Chapter 50: Xiaohuahua’s Past (A Short Side Story)

Ten thousand years ago, this planet suffered an invasion by alien species. The invaders, with their savage methods, forcibly reshaped the world. At that time, humankind was just beginning to show signs of intelligence. Confronted with the overwhelming might of the outsiders, humans submitted. Many rose in resistance, but their fate was only death…

As the years dragged by, humanity grew numb. Mechanically, they absorbed the doctrines and so-called cultivation methods the aliens instilled in them. Yet, a little over a century later, for reasons unknown, the alien species withdrew from Earth overnight, leaving behind only a single stone…

Legend has it that this stone was born from the planet’s core. After a series of experiments by the invaders, it shrank from the size of a football to that of a fist, its color changing from dull black to a crystal-clear iridescence.

Little Blossom was not always called by that name—it was merely a nickname given by Little Poison Mist. Her true name was Imperial Heart, bestowed upon her by the alien species, meaning ‘the heart of the planet.’

When Imperial Heart first awakened to consciousness, she found herself enshrined upon a high platform. Day after day, she was worshipped by those below, who offered up exquisite spirit minerals for her to absorb. Thus, more than a hundred years passed, until finally, she took on human form.

She still remembered the fervor in their eyes the day she assumed a human shape. Naïvely, she thought they rejoiced just as she did, simply because she could now move and walk.

She basked in their adulation, and in return, would sometimes grant their requests—trivial tasks, nothing more than a wave of her hand.

Only later did she realize that, with a mere gesture, she transformed useless ore into spirit stones for their cultivation, enabling them to defy the heavens and become powerful.

The days slipped by, and she believed her existence would continue in this peaceful monotony.

But then, one day, she met a man.

He was brash and flamboyant, his radiant confidence like the sun in the sky, illuminating her world and filling it with warmth.

He never tried to flatter her. Instead, he enjoyed idly fanning himself, watching her blunder about with a teasing smile.

Whenever she assisted the others, he would laugh and scold, tapping his fan and calling her a fool.

He delighted in bringing her delicacies, in regaling her with stories of the outside world, and in making her read those so-called ‘classics’ that seemed nothing but nonsense to her.

…

Unknowingly, she found herself unable to do without him. When he was gone from her sight, an unfamiliar restlessness seized her heart.

One day, she asked her attendants what this feeling was. They smiled and said, “That is love.” Enlightenment dawned.

She secretly rejoiced—so this was the love he spoke of.

That night, as a gentle breeze stirred his unruly hair to dance with her own green locks, she smiled and confessed her love to him.

She remembered the arrogant grin on his face as he knocked her head with mock severity. “Idiot! Do you even know what love is?”

She rubbed her head, aggrieved, nodded, but found herself unable to put it into words. She could only gaze at him in silence. Yet, she saw that the tenderness in his eyes was not for her, but for some faraway, unknown place.

Panic gripped her heart. She grabbed his sleeve, about to speak, but he turned and left.

After that night, she never saw him again. She wished to go out and search for him, but was told she could not leave the palace. She tried to cross its threshold, but an invisible force repelled her. So she waited, hoping he would return for her.

Much later, news reached her—he was to be married.

She understood what marriage meant. On that day, she burned half her cultivation escaping the palace and went to where he was.

“Why? Why don’t you love me?”

“Fool! How could I love you? I’ve always thought of you as a little sister!”

Hearing those words, she lost all reason. Staring at the woman beside him, dressed in blood-red, a wave of murderous intent surged within her.

When she came to her senses, she was cradling his bloodied body in a sea of crimson.

He stroked her head, his smile full of doting affection and sorrow. It was as if that smile had cost him all his strength. He seemed to want to speak, but in the end, said nothing—just gazed at her with that smile before departing this world forever, his body dissolving into light, vanishing into the heavens.

She looked upon his smile and saw no trace of former radiance or warmth. What she saw now was pain and guilt—the pain of unrequited love, the guilt that seeped from the depths of his soul.

She went mad, lost her heart, fell into darkness.

Later, desolate and broken, she returned to the palace. But with a heart tainted by darkness, her powers failed her—she could no longer perform magic, let alone turn ore into spirit stones.

Abandoned, despised, even humiliated, she plunged from paradise to hell in an instant.

Unwilling to accept her fate, she remembered the things he once said and began to study the arts of humans. Perhaps because she was a divine being, she progressed with remarkable ease—but this time, she told no one.

A thousand years passed, and she became one of the continent’s supreme powers, untouchable by any. Those who once abandoned, loathed, or tormented her now sought her favor.

But she was no longer the naïve girl of old. In her centuries of cultivation, she had met all sorts of people and tasted every flavor the world had to offer.

Eventually, bored by it all, she created her own domain—a boundless realm of darkness, for only darkness could give her solace.

Another century slipped by. Hounded relentlessly, she decided to fall into slumber—a sleep that lasted thousands of years.

Her power faded to nothing, her form reverted to its origin: a nondescript, black, lusterless stone. Then, she was chosen by Qin Yu, and the old man forged her into a dagger.

During the forging, she absorbed some of the ore’s energy, thereby unlocking the space she had once created. Yet she forgot much—so much that it was as if everything had returned to the beginning, as if all must start anew.

But this time, she could no longer endure the loneliness of that darkness. So when she sensed Little Poison Mist, she did not hesitate to draw him into her realm.

If she had ever regretted her many past mistakes, then the one thing in this life she never regretted was bringing Little Black into her space.

To her former self, Little Black was salvation; to her present self, a source of reliance; and for her future self, an existence she could never part from for all her days.