Chapter 750: The Meaning of Purple (5)

Upon arriving at Danhyeol Mountain, female visitors are guided by Feng, and male visitors by Huang.

Thus, still seated atop Feng, Chaenyeo’s body rapidly descended along the opening.

Huang followed behind.

As they entered the passage, what appeared on both sides of the vast opening were crimson crystals. Jagged formations jutted sharply from the rock walls, catching the glow of the sunset pouring in and scattering a radiant red light.

Chaenyeo glanced down toward the distant floor below, then asked the Feng carrying her,

“Is your lord well?”

“Yes, Lady Chaenyeo. He remains safe and in good health.”

Though the phoenix answered that Zihwa’s father was well, Chaenyeo did not believe it.

How could someone who had lost both wife and child be well?

No matter how much he had become something beyond, his origin was still that of a phoenix.

Feng represents the male, embodying yang, while Huang represents the female, embodying yin.

Only when the two are united do they form the Taiji—the fundamental principle of the universe. Alone, Feng or Huang are merely halves of yin and yang.

A phoenix must exist as a pair to be complete.

Having lost his mate, there was no way he could remain whole.

And that was not all.

The phoenix’s head symbolizes virtue, its wings righteousness, its back propriety.

Its chest represents benevolence, and its belly faith.

To lose one’s wife was akin to losing faith.

To lose one’s child was akin to losing benevolence.

Having lost his wife, he had been severed from the deepest bond of trust—thus losing faith.

And benevolence, being the warmth of love and compassion, was lost when he lost his child.

If, in their original form, the female had died, it would have been a catastrophic blow—one that could lead to ruin.

Even if his outward appearance remained intact, he was someone with holes pierced through his chest and abdomen.

That was how Chaenyeo saw Zihwa’s father.

“We will proceed forward.”

With Feng’s words, Chaenyeo—now deep beneath the mountain—began moving forward.

The phoenix carrying her shifted direction and flew ahead.

What lay before them was a long cavern.

Once again, crimson crystals jutted from the walls, but with no external light reaching them, the passage soon grew dark.

—Flash.

Light suddenly flowed from the phoenix’s body, and the crystals shimmered in response, illuminating the surroundings.

After traveling along the crimson-lit path for quite some time, they arrived at a large hollow, where a male and female pair stood guard at the entrance.

Red-haired figures.

They were phoenixes in complete human form.

As they entered the cavern, brilliant light poured down.

It was not the soft glow of the crystals embedded in the walls, but an intense radiance emanating from something like an altar in the distance.

The brightness briefly blurred her vision—

And when it cleared, what appeared on both sides were streets.

Rows of crimson-painted pavilions stretched out in orderly lines.

The homeland and resting place of all birds.

Hongyeom Valley.

Still mounted on Feng, Chaenyeo passed through the center of the street. Countless avian spirit-creatures, along with occasional handsome men and beautiful women with red hair, lowered their heads upon seeing her.

“We greet Lady Chaenyeo.”

“We pay our respects, Lady Chaenyeo.”

Receiving the greetings of phoenixes and bird immortals lining both sides, she arrived before an altar.

Upon a high platform carved from red crystal stood the one she had come to meet.

Following proper etiquette, she descended below the altar, then leapt upward.

—Tak.

As she landed where the bright light poured down, the radiance slowly receded, and a voice emerged.

“We greet Lady Chaenyeo.”

What revealed itself as the light withdrew was a massive, blazing flame.

The voice came from within it.

The fire surged wildly, yet it was not a destructive blaze that burned all things.

Instead, it carried a sacredness that penetrated deep into the body.

Like a long-extinguished brazier regaining warmth, it gave off a heat that soothed the heart of anyone who felt it.

Chaenyeo returned the greeting toward the flames.

“It has been a while.”

The flames subsided further.

Then, from within them, a massive bird appeared.

When it spread its wings, it could cover the sky.

It was no ordinary creature.

It opened its eyes and looked at Chaenyeo.

Its head was neat like that of a rooster, yet its eyes held the depth of the cosmos. Its long, slender neck curved elegantly like a serpent’s. Beneath its swift, swallow-like jaw, a crimson aura flickered. Its back was thick and sturdy like an ancient turtle’s shell, and its tail flowed with the flexibility of a fish.

And the deep crimson feathers covering its body scattered light in all directions.

Chaenyeo spoke again.

“I greet the lord of the south among the Four Divine Beasts.”

A phoenix that has attained the Dao has all its feathers turn red.

The being now opening its eyes within the flames was precisely such an awakened phoenix—

Zihwa’s father, and the ruler of all three hundred and sixty kinds of birds.

The Vermilion Bird.

From the great body lying before her, a voice sounded once more.

“What brings you here?”

It was their first meeting since the death of his wife.

Sensing the gazes of the other bird immortals watching from below the altar, Chaenyeo spoke quietly.

“I have something to discuss in private. Can you guide me somewhere secluded?”

“It seems the day is coming to an end. That will be fine.”

As he spoke, his enormous form gradually shrank.

Then, from within the flames, a man stepped out.

He wore a phoenix crown and crimson official robes.

It was the attire of the southern guardian deity.

“This way.”

“Understood.”

Following him into the flames, a small thatched hut appeared.

A humble dwelling, like that of a countryside farmer.

Ten attendants stood waiting before it, but Zihwa’s father dismissed them all.

