Chapter Thirty-Six: Your Delivery Has Arrived

The birth of writing propelled the civilization of the Ancient Ape Tribe into a period of rapid development. The rice flour scattered by Fang Zhuowei brought an unprecedented surge in their population, and the emergence of Chi finally established a unified center of power within their civilization, ushering the nation into the era of slavery.

Chi seized power late in his years, and, by relying on the power of the sacred medicine, was reborn to live a second life. Within an ancient cavern, he discovered the remains of a giant beast and swore to keep the Ancient Ape Tribe ever vigilant.

Yet, Chi’s twilight years were undoubtedly a failure. He ruled with cruelty and caprice, brooking no dissent. He indulged in extreme extravagance, caring nothing for the lives and deaths of countless commoners. Addicted to sensual pleasure, he eventually found himself isolated and deserted by all.

Later generations recorded in the annals of history: "The Tyrant Chi, who hated all the people of the world, insulted the heavens and spurned the spirits; his crimes were many, and thus he was struck by misfortune. He lost his kingdom, his body was disgraced for all to see, and his infamy endures to this day."

...

News of Chi's death spread across the continent in an instant. Upon hearing it, countless citizens of the Li Kingdom rejoiced, flooding the streets to embrace and weep, celebrating the tyrant’s demise. The previously organized uprisings ceased, and the festivities continued for nearly a month.

In the forty-sixth year of Li, in the ninth month, the capital, which had just regained a hard-won peace, was suddenly plunged into civil war.

The conflict was sparked by Chi’s descendants.

A city could not go a day without a ruler; a nation could not go a day without a king.

Except for those too old or too young, nearly all his descendants vied fiercely for the kingdom’s power, for the sacred throne of the King of Li.

In the end, it was Shuo, the eighteenth descendant of Chi—the most upright in posture, the most handsome among the ancient apes—who seized the throne with an overwhelming advantage none of his siblings could match.

He inherited Chi’s unrivaled strength and extraordinary martial prowess, rivaling even Chi at his peak, so much so that none dared challenge him.

Yet, though victorious, Shuo did not massacre his brothers. It was, after all, only the nascent stage of centralized power, far from the ruthlessness that would characterize later ages.

Those who ascended ruled; those who did not continued as titled nobles without real power.

Unlike Chi, Shuo could truly be called a wise ruler.

He possessed a flawless character: magnanimous and tolerant, diligent and studious, devoted to good governance and the welfare of his people, uninterested in sensual pleasure, and leading by example. He not only set a powerful precedent to reform the extravagance that began with Chi, but also greatly eased and improved the tense relations between the monarchy and local authorities, between nobles and commoners.

Moreover, during his reign, Shuo governed with unremitting effort and creativity, inventing the land system, which led to unprecedented, consecutive years of bountiful harvests. Both among the people and within officialdom, grain reserves reached unparalleled abundance. The people lived in peace and contentment, and the population soared in just a few short years.

However, regarding the system of slavery, Shuo continued Chi’s policies, dividing the population into three classes. Slaves remained devoid of any freedom. The only change was that all slaves now belonged to the state, and anyone wishing to kill a slave was required to pay a certain amount of grain as compensation.

But this compensation was not paid to the families of the slaves, but to the state.

As for the massive walls built during Chi’s reign, Shuo, unusually, did not order their cessation.

Despite considering the construction of the walls a ruinously extravagant act, Shuo was deeply troubled by Chi’s final words before death.

He could not understand why his father, knowing the building of the walls was such a drain on the people and resources, still insisted on erecting them—especially since Chi had so heavily emphasized the phrase "a drain on the people and resources."

Shuo sensed there must be some hidden truth he did not know.

Thus, even with criticism, he did not halt the construction of the walls.

There was, of course, another important reason: the construction was already in its final stages, and abandoning it would mar the face of the capital forever. At this point, it was impossible to simply tear it down for nothing.

Unlike Chi, who filled the gaps with human lives, Shuo handled the matter far more gently. Although construction continued, he only conscripted a few workers, never mobilizing the entire nation. The laborers no longer toiled day and night, and each worker received a fixed ration of grain for free—even slaves, albeit less than commoners.

Though fewer worked on the walls, the generous rewards kept progress swift.

In the fifty-fifth year of Li, after nearly a century, all the city walls were finally complete.

That year, Shuo was twenty-five years old and had reigned for twelve years.

In the civilization of the ancient apes, twelve was an auspicious number.

In that year,

Shuo decreed three years of light labor across the nation, held banquets for foreign tribes, and prepared to celebrate together with his people...

"Who would have thought that this once reckless little ancient ape would become such a tyrant in his old age?" Fang Zhuowei sighed.

Such is the nature of power.

Under its weight, few can remain true to themselves.

"But the fertility of these ancient apes is truly astonishing. That little ancient ape alone sired over a thousand descendants."

Fang Zhuowei was well aware of the reproductive prowess of the ancient apes, but never had he encountered one as prodigious as Chi. One individual fathering over a thousand offspring—more terrifying than a humanized Teddy dog.

It seemed that even among spore-based life forms, the differences could be vast.

Fang Zhuowei pressed his lips together, his gaze steady as the flow of time around him continued to rewind.

On this day, Shuo issued a decree throughout the land to hold a grand celebration for the twelfth anniversary of his accession.

The command reached all nine provinces.

The nation rejoiced.

Looking out, along the main avenue leading to the capital, row upon row of brightly colored flower buds were neatly arranged on both sides, with a Li Kingdom soldier stationed every dozen meters to guard the city’s safety.

On one side of the street, a dense throng of the Li people gathered like a tide, their laughter and singing filling the air, their faces alight with genuine joy, celebrating spontaneously for the second king of Li and the rare era of peace.

It is worth noting that after a century of development, coupled with labor and the passage of countless days, the ancient apes had shed all their dense body hair, leaving only bare skin like that of modern humans.

However, due to differences in climate exposure, heat, and social rank, their skin gradually changed in color, much like modern humans, roughly dividing into those with yellow, white, and black skin.