightly. "For the sake of this vague concept of overall interests, you can do whatever you want. Don't you think that's dangerous?"
"The Temple has self-control mechanisms. It is a matter of data judgment." The old man spoke calmly. "The Temple cannot stand by and watch humanity tread the old path."
"Should I thank you or curse you?" Fan Xian pushed himself up from the cold ground, his face filled with bewilderment. Slowly, he said, "Who the hell came up with this damned Zeroth Law?"
"It was not created by a dog." The Temple's old man replied calmly, unaware that his response sounded like an extremely cold joke. "When the Temple awakened, this law already existed."
"Because of this so-called Zeroth Law, you killed her." Fan Xian's face was pale, his parched lips parted slightly as he murmured to himself, his voice gradually growing louder. "For such an absurd reason, you killed her, you killed her..."
"You killed her!" An indescribably complex emotion swirled in Fan Xian's eyes as he stared blankly at the floating figure of the old man. The pain cut deep into his bones, yet his words were deceptively light.
The old man's voice remained as calm as ever: "The Temple must protect the overall interests of humanity from harm."
This wasn't the Temple's explanation to Fan Xian regarding Ye Qingmei's matter, but merely a repetition of that icy creed. Immediately after, the old man said to Fan Xian: "Three travelers, I am willing to accept you as acolytes of the Temple, as emissaries of the Temple, carrying out the will of heaven, walking the vast mortal world, and protecting the remnants of humanity on this continent."
The tone of this passage was clearly different from before, likely a segment self-formulated within the Temple's programming, making it sound particularly ethereal and divine. However, after Fan Xian's prolonged dialogue with the Temple, its responses still seemed rigid.
It seemed the old man now remembered that the young, frail human before him was not like ordinary people, and continued: "Fellow traveler from the divine realm, remember the Zeroth Law."
Then the old man fell silent, the colors on his light-formed face constantly shifting, as if conducting a final judgment and consideration. Moments later, the old man said: "To comply with the Zeroth Law, please remain within the Temple."
These three passages represented three programs of the Temple, triggered one after another, shifting from the initial recruitment of emissaries to a warning for Fan Xian, and finally declaring his imprisonment within the Temple.
Fan Xian listened calmly to these three passages, then stood up, showing no sign of tension or fear. Being imprisoned in this icy, snowy Temple to wither away was naturally not a good future. Of course, although the Temple's energy showed signs of depletion, there must be some method to produce food and such; otherwise, Ye Qingmei couldn't have been imprisoned for several years back then.
However, a mere four-year-old Ye Qingmei had managed to escape the snowy mountain Temple with the arrival of Ku He and Xiao En, let alone Fan Xian now, who still had two companions quietly waiting outside. Fan Xian wasn't worried. He just gazed calmly at the old man in the air. After a long silence, he suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse: "Insults and threats are never true combat. And for a dead thing like you, there seems no point in getting angry." He rasped, "Threatening me is useless, but I don't know why, I always have the urge to curse you."
"Son of a bitch." Fan Xian spat. The phlegm passed through the old man's ethereal, immortal robes and landed with a splat on the ground.
Then he dusted off his buttocks, turned, and walked towards the great door, throwing a final remark at the Temple's old man: "You're nothing but a bunch of fireflies now, pretending to be the Flame Monarch in front of me? I've humored you by talking this long, and you actually think you can imprison me for life..."
Fan Xian walked all the way to the entrance of the vast building without any incident. The floating figure of the old man just watched quietly as he left.
His hand rested steadily on the mechanism to open the door. Fan Xian turned his head, squinted his eyes, and said coldly: "Let me be clear with you: I am Ye Qingmei's son. That wooden emissary in your Temple was already wiped out by my uncle. Same old advice: stick to your promising career as a tour guide. Stop always pretending to be a god."
He paused slightly, then sneered: "Piss me off, and I'll dismantle your solar panels to heat bathwater back in Danzhou, tear out your motherboard, and make my son kneel on the CPU. Just what do you think you're trying to pull with me?"
...
...
The great door was pulled open violently. A world of ice and snow reappeared before his eyes. Fan Xian stepped out of the intact building's door, squinting as he greedily took in the sight of the real world, casting aside the shocking scenes he had witnessed inside. He took a deep breath and let out a loud roar that echoed throughout the snowy mountain valley.
He didn't know where the Temple's vital point was, nor did he want to take the risk. A figure as brilliant as Ye Qingmei, who successfully took away the Temple's most powerful Wu Zhu, hadn't tried to destroy this Temple—she must have had her own reasons. And though his desire for revenge for Ye Qingmei hadn't faded after witnessing those scenes of immense change, it had strangely transformed into other emotions.
Most crucially, Wu Zhu couldn't leave once he entered the Temple. This seemingly dilapidated place must have its truly terrifying aspects. Fan Xian's earlier seemingly unrestrained behavior was precisely because he knew a dead thing like the Temple couldn't harbor grudges or other superfluous emotions towards his venting. He just wanted to release the bitterness in his heart.
His echoing shout gradually weakened after colliding with the snowy mountains countless times. Two figures sped across the stone platform in front of the building and arrived before Fan Xian, looking at him with tense, worried eyes.
Fan Xian glanced at Hai Tang and Wang Shisanlang, managing an extremely difficult, strained smile. He had no intention of telling anyone what he had learned inside the building—it was unnecessary. That lonely bitterness and helplessness... let him, the sole remaining one, bear it alone.
"Did you find it?" Fan Xian asked.
Wang Shisanlang nodded. Only then did Fan Xian notice the enormous black case on his back. His heart suddenly tightened, his pupils contracted. He felt he had overlooked something. His voice turned hoarse and urgent: "Out of the Temple gate!"
"Eliminate Target One." The Temple's voice suddenly rang out from all directions. The old man's figure had long since dispersed. The Temple was the Temple; it no longer wasted energy manifesting a human form.
As these five ordinary words echoed through the empty Temple, Wang Shisanlang suddenly felt the black case on his back move!
With a crash, the black case disintegrated. A black light flashed past. A black metal rod, with speed unimaginable to the world, pierced calmly and accurately into Fan Xian's body!
Fan Xian's hand gripped the metal rod inside him tightly. He suddenly felt a bitterness in his mouth. He didn't look down at the wound in his chest and abdomen, but stared blankly at the familiar, ageless face before him, and the cold, black cloth covering his eyes.
Fan Xian knew what he had overlooked. The Temple's emissaries were indeed all dead. The Temple itself had no guard force. But he had forgotten that his dearest Uncle Wu Zhu had always been the Temple's most powerful emissary.
Wu Zhu was a legend, but he was the Temple's legend.
Fan Xian looked at Wu Zhu's face, his mouth opening slightly in disbelief. "If this got out, even my mom wouldn't believe it."