He then personally guided Chaenyeo inside.

“All of you, withdraw.”

“Yes, Elder.”

The interior of the hut was just as simple, furnished with bamboo pieces.

Chaenyeo knew why the king of all birds lived in such a place.

This space embodied the character of Zihwa’s mother.

Seeing that he still lived here, it seemed he had not forgotten her.

Even after suspecting her of infidelity.

Thinking the conversation might proceed well, Chaenyeo listened as Zihwa’s father gestured to a bamboo chair.

“Please wait a moment. I will prepare some tea.”

Soon after, they sat facing each other with tea brewed from spiritual herbs.

Before even taking in its aroma, Chaenyeo decided to get straight to the point.

She was not a patient person.

“I will state my purpose first.”

Zihwa’s father had just lifted the teacup when her words came.

“Zihwa has returned.”

She expected some reaction—

But there was none.

Only a single calm response.

“I see.”

She had thought the conversation would flow smoothly, given how he seemed unable to forget Zihwa’s mother, but his reaction was not what she had expected.

Originally, she had planned to bring up the matter of the dragons after making her proposal, but instead she spoke of it immediately.

“The dragons are targeting Zihwa. Hyeonnyeo has gone to confirm it, but it is clear your wife’s matter was connected to them. That child was proper and virtuous—infidelity is unthinkable, is it not? The three of us intend to protect Zihwa, so if you could lend your aid—”

She had not even finished speaking.

Zihwa’s father set down his teacup and opened his mouth.

His eyes had darkened deeply.

“When my wife was carrying an egg, the Primordial Infant of the Heavenly Emperor came to us. He said he wished to restore order to the heavens, which had fallen into chaos due to the greed of dragons.

I refused, but my wife did not. She said she wanted the heavens our child would live in to be a better place.

And so, after granting the Heavenly Emperor’s request, my daughter was born under the scorn of our kind.

Then, under pressure from the dragons who discovered the plan, I had to send away my wife with my own hands—lest she bear another child like Zihwa.”

At his words, Chaenyeo’s eyes widened.

She had thought Zihwa’s father knew nothing—

But that was not the case.

He knew more than she did.

No—he knew everything.

The power of the dragon race had not always been this overwhelming.

There had once been a being that kept their greed in check.

The Garuda.

A punishment imposed upon the dragon race for their sin of greed.

Though clearly a bird, the Garuda did not stand beneath the Vermilion Bird—it was a special existence that fed on dragons.

With the Heavenly Emperor’s permission, it could consume one dragon per day.

But the last Garuda had died for unknown reasons.

After that, the heavens had fallen into their current state.

To counterbalance them, it seemed the Heavenly Emperor had chosen Zihwa, the daughter of the Vermilion Bird, intending to make her a new Garuda—

But the dragons had discovered the plan, and things had turned out this way.

“Th-That is true? No... of course it must be. Then why didn’t you tell us until now!? You should have at least told the three of us!”

At Chaenyeo’s outburst, Zihwa’s father looked out the window and spoke.

“If I had told the three of you, what would have happened?”

“Well, we would have gone to war—”

As she spoke, Chaenyeo began to understand why he had not sought help from anyone, why he had cut off his wife and cast down his daughter.

The Vermilion Bird, one of the Four Divine Beasts, existed as a single pair.

But the Azure Dragon of the east was only a title—there were countless dragons.

The Vermilion Bird referred not to a race, but to a single pair evolved from phoenixes.

Dragons, however, were a species.

Yellow dragons, black dragons, red dragons, white dragons—

Creatures that multiplied endlessly.

And that was not all.

In the seas of the upper heavens, there were the Four Sea Dragon Kings.

Even in the palaces of the great, a dragon was often coiled around every pillar.

A race overflowing with greed.

If war broke out against them, the weaker bird-kind would suffer catastrophic losses.

The Vermilion Bird was one who had attained the Dao.

He could not drive his people and subjects to their deaths just to save his own family.

As expected, his answer followed.

“In the current heavens, the dragons rule all. If war were to break out, countless of my kind and my people would be annihilated. How could one who has attained the Dao risk the lives of many just to save two?”

For those below the Upper Heavens, if they died during ascension, their very existence would be erased.

It seemed he had chosen to sacrifice his wife and child to preserve the rest.

Chaenyeo asked with a hardened expression.

“Then your decision now will be the same as before?”

Was he not the same man who had sacrificed his wife and cast down his daughter to save his people?

Even knowing Zihwa had returned, he would not make a choice that might spark war.

His past decision meant he believed that even if Zihwa grew stronger, she would not be enough to check the dragons.

Silence followed.

Chaenyeo let out a low sigh.

“...Ha.”

At that moment—

She recalled Zihwa’s daughter, whom she had seen through Ji-ryeon’s eyes.

“Then Zihwa’s daughter will die as well...”

As she spoke and began to rise from her seat—

A voice rang out.

“Daughter? Zihwa had a—daughter!?”

A completely different reaction from before.

The hand of the Vermilion Bird trembled slightly.

Chaenyeo quickly projected what she had seen into the air.

“She’s called Jayo.”

Floating in the empty space to her left was a small, purple tuft of fluff.

A tiny head poked out from it, tilting as it let out a soft cry.

—Piyo?

In that instant—

The extinguished flames in the Vermilion Bird’s eyes flared back to life.