Chapter 245: The Creation of the World by Pangu (Please Subscribe and Support)

Within the palace of Xianyang, Emperor Ying Zheng gazed at the newspaper in his hands and murmured to himself, “Even if I personally ascend the Tower of Ascension, I am only entitled to reach the seventh floor. I once thought this claim was mere boast, but now it seems otherwise. Summon someone! Send word to Li Si—find the master of the Tower of Ascension!”

“As you command!” A shadow suddenly appeared, respectfully kneeling before Ying Zheng. This was none other than his personal bodyguard from the secret guards.

Though the Tower of Ascension was immensely wealthy, Ying Zheng had previously paid it little mind, seeing it merely as a business selling colored glass. But now, with newspapers being sold there, his interest was piqued. He understood how much more convenient newspapers would be compared to bamboo slips.

Ying Zheng knew well the burden of reviewing official memorials daily—some weighing as much as 120 kilograms. By day’s end, his back and waist ached terribly. If only he could replace those with newspapers—especially ones that could be mass-produced—this would be an unparalleled vehicle for spreading culture.

“Tower of Ascension, indeed a leap to the heavens!” Ying Zheng muttered, his eyes fixed in the tower’s direction.

***

In the humble village of Little Sage, Tian Ming wore loose, baggy clothes as he watched Shao Yu holding an object of unknown origin, studying it intently. Curiosity getting the better of him, Tian Ming leaned in to take a closer look.

“What’s that you’re holding?” Tian Ming asked, pointing at the object.

“This is a newspaper. I bought it this morning at the market,” Shao Yu replied.

“A newspaper?” Tian Ming pondered, never having heard the term before.

He continued to examine the paper, and though Ying Zheng had unified the characters of the Six Kingdoms, Tian Ming recognized only a few large characters. After a moment, he pointed at an illustration and laughed, “The big man holding an axe here looks like Brother Xiao!”

“What do you know? That’s Pangu, the very first great deity between Heaven and Earth!” Shao Yu said disdainfully, shooting Tian Ming a look.

“Who’s Pangu?” Tian Ming asked, puzzled.

Shao Yu sighed, patting his forehead with a hint of helplessness. “You really should read more books. Otherwise, you’re embarrassing me as your elder brother.”

“What did you say? You should be calling me ‘big brother’!” Tian Ming retorted stubbornly.

Shao Yu shook the newspaper with a grin. “Call me ‘big brother’ and I’ll read you the story on this paper.”

“What story?” Tian Ming asked, intrigued.

“A story about the immortals!” Shao Yu tempted.

Though unwilling to address Shao Yu as big brother, Tian Ming loved stories—especially those about immortals. His curiosity won out, and with a reluctant voice, he said, “Big brother.” Seeing Shao Yu’s beaming smile, Tian Ming quickly added, “I’ve called you big brother already, now hurry and read me the story.”

“All right, don’t rush. Watch as I read it to you,” Shao Yu said triumphantly, then began narrating the tale of Pangu creating the world.

“It is said that before Heaven and Earth were born, the universe was a chaotic, dark mass—like a giant egg. Inside this egg, Pangu slept soundly for eighteen thousand years.

One day, he suddenly awoke. Opening his eyes, he saw darkness everywhere—nothing but blackness. Panic seized him, so he grabbed a great axe and fiercely chopped into the darkness ahead.

The strike was earth-shattering, with a tremendous crash splitting the giant egg apart. The lighter, clearer elements rose to form the heavens; the heavier, murkier parts sank to become the earth. When Heaven and Earth first separated, Pangu feared they might merge again, so he stood between them, holding up the sky with his hands and stepping on the earth with his feet, not daring to move.

From then on, each day the sky rose ten feet higher, and the earth grew ten feet thicker. Pangu’s own body grew taller in step with the rising sky. He stood firm for eighteen thousand years, ensuring the stability of Heaven and Earth. But from exhaustion, he eventually collapsed and died.

At the moment of his death, his body transformed miraculously: the breath from his mouth became wind and clouds; his groans thundered like storms; his left eye turned into the sun, his right eye the moon; his limbs and torso became the earth and mountains; his blood formed rivers; his veins roads; his hair and beard stars in the sky; his skin and body hair grass and trees; his muscles the soil; his teeth and bones gleaming metals, stones, and treasures; even his sweat became rain and dew.”

“Pangu is incredible!” exclaimed Tian Ming in awe as Shao Yu finished the tale. He then cupped his hands around his eyes, gazing up at the sun.

“What are you looking at, kid?” Shao Yu asked curiously.

Without turning, Tian Ming said, “I’m looking at the sun! I want to see just how big the eye of the great Pangu really is!”

Shao Yu shook his head with a smile. “Kid, that’s just a myth. You don’t have to take it so seriously.”

“There’s even an elixir for eternal life in this world. Why can’t Pangu exist?” Tian Ming replied, turning back to Shao Yu as he continued observing the sun.

“Well... you have a point,” Shao Yu admitted, speechless.

***

At the Confucian sect’s headquarters, Master Fu Nian finished reading the article in the newspaper and set it down with excitement. Turning to his two junior disciples, he said, “This newspaper could be a tremendous force in promoting Confucian teachings. If every issue printed classics from our Confucian canon, people throughout the land would look to us as their teachers. Confucianism would reach unprecedented heights. I would be worthy of our venerable ancestors. Yan Lu, Zi Fang, what do you think?”

“Senior Brother,” Yan Lu replied, “if every issue of the newspaper included Confucian teachings, it would indeed spread our philosophy far and wide. But the decision to print lies not with us, but with the owner of the Tower of Ascension. Moreover, we are not the only ones who recognize the newspaper’s power in spreading the Warring States’ philosophies.”

They all understood the extraordinary potential the newspaper held for Confucianism’s promotion. But since the newspaper was not produced by their sect, and this issue’s inclusion of the Analects was at the Tower’s discretion, no one could guarantee future issues would feature Confucian content.

Fu Nian knew well what Yan Lu meant. In this era of competing schools of thought, many would grasp the newspaper’s significance in disseminating ideas. Even Emperor Ying Zheng would take notice. Discovering such a powerful means to promote Confucianism yet not knowing how to proceed was a vexing and frustrating predicament.

Rubbing his beard with a troubled look, Fu Nian asked Zhang Liang, “Zi Fang, what are your thoughts?”

Zhang Liang set the newspaper down and saluted respectfully. “Senior Brother, to ensure every issue carries Confucian teachings, we must first gain the consent of the owner of the Tower of Ascension, Xiao Xie.”

“Xiao Xie?” Fu Nian recalled the name vaguely. Picking up the newspaper again, he saw on the third page that the first poem, ‘Song of the Snow Maiden,’ was authored by ‘The World’s Number One Young Master: Xiao Xie,’ written in large characters.

“So he is the master of the Tower of Ascension. No wonder he speaks so boldly,” Fu Nian murmured, stroking his beard. He’d been annoyed that this poem was ranked above the Confucian Analects—though it was a masterpiece, it still fell short of Confucius’s stature.

Now knowing that the poem’s author was the tower’s master, its top position made perfect sense. After all, only someone as arrogant as Xiao Xie would dare proclaim, “Even Emperor Ying Zheng may only ascend to the seventh floor of the Tower.”

***