Cold, unfeeling, devoid of resonance, neither dead nor immortal.
I wasn’t always like this.
From as far back as I can rember, this Starry Abyss was like a witch’s Magic Potion.
Boiling, chaotic, rolling in a vacuum with an unreal stench.
At that ti, there was neither heaven nor earth, nor living beings.
The shadows of dragon wings had not yet arrived, the titan’s blade was not yet sharp, the Magic Eye’s sches were still gestating.
It was a world without joy or sorrow, without the warmth or coldness of the human world, neither void nor complete.
There was no reason for my arrival, I ca to this world without choice.
No common sense, no awareness, no loss, no gain.
Unable to recall what I was like at that ti, nor did I care what that witch’s potion surrounding ant.
Unaware of beauty or ugliness, indistinguishable between light and dark.
We couldn’t even tell if the things existing with us were our kin.
I had no na, I had nothing, I was not .
Later generations simply called ’Zhi Xiang’, so let it be.
Years later, when people thought we were lofty and mysterious, sharing the universe’s longevity and believed we were beings beyond deities.
But I was well aware that after the false eternity, there was nothing.
In my long years, the ti that could be deed ’aningful’ was less than a tiny fraction of one in a million billion.
Like the vastness of dust, living alone without distinguishing pure from impure.
Until that day ca.
The deities’ blade sliced through the starry sky, six beings with porcelain-skin and jade-bones were born from chaos.
From that mont, the witch’s potion was overturned.
The bottom of the pot was quickly drained, the cosmos beca extrely dark, everything then was in darkness.
"The Starry Abyss is in peril, if I do not go on an expedition, who will?"
Six blazing blades were raised high, the shimring tips birthing the first stellar.
The boiling potion cooled down, and for a long period afterward, they transford into stars.
When they chose unwaveringly to persist for this newborn universe, I did not understand their purpose.
’Why fight? Wouldn’t it be fine to live aimlessly?’
When I blinked, the heroes of old had already fallen and decayed, the wars against foreign enemies turned into power struggles.
’Why vie for power? It’ll just be taken by others anyway.’
When I soon figured sothing out, the halls of The Pantheon had already fallen, and they beca myriad stars, continuing to shine in the galaxy.
’Why beco stars? They could just stay still.’
The world changed bit by bit, and before I knew it, even I began to be altered by it.
’I’m not detached from this starry sky, existing in solitude.’
When I realized this, I had already begun my wandering through the universe.
Billions of years? Can’t quite rember, the Starry Abyss does not affect , it takes a long ti for to realize ’I’ am ’I’.
I watched the sun destroy itself due to aging, initially not understanding how its Strength was lost, I watched the sun, seeing a stellar destroy itself, lost in my own world as even the children of mortals would find that a boring experience.
I was full of curiosity about the universe.
After the witch’s Magic Potion was spilled, the universe suddenly beca distinct; they had various titles, the Destroyer and The Pantheon initiated a new era.
It should be said, this was a grand act, like the budding Life under the sea, a lightning strike bringing fire.
Even I, it took a long ti to realize, this was a aningful turning point.
But what is aning?
During my wandering years, ’aning’ wasn’t yet aningful, Civilization was just beginning, they barely had any awareness of self, it’s difficult even for to recall what Life and Civilization initially did.
I think, perhaps they didn’t even know what they were supposed to do.
Even when Civilization developed to a high degree, most couldn’t escape the Fate of destruction.
’aning’?
For a long ti, I believed ’aning’ did not exist, Life was just a cycle.
They are too insignificant.
I stretched out my form in full asure, without doing anything, could destroy the achievents of generations in their entirety.
They are too brief.
I once stood by the sea, with just a skiff on the waters, a Fisherman claid to hunt a white whale.
Thinking about where to go next, there was a mortal drawn to my appearance, dressed in splendor, reciting sonnets and singing love songs in my ear.
When I made up my mind, turning back to reply, the world had already plunged into an ice-bound state.
Their Civilization seed to have been annihilated in a nuclear war.
To , this is rely a fleeting trance.
They are too short-sighted.
A warrior once confidently proclaid that he had established an eternal dynasty, with the worst enemies defeated.
I watched him perish, the Kingdom collapse, descendants vie for power, warlords skirmish, peoples suffer, and uprisings erupt.
Then, as a new regi ascended, a gentleman in a suit claid they had established the freest and most enlightened nation, and the old order was no more.
I watched them fall from noble Sages to insatiable money lords, diligent people beco lazy, Intellectuals turn into sycophantic minstrels.
So everything begins anew.
Ti and ti again, one after another.
Whenever I feel history is destined, so reckless individual always steps forward.
"Are you kidding! History has never changed?"
They shout:
"If history kept standing still, the Sun wouldn’t set, darkness wouldn’t co!"
No matter the Species, no matter the civilization.
I have told various people: History is just a cycle, no matter how you act, it’s rely rolling in circles like a wheel.
"Cycle? Rolling is moving forward!"
They always scoff at my foresight.
"If history never changes, if every struggle is aningless, then the sky shouldn’t be dark, countless tragedies wouldn’t unfold."
They pen intense passion, throw themselves into soldiering, and then beco insignificant ink blots in this Grand Narrative.
From that mont, I suddenly realized, ’aning’ is ’aningless’.
Their lives are too short to write epics.
— So they write books and pass on the torch.
Their lives are too weak to change the course.
— So they teach and adapt, evolving Technologies.
Their lives are too rushed to accomplish every task in the world.
— So they utilize their Talents, specializing to the extre, under Society’s division of labor, each plays their role well.
In the aningless cycle of Void, countless people press on, for an ideal more ethereal than Void, or a goal, a Revolution, a War, giving it their all.
Are they foolish? Not necessarily, many have significant academic Achievents.
Are they weak? Not necessarily, many wield power like a Blade on the battlefield.
Are they short-sighted? Not necessarily, many have long planned ahead,
I questioned them:
’Do you know you are but a weak speck in this era’s flood? You will not be rembered by history, for even history gradually distorts in the Cosmic vastness.’
In the Feudal Era, the uprising Slave confusingly said:
"I don’t know, but I want to live, live as a free person."
In the Classical Era, the armored Knight shook his head and said:
"Maybe that’s the case, but for honor and faith, I must press on."
In the Industrial Era, the citizen carrying a steel Gun chuckled:
"Besides these shackles, we had nothing; why care about being forgotten?"
In the Cosmic Era, the Soldier donned heavy astronaut gear, full of confidence, firmly said:
"I don’t need history to recognize , nor ti to rember ; the mountains will rember , the seas will rember , from onwards, everyone will be ."
Ti rolls forward, the cycle never breaks.
I don’t know whether it’s the small Mortal that halts, or the Eternal undying .
A Mortal’s Life is too short, their greatest regret is not being able to write grand ideals.
My Life is too long, yet I’ve never possessed their ideals.
After uncounted ages, various civilizations have turned.
I’ve seen mighty Empires crumble and fall, heard poor tribes cry out in free and brave shouts,
No matter what Species, no matter what Era, no matter what civilization.
From Deities to Mortals, from Slaves to Astronauts, from Mortal to Ascender.
From Utopia’s unrealistic fantasies to the pursuit of Grand Narrative.
Every era harbors such beings, who believe in tomorrow, believe in different things, believe the Sun will dispel darkness.
The long dark nights are always driven away by the light, and then shadows cling to you.
Yet they relish it.
To the short-lived Mortal, their lives are too short to see the inevitability of history, only to see hope, battling against the night.
In so respects, they are right.
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