In the dim glow of twilight, the air hung thick with the weight of Renxu’s warning. Zui Tian and Wújìn Mèng stood in contemplative silence, their thoughts swirling like the endless currents of the cosmos. The revelation of the Primordial Concepts had stirred something deep within them—something fundamental, a truth that had always existed just beyond the edge of their consciousness.
As they stood together, gazing out over the horizon, Wújìn Mèng found herself drifting back into a memory. It was a dream she had once had—a dream of a distant world, a world called Earth.
“Zui,” she said softly, breaking the silence, “you remember my dream of Earth, don’t you?”
Zui, still staring out into the cosmos, nodded slowly. “Yeah. I always thought it was strange. A world without gods or immortals, where people had to rely on knowledge instead of cultivation.”
Wújìn Mèng’s eyes grew distant, her mind returning to that dream. “It wasn’t just a fluke. That dream—Earth—was a glimpse into something deeper. A place where reality itself was defined by the ideas that gave it form. Where people asked questions like, ‘Why does fire burn?’ and ‘Why does water flow?’”
Zui turned to her, his expression thoughtful. “And why do they?”
Wújìn smiled faintly. “Because the idea of fire is to burn. And the idea of water is to flow. It’s not just a physical property—it’s the essence of what they are. On Earth, they understood that everything in existence follows certain laws—but those laws are based on the very ideas that build reality.”
Zui leaned against the railing of the balcony, his gaze softening as he listened to his sister’s words. “So, what you’re saying is… everything—fire, water, even us—exists because of the idea that it can. The idea gives it form.”
Wújìn nodded, her voice growing more animated as she spoke. “Exactly. Earth was a place where the nature of things was explored through questions. They asked why things were the way they were and searched for answers through logic and observation. But behind every answer was the understanding that things existed because they were meant to exist. Fire burns because it is its nature to burn. Water flows because it is its nature to flow.”
Zui tilted his head, considering this. “And what about us? The Eternals? Why do we exist?”
Wújìn was silent for a moment, her thoughts racing. “We exist because we embody certain ideas, too. You, Zui, are the Idea of Preservation and Chaos. You exist to preserve things, even when the universe falls into disorder. I am the Idea of Dreams and Stillness, bringing both peace and vision into existence. The Dream Academies themselves were built on the idea that knowledge can change the cosmos. Every force in the universe has an idea behind it—an essence.”
Zui nodded slowly, starting to grasp the bigger picture. “And if the Primordial Concepts are awakening, that means the old ideas are returning. Ideas that we thought were long gone.”
Wújìn met his gaze, her voice firm but tinged with concern. “Yes. And these ideas are older than us. Older than the cosmos. They were the first ideas—Existence, Non-Existence, Creation, Destruction. They are the foundation of everything, and they cannot be controlled or destroyed, only understood.”
Zui took another swig of his Endless Wine, feeling the weight of her words. “So we have to understand these ideas. But how? We’ve already forgotten them once.”
Wújìn’s eyes narrowed in thought. “That’s why the dream of Earth matters. Earth, as strange and different as it was, had a certain clarity about the nature of things. They studied the laws that governed their world—physics, chemistry, biology—but those laws were just reflections of the deeper truths, the ideas behind them. If we can understand the principles that Earth’s inhabitants used to explain their reality, we might be able to understand the Primordial Concepts in the same way.”
Zui smiled faintly. “You always were the thinker, Big Sis.”
Wújìn returned the smile, though her mind was still racing with possibilities. “The Restless Dream Academies were inspired by that dream, Zui. But we were only scratching the surface. The idea behind them was to spread knowledge, but now I see that it’s about more than that. It’s about uncovering the true nature of reality. The academies could be the key to understanding these forgotten ideas—and to keeping them from tearing the cosmos apart.”
Zui’s expression grew serious once more. “But if these ideas are waking up, it means they’re ready to reassert themselves. And you know as well as I do that understanding them might not be enough to stop them.”
Wújìn sighed softly, her shoulders heavy with the weight of responsibility. “No, it might not be. But if we can at least understand why they exist—what their purpose is—we might be able to find a way to coexist with them. Or, at the very least, prevent them from unraveling everything we’ve built.”
Zui stared out at the vast, starry sky, his thoughts turning toward the future. “It’s strange, isn’t it? We’ve fought so many battles—against gods, monsters, even the Devourer of Nihility—but now we’re up against something that can’t be fought with swords or power. We’re up against ideas.”
Wújìn nodded, her voice quiet but resolute. “Yes. And those are the most dangerous enemies of all.”
As the night deepened and the stars shone brighter, Zui and Wújìn stood together, their minds turning over the ancient truths that had begun to stir in the cosmos. They had always known that the universe was built on delicate balances—between chaos and order, creation and destruction—but now they were beginning to see that those balances were just the surface of something far more profound.
The Dream Academies, born from Wújìn’s dream of Earth, had unlocked a pathway toward understanding, but that understanding had come with a price. The knowledge they spread was waking up ancient ideas, forces that had shaped reality long before the Eternals were born.
But as Zui and Wújìn contemplated their next move, they both knew that they couldn’t turn back. The Restless Dream Academies had already taken root, and the cosmos was changing. All they could do now was adapt and try to guide the future of the realms before the Primordial Concepts—the First Ideas—reclaimed their place at the center of existence.
As they prepared to leave the academy grounds, Zui turned to his sister with a playful smirk. “So, why does wine make me stronger?”
Wújìn chuckled softly. “Because it’s your idea, Zui. You’re the one who decided that’s what wine should do.”
Zui laughed, raising his flask in a mock toast. “To ideas, then.”
Wújìn smiled, her eyes filled with the quiet determination of someone who had seen the future, even if only in fragments. “To ideas.”
