Jinseong looked up at the stars and smiled.
The black night sky was playfully obscured by white clouds that drifted by, hiding and revealing the stars in a constant dance. Yet, Jinseong could pierce through that veil effortlessly, without needing to cast strong magic as he had before. Moreover, with his enhanced vision, he could even see the silhouette of an airplane soaring through the sky, and further, the figure of a child leaning on the window, peering outside.
It was all thanks to his vibrant body.
The vitality and life force he gained after coming of age infused Jinseong with strength and increased the efficiency of the spells he cast. His eyesight-enhancing spell was significantly boosted; even using it the same way as before, he could now gaze further and in greater detail.
Amidst this enhanced vision, one particular star caught his attention.
An unnamed star.
However, the nameless star shone brilliantly, then was swallowed by darkness, only to be revealed again, creating an illusion of a fluctuating brightness. But Jinseong’s eyes, which could easily pierce through clouds, clearly perceived the star’s oddities.
‘Let’s see. The fact that even clouds cannot conceal it, appearing and disappearing, suggests the celestial motions are at play, and that there’s something obstructing its light.’
And the twinkling of the star was akin to a cry reaching out to Jinseong, signaling that it still clung to life.
As he stared intently, Jinseong could understand the message the star was trying to convey.
The twinkling spoke of radiance.
The obscuring indicated that a calamity had befallen it.
And this repetition implied a persistent calamity, one that could not be properly overcome, indicating that misfortune was piling up high and was remarkably tenacious.
‘It’s a symbol. The star is a symbol, governing fate and safeguarding what is decreed.’
Jinseong sat on the roof, staring blankly at the sky.
He focused all his senses on his gaze, even forgetting to breathe, drawn into the brightness.
It twinkled.
And that twinkle intertwined with the darkness.
The light from the nearly invisible stars between the shadows cried out.
That light formed a shape, a manifestation that descended to Earth as a symbol.
One star, simply pointing towards the northwest, twinkled in exasperation, and with that twinkle, light would softly settle in a dark space only to vanish. The things that appeared and disappeared reformed as symbols, the light twinkling and fading left traces that drew lines and shapes in his mind.
And with that afterimage connecting the traces of the stars, shapes began to form, overlapping one another. Jinseong concentrated as if being sucked into that form, gazing at it as if he had become one with the light.
Then, the star, having caught wind of Jinseong’s gaze, finally spoke to him.
Jinseong discerned who had brought about the defilement.
‘It’s China.’
Like a mirage arising on a summer asphalt, the afterimage illustrated a picture, resembling hasty doodles. Jagged irregular spikes, a crumpled surface, and something in an unrecognizable triangular shape.
A sight that anyone would mistake for mere scribbles.
But Jinseong was well aware.
‘Zhong Mingzhao.’
Also known as the Transcendent Being, the Zhong Ming Bird.
It exercised a power that rejected what it deemed evil and was capable of making crude predictions.
And this Zhong Ming Bird resided in modern-day China.
‘Fairy Lady of Mount Lu.’
Officially named the Fairy Lady of Mount Lu <female>.
Currently under a contract with a woman known as the Fairy Lady, or simply the Fairy Lady.
‘Hmm. Right. She’s still alive, isn’t she.’
Jinseong slowly sifted through his memories.
‘When did she die again?’
The Fairy Lady was meant to die.
By the hands of a shaman, no less.
‘I’ve never seen her myself…but I’ve heard tales.’
In the future, China will feverishly invade surrounding nations.
And throughout that course, humanity’s compassion would barely be visible.
If it bothered them, ethnic cleansing was treated as a casual affair. Raping or sterilizing men under the guise of needing to mix Han blood with the “barbarians” was standard practice, and they would even gather captive women in one place to build facilities aimed at ‘efficiently increasing Han bloodline.’
Moreover, it seemed they ranked various ethnicities, so even if someone wanted to convert, they were strictly categorized.
With yellow-skinned people at the top, blacks in the middle, and whites at the bottom.
Even amongst the yellow-skinned, there were intricacies, with the Han people perched at the very peak.
And the Fairy Lady’s death occurred during a fervent push for such ‘classification.’
China, fervently waging war and expanding territory, invaded the domain of a certain shaman. The shaman, having gathered materials in the chaos of war, had painstakingly constructed an altar, only to see it shattered to pieces.
Furious at having what was painstakingly built reduced to ashes, the shaman protested, but China unsurprisingly turned a deaf ear. Instead, they insulted and expelled the shaman, and when protests continued, they even sent agents to assassinate him.
If that shaman had been weak, it might have worked…
But unfortunately, that shaman was a force to be reckoned with, shockingly strong.
