Xiangyang City, Governor’s Residence.

Pei Xiu was holding a brush, carefully drafting a memorial to be sent to Chang’an.

From time to time, he would stop writing, frown deeply, fall into thought, and then continue—line after line of flowing script.

The celestial-praying ritual and the collective vow redemption of the commoners were already things of the past—events of last night. After the spiritual maiden had been chosen, Pei Xiu had led the people in his official capacity to fulfill their collective vow at the Taiyi Shrine.

There and then, countless rural gentry, wealthy households, and noble clans had expressed their intent to raise funds for a full-scale reconstruction of the dilapidated Taiyi Shrine.

The people of Li Family Village were the most enthusiastic, yet compared to the affluent families in Xiangyang, their financial contributions were minimal. But the poor had their own way—if they couldn’t offer money, they would offer labor.

It just so happened to be mid-winter—the slack season in farming. With little else to do, rebuilding the shrine of Grandfather Taiyi became a sort of communal event for the people.

All the common folk needed to consider was how to worship Taiyi. But as the Governor of Xiangzhou, Pei Xiu had to consider much, much more.

The reappearance of a primordial celestial in the mortal world caused this court official to smell a whiff of danger.

He longed for celestial fate, believed that the manifestation of a celestial heralded auspicious signs, and thought that perhaps it could bring a turning point to this Great Zhou, already tottering on the edge of collapse.

But this miracle was too great—so great it was almost detrimental. It didn’t just attract the gaze of the imperial court. It was bound to draw in those with ulterior motives as well.

Still, these were not issues that could be solved in a moment. For now, what demanded attention was the resettlement of the mountain folk.

The descent of Taiyi had changed their hearts. Even those clans who had, until now, been unwilling to leave the mountains and join the Han way of life finally agreed to relocate and form settled communities.

These mountain folk were numerous. As long as they were willing to leave the forests, and given enough time for proper instruction, their full integration would be a tremendous administrative achievement.

Their wish was to build a new village at the foot of Mount Zi. Pei Xiu gave it some thought and did not object. After all, the surrounding area already had several Han settlements, and there was plenty of uncultivated land left—it was more than enough to sustain them.

As he thought, his gaze instinctively turned toward the direction of Chang’an.

Beyond the deep courtyards and high walls, there was nothing to see.

Worship of Celestial Taiyi had once been an official imperial rite. The annals of history recorded that in years past, the emperors of the Han had offered sacrifices to Taiyi.

But now, that ritual had long been replaced by the Supreme Celestial of Vast celestial (Hao Tian Shang Di). The Taiyi Palace near Han-era Chang’an had already fallen into ruins long ago.

Who could say—once this memorial reached the capital, would the imperial court choose to restore that long-lost rite?

At the foot of Mount Zi, prosperity was slowly taking root.

The mountain folk had descended from the forests and begun forming village settlements, accepting the household registration and integration system imposed by the Xiangzhou authorities.

That this was unfolding so smoothly was, after all, partly due to the celestial fate that Governor Pei Xiu had received.

In the span of one night, it was of course impossible to build real houses. But temporary shelters—straw huts hastily erected—could suffice for now. The earliest phases of construction had already begun.

But more important than all of this was the rebuilding of the Taiyi Shrine.

At dawn, a mighty procession had departed from Xiangyang City and its surrounding areas, transporting vast quantities of building materials. The County Magistrate of Xiangyang, Dong Fu, treated this project as the greatest opportunity of his entire career and came to personally oversee the site.

The new Taiyi Shrine would be several times larger than the old one and would eventually enclose the original shrine completely.

When the time came, the original structure would be torn down and rebuilt as part of the new temple’s inner courtyard.

But for now, it would serve as the residence of the spiritual maiden.

She was originally supposed to live in the stilt house once inhabited by the previous spiritual maiden. But after last night’s events, that was no longer fitting—for she was the one chosen in the eyes of all, directly selected by Celestial Taiyi Himself.

Ignoring the noise and bustle of the construction outside, the spiritual maiden finished her daily prayers at the Eastern Emperor’s altar with utmost reverence. Then she raised her head.

Her gaze fell upon the spirit tablet on the altar, just behind the burning incense.

Taiyi had no statue.
Perhaps once He did—but not anymore.

On the land of Zhu Xia, setting aside all other celestials, at least those designated by the court as supreme official celestials had no images. Only spirit tablets bearing their exalted titles.

Though belief in the Jade Emperor was passed down into the Ming and Qing dynasties—and that celestial eventually gained an emperor-like visage akin to earthly monarchs—in truth, the official highest celestials rarely had statues at all.

Xuan Yuan  remembered: in the Ming dynasty, and later in the Qing, the emperor personally presided over rites at the Temple of celestial and Earth, offering sacrifices to the «Celestials of celestial and Earth,» whose only representation was spirit tablets, without any statues.

celestial Father, Earth Mother, Mountains and Rivers, the State and its Soil.

This reflected a deeper truth: as Zhu Xia civilization outgrew its mythological childhood and entered intellectual maturity, the official celestial of the state, the «Old Heaven» known to the people, the supreme Dao in everyone’s collective understanding, was not a personified being.

He was more akin to principle, to natural order, invisible and intangible.

He could transform into myriad forms, and so He had no fixed image.

The humblest farmer knew Old Heaven. But even the most learned scholar could not explain what He looked like.

And Celestial Taiyi—who once held the rank of official supreme celestial—was not exempt from this transformation.

In the Spring and Autumn, and Qin-Han periods, He still had a personified image. But as the Zhu Xia mythos evolved and grew more refined, that image was gradually erased. In the end, Taiyi became a pure embodiment of natural principle.

And so it was, that a late-rising celestial like the Jade Emperor—despite having a vividly personified emperor form—was no match in stature for the abstract, impersonal Supreme Celestial Hao Tian.

But this history and cultural transformation was unknown to the maiden—who, not long ago, was just an ordinary candidate.

She simply stared at the spirit tablet bearing the characters “Eastern Emperor,” and unconsciously thought to herself:

What does Taiyi look like?

The Governor of Xiangzhou had said the celestial he encountered had a countenance far beyond any mortal’s and had taken the form of a youthful boy. The maiden was not surprised.

A celestial who can embody all forms might very well choose to appear as a young man.

She looked around at the shamans bowing to her with utmost reverence and suddenly felt… lost.

She did not know what she was supposed to do now.

Before becoming the spiritual maiden, her daily life was structured—she trained to become one. But now that she had become the spiritual maiden…

She no longer had a clear goal.

She was confused.

And far above, the Celestial Taiyi—that omnipotent being she revered—was confused as well.

«What did you say?»

Staring at the data Nuwa had produced, Xuan Yuan  ’s brows knitted tightly.

«There’s something wrong with my Nine Yang celestial  Art?»

«Of course there is! Not just ‘something’ wrong—there’s a huge, massive problem! The kind that’ll make you cry!» Nuwa clapped her little hands.

As she did, a holographic screen popped up in front of Xuan Yuan  and Huang Rong, displaying the full results of her analysis.