083 Ancient Traces

Traces of the ancient past, some have already been worn smooth by the passage of endless time, leaving behind only the truest imprints of the ages. Some marks remain, echoing the events of long ago, yet as years flowed on, they have been forgotten in the vast river of time.

Nuoluo gazed at this mysterious underground world, her mind searching for clues to what had transpired here so many ages ago.

The King of the Underworld did not press her for answers, for he too had seen the astonishment in her eyes. If even Nuoluo knew nothing of this place, then perhaps it had existed since the dawn of creation, or perhaps the Earth Gods had deliberately concealed its existence. Which, he wondered, was the truth?

He had no recollection of this place. Were it not for the sudden appearance of those wild beasts, which drew their attention, and were it not for the entrance revealed after the beasts were slain, this secret might have remained hidden for eternity.

Nuoluo’s thoughts drifted to those wild creatures, for the air still lingered with a scent reminiscent of them.

With an unspoken accord, she and the King of the Underworld walked side by side into the depths. So long as they remained by the entrance, no secrets would reveal themselves.

With each step, Nuoluo felt increasingly insignificant, as if she were vanishing from the memory of the world. The deeper she ventured, the more immense and overwhelming the space became.

Ahead, the sound of water gradually emerged—a stream winding into the distance, as common as any brook found in mountain valleys.

Nuoluo approached the stream and gazed into its clear waters, where her own reflection was revealed. It had been so long since she had last seen her own image.

The face in the water was still familiar. She could not resist leaning forward, reaching out, intending to wash her weary features in the crystalline flow, but just as her fingers were about to touch the surface, she hesitated.

She remembered all she had encountered in the Netherworld. Did this water, too, conceal some unknown danger?

The stream flowed on, oblivious, carrying every thought away to far-off places. Its nearly transparent waters reflected everything within sight, so tranquil that a single glance seemed capable of erasing all worldly troubles.

Nuoluo’s fingertips finally dipped into the water. A coolness spread instantly through her, the gentle touch reaching into her heart. She flicked her fingers, scattering droplets like pearls falling one by one.

There was no danger in the water. She was glad to have discovered this reassurance.

The King of the Underworld stood behind her, watching as she, like a child, went to the water’s edge, catching her own reflection by chance. In his eyes appeared a softness he had never known before—astonishing, that such gentleness should find its place upon him.

He was momentarily taken aback, for he had never seen himself in such a light. Even an unchanging soul could, in secret, be transformed. But for now, his heart was more at ease than ever before.

In the Netherworld, the sky was always dim, devoid of the sun’s warmth, everything shrouded in a cold that never changed, and so the years slipped by in monotony.

But here, in the mortal realm, the chilling bite of the Netherworld was absent. Though the world had suffered near ruin, the air was filled with a vitality unknown below.

Yet, it was Nuoluo herself who brought him the greatest warmth. Among all the goddesses he had known, she was the strangest.

She radiated a spirit that words could never capture—a vitality innate, etched into her very soul. She always faced danger with a fullness of being.

Nothing in this underground world seemed to change; Nuoluo sensed no lurking threats, and the sight of the clear stream washed away some of her long-standing fatigue.

She looked around, then sat by the stream, her fingers trailing through the water, savoring its rare coolness. She smiled up at the King of the Underworld.

He still stood tall and straight. Nuoluo wondered idly if he would ever sit down, if this proud man, who stood like a mountain peak, might ever change.

Just as Nuoluo dismissed this wild notion, the King of the Underworld, to her surprise, sat down beside her. The man rumored to be so fearsome showed an unexpected gentleness.

If another had been present, they might have screamed and spread word of this rare scene throughout the four realms. But for now, only Nuoluo was witness to it.

Even she was startled, her smile pausing. “Your Majesty, you…”

She struggled for words to describe her surprise, but found none sufficient. After a moment, she decided to say nothing at all.

He looked at her astonished face, and even his cold features seemed to soften. He saw a side of her she usually kept hidden.

Nuoluo, not knowing what to say, caught sight of her own awkward reflection in the water and lowered her head in mild embarrassment.

