Chapter Forty-Four: Journey to the East

Yan Luo began his tale from when Hongjun preached the Dao in the Purple Cloud Palace, recounting the catastrophe between the Wu and the Demons, the fall of the Ancestral Wu, Houtu transforming herself into Samsara, and how the vast prehistoric continent was shattered by endless wars, turning into the Boundless Void of the stars. He spoke of the River Styx Patriarch in the Sea of Blood, who created the Asura clan.

He continued, describing how Nuwa fashioned mankind from clay, how the human race rose to prominence and contended with the remaining great Wu. There was the battle between the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan and Chiyou, the destruction of Chiyou’s tribe, and the rise of the Huaxia as the sovereigns of men.

Then came the Great War of Deification.

Naturally, all this was given a degree of magical adaptation and embellishment when translated into ancient Greek.

One by one, Athenians had already gathered around Yan Luo, enclosing him in a circle—even Pericles and the elders drew close. Outside the square, the Greeks pressed together in an impenetrable throng; those at the back stretched their necks and strained their ears, every eye wide with astonishment, their expressions dazed and transfixed.

They listened, stupefied.

Those sages, in the primeval era, fought with such ferocity that heaven collapsed, earth split, and the cosmos itself crumbled. There were tales of banners that, when waved, shattered space, unleashing torrents of earth, fire, water, and wind, reducing all things to chaos; of the Chaos Bell, within which swirled countless constellations; and of four divine swords forged from the boundless murderous energy of the universe, capable of slaying gods.

Not even the wildest Greek imagination, even if granted wings, could conceive such wonders.

In their myths, the weapons of the gods still bore simple names—“Zeus’s Spear,” “Apollo’s Bow,” “Athena’s Shield.” Yet the “innate spiritual treasures” of Huaxia, such as the Five-Colored Divine Light—five radiant beams that, once unleashed, could sweep away all things—were enough to leave them dumbfounded.

In the East, the king of gods, standing equal to Zeus, was the Jade Emperor, who cultivated the Supreme Sky Law for 1,756 yuanhui, with a single yuanhui equating to 129,600 years… Such numbers were beyond comprehension!

Then there was the List of Deification—inscribe your name, and you became a deity. More astonishing still, those “immortals” were unwilling—for in truth, gods were but lower than immortals, bound and constrained.

The history of Huaxia was so grand and epic! By comparison, Greek history seemed utterly insignificant. What could compare? Even Chaos, the primordial void, was but a minor demon god, casually slain by the Huaxia progenitor, Pangu.

Yan Luo spoke for a full hour, covering the reigns of three Human Sovereigns and the founding of the Xia Dynasty, before concluding this sweeping introduction to Huaxia “history.”

No one applauded. The sheer volume of information contained in Yan Luo’s account was overwhelming—a veritable deluge.

Everyone held their breath in silence, inwardly digesting what they had just heard.

The mere notion that one could cultivate oneself into an immortal sparked boundless yearning and imagination. In ancient China, many emperors had sought immortality; those who perished from ingesting alchemical elixirs were more than a few… One could only hope the West would not be similarly led astray.

Perhaps, in the future, Greece too would experience a fervor for “cultivation.”

A voice shattered the peculiar silence.

It came from a man with disheveled hair and unremarkable looks—one might even call him plain.

Democritus.

A man who would leave a profound mark on Western history: not only a scientist, but a master of philosophy, logic, physics, mathematics, astronomy, zoology, botany, medicine, psychology, ethics, education, rhetoric, military affairs, and the arts.

Now, this learned man gazed at Yan Luo, his eyes alight with excitement. “I have always wished to write a book describing our universe, humanity, and all things within it.”

“The Huaxia history you describe, with the prehistoric continent shattered to become the Boundless Void, the opening of Chaos, pure energy rising to form the heavens, turbid energy becoming the earth, and all things composed of primal energy… This has inspired me greatly. May I ask you: You say all things are composed of primal energy, but what is this primal energy? Is it the smallest unit from which matter is made?”

In our history, Democritus would travel to Egypt, Babylon, India, even Ethiopia. After years of study and research, he would return to Athens, his knowledge complete, and compile the “Great System of the Universe,” thus founding the theory of atomism.

Atomism held that the essence of all things lay in atoms and the void. Atoms were indivisible particles of matter; the void was the space in which atoms moved.

For this, Democritus became known as the founder of “atomic materialism.” Yet in this parallel universe, he would not be the founder.

Yan Luo replied, “Primal energy is, in fact, countless moving particles. I call these particles atoms. Atoms are indivisible material particles; the void is the realm in which atoms move. The movement of atoms in the void is primal energy. Thus, the essence of all things is atoms and the void.”

