Chapter 18: I Treat Goji Berries as a Miracle Cure

Heroes are born of their times, yet heroes, in truth, often make their era as well. The tides of history, the surging currents of an age, demand heroes to step forward, to lead, to guide.

“This ancient ape has invented writing, which may well usher in the dawn of civilization. Such an earth-shattering feat surely deserves a reward from me, as the Creator. Should I not bestow something upon this little fellow?” mused Fang Zhuowei, raising his brow in consideration.

He had initially thought to grant the ancient ape a drop of celestial beetle’s blood, as he had once done for Hercules. After all, the unfortunate little beetle was still in his possession, ready to be used at any time. But after a moment’s thought, Fang Zhuowei abandoned the idea.

A second evolution of the bloodline—igniting divine blood—could only be survived by those with extraordinary constitution and indomitable will. But the ancient ape before him was already well into its twilight years, its body frail and withered, already more than half buried in the earth. Even if its will remained unyielding, what use was that? The burning of divine blood spares no one, no matter their age.

If the old ape survived, so be it. But if it failed, the loss to Fang Zhuowei would be immeasurable. Without the ancient ape, who would transmit the art of writing? Civilization, which should have been poised to flourish, might be cut off at its very roots.

Yet, in its current state, the ancient ape was already at the edge of life. Though its spirit was still bright, its body’s every function had inevitably begun to decay—a process as irreversible as the course of life itself. Youth slips away like drifting sand; age settles in with each passing year.

At this rate, barring any accidents, the ancient ape had at most three months left to live. Three months—far too brief a span for it to create many more characters, or to establish writing among its kind. It was only right to let the old ape live a while longer.

“Burning divine blood is too fierce, too violent. But what if I used some precious medicinal herbs that greatly replenish vitality and prolong life?” Fang Zhuowei’s eyes brightened with a sudden inspiration.

He recalled a report he had read: it clearly stated that regular consumption of herbs such as fo-ti, astragalus, ginseng, and goji berries could indeed have life-extending effects.

He didn’t possess fo-ti, astragalus, or ginseng at the moment, but he did have a fair amount of goji berries. There were several wild goji bushes in his yard, all bearing a fine harvest—clusters of deep red, ripe berries hanging heavily from their branches.

It was well known that wild goji berries were even more potent than those grown by human hands.

Without further delay, Fang Zhuowei strode swiftly into the yard and plucked a single goji berry. The berry was lustrous, full to bursting, the very picture of ripeness. With it in hand, Fang Zhuowei gave a sweeping wave.

In the air, an ancient, shadowy black hole slowly appeared, radiating a mysterious and primordial aura, and drew the goji berry inside...

A moment later, with a faint sound, a nearly invisible speck of light shot swiftly out from the black hole, streaking toward the ancient ape’s location.

The point of light was like a meteor, dazzling and splendid, descending from the void and leaving a trail of radiant brilliance across the sky.

The black hole was not only capable of cultivating spores, but could also shrink objects without limit—though with one restriction: it could only be used once per day.

“Oolah, oolah, oolah...”

On the Dark Earth continent, the thunderous noise split the air, startling all the ancient apes from their sleep. They stared wide-eyed, bodies trembling, huddled together in terror, shrieking and gaping in awe at the sparkling streak above...

But none was more shocked than the ancient ape itself.

As the subject of these events, it saw most clearly. After traversing thousands of miles of void, the streak of light landed right at its feet...

There, a perfectly intact, ripe goji berry, now fused with a spore, fell from the heavens. As it touched the black soil, it burst forth, and before their eyes, a pale green sprout shot up.

The tender shoot grew, its pale green form expanding, transforming into a sapling, then to mature leaves, passing from birth to full growth.

Amid the dense foliage, a pair of dazzling blossoms slowly unfurled, emitting a soft, orange glow.

All this took place in an instant.

At last, the flowers fell, the leaves withered.

Yet from this withering came renewal.

As the final yellowed leaf touched the earth, several jade-green fruits appeared at the heart of the faded blossom, hanging in a row on one side of the branch.

These were newborn goji berries, plump and fresh, brimming with vibrant life and exuding a subtle, intoxicating fragrance.

“Oolah oolah!”

The ancient ape’s eyes widened. Though its intelligence surpassed that of its kin, it could not comprehend the marvels unfolding before it; everything exceeded the limits of its understanding.

Its mind was blank, its body irresistibly drawn by the ineffable aroma that filled the air.

On instinct, the ancient ape stepped forward.

On the goji tree hung five fresh berries, radiant red with a lustrous sheen, emitting a tempting fragrance.

Unable to resist, the ancient ape carefully plucked one and placed it in its mouth.

At once—

Before it could even savor the taste, a gentle radiance enveloped its entire body, dense and impenetrable.

Around it, the young apes, still shaken from the shock, recoiled another dozen steps in terror at this new and sudden sight, their cries rising in panic.

Fortunately, as suddenly as this spectacle had appeared, it vanished.

In but a moment, the white glow faded and the ancient ape reemerged.

Gone was the decrepit creature, barely able to stand; it now stood tall and straight, even its once-dull fur gleaming with renewed luster.

“I never expected that a goji berry fused with a spore would be so potent. Just one, and it has granted the ancient ape a full hundred years of life,” murmured Fang Zhuowei, clicking his tongue in surprise.

He recalled that when Hercules had fused with celestial beetle blood and ignited his divine bloodline a second time, he had gained only a thousand years of life—and only by gambling his very existence. This method, by contrast, was both simple and safe.