Lace Glory Universe King GL - Chapter 28

After Sikong Zhen’s soul was utterly scattered, they quickly regrouped with the others.

Seeing that they were outnumbered, Empress Dowager Mi Yue dropped the gem and fled in panic.

“How much demonic energy do you think she absorbed?” Wu Zetian asked.

Nüwa picked up the gem from the ground, studying it carefully.
“Not much—but enough for her to rule over Xuan Yong for another two hundred years.”

Wu Zetian had indeed heard rumors of the Dowager’s endless pursuit of eternal youth.

“Lady Nüwa—here I come!!!”
From the skies rang a crisp, childlike voice.

Without turning around, Nüwa knew who it was: her belated reinforcements from the Inverted Heaven—Mengqi and Yang Jian.

With its swirling “Dream Vortex,” the rotund Mengqi and Yang Jian rode the winds and descended. The crowd raised their heads in awe. To witness so many “Heavenly Soldiers and Generals” descending in a single night was truly rare.

Before they even landed, Yang Jian’s “Eye of Origin” flared like a great searchlight, casting long beams of golden radiance as it swept across the battlefield. Hovering in the air, the massive floating eye blinked, then fixed upon Nüwa. Indeed—those black feathers tangled in her silver hair were strikingly conspicuous.

“We really did come too late, Mengqi.” Yang Jian’s voice carried a tone of reproach, recognizing the taint of demonic energy.

“Ah, don’t blame me,” Mengqi muttered in its muffled, rounded voice. “It’s such a long way from the Inverted Heaven—I had to prepare so, so many bubbles just to make it here. What now? You don’t need me to play water battles anymore?”

Nüwa stepped forward, handing the Demonic Gem to Mengqi.
“The battle is already over. This—you must keep it safe.”

Entrusting it to Mengqi gave her peace of mind. Since the ancient days, it had always been the guardian of countless divine relics.

“Alright~” Mengqi examined the square-shaped stone with wide-eyed curiosity, then tucked it carefully into one of its bubbles.

“Creator… the demonic energy in your body—if not purified quickly, it will become terrifying.” Yang Jian’s expression darkened, seeing how the corruption had already hardened into black feathers across her form.

“I know.” Nüwa understood she stood but a single step away from falling into godhood’s corruption.

“Xiao Wa, why not remain here to purify your energy before returning to the Inverted Heaven?” Wu Zetian urged. “In Heluo there is a stone grotto—Longmen—perfect for opening such a ritual.”

The others widened their eyes.

It was not the Empress’s offer to keep the Creator, but that single term of address—“Xiao Wa”—that startled them.

“So it must be.” Nüwa nodded.

Mengqi and Yang Jian departed with the gem. Galo, Shangguan, and the rest returned to their posts. The Creator followed the Empress back to Ziwei Palace.

“Ten years since my last return… and now I find myself with two fair companions beside me—”

Nüwa glanced at the mechanical puppet seated upon the throne, then at the Empress. The two women exchanged a smile.

Twin streams of divine power—one round, one square—shot forth together, striking the puppet sovereign upon the throne. With a crash, it toppled like a broken wooden effigy.

“Tonight’s fault is mine, Xiao Wa. You must rest well. At dawn, we set out for Longmen.” Wu Zetian turned, her gaze fixed on the black feathers crowning the Creator’s head. Her fingers hovered above them, the inky strands glinting faintly in the candlelight.

“Don’t touch—”

But before Nüwa could stop her, Wu Zetian’s fingertips brushed the edge of a feather. Instantly, a surge of air rippled out from the void. The banners outside the hall flared without wind. In the Empress’s eyes burst a vision of a million stars, as though a scroll of another world had been unrolled.

Within the blinding vision, she beheld another self seated high upon nine tiers of jade steps. Her ceremonial crown was strung not with pearls but with dark-red scabs of blood. At her feet knelt a sea of corpses, severed heads and mangled bodies strewn in ruin. A treacherous eunuch presented a glazed platter—upon it a severed head, its eyes weeping blood. Yet that other Wu Zetian only smiled faintly:
“Remove his head. Tonight, I shall sleep soundly.”

Suddenly the Empress was hurled into another vision—a chaotic realm where she beheld the Creator fallen as a corrupted god.

Nüwa, clad in black feathers, floated amid shattered mountains and rivers. Dark-purple miasma spewed endlessly from her chest. From her hollow eye sockets, the spirits of all she had ever slain—human, demon, beast, and monster—clawed their way out. Upon the canopy behind her crawled blood-red veins. The golden embroidery of her robe unraveled in reverse, twisting the tapestry of Creation into a grotesque banquet of wailing ghosts.

“Steady your spirit!” Nüwa cried, sensing Wu Zetian’s mind ensnared by the vision.

Wu Zetian staggered back into herself, stumbling. She glanced at her palm. A searing feather-shaped mark now burned upon her skin.

“By day it can be endured. But by night, the corruption worsens. These feathers will multiply. Never touch them lightly.” Nüwa warned.

“Indeed… truly dreadful.” Wu Zetian sighed. Though she yearned to seize the Demonic Gem and conquer the seas, that vision was far from her desire.

