Chapter 1346: Nüwa

How difficult must it be to recover the humanity lost over these past centuries…?

A paradox loomed before Qi Xia.

If he could maintain his humanity, he would never have built a world out of flesh and blood.

But if he couldn’t retain his humanity… how could he ever create true humans?

At this moment, Qi Xia inexplicably thought of Nüwa.

Nüwa—the goddess of legend, devoid of emotions and desires—had somehow crafted humans capable of joy and sorrow, reunion and parting.

How had she done it?

“Bai Yang… you’ve truly gone mad…” Sensing Qi Xia’s thoughts, Tianlong instantly furrowed his brow. “Do you even realize what you’re doing? You’re comparing yourself to Nü—”

He stopped mid-sentence, stunned.

What had been the original purpose of “Taoyuan”…?

To create a “Nüwa.”

Now, Qi Xia’s motivations… eerily aligned with those of the “Master.”

Was Qi Xia the one the “Master” had been searching for all along?

“A shame the ‘Master’ has already abandoned this place… Bai Yang…” Tianlong sighed in despair. “You’re at least eighty-four years too late.”

Qi Xia sat in his home, lowering his head as he contemplated Nüwa’s experience in creating humans.

After several months, he was ready for his first attempt.

With a surge of will, a grotesque humanoid figure materialized in his home.

Even Tianlong recoiled at the sight of this so-called “human.”

This “person” had been fashioned without skin—raw flesh exposed, blood spilling across the floor the moment it took form.

Yet despite the horror, Qi Xia studied the creature intently, as if determining whether it could truly be called human.

The being writhed in agony, convulsing before collapsing from blood loss.

Qi Xia exhaled softly, then raised a hand. The floor beneath him yawned open like a maw, swallowing the creature whole, merging it with the world.

From then on, Tianlong watched as Qi Xia repeated the process—creating “humans,” only to fail again and again.

He saw limbless figures, faces with misplaced features.

Following Qi Xia, he witnessed every grotesque monstrosity that should never have existed.

As time passed, what terrified Tianlong was no longer eternity—but the fact that he could no longer grasp Qi Xia’s thoughts.

Was Qi Xia deliberately concealing his mind, or had his reasoning transcended humanity entirely?

Tianlong felt increasingly isolated, unable to discern Qi Xia’s intentions or plans.

Countless human-like beings appeared, only to vanish into the earth.

By the time Tianlong’s gaze had aged, the first perfect human finally emerged.

Qi Xia looked utterly exhausted. The sheer effort of creating this flawless being had drained nearly all his “conviction.”

This person awoke under psychological suggestion, believing from the moment of birth that this was the real world.

To his eyes, the surroundings were not made of flesh and blood.

Before Tianlong could react, Qi Xia merged him, too, with the world.

“Bai Yang… have you lost your mind…? You succeeded!” Tianlong snapped out of his daze. “What are you doing?”

“Not enough…” Qi Xia murmured. “Far from enough…”

For the first time in years, Tianlong sensed Qi Xia’s thoughts.

He didn’t want just one person—he wanted everyone.

He sought a way to make this world “alive.”

If each human required such complexity, he could never build an entire world.

If crafting one individual consumed so much time and “conviction,” the first generation would die of old age before the second could be made.

He could wait—but “humanity” could not.

Lost in thought, Qi Xia cleared his mind, reflecting deeply.

How could he rapidly transform this place into a world?

Those countless people, the ones walking the streets, passing him by—what was his last impression of them?

Ah.

He couldn’t remember their faces.

“This world is ‘me,'” Qi Xia whispered. “‘I’ am this world… so no one but me needs a face.”

Without faces, humans wouldn’t need expressions—no need to bear joy or sorrow.

They wouldn’t need sight, hearing, or speech. Things would simplify instantly.

Here, only thought was necessary.

If they believed they had faces and senses, they could see, hear, and speak.

So long as they believed… they would accept this as reality.

This would conserve immense “conviction,” allowing tens of thousands to emerge at once.

Tianlong was stunned anew by Qi Xia’s reasoning—but before he could speak, passersby began appearing outside.

Men and women, young and old, tall and short—countless figures filled the streets.

Save for the eerie silence, it was indistinguishable from the real world.

A single word surfaced in Tianlong’s mind: “liveliness.”

But who could believe in such a silent, unsettling version of it?

Qi Xia exhausted his “conviction” several times over, saturating the world with faceless humans—roughly two million in the visible cityscape alone.

Tianlong couldn’t see beyond, but he suspected more “people” existed in the distance. Tragically, by Qi Xia’s logic, those might lack even “thought.”

They would simply stand in place.

During this time, Qi Xia also crafted a faceless Tianlong in a barren expanse of flesh.

As he’d said, in this space, no one but himself needed a face.

The observer Tianlong was baffled. Given Qi Xia’s experiences… hadn’t the real Tianlong already died?

What purpose did this replica serve?

From then on, Qi Xia spent his nights gazing at the sky and his days battling the faceless Tianlong.

The deafening clashes and earth-shaking tremors disturbed nearby “residents,” so Qi Xia transformed the area into a vast, derelict amusement park.

Seeing the monstrous rides, Tianlong realized “madness” no longer sufficed to describe Qi Xia’s state. Conjuring behemoths with a mere gesture—no word could capture him now.

The faceless Tianlong fought identically to the real one.

But his “Crafting” spawned flesh, his “Dissolution” broke it down, and he “hovered” by stepping on meat—the extent of Qi Xia’s replication.

One day, Qi Xia and his faceless foe fought to another stalemate.

The observer Tianlong noticed something: rather than failing to win, Qi Xia seemed focused solely on defense.

He could’ve summoned the world to swallow the faceless Tianlong whole—yet he only defended.

For decades, he defended, sustaining himself with the most basic “Cycle of Life.”

After each battle, he returned home, staring into the void from his rooftop.

“Bai Yang… what are you planning?” Tianlong murmured.

This time, Qi Xia—unlike any moment in the past centuries—turned. His gaze seemed to pierce Tianlong… or the void itself. Then, softly, he replied.

Simultaneously, Qi Xia’s voice echoed from the emptiness. The two voices intertwined, drifting into Tianlong’s ears.

“I will reset everything. I will turn time back seven years.”

**”I will reset everything. I will turn time back seven years.”**

As the words faded, radiant stars began to shimmer in the boundless dark sky.