Of course, atoms are not the smallest, but there was no need to mention more advanced theories now—they would be too far ahead of their time.

Hearing this, Democritus trembled, tears streaming down his face.

Since childhood, he had pondered what the world was made of, yet never found an answer. Now, Yan Luo’s words were like a beam of light, illuminating the darkness of his heart.

“So this is the truth of the world? Is this not precisely what I have always sought? I never expected that today, from a foreigner, I would receive my answer.” Choking with emotion, he said, “Thank you, man of Huaxia. You are worthy to be called my teacher.”

Democritus bowed deeply to Yan Luo.

Witnessing this, the face of Pericles, the magistrate, could hardly maintain its composure. Democritus was a renowned scholar of Athens, one of those intended to challenge the Huaxia envoys—yet now he had been overwhelmed and called the other his teacher?

“Socrates has yet to arrive…”

Pericles felt stifled; among the scholars chosen to face the Huaxia envoys, only one remained.

Hippocrates.

His father, Heracleitus, was said to be descended from the god of medicine, Asclepius. Hippocrates inherited his father’s medical knowledge and advanced it even further. This man, now the royal physician of Macedonia, happened to be studying in Athens.

Pericles searched the crowd and spotted Hippocrates, but upon seeing him, he nearly fainted from frustration.

“Scholar of Huaxia,” Hippocrates—a man of about thirty, with a typical Mediterranean appearance—stood respectfully before Yan Luo.

“In your recounting of Huaxia history, you mentioned your ancestors compiling medical texts: the Divine Farmer’s Materia Medica, the Yellow Emperor’s Canon of Medicine, and the Mysterious Lady’s Classic. Do these truly exist?”

“Of course,” Yan Luo replied. Even in the modern world, these three books are well known.

“My life’s wish is to compile a complete medical text. Yet in Huaxia, there are so many medical classics.”

In the future, Hippocrates would be revered in the West as the “Father of Medicine” and “founder of Western medicine.” The very first lesson of every medical student is the Hippocratic Oath.

A determined light suddenly flashed in his eyes. “Scholar of Huaxia, when you return, may I accompany you?”

“Why?” Yan Luo asked.

“I wish to journey to Huaxia, to seek out those texts and bring them back to Greece!” Hippocrates declared loudly.

“No.”

Yan Luo refused without hesitation. He was a man of the modern world and would return home once the Olympic Games ended—though he could not use that as an excuse here. After a moment’s thought, he said, “The three Huaxia envoys will continue westward after leaving Greece, spreading civilization further.”

Hippocrates’ face paled slightly, but he gritted his teeth and said, “Then I will go alone! Where is Huaxia, exactly?”

Moved by the man’s resolve, Yan Luo could only try to dissuade him. “Huaxia lies far to the east of Greece. Beyond Byzantium lies Persia, then India, and after India, you must cross the world’s highest mountains to reach the borders of Huaxia.”

“Huaxia is at the easternmost edge of the world.”

“So long as I can obtain those texts to save the suffering of the sick in Greece, I will gladly spend the rest of my life on this journey!”

Seeing Hippocrates’ unwavering determination, Yan Luo continued, “The journey is nearly a hundred thousand miles, filled with countless hardships, passing through many springs, summers, autumns, and winters, tasting all the bittersweet flavors of life, and perhaps facing eighty-one tribulations. You may very well perish along the way.”

“I am not afraid!”

Hippocrates was now filled with the fervor and fearlessness of a martyr. “A man must do something with his life! Even if the end is death, I will have no regrets.”

Yan Luo fell silent, then, after a moment’s thought, said, “Then let me offer you some advice. First, you’ll need a good horse—the journey is too far. You’ll also pass through many wild and uncivilized lands, so you must bring a hero strong enough to protect you, someone who can fight off barbarians.”

“It would be wise to bring along a stout guardian, who can serve as a shield and draw enemy attacks in times of danger. You’ll also need a porter to carry your luggage, clothes, shoes, and tent. If you succeed in obtaining the medical texts, someone will have to carry them back.”

“Moreover, the journey will last through many seasons. You won’t be able to carry enough food; your money will run out. Here’s another suggestion: bring a bowl with you, to collect food from many households along the way—begging your way eastward.”

“I will remember this.” Hippocrates nodded gravely.

Yan Luo was not trying to make things difficult for him. In this era, Huaxia was in the Spring and Autumn period. A great medical sage was about to be born. If Hippocrates journeyed eastward for more than twenty years, he might just arrive in time to meet Bian Que, the divine physician.

What sparks would fly when the father of Western medicine met the ancestor of Chinese medicine?