Chapter Forty-three: History

As for "Bring in the Wine," this poem written by Li Bai in the style of the Music Bureau, it was no surprise to Yan Luo that it could win over the Greeks—even in reality, if one were to rank the finest, most classic, and most accomplished poems in Chinese history, "Bring in the Wine" almost always claims the top spot. Even when translated into ancient Greek, the core message of the poem—the boldness and self-assurance—remained unchanged.

Moreover, the spirit of this poem fit perfectly with the current atmosphere of Athens and Greece: its content brimmed with the same unrestrained abandon as that of Dionysus, god of wine and revelry. This supreme poem of the ages from China shook the whole of Athens, leaving no room for doubt.

The applause continued unabated, but Yan Luo was focused inwardly.

The mask was taking shape…

A crack!

It failed again.

This result didn’t surprise Yan Luo either; the emotions used as material were too numerous and too complex. Furthermore, it needed to be divided into portions—ten units at a time had a higher chance of success, but when all these mixed emotions were combined, failure was almost guaranteed.

Wait?

Yan Luo suddenly noticed that in his consciousness, this mask hadn’t shattered completely—only a small piece had crumbled, while most of it remained.

A Level 1 Soul Mask Fragment: 70%.

A fragment! A huge fragment! A colored shard covered in cracks!

In his consciousness, he had previously collected three Level 1 Soul Mask fragments: one at 7%, one at 10%, and one at 13%. With this large 70% piece, couldn’t he assemble a complete Level 1 Heroic Spirit Mask?

Combine!

Since he was acting in his own mind, Yan Luo chose to combine them. The four fragments joined together, ultimately forming a complete mask, its surface still marred by cracks.

Heroic Spirit Mask: Wine Sword Immortal Li Bai.

According to the description, a Heroic Spirit Mask differs from a Personality Mask. When worn, a Personality Mask shifts the wearer into a battle-ready stance suited to the situation—in plain terms, a transformation. But a Heroic Spirit Mask, when donned, splits off a sub-personality from the soul.

This sub-personality exists as a heroic spirit, subject to the control of the main personality.

To put it more plainly, it’s akin to a "summon."

Yan Luo pondered in silence:

Not Swordsman Li Bai…

Not Poet Immortal Li Bai…

Nor Jungle Li Bai…

Wine Sword Immortal Li Bai.

Abilities:

Bring in the Wine, Heroic Wanderer, Azure Lotus Sword Song.

Three abilities: Bring in the Wine corresponds to "wine," Heroic Wanderer to "sword," and Azure Lotus Sword Song undoubtedly to "immortal." Yan Luo’s current Heartless Puppet had the "extract" skill, allowing him to draw out one ability from the mask.

Unfortunately, extracting the skill would destroy the mask, and the skill itself could only be used once before vanishing.

This Heroic Spirit Mask is clearly more powerful than masks of the same level, Yan Luo concluded.

He didn’t intend to extract anything at present, but now he faced a problem: with two Level 1 Masks stored in his consciousness, his Heartless Puppet’s capacity of 200 points was completely maxed out, making it impossible to absorb any more emotions.

At last, the applause died down.

Sophocles wore a look of deep shame—after such a poem, he could say nothing more.

He had to admit defeat.

Pericles and the council of elders exchanged uneasy glances. Originally, they had gathered the Greeks and Athenian scholars today to suppress the three envoys from China, yet now the event had turned into the visitors’ showcase. Judging from the looks of admiration and affection—both male and female—directed at the envoy, the chief magistrate felt a growing sense of unease.

"Socrates—where is Socrates?" he asked.

"At the Kerameikos cemetery. We’ve sent word, but we don’t know if he’ll return in time."

"Athens is the center of all Greek civilization, the most democratic and prosperous place in the world—how can it be overshadowed by a few…no, by a single foreigner!" Pericles’ expression was grim.

"But that man is surely favored by the gods—perhaps even a demigod incarnate. We can’t possibly prevail!" a councilor muttered.

"Nonsense!"

Though many tales of demigods circulated, Pericles himself did not believe in their existence, nor even the gods. He looked around at his scholars. "Are you all just going to stand by and let Athens be overawed by someone insulting our civilization?"

Herodotus, Euripides, Sophocles—all three scholars had been defeated, and "Bring in the Wine" had won deep respect from many present.

The scholars exchanged uneasy glances, until at last, a nearly thirty-year-old elder mustered his courage and stepped forward.

The historian Thucydides.

Besides this title, he was also a man of letters, and would one day become one of Athens’ ten generals—though that time was yet to come, and he had not yet composed the "History of the Peloponnesian War," his reputation was already considerable.

In the modern West, he is called the father of "scientific history" as well as the founder of the "school of political realism."

This future luminary looked at Yan Luo—at the youth bathed in sunlight, as if gilded in gold—and felt his mouth go dry…his confidence nearly deserting him.

"If a nation is great, it must have a glorious history. A nation without history is like a tree without roots." Beginning with the kind of analogies the Greeks favored in debate, Thucydides steadied himself and his voice grew stronger.