“Tomorrow’s purification ritual will demand your full strength. Rest now.” Nüwa took Wu Zetian’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

On the moss nearby, a water-snake writhed, shedding its skin with difficulty. Death, sometimes, is a kind of rebirth. And birth, in truth, requires the surrender of all that came before.

The purification ritual was simple in name, but harsh in demand. Only two were needed to enact it—the “Circle of Molting.” Yet the casters must tread the exact paths of the stars, calling upon the strength of heaven and all living beings.

At the feet of Longmen’s colossal Buddhas, Wu Zetian donned the dark-hued “Regalia of Divine Radiance.” Her hands formed sacred seals, lips chanting incantations. With the imperial qi of Ziwei, she activated the array. Space itself twisted. Spiritual power gathered into a dazzling pillar of light, piercing the heavens. Nine phantom five-clawed dragons coiled upward, forming a protective barrier around the beam.

A serpent-shaped sigil spread slowly beneath their feet. Runes pulsed and glimmered. Winds and clouds churned within the grotto.

As the array fully opened, a power beyond words descended from the skies—like waterless rain, it gently seeped into Nüwa’s body, clashing fiercely against the raging demonic taint.

Imperial purple qi and divine radiance of Creation collided within her form. The invading corruption melted away like frost under the blazing sun.

Four hours passed before the final wisp of black miasma dissolved from behind her ear. Wu Zetian, exhausted and gasping, beheld the Creator renewed—her serpent’s tail coiling in majestic vigor, as if riding the storm’s tide.

Nüwa herself seemed transformed—like a snake reborn in new skin, her silver raiment gleamed with radiant splendor. Later, she would give this form a name: “Eternal Radiance.”

“Xiao Zhao, do you realize—had you misstepped but once in the star-pattern—”

“Since I entered the palace at sixteen, I have mastered only this: walking the narrowest bridge over the deepest abyss.”

Wu Zetian smiled lightly, her figure mirroring the stone Buddhas around them.

When they left Longmen, evening sun broke through the clouds, its rays lingering in tender beauty. In Chang’an, rumors spread swiftly—that the Empress and the Goddess were seen together at Longmen, their shadows entwined. Tales soon blossomed, complete with title and verse: “The Harmony of Twin Phoenixes.”

Nüwa lingered in Ziwei Palace, and before she knew it, an entire winter had passed.

One morning, Wu Zetian awoke to find the pillow beside her empty. She was about to summon a maid when faint guqin notes drifted from outside the window.

Stepping out of her chamber, she saw from afar—Nüwa upon the Gate of Heavenly Response, playing the strings. Her serpent coiled gracefully around the tower, swaying like rippling light.

“Xiao Wa, what is this?” By the time the last notes faded, the Empress had already ascended to her side.

“An ancient five-string zither,” Nüwa replied.

“Five-string zither?” Wu Zetian frowned, recalling. At last she said, “Ah yes—the books say an ancient man named Shida once crafted such a zither, to summon rain.”

That winter, Heluo had known no snow—a sign of drought.

Nüwa nodded, her hands never faltering on the strings. Wu Zetian stood silently beside her, listening.

Before long, snow began to fall beyond the palace walls, drifting upon the strings and their shoulders alike.

“When you’ve learned this melody, I shall return.” Nüwa’s gaze followed the falling snow. She was, after all, a divine official. Many matters still awaited her in the Inverted Heaven.

“Xiao Wa… I know I cannot keep you here forever.” Wu Zetian’s heart ached with reluctance. All excuses for delaying her departure had long been spent.

“You once told your ministers, ‘Build temples to govern the winds and rains.’ That is your path.”

The Empress, who placed statecraft above all, needed no reminder.

“You still haven’t told me—why was I able to wield your relic, the Heaven-Mending Stone?” She had asked before, but Nüwa never answered.

“Destiny must not be revealed. Likely it is only a bond from past lives. Why question it further?” Nüwa smiled.

Wu Zetian sighed helplessly. Now, Xiao Wa was like an unfinished dessert lingering in her heart—irresistible and unforgettable.

And Nüwa seemed to read her thoughts.

“You have your empire, your ministers and generals, and Shangguan Wan’er. You won’t be lonely.”

The Empress bristled at being so exposed. “Indeed. And you—you have your Lingwa Shrine, the gods of Inverted Heaven, and Princess Hanyue. You’re living happily enough as well.”

At this, Nüwa rose from the zither, leaned close, and pressed a kiss to the Empress’s lips.

So be it—one kiss to dissolve all grudges. Just as the Heaven-Mending Stone had resonated miraculously with Wu Zetian, so too did Nüwa’s kiss overwhelm—blinding, tender, eternal.

Wu Zetian’s anger melted away beneath its touch.

In that unseen corner, Nüwa smiled with a trace of wicked charm.

“In the ancient reign of Zhu Xiang, the world was plagued by excess winds, the sun’s yang energy amassed, and all things withered, their fruits never ripening. Thus Shida created the five-string zither, to call the yin winds and restore life to the world.”
— Lüshi Chunqiu, Chronicle of Mid-Summer

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