Before all else came the Supreme, before heaven itself, Gods and Demons came even before Immortals and Buddhas.
How could the six cycles of reincarnation be without limit? All things still cling to a single thread of heaven.
In the Primordial Age the world raged, and myriad Demons descended. The God-King in fury tore away Imperfect Mountain.
Vast heavens eternal, the multitudes weep! How could the Primordial Era be only tens of millions of years?
A group of little children, no more than seven or eight years old, each holding a candied hawthorn skewer, ran through the streets shouting this rhyme.
Xu Zimo frowned slightly and stopped a few of them.
“Children, let me ask you something.”
Xu Zimo reached out and caught the stick before it struck.
“Who are you?” the woman demanded, hand on her hip, glaring fiercely at Xu Zimo.
“Blindly beating children isn’t good,” Xu Zimo smiled calmly. “Let me finish asking them my questions first.”
“You want to know about that rhyme?” the woman snorted. “Go ask that lunatic yourself, just stay away from my Little Second.”
“Where is he?” Xu Zimo asked.
“Teacher is at Unfinished Palace, I’ll take you there,” the child who was about to be beaten quickly volunteered.
“What Unfinished Palace? It’s just a run down Daoist temple,” the woman said coldly.
“Why does your teacher teach you those rhymes?” Xu Zimo ignored her and looked at the child instead.
“Teacher has a book, a very, very thick one,” the child explained, stretching his hands to show. “We peeked at it once. We only saw a single page, and that page had those words written on it. Later teacher wouldn’t let us look anymore. He said the book could not be seen by anyone. Otherwise the world would fall into chaos.”
“How do I get to Unfinished Palace?” Xu Zimo asked.
“Follow this street straight ahead. In the central plaza of Heaven there’s a Daoist temple, that’s it,” the child said, tugging at Xu Zimo’s sleeve.
“I’ll take you. If teacher sees me with you, he’ll surely teach you as well.”
The boy clearly knew that if he stayed behind, he’d suffer a woman’s beating anyway.
“No need, you’re busy getting beaten. I’ll go myself,” Xu Zimo waved him off.
As Xu Zimo walked away, the child said nothing, but from the expression on his face, you could almost read the words:
“Damn… heartless.”
Walking along the main avenue, Xu Zimo noticed that Heaven was shaped like a circle. Unfinished Palace stood at the very center point of that circle.
What surprised him was the desolation he found upon reaching the central area.
Normally, the heart of any city is its most prosperous part. But here there were hardly any buildings, and many of those that remained were old and decayed.
Only a few scattered figures walked the streets.
It was easy to spot the ruined Dao Temple at the center.
Xu Zimo walked toward it and stopped at the entrance. The hall was decrepit, most of its surrounding walls had collapsed, and many rooms had already turned to rubble.
No one could say how long it had been abandoned.
Only a single dilapidated main hall still stood, though it looked ready to collapse at any moment.
Xu Zimo found it strange, why leave this ruin standing instead of rebuilding?
Looking up, the three characters Unfinished Palace glowed on a golden plaque.
No matter how many ages had passed, those words still radiated a forceful majesty.
As if the characters themselves were like pines upon high mountains, eternal, unrotting, indestructible.
Entering Unfinished Palace, Xu Zimo saw ruins everywhere.
He walked up to the main hall, the only building still intact.
Inside, an old man in long robes, hair disheveled, knelt half on the ground. Before him was a brazier, where it seemed he had just burned something.
His lips muttered words, too faint to catch.
Hearing footsteps, the old man slowly turned. When his gaze fell upon Xu Zimo, his body froze.
“Outside I heard some children singing that rhyme, so I came to see,” Xu Zimo said.
The old man said nothing, only stared hard at Xu Zimo. Then suddenly his eyes brimmed with tears.
“You…” Xu Zimo frowned slightly, puzzled at the strange reaction.
“You have returned,” the old man rasped hoarsely.
“Do we know each other?” Xu Zimo asked.
“I once read a book, and in that book was your story,” the old man suddenly laughed.
“What book?”
“The very rhyme you just mentioned,” the old man pointed at the brazier. “I burned it.”
Xu Zimo looked at him and asked, “Who are you?”
“I’ve forgotten. So many things I can’t remember anymore,” the old man stood up, robes swaying as he paced the hall.
“Don’t you feel this place is familiar?”
Xu Zimo looked around. The hall was simple. At the front was a raised altar.
Upon the altar stood a statue.
Half of it seemed to have been chopped away.
What remained resembled a monstrous Rakshasa. Her hair flared upward like a blaze, her body black as night, her right hand holding a long spear.
At the foot of the altar lay a few worn meditation cushions.
Xu Zimo stepped closer and saw several plaques set beneath the statue.
He looked carefully.
“Ancient Calendar Era, Seat of the Ancient Demon, Ragefire. Middle Unfinished Era, Seat of Ancient Demon Hellblade.”
Aside from these two intact plaques, the rest were shattered beyond recognition.
“Demons…” Xu Zimo murmured.
“I don’t understand very well,” he said, looking to the old man.
“Do you know why Unfinished Palace has been abandoned for countless years, yet no one dares touch it?” the old man smiled.
“I don’t,” Xu Zimo shook his head.
“Because in an age long past, this was once the place that ruled the entire Mortal Ascension Heaven, issuing orders to all. Even though it has lain in ruins for countless years, not a single person dares destroy Unfinished Palace,” the old man laughed.
“If I do not speak in spring, what cicada would dare make a sound?”