Chapter Nineteen: Your Glory Shall Endure Forever

This could be considered a fortuitous breakthrough, creating a precedent by sheer accident. Yet, speaking frankly, while this method is indeed safer, it is not without its shortcomings. At present, it only serves to prolong life; it does nothing to increase strength. To gain greater power, one must undergo a second bloodline evolution—there is no other path. Furthermore, it is possible that the method’s effects of extending life may eventually diminish due to resistance: it might work the first time, but its efficacy could gradually fade, vanishing altogether.

Fang Zhuowei frowned slightly, pondering aloud.

“Oorah, oorah…”

Beside the goji branch, the ancient ape—still stunned by the resurgence of vibrant life coursing through its body—finally regained its senses. It stared at itself incessantly; after the shock came overwhelming excitement.

After a long while, as if a thought had occurred, the old ape suddenly dropped to all fours, placed its arms behind its head, and fell heavily to the ground, adopting an extremely humble posture.

This was the most solemn salute of the ancient ape tribe, equivalent to the grandest act of kneeling.

“What an interesting little fellow, quick to react. But your direction’s off—I'm over here, why are you bowing so fervently toward the goji tree?” Fang Zhuowei drained his tea, unable to suppress a laugh.

He guessed that the old ape’s mind must be filled with notions of unknown powers and mysterious presences.

…

Time flew swiftly, like a fleeting horse’s shadow.

Within the aquarium world, a hundred years had passed since the holy medicine descended from the heavens.

In that century, the old ape devoted itself entirely to the great cause of education, laboring day and night, sacrificing sleep and sustenance, squeezing every moment to its limits.

To better impart its teachings, the old ape meticulously divided time, creating unique markers and methods of keeping track. It divided a year into eighteen months, a month into twenty days, a day into ten hours. A year was called a “Tong,” a month a “Venatong,” and a day a “Gold.”

In the first century, the old ape taught language and writing while continuing to invent new characters, growing ever wiser, its eyes shining ever more brilliantly.

Goji berries fortify the kidneys and also aid the mind. For humans, this effect is negligible, but for the tiny-bodied ancient apes, this slight enhancement was almost terrifying. With just one berry, the old ape gained a memory akin to perfect recall.

Of note, during this time, several apes stepped forward, hoping the old ape would become their leader. Each time, the old ape refused, merely shaking its head with a smile.

It had no desire for power, which to it was as fleeting as a passing cloud. Its sole aim was to dedicate its life, exhaust its energy, so that writing would flourish and be forever passed down among the ancient apes.

The fire of civilization must burn unceasingly. The voice of civilization must resound powerfully. And for all this, a guide was needed.

Whenever it was alone, the old ape’s mind would drift to that dazzling light from a century ago, which changed heaven and earth, and recall the mysterious plant that grew forth, silent between heaven and earth.

What tremendous power, what terror, what immortality!

It surpassed its imagination, and even more so its understanding.

The old ape firmly believed that, somewhere beyond, a supreme being was observing its every move, watching over this world, and the holy medicine—capable of such miraculous longevity—was proof of this.

It asked for nothing else in this life, only to live up to that being’s expectations, nothing more.

…

As the first century drew to a close, feeling its body inevitably succumbing to decay, the old ape decisively consumed a second goji berry.

Writing had yet to be fully established; its mission was far from complete. It could not die yet.

The second century arrived as expected.

The old ape entered a state of total selflessness, working ten hours a day, resting only as necessary, squeezing its time to the utmost.

Naturally, the results were remarkable.

It expanded its invented vocabulary to over two hundred words.

With these words, the ancient apes could now communicate simply, but the old ape was not satisfied.

In the third century, it consumed another goji berry, working tirelessly day and night, expanding the vocabulary to over nine hundred words—a nearly fivefold increase. Moreover, the form of the writing was no longer confined to pictographs; it became diverse and rich.

By then, the ancient ape tribe’s writing was fully mature, flourishing throughout their world.

On that day, the old ape was honored as the Supreme Sage.

Forty years later, as its life once again ebbed to the brink, the old ape was surrounded by the aura of death, its vitality gone, its eyes never opening, no longer teaching or spreading knowledge, but merely resting quietly in one spot. From afar, it looked like a withered old vine, an ancient tree about to reach the end of its life.

This time, the old ape did not take the holy medicine as it had before.

Its task was finished; it had lived more than three hundred years, far longer than many of its fellow tribesmen, and it was content.

During those three centuries, it witnessed the rise of the writing it created, saw the ancient apes grow ever stronger, and watched generation after generation of young apes awaken their intelligence through language, passing it down through the ages.

As long as the fire of tradition burned, the ancient apes would never fall, would forever prosper!

Such a thriving age, just as it had wished and hoped.

Through three hundred years of brilliance, it labored day and night, never wasting a moment, always striving to do its best.

Now, it only wanted to rest…

At the end of its life, the old ape quietly left the place where it had taught, and went to the site where the goji tree once bloomed.

Three centuries had passed, countless tribe members had become bones scattered on the ground, yet the tree that had borne the immortal holy medicine remained lush and vibrant, as if untouched by the passage of time.

“Great and immortal one, this old ape has fulfilled the task you entrusted. In my final moments, may I catch a glimpse of your majestic presence?”

The old ape knelt before the goji tree, its eyes—clouded by years—now filled with hope.

It was truly ancient; its organs utterly depleted, life nearly at its end. Even kneeling, its body trembled, and if not for its last bit of stubborn will, it might have collapsed entirely.

Yet, even so, it remained steadfast…

“You… why are you so certain of my existence…”