"Greece has an ancient history. It is said that before heaven and earth were divided, there was Chaos, and from Chaos were born Gaia, mother of earth; Tartarus, god of the abyss; Erebus, god of darkness; Nyx, goddess of night; Eros, god of love; and Uranus, god of the sky. Thus began the world…

"Gaia and Uranus bore the twelve Titans. Among them, the youngest, Cronus, ruled as king of the gods. In those days, it was forever spring—the fields and orchards bore fruit unbidden, rivers flowed with milk and honey. Humanity was carefree, without disease, without age, without toil, without strife. That was our Greek golden age…"

Thucydides’ voice echoed across the square. Everyone’s expression grew solemn; some silently praised the ancient gods in their hearts.

Yan Luo’s face betrayed no emotion.

Wang Dongwei, something of a cultured man himself, was dumbstruck. He hadn’t expected these ancient Greeks to "treat myth as history," much like modern Western historians.

Those same people who denied China’s five thousand years of civilization, who claimed the Xia Dynasty was invented, who argued China had only 3,600 years of history—these same people took Western classics—like the "Iliad," filled with demigods and gods at every turn—as actual history.

Even Zhu Xiaoyong sensed something was off, and muttered under his breath in Chinese:

"I have never seen anyone so brazenly shameless!"

Thucydides spoke eloquently, swiftly moving from Cronus to the third generation of divine kings—Zeus. Greek history, according to his telling, progressed from the Golden Age to the Silver Age, then to the Bronze Age—the era of the Trojan War, which occurred seven or eight centuries before the present-day Greeks, at the end of the Bronze Age.

Now, at last, was the Iron Age.

The young historian spoke for more than half an hour. Yan Luo watched his performance in silence, until finally, the now-confident man in his thirties concluded his so-called "history":

"Though the gods dwell upon Mount Olympus, they have ever watched over us—over our nations’ rise and fall, over the development of civilization. We, too, shall one day become legend to those who come after. Greece may not always flourish, but the history and civilization of Greece will be forever inscribed in the annals of time!"

The applause that followed was as long and enthusiastic as that which had greeted Yan Luo’s recitation of "Bring in the Wine." To the Athenians, it was perfectly natural for Thucydides to recount myth as history. After all, they truly believed in the gods, and that before the Iron Age there had been the more glorious Golden, Silver, and Bronze Ages.

His speech carried the Greeks on a journey through their past, leaving many with feelings of longing, melancholy, and passion.

Once the applause faded, Thucydides raised his head and looked at Yan Luo. "Does China possess a history as grand and magnificent as that of Greece?"

Yan Luo was silent for a moment. As he did not respond immediately, Pericles, the council of elders, and the scholars exchanged smiles; their three great masters had been defeated, but at least Thucydides had regained some honor—otherwise, their humiliation would have been complete.

"Since you call these things history," Yan Luo said expressionlessly, "then I shall speak of the history of China."

In fact, he could have responded as he had to Herodotus, wielding criticism as a weapon to attack the Greeks’ tangled divine affairs—but in this era, reverence for the gods ran to the depths of people’s souls. It would be like going to the Vatican in the Middle Ages and cursing Jehovah—straight to the stake with you.

To insult their gods here, in the temple-filled Acropolis? Only a fool would do that. In this age, the gods mattered more than civilization itself.

Instead, he chose a different approach.

"In the boundless primeval world, the universe was vast and immeasurable; its age and duration unknown. Before the heavens and earth were separated, all was primordial chaos. In that chaos, three thousand chaos demons were born—Chaos itself among them. My ancestor, Pangu, cleaved chaos asunder, creating the world. The three thousand chaos demons could not withstand the might of this act; by the force of Pangu’s axe, all were destroyed!

"The pure rose to form the heavens, the impure sank to become the earth. Pangu, having transformed his own body into mountains, rivers, and all things, then perished.

"After Pangu’s death, his spirit became three beings: the Grand Supreme Elder Lord, the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, and the Lord of the Way and its Virtue. These three journeyed to the Purple Cloud Palace, a temple beyond the thirty-three heavens, and became disciples of the Primeval Lord Hongjun.

"This lord, Hongjun, is a sage who has merged with the Dao itself. His realm is so high that neither god nor ant are different in his eyes. He possesses a treasure called the Creation Jade Disc—‘Dao’ being the law, the principle itself, akin to your gods’ essence, the source of their divinity.

"For example, Gaia, the earth mother, masters the way of earth; Zeus, king of the gods, wields the way of thunder; Poseidon, king of the sea, governs the way of the ocean…Hongjun’s Creation Jade Disc records three thousand ways, each of which, once mastered, can make one a king of the gods…"

Under the gaze of the Athenians, Yan Luo spoke in a sonorous voice. Since the Greeks boasted of their history, he would boast of his own—let the flood myths and Greek legends compete—let us see whose mythos wields the greater might!