In the quiet of the celestial garden, Wújìn Mèng sat with her legs crossed, her eyes closed in deep contemplation. The gentle sound of a nearby stream played in the background, a soothing reminder of the natural world, of simplicity. The events of recent days—the warning from Renxu, the awakening of the Primordial Concepts, the spreading of knowledge through the Restless Dream Academies—all weighed heavily on her mind.
Yet, in the stillness, she found herself drawn back to the dream of Earth. That strange, simple world. In that dream, she had seen something powerful, something that now seemed more relevant than ever. Earth was not a place of immortals and gods who could move mountains and reshape worlds with a thought. No, Earth was a place where people, limited by their physicality, had learned to control their environment through ideas. And more importantly, they had learned to return the complicated back to simplicity.
The more Wújìn thought about Earth, the more she saw the connection between simplicity and control. Control over the world of ideas was not through sheer force, but through the way those ideas were valued. On Earth, it wasn’t raw power that shaped their world—it was the emotional weight people placed on certain ideas. If an idea had high emotional value, it carried more influence, not just over individuals but over the environment they lived in.
Zui Tian, lounging nearby with his flask in hand, listened intently as Wújìn began speaking aloud, sharing her thoughts.
“Zui,” she started, her voice calm and clear, “I’ve been thinking about Earth. They don’t have the power we do, but they’ve mastered something else entirely. They control their reality through the value they place on ideas. The more an idea resonates emotionally, the more power it holds. It shapes their society, their environment—even their very existence.”
Zui raised an eyebrow, taking a swig from his flask. “Value, huh? So you’re saying the more emotionally invested they are in something, the more that idea influences their world?”
Wújìn nodded. “Yes. And not just their world, but their entire reality. They add ‘value’ to ideas through their connections with each other. The more people believe in an idea, the stronger it becomes. That’s why Earth has been able to survive, despite having no immortals, no gods. Their power comes from belief—from the emotional weight they give to the ideas they share.”
Zui scratched his chin, intrigued. “So what does that mean for us? We’re not exactly dealing with belief here. We’ve got real, tangible forces—ancient ideas that have been forgotten and are coming back.”
Wújìn smiled, the flicker of an insight beginning to form. “That’s exactly it, Zui. These Primordial Concepts that we’re facing—they represent only one side of an idea. They are pure manifestations of their own essence. But on Earth, they understand that no idea stands alone. Every concept has its opposite, its balance. Fire can’t exist without water. Light has no meaning without darkness. These dualities are interconnected, and they create a balance.”
Zui leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. “Ah, I see where you’re going with this. You’re saying these old ideas, these concepts like Existence and Non-Existence, they’ve only been focusing on one side of the equation. They’re the embodiment of one idea, but they’ve forgotten—or maybe they never even had—their oppositional concept.”
Wújìn nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! These Primordial Concepts, they represent only one aspect of the duality. And that’s what makes them dangerous. They’re incomplete. They are single ideas, disconnected from their counterparts. But if we can understand both sides of these dualities—if we can explain water through fire and fire through water—we can restore the balance.”
Zui laughed heartily, his excitement palpable. “That’s brilliant! Instead of trying to fight these concepts head-on, we need to show them their other half. We need to complete them! It’s not about destroying them—it’s about bringing them back into equilibrium.”
Wújìn’s mind raced as she spoke, her thoughts accelerating with every word. “Think about it, Zui. Every concept contains its opposite. Existence only has meaning because of Non-Existence. Chaos needs Order to define it. Creation requires Destruction. These forces that are reawakening—they are out of balance because they are only one half of what they should be. They’ve lost their counterpart, and that’s why they are so dangerous. But if we can reunite them with their opposites, we can restore the cosmic balance.”
Zui stood up, pacing back and forth as his mind wrapped around the idea. “So, the key isn’t to destroy or seal these Primordial Concepts. It’s to show them their other side. To help them understand the balance that should exist between dualities.”
Wújìn smiled, feeling the clarity of her thoughts crystallize. “Yes. And by doing that, we not only protect the realms from being torn apart by these ancient forces, but we also evolve the very nature of these ideas. They become complete.”
Zui stopped pacing, turning to face his sister with a grin. “This might be the way forward, Big Sis. Understanding these concepts through their dualities—showing them that they are not whole without their opposite—that’s the key.”
Wújìn’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “It’s not just about power, Zui. It’s about returning to simplicity. The more complex we make things, the more out of balance the cosmos becomes. But if we can return things to their most basic form—if we can show that every idea has an opposite—we can maintain the equilibrium of existence.”
Zui raised his flask in a mock toast. “To balance, then. And to understanding these old ideas better than they understand themselves.”
Wújìn chuckled, but there was a seriousness in her voice as she added, “But we have to act quickly, Zui. The more knowledge spreads through the academies, the more these ideas will continue to awaken. If we don’t restore balance soon, the forces we’ve unleashed could become too strong to contain.”
Zui nodded, his expression sobering. “You’re right. We need to start unraveling these dualities before it’s too late.”
As the night deepened, the stars above the celestial garden twinkled with quiet serenity, unaware of the monumental decisions being made below. Zui Tian and Wújìn Mèng, two of the most powerful beings in the cosmos, had uncovered a path toward understanding the Primordial Concepts that threatened to upend reality itself.
The journey ahead would not be easy, but they had found a crucial truth: every idea, no matter how ancient or powerful, had an opposite—a counterpart that gave it meaning and balance. And if they could show the Primordial Concepts the truth of their dual nature, they could prevent the unraveling of the cosmos.
For now, the two siblings stood at the edge of a new understanding, ready to embark on a journey to restore balance to the universe by embracing the simplicity hidden within the complexity of existence.