Chapter Forty-Nine: Proper People Keep Diaries

The newly cultivated Broodmother Cocoon possessed little vitality, yet through Luo Zu's experiments, its allure to insects proved fatal—they would become frenzied, as if in mating season, endlessly seeking partners in a wild quest for reproduction. The lure emitted by the Broodmother Cocoon, however, was more advanced; it was as though, upon catching its scent, the insects were gripped by a hunger as if they had starved for a century, with the cocoon being the sole sustenance that could relieve their agony.

As for how to use it to control the swarm, as the great ape did, Luo Zu had yet to discover a method. For now, the Broodmother Cocoon was only effective on ordinary insects, not insect demons—perhaps even higher forms existed that could manipulate those greater creatures.

Luo Zu’s main purpose in cultivating the Broodmother Cocoon was for the “Cave People’s” homeland—the river valley. Luo Zu had now named this valley Grand Dragon Gorge. Though it had long ceased to be suitable for human life, to let the ancestral lands remain occupied was intolerable, and the giant worm posed a grave threat to the Cave People. If left unchecked, and it expanded its territory or even attacked the Cave People, disaster would surely follow.

One cannot sleep soundly with a threat so close at hand.

There was no question—it had to be dealt with.

From Luo Zu’s observations, the burrowing worm was indeed an insect, not highly intelligent, merely a fierce beast with special powers, preoccupied only with eating and digging. It delighted in carrion, and driven by some instinct, could command ghosts to lure prey for it. Additionally, it could spit out a noxious acid it stored within, having consumed it from deep underground.

Luo Zu had yet to ascertain the full extent of its size. Although his Yang Spirit could penetrate the earth for hundreds of feet, the ground was so polluted by the worm’s corrupting influence that any deeper intrusion might provoke unpredictable and dreadful consequences. The worst possibility was the pollution of his Yang Spirit; the best—nothing happened at all.

Over the past year, Luo Zu had noticed the area tainted by this corruption was expanding. Once confined to the river valley, it now reached the surrounding hills, nearly ten kilometers wide, and only twenty kilometers from the Cave People’s settlement. This could not continue.

“Year Thirty-Six of the Great Wilderness Era, the eighth day of the seventh month!”

The so-called Great Wilderness Era was a calendar Luo Zu had established, counting from his own birth. He calculated the days and months roughly, lacking the time to devise a system as precise as in his previous life. He had not recreated the twelve zodiac cycles or the heavenly stems and earthly branches, settling instead for broad eras and dates.

He would devote more effort to refining these units of time when the opportunity arose, to achieve greater precision in the future.

“Today, I record the campaign to reclaim Grand Dragon Gorge!”

Luo Zu was writing in his journal. Though respectable folk seldom kept diaries, his were records of the Cave People. He wrote them in the shamanic script on newly invented grass paper, stored in cool, dry caves where the mountain wind kept them from molding or being eaten by insects or termites.

Grass paper was revolutionary, yet for an age as mythic as this, it still lagged behind. According to Tang, the demonfolk had already uploaded their history to the “cloud.” They recorded their culture upon the stars, accessible to any demonfolk, much like the grand Sun and Moon Ritual, open to all. The shamanic tribes recorded their culture in bloodlines, passing ancient memories down as one aged. The mystic sects, limited by their organizational structure and influence, used jade slips or written language for transmission.

Each people had their method, but only the humans had advanced as far as grass paper. Clearly, the road ahead for humanity was long and arduous.

Returning to the matter at hand.

After recording his intentions, Luo Zu set his plan in motion. He stepped from the cave to survey the assembled team. This was a special operation; Luo Zu had gathered the elite of the Cave People, explained his purpose and the threat of the giant worm, gained their support, and together they had devised a plan. Now, it was time to act.

“For the future of our people!”

“For humanity!”

They shouted in unison, and the operation began.

Ironhead, Firechild, Second, Creek, Mountain, Boar, Rock, Ridge, and Ah Ne—together with Luo Zu, ten in all.

Each had refined their essence into energy, and under Luo Zu’s guidance, mastered a number of spells to the fifth level. Though they could not directly harm the giant worm, they could support Luo Zu in the coming battle.

Their roles were assigned well in advance.

Ironhead excelled in earth and metal arts, and later mastered more earth spells; he could turn a thirty-meter stretch of land to mud or make it rock-hard. He, together with Mountain, Rock, and Ridge, would control the soil to restrain the giant worm—unless it proved larger than anticipated, in which case, if it exceeded three kilometers in length, they would abandon this plan.

Firechild was a master of fire arts, and under Luo Zu’s urging, had also refined his essence into energy, gaining exceptional control. Creek and Boar would support him—Creek commanding wind, Boar mastering wood magic—helping Firechild drive the giant worm in the right direction.

Second possessed the power of farsight, and after refining his essence, had also learned spells of mental control. Gifted in the spiritual arts, Luo Zu believed he might one day reach the stage of transforming energy into spirit ahead of the others. Second’s main task would be to observe the giant worm and assist Luo Zu in casting illusions to control it. Should the worm prove uncontrollable, observation alone would suffice.

As for Luo Zu, his role was to use the first Broodmother Cocoon to lure the giant worm into a trap.

And the trap? The vast lake left by Kuafu’s footsteps.

Luo Zu had observed that, for reasons unknown, the giant worm did not fear the rainwater that flowed into the lake. He suspected the reason might be the blood and flesh of the beast mingling in the valley from the great duel that took place here. This discovery, alongside the fact that large fish had recently been seen hunting along the nearest shore, convinced Luo Zu to choose the lake as the site for the confrontation.