Chapter 55: Beginning with Saving King Zhou

When King Zhou finally caught his breath, Chu Xiaoyu adopted a leisurely tone and asked, “Now, I’ll ask you some questions, and you must answer honestly. Hmph, if you dare hide anything from me, you’ll bear the consequences yourself. Do you understand?”

King Zhou knelt curled up on the floor, not daring to breathe loudly, and nodded desperately. “Sir, I understand. If you ask, I will not conceal nor withhold anything.”

Once bitten, twice shy.

King Zhou felt he had finally learned to be clever.

Chu Xiaoyu began his questioning. “Tell me, how exactly did you break into my farm?”

Could it be, just like the Monkey King, he opened another divine portal? How many gateways to parallel worlds are hidden in this strange farm?

King Zhou looked bewildered as he replied, “Sir, I’m not sure how to answer that. At that time, I was worshipping with my ministers in the grand hall, when suddenly a fierce wind arose and the holy image of Lady Nüwa appeared. I… I…”

King Zhou’s speech faltered.

He had led his ministers in worship and encountered Lady Nüwa’s sacred image. Seeing her dignified beauty and national grace, he was seized by wicked thoughts and, in front of the image, voiced his admiration, even composing verses that amounted to blasphemy.

A scene straight from the dramas of Investiture of the Gods.

Chu Xiaoyu had been steeped in strange novels since childhood, stories like Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, A Chinese Ghost Story, Legend of the White Snake, and Investiture of the Gods.

“So, in front of all your ministers, you profaned the sacred image of Lady Nüwa? Is that what happened?”

Looking at King Zhou’s hesitant demeanor, Chu Xiaoyu could easily guess what absurd events had transpired.

King Zhou’s face flushed crimson. “Ahem… As you say, it did happen. However, I wasn’t blaspheming—I was expressing admiration…”

“Ha! Spare me,” Chu Xiaoyu rolled his eyes. “It was your lust and foolishness that brought ruin upon your Shang dynasty. Desire is a sharp blade: you destroyed your own country.”

“What? My Shang dynasty has only just established its order—how could it be destroyed? No, no… how could it perish?”

The words “ruin and destruction” struck King Zhou like lightning. He could hardly believe it.

The mighty Shang dynasty was at the height of its power; how could it be wiped out?

Chu Xiaoyu glanced at King Zhou’s incredulous face and felt it necessary to clarify the cause and effect. “Heh, you must think I’m joking with you. But I’m not.”

“Your Shang dynasty lasted barely thirty years from its founding to its demise.”

“From the moment you recited those verses before Lady Nüwa’s sacred image and profaned her, your fate was sealed. Lady Nüwa determined the life and death of your reign right then.”

“How so? Because Lady Nüwa felt your disrespect, your blasphemy. In her anger, she raised the Banner to Summon Demons, calling forth three spirits.”

King Zhou was dumbfounded. “Banner to Summon Demons? Three spirits? Why? Please, sir, enlighten me.”

“It’s simple. The three spirits were a thousand-year-old fox, a nine-headed pheasant, and the Jade Pipa spirit.”

“Lady Nüwa gave them secret instructions: your kingdom’s fate was at its end, and far away in Fengming Qishan, the Western Zhou already had a sage ruler.”

“This was destiny—the Shang dynasty’s mandate was exhausted. The three spirits were sent to Shang to bewitch you, to confuse your mind, making you indulge in beauty and debauchery. When the king is corrupt and the people suffer, how could the nation not fall?”

“Ah… How could such a terrible thing happen? No… I was only a little lustful, but not to such an outrageous extent…”

King Zhou struggled, unwilling to believe Chu Xiaoyu’s words.

Chu Xiaoyu sneered. “Impossible? Hah! If this had happened to Ji Fa of Western Zhou, I think it wouldn’t.”

“Ji Fa of Western Zhou? Who’s that?” King Zhou was both confused and troubled.

“Ji Fa, the founding king of Western Zhou, known as King Wu; second son of King Wen, Ji Chang. He was extraordinarily wise, broad-minded and virtuous—a ruler of great insight.”

Chu Xiaoyu spoke as if reciting a tale, brewing a cup of tea as he went on. “If I hadn’t recorded your true identity through my information of Fortune and Blessing, why would I waste so many words with you?”

Suddenly, King Zhou kowtowed grandly to Chu Xiaoyu, kneeling and crying out, “Sir, you must be a hidden sage! Di Xin begs your guidance, pledging his life to your service without question.”

Bang, bang, bang!

King Zhou performed three kneelings and nine bows, sincere and trembling with fear.

“Ah, such a grand gesture—I can hardly accept it,” Chu Xiaoyu shook his head.

Spanning several thousand years of time, such a relic suddenly appeared.

How should one deal with such an ancient artifact?

Chu Xiaoyu felt his head ache.

He made no response, so King Zhou grew anxious and continued to kneel, “Sir, save our Shang dynasty! I don’t want to be remembered as a king scorned by all posterity. Woe…”

As he pleaded, King Zhou grew tearful with grievance.

What should be done?

Let it be.

“Alright, since you’re so earnest in your supplication, I’ll attempt to help you.”

Could the fate of Shang truly be reversed?

His own body had undergone countless strange changes, yet now the heavens had thrown him into this absurd drama. Was this some sort of test?

And the one to rescue was the infamous tyrant, King Zhou.

His reputation was so thoroughly blackened by later generations that it seemed impossible to redeem.

Yet, fate had brought them together. If not for the man, then perhaps for the Buddha.

Just as he had saved the Monkey King, breaking through obstacles along the way.

Chu Xiaoyu resolved in his heart: he would begin by rescuing this hapless child, King Zhou.