China had no idea of the true might of the reclusive shaman, knew nothing of the spells he wielded, nor the deeds he was capable of executin.g
Yes.
Regrettably, China knew nothing.
They underestimated the shaman, who was, in fact, a necromancer.
Not merely capable of commanding evil spirits or ghosts, but indeed strong enough to draw forth beings with a grandiose title attached.
The land was littered with corpses, souls, and huns due to mass slaughter, thanks to the outbreak of evil across China.
But ignorance could not be an excuse for absolution.
The necromancer sought revenge on China for trampling on his altar and jeopardizing his life.
That revenge was quite simple.
Since he had lost something precious to him, they too must lose something precious.
The necromancer led an army of evil spirits and ghosts, heading towards Jiangxi Province where Mount Lu resides.
There he unleashed his hoard of evil spirits and commanded them to slay every person in Jiangxi; he gathered the souls and bodies of the deceased, while coercing the naturally born spirits and evils, increasing the ranks of his army, using spells that tainted the waters and land with plagues.
Naturally, the Communist Party of China was horrified, and sent the Fairy Lady along with troops to Jiangxi.
And then.
The Fairy Lady died.
‘The Fairy Lady has fallen, Jiangxi has become an infected land, Mount Lu has become the abode of man-eating evil spirits, and the evils spread throughout China, preventing people from walking about at night.’
Moreover, the necromancer who perpetrated this was killed on the spot.
Everyone found themselves thrust into unfortunate circumstances.
Yet often, misfortune grants the most potent lessons.
After this incident, China became avaricious for arcane magic, treating their remaining two contractors with utmost care, serving them solely as shields for the powerful, and they operated more cautiously during the assimilation of occupied territories.
‘Hmm.’
Jinseong pondered the death of the Fairy Lady, scrutinizing China’s obsession with magic.
‘Could I set my power within reach of China?’
Jinseong’s mind raced.
‘China gathers magic. They’re probably still doing it now, and they will continue in the future. So if I could get my power within reach of China, I could intercept it, and perhaps study the amassed magic.’
China wouldn’t need to compete with Jinseong over relics.
And Jinseong would be free to scrutinize the magic without competition.
Isn’t that a win-win?
Peacefully.
Equitably.
Everyone stands to gain.
‘Besides, if they’re not competing with me, magic will gather faster, and as that happens, the clash between the necromancer and the Fairy Lady will come sooner, meaning the Fairy Lady would die faster. Therefore, China would ascertain the potential of magic faster and mobilize accordingly, thus allowing China to amass power more rapidly than before. This too results in shared benefits.’
But this was merely a delusion.
‘Yet, there’s no way that could happen. How could those avaricious bastards share magic and knowledge with a shaman from a small nation? They’d assume that not throwing in all their strength means one’s not worth it, and as long as none of us ends up bedridden from a curse or suffering from some calamity, that contempt for us will not fade.’
Jinseong reached a conclusion.
It’s impossible.
No matter what he tried, he would never gain access to the magic that China gathered.
‘Even if I try to establish a company and expand my might with money, one word from the Communist Party would collapse it in an instant. And although building connections would take a long time, even if I did establish them, their help wouldn’t amount to what I truly desire.’
For Jinseong to project his strength upon China, people were key.
In China, people had more worth than money.
Unlike other countries where wealth follows power, in China, acquiring power naturally leads to wealth.
Yet ironically, the value of a person in China was also lacking.
Politics is a peculiar beast.
Sometimes there’s no issue with being drenched in muck, yet a speck of dust on one’s garment can cause death.
Flowers bloom for ten days at best!
Once something flourishes, it cannot last forever and is destined to end in decay.
‘China will eventually transform into a monster. Not one where a monster sits atop, but the Communist Party itself will metamorphose into a monstrous entity….’
Amidst the horrific third world war, the Chinese Communist Party continuously changed yet remained unyielding.
It was an ironic statement, true to nature.
Future China’s Communist Party behaved much like a person.
As cells constantly died and regenerated, while maintaining their essence, they retained their form.
Their members died for a myriad of reasons.
The one responsible for defense perishes, the one managing finances dies, even the Chairman could die.
Yet, like adjacent cells filling voids, the Party continues to operate seamlessly, swiftly filling vacancies after short intervals. Whenever members perished, replacements would fill in, keeping the organization intact.
Even when a head figure has perished.
When the hands of the organization are disbanded.
Even if a staggering 70% of the Communist Party’s members perish.
As if they possessed some extraordinary self-regeneration, voids are filled, maintaining the nation’s operations.
In situations where upper echelons should all vanish, the Communist Party struggled through by filling the slots of their fallen comrades, operating as if they were well-prepared with spares, inserting replacements as parts failed.
Or perhaps…
As if they were cranking out new members from somewhere.