At last, the King of the Underworld smiled. In this moment, Nuoluo was like a child caught in mischief, unsure how to respond when discovered.

Regaining her composure, Nuoluo turned her attention to the Nether Butterfly, which had been fluttering all along.

The Nether Butterfly delighted in this place. Once it was sure there was no danger, it left her palm and soared into the vast space beyond.

Its tiny form left traces in the air, adding a touch of life to this mysterious world.

He, too, watched the butterfly. Since awakening again, it had changed greatly—more attuned to the mortal world, as if this were the home it had always sought.

Nuoluo and the King of the Underworld sat by the stream, quietly watching the butterfly dance. The atmosphere was warmer than it had ever been. All their worries drifted away, leaving only a brief moment of peace.

The scent of the wild beasts grew fainter, almost undetectable.

Nuoluo had yet to unravel the connection between the beasts and this place.

If the world had always belonged to such creatures, how could it now appear so tranquil? If not, then why did the underground world reveal itself only after every beast had been slain?

Her fingers skimmed the surface, as if seeking answers in the water.

Where did these streams begin, and where did they end? In this vast space, she could find no boundary.

The King of the Underworld remained silent, sometimes watching the butterfly, sometimes Nuoluo, his lips always carrying a faint smile.

The butterfly flew farther and farther, soon vanishing from sight. Yet the space seemed to stretch ever wider, and Nuoluo still could not discern its limits.

She rose to her feet, having savored this rare respite. It was time to face the unknown once more.

He felt a hint of disappointment as she stood, surprised by how quickly time had slipped through their fingers.

She surveyed their surroundings, still uncertain of which direction to take. Only the way they had come was certain; ahead lay too many choices, and she could not commit to any of them.

“Your Majesty, which way do you think we should go?” Nuoluo finally asked for his opinion. Ever since they’d met again, they were no longer adversaries. Now they fought side by side, and though the future was uncertain, at this moment the King of the Underworld posed no threat to her.

He, too, looked around, finding no difference in any direction. In this ethereal space, only the way back was clear.

At that moment, the butterfly, which had long since disappeared into the distance, suddenly returned, swiftly alighting in Nuoluo’s palm, its wings fluttering anxiously as if to convey a message.

Nuoluo sensed its urgency—it seemed to have discovered something, for it kept pointing its wings in one direction.

She looked to the King of the Underworld for guidance, for only he understood the true intentions of the butterfly.

He gazed at the butterfly, noting how it once again chose Nuoluo, forgetting that he was its master. Remembering the special bond between them, he could only comfort himself.

“It has found an ancient trace far ahead,” he explained.

Hearing this, the butterfly left Nuoluo’s palm, fluttering ahead to lead the way.

Nuoluo nodded. “Then let’s go and see, Your Majesty.” She, too, was curious about what the butterfly had found.

With the butterfly leading, Nuoluo and the King of the Underworld followed. The path beneath their feet shifted once again, the space changing in ways that left Nuoluo astonished.

Looking from the entrance toward the distance, the scene never seemed to alter—everything cloaked in an almost mystical aura.

Yet as they delved deeper, wonder greeted them at every step.

First, there was the flowing stream; now, before them stretched parched earth.

The stream had vanished somewhere along the way, as if it existed only where Nuoluo had passed. No source, no end, appearing only when needed, vanishing when its purpose was fulfilled.

It seemed that just a moment ago, the water was still flowing; now, it had disappeared beyond the bounds of the stream, leaving only dry ground in its place.

The land, deprived of moisture, had cracked—lines etched like the marks of age on an old woman’s face. Time continued to leave its indelible traces.

An ancient aura swept over them once more, tinged now with desolation.

Where the stream had brought life, this new landscape was marked by the absence of it—by death.

In the same space, within just a few miles, the environment had changed so drastically.

As Nuoluo walked on, she searched for any sign of life, but found none—not even the lingering scent of the wild beasts remained.

The butterfly kept flying forward, never pausing. Nuoluo followed closely behind. The farther they went, the more barren the land beneath their feet became.

At last, the butterfly stopped, settling once more in Nuoluo’s palm.