Chapter Fifty-Five: The Tree of the Celestial Deity

At that time, Lingyu's parents' second child had already been born. He was three years old, also a boy, and sat by the window, gathering a faint magic between his hands, making a plant in a flowerpot bloom again and again. This was an innate ability of the Light Elves.

Looking out through the window into the distance, at the foot of the mountain, one could see the desolate swamp across the river where the Dark Elves lived. The earth there was ashen, not a blade of grass grew, and withered trees leaned at sickly angles, twisted and ugly. Only at the center of the swamp stood an enormous green tree, standing out in stark contrast to the surrounding scenery, towering protectively over the Dark Elf village below.

Bai Scorpion spoke in a gentle, persuasive tone:

"I am a doctor from the institute. I heard that your family has a patient who has been infected. Would you allow me to take them back to the institute for treatment?"

The mother’s expression was bleak, her hopes already extinguished. She sighed and replied, "We sent them to the Dark Elf village across the river," and moved to close the door.

Bai Scorpion stopped her, saying, "Could you come with me to the Dark Elf village to look for them? Of course, all medical expenses will be covered by our institute, so you need not worry, madam."

By this time, Xiaoyu was already seven years old. He was more intelligent than other children his age, had learned many words early, and found it easier to understand magic. At that moment, he was in Lingxi’s study, browsing the ancient books on the shelves. He stood on a high wooden ladder, stretching on tiptoe to retrieve a thickly dust-covered volume. He blew on the cover, sending dust swirling through the air, which made him cough, his nose now smudged with gray.

He climbed down the ladder and sat at the desk, opening the book. He was captivated by the many exquisite illustrations inside, and though he could not yet read the ancient Dark Elf script, he still gazed at them with rapt interest. Lingxi was just coming in from outside.

"Master, master, what story is written here? Tell me, please!"

Lingxi came to the desk and sat down, glancing at the book’s cover.

"This is a history book, not a story book."

"Then tell me anyway! The writing is all old script and I can’t read it, but I love the stories in the pictures!"

Lingxi smiled gently. Ever since Xiaoyu had come into his life, his once-cold face had begun to soften with traces of warmth. He looked at the illustration Xiaoyu was showing him: a towering tree, lush and verdant, beneath which lay a prosperous, peaceful Dark Elf village. A celestial being with white wings was holding the hand of a Dark Elf maiden.

He lifted Xiaoyu onto his lap, holding him tenderly, and began to tell the story from the book...

"Long, long ago, there was a kind and beautiful Dark Elf maiden. One day, she met a celestial being in the forest..."

"A celestial being? Are there really celestial beings?" Xiaoyu’s eyes widened in wonder and delight.

"Of course. Five thousand years ago, they truly existed. The celestial asked her, 'Where do you come from? What is your name?' The Dark Elf maiden answered, 'I have no name. I wander from place to place.'"

Lingxi gently turned the page.

"The celestial asked her again, 'Why don’t your people live together like the other races?' The Dark Elf maiden shook her head, 'We Dark Elves wish to live together, like the other villages. But whenever we gather, the grass and trees wither around us, and the most beautiful forests turn to wasteland.'"

Xiaoyu saw the illustration on the page seeming to come alive: beautiful forests slowly withering away, turning into a misty swamp, which filled him with regret.

"So, the celestial took her hand and led her deep into the forest," Lingxi continued. "There, he cast a spell and caused a towering tree to grow before them. This tree, with its lush leaves and sprawling roots, was taller than any other in the forest."

Xiaoyu eagerly turned the page, pointing at the illustration of the great tree.

"I know, I know, it’s this very tree!"

"Yes," Lingxi stroked his head affectionately. "The celestial said to her, 'From now on, under the protection of this tree, your people and their descendants may live here in happiness for generations.' And so, the Dark Elf maiden founded the first Dark Elf village here. The grass never withered again, the trees never died, and they lived joyfully for generations..."

Suddenly, Lingxi closed the book. "That’s enough for today. You should go and practice magic. You’re almost old enough to enter the basic magic school. I’ll go into the forest to find you some materials for making your wand."

"Master," Xiaoyu asked, "the big tree the celestial created—is that the same tree at the center of our village now?"

Through the window behind Xiaoyu, the woods and scattered houses were framed like a painting. In the distance, a towering tree stood against the blue sky, its lush crown hanging down like a mother’s arms, sheltering the village.

Lingxi thought for a moment. "The tree at the center of our village can be considered a descendant of that original tree left by the celestial; it is the will of the celestial." He stroked Xiaoyu’s head. "Don’t worry. As long as I am here, the home of the Dark Elves will endure."

With that, he stood, placed the book back atop the shelf, and left.

Yet Xiaoyu’s curiosity could not be contained. After Lingxi had gone, he climbed the ladder again, struggling to retrieve the book once more.

Seated at the desk, he turned back to the earlier chapter, tracing his fingers over the great tree in the illustration, then turned the pages forward. The later chapters were incomplete, lost to time, and in the illustrations, the great tree was now engulfed in flames.

Xiaoyu pointed at the ancient script, struggling to read:

"Enemies... burned the village... used lightning to split the great tree... froze the fields with frost... killed the clansmen with arrows of light..."

A chill crept into Xiaoyu’s heart. He saw the great tree in the illustration crackling and blazing in the inferno, heard the wails of people fleeing and the screams of massacre...

Terrified, he slammed the book shut.

Suddenly, in the silence, a commotion rose outside the window. People were running past, hurrying toward the village entrance. Xiaoyu hurried out and followed quietly behind his clansmen.

"Hand over the infected elf!"

Bai Scorpion stood at the village gate, shouting. Beside him cowered a woman, and behind him stood a row of institute personnel wearing gas masks and carrying canisters on their backs.

"Why should we hand them over to you?" The Dark Elf villagers were righteously indignant, brandishing their farm tools and blocking the road to prevent the unwelcome guests from advancing.

"The child’s mother wants him back, and you dare refuse? He was born a Light Elf, not one of you. I represent the Light Elves and demand his return. Hand him over at once!"