The men stepped on passionate dance steps and danced primitive dances, and the women sang loudly, loud and clear under the night sky.
The Xiong clan and the Zhurong clan put aside their old grudges, drank and laughed, and celebrated the coming of the heavy rain.
But the most solemn ceremony is still the prayer.
The patriarch, Shaodian, was dressed in the most exquisite clothes, kneeling on one knee. His wife, Fu Bao, was wearing an embroidered hemp skirt. Her long skirt spread out, like a night flower blooming towards the Milky Way, and she bowed towards the altar.
Down.
"Thank God for the rain, which ensures the continuation of our clan!"
"Thank God for the rain, which ensures the continuation of our clan!"
…
Over and over again, even if there was no response, I bowed down sincerely.
Finally, after the prayers were completed, everyone stood up. Shaodian even hurriedly helped Fu Bao up. She was pregnant.
"It's fine!"
Fu Bao smiled softly and touched his flat belly: "This child has brought happiness, not only to me, but also to the entire clan."
Shaodian smiled.
After the celebration, Fu Bao wanted to take a walk. The couple walked and came to the hill where the battle was taking place.
It has been raining for many days, and crystal raindrops can be seen falling in the distance. Thousands of flowers are blooming in the wilderness.
The sound of rustling is endless, and a gust of wind carries the fragrance of flowers flying across the sea of grass, and then turns into rotating mist of flowers, rising into the sky.
However, seeing this beautiful scene, the joy on Shaodian's face faded and became heavy: "These flowers were cultivated by the lives of our warriors..."
The powerful energy and blood of human warriors is undoubtedly an excellent nutrient for flowers, plants and vegetation. Any battlefield with serious fighting will form a sea of flowers or dense forests. The orcs are even more exaggerated. After death, they can even change the landscape, forming
hills or deep valleys.
When Shaodian discovered this pattern and saw this beautiful scenery, he couldn't be happier anymore.
Because no one knows how many warriors of the human race are buried under these blooming flowers.
Fu Bao stretched out his hands and hugged Shaodian.
"It's fine."
Shaodian forced a smile: "Thank God for the rain. As long as there is water source, all tribes will be in peace."
Fu Bao was silent for a moment and asked: "But if there is another severe drought in the future, will we have to fight again?"
Shaodian's body trembled slightly and he could not answer.
"There's something I didn't tell you!"
Fu Bao's eyes flickered, he hesitated for a moment, and finally made up his mind and said: "I met a man in my dream last night. He told me that what we should believe in is not God, but the way of heaven, which treats everyone equally."
Shaodian was confused: "The way of heaven?"
Fu Bao said: "Mountains, rivers, rocks, plants, trees, insects, and fish all have their own laws. This is the way of heaven, and the whole world is the same. It is as powerful as the gods, but it is also limited and cannot define all things."
Shaodian considered his words: "It sounds amazing!"
Now that Fu Bao had said it, he simply became bold: "That person said that every race has its own right to survive. No one should deprive other races of their continuation, and no one should rely on other races to survive."
Shaodian smiled bitterly: "I hope so too, but in order to survive, we also need to fish and eat meat. Those weak beasts are hunted by us, and the powerful beasts kill us..."
Fu Bao said: "So we should believe in the way of heaven. Maybe it will tell us why it rains? If we want it to rain, is there any other way besides asking the gods for help?"
Shaodian fell silent.
Stars twinkled in the night sky, a gust of wind blew up the clothes, Fu Bao touched his belly, and his face revealed a holy light: "I hope that our children, the descendants of our clan, will not have to live in fear and confusion..."
Shaodian, who originally thought it was ridiculous, felt his heart strings vibrate inexplicably, and he had an idea, and said: "In that case, let's give our child a name first!"
Fu Bao snuggled into his arms: "What is it called?"
Shaodian said slowly: "This place is called Xuanyuan Qiu. I hope that our clan's transformation will start from here, and it will be named Xuanyuan!"
…
…
On top of the sacred tree, Xiyao held her chin and watched Gu Cheng holding the Wuchen sword and sliding slowly in the air.
His movements were extremely slow, as if he were carving a symbol, with an indescribable charm.
But every time the symbol comes to the end of the last stroke, there will always be sluggishness, and finally it starts all over again.
Gu Cheng repeated it over and over again, not impatiently, and Xiyao also watched quietly, not feeling bored at all.
I don't know how long it took, but the tip of Wuchen's sword trembled, and he turned around like a flowing cloud, and finally put pen to paper.
Yes, it’s time to put pen to paper.
Because what Gu Cheng created was words.
The first written word in heaven and earth.
"The word is 'spirit'."
Gu Cheng sheathed his sword, joy appearing on his brows.
Now let alone the human race and the beast race, even the god race has no writing.
The human race doesn't care about it, the beast race has low intelligence, and the god race doesn't need it.
They are self-taught in many aspects of knowledge, and do not need to learn at all, and do not care about writing.
But again, this is also the reason that limits the growth of the protoss.
What kind of strength did the gods have when they were born? Even after thousands of years, they still have that strength.
Gu Cheng, however, paid more attention to postnatal improvement. With the help of understanding the way of heaven, he began to create words.
This spirit character is naturally different from the writing methods of later generations of the human race. The lines are complicated and seem to be all-encompassing. However, when you truly understand it, you can also see the artistic conception of simplifying the complex. Each stroke of the sword energy absorbs the spiritual charm of all directions.
, contains infinite mystery.
With this foundation, Gu Cheng moved his sword again, and based on the unique conditions of his innate life, he wrote the five characters of wind, thunder, water, fire and earth in one go.
The five words rotated around the word "Ling", making it fuller and more three-dimensional, which made Xiyao's pretty eyes light up: "So interesting!"
Gu Cheng smiled and said: "I'll teach you, you have to study hard!"
Xiyao nodded vigorously: "Yes!"
The house that had been built for a long time and was almost reduced to decoration was finally put into use.
Gu Cheng made pen, ink, paper and inkstone and transformed into a teacher.
As the first and only apprentice, Xiyao is very serious, with dignified pink cheeks and light jade wrists.
But this kind of writing contains the power of the great road. No matter how smart the gods are, they will inevitably be like worms in spring and snakes in autumn.
Seeing that Xiyao was doubting Shensheng after learning, Gu Cheng held her wrist and taught her stroke by stroke.
Blue birds were flying in the sky, and white clouds were floating in, gently wrapping around the pen barrel and spreading across the paper. Petals of strange flowers also joined in the fun, clinging to Xiyao's temples and shoulders, and falling on the paper on the inkstone.
The paper is as bright as snow and the inkstone is as dark as the ink, which is embellished with splendid colors. Xiyao studies happily every day, and her progress is faster and faster day by day.
The peaceful time passed by slowly, and when Gu Cheng finally created nearly a thousand words, covering all things in the world, only the four words "heaven", "earth", "man" and "god" were still missing,
Xiyao also learned more than a hundred characters.
On this day, while he was meditating on the last four words, the sacred tree suddenly shook.
Gu Cheng's expression changed, and he stepped out of the house. He saw the setting sun like blood, and the sun setting in the distance became extremely bright red.
Under its illumination, the luster of the Milky Way is also colorful and unpredictable, and the whole world seems to be faintly mourning.