Chapter Six: Long Bo

Its height was unknown, perhaps stretching tens of thousands of miles into the sky. Its arms spanned the horizon, extending like an unbroken chain of mountain peaks, shattering the clouds above for thousands of miles as it passed, leaving them scattered like thin porridge.

This was a colossal being whose appearance could not be discerned—perhaps not a giant, but some other monstrous entity. Even the "cave dwellers" standing at the entrance of their mountain lair could not see the whole of it.

All they knew was that it was vast and mighty, worthy of being venerated as a god.

The elders had once spoken of divine monsters in the heavens, and shamans on earth.

"The mountain... the mountain has been uprooted, he..."

What happened next left everyone dumbfounded—a towering mountain that had blocked their view was effortlessly plucked up by the giant. More precisely, it was picked up, as easily as one might pick a stone from the ground.

Even so, they still could not see the entirety of the being—how tall it was, what it looked like; in fact, all they could ever see was a single leg, while the rest vanished somewhere beyond their sight.

Could it be that each of its steps spanned a million miles?

Yet, even after the distant mountain was seized, other peaks still obscured their vision, keeping them from gazing toward the Mountain of No End.

And so, after pulling up that far-off mountain, the giant god once more strode forward and swiftly vanished from everyone’s sight.

Despite its immense size, its movements were neither clumsy nor slow. On the contrary, it moved with such speed that their mortal eyes could no longer track it.

"The rain has stopped," said Luo Zu, the first to notice.

"We don't have to move after all."

This was truly an incredible turn of events. Merely passing by a "giant" had resolved their troubles so directly—how whimsical this prehistoric world could be.

Luo Zu then made his way to the cave’s "library" to record what had happened, still using the ancient script of the shamans.

He gave this "giant" a name: the God Longbo.

After all, there was mention of a giant called Longbo in the Classic of Mountains and Seas, but that record claimed he was no more than a few dozen zhang tall. As for the height of this God Longbo… Luo Zu himself had no idea, so he simply wrote down "a hundred million miles." Of course, it was also possible this being had only one leg and one arm.

Though records demanded firsthand observation, he wasn't writing literature of strict accuracy—any account would suffice.

In this way, a tradition was established: humanity had its civilization. Future generations would inherit knowledge through writing, not mere word of mouth.

It was, after all, a good thing.

The water slowly receded, and after the clouds dispersed, the sun showed no mercy in drying the pools, revealing a landscape covered in silt and sand.

They truly did not need to move away, but that rain and that "giant"—what were they, really?

In the days that followed, the "cave dwellers" found their hunts going well; each day brought a new bounty.

They also discovered a relic left by the "giant": an enormous footprint.

This print was visible only from the summit of the mountain where their cave lay.

Now it had become a vast lake, but its outline could still be made out.

Its length must have exceeded a hundred thousand miles, and its width over ten thousand.

Of course, the true scale could only be determined by close investigation.

"Ah, the prehistoric world," Luo Zu sighed.

Just days ago, they had been on the brink of extinction; now, peril had passed, as strange and mysterious as ever. Still, life must go on. Perhaps, with time, he too would become as unflappable as the elders of the settlement.

The oldest among them was nearly three hundred years old—the third generation of humanity.

The youngest of the fourth generation had yet to be born.

Luo Zu still had no descendants.

Or rather, his descendants did not dwell in the wilds of this ancient land, but within the world inside his gourd.

But this could hardly be called procreation—it was more akin to creation.

Yet, they were still his own blood.

Luo Zu could not say for certain, but he understood well enough.

They were all of the human race, all kin by blood.

Indeed, everyone in the settlement was, strictly speaking, related. But as things stood, this was still a primitive tribe—barely even a tribe, in fact. There was no matrilineal or patrilineal society; everyone remained in a state of innocent ignorance.

Thus, Luo Zu might not even know who his father was…

Of course, his mother knew, but she had long since died, perishing on the road during a migration many years before.

So, his father was likely dead as well.

Luo Zu was, in essence, one of the orphans.

Putting these matters aside, Luo Zu continued to study the world inside his gourd.

And to explore his own mind—a most important endeavor.

But caution was vital, for he had only one brain.

This was uncharted territory in cultivation; if he failed, he might lose his head—no, he would not even have the chance to feel regret.

As his mind absorbed spiritual energy, his head grew stronger. At the very least, his skull had become much tougher, and his spirit was growing ever more powerful.

Now, he could sense the world outside himself, to a distance of about three centimeters beyond his skin.

This was a marvelous sensation: with eyes shut, ears and nostrils blocked, he could still "see" the landscape beyond his body.

Of course, his perception extended only three centimeters outward.

As for seeing farther, that would require further exploration of his mind.

"So is it the brain that’s miraculous? Or the soul?" Luo Zu pondered, reflecting on this primeval world.

In a mythic world such as this, the existence of souls was a given.

Soul, spirit, primordial spirit, yin spirit, yang spirit—these and other ethereal concepts occurred to Luo Zu.

"A pity there’s not a single immortal’s cave nearby, or I might have found a master to teach me."

The prehistoric world was simply so vast, with countless sacred mountains and great rivers—surely many spiritual veins existed, but cultivators were few. If one divided the number of cultivators by the land's area, perhaps there was not even one per million square kilometers.

Calculating such things would be a matter for Ancestor Hongjun—if only the old sage had a mind for it.

"There is nothing for it but to keep experimenting," Luo Zu concluded.

He sank his thoughts into the world inside his gourd and carefully sensed the recent changes.

The miniature humans had begun building their own houses, started using the "Han language" Luo Zu had taught them, and were even crafting various stone tools.

These were all things Luo Zu had once taught to the "cave dwellers."

Stone implements had made hunting easier, and houses—though, with a cave to live in, there was no need for shelter.

Among these miniature humans, a "chieftain" had emerged.

They had skipped the matriarchal phase altogether, entering straight into a patriarchal society.

In addition, they had begun to hunt for themselves, capturing enlarged versions of microbial fungi.

Luo Zu's thoughts drifted among them, listening to their conversations.

At that moment, they were gathering together, placing their hunted creatures atop the roof of a tall house.

"God!"

"God!"

They were holding a ritual.

This was not something Luo Zu had taught them—it arose spontaneously.

Was this, then, an inevitable stage for humanity? The worship of natural totems?

But their object of reverence was Luo Zu himself.

They had enshrined him as... the Mother Goddess!