Chapter 101: The Reign of the Flame Emperor

The grand wedding of the Flame Emperor lasted three days and three nights, before the guests finally departed. All the wine stored by Master Xuandao and the flat peaches gifted by the Golden Mother of the Jade Pool were thoroughly consumed by the revelers.

No feast lasts forever.

Master Xuandao, having no further business there, led the human warriors back to Golden Turtle Island on the eastern shore of the sea. There was no reason for him to linger, as staying would only add to the chaos; returning to his own cave seemed best, for as the saying goes, “No matter how splendid a nest, nothing compares to one’s own humble abode.”

Fuxi and Nüwa, the two former Human Sovereigns, were even more restless. Having abdicated, they felt it best to keep their distance. Under the guidance of the Dao Ancestor, they ascended to reside in the Fiery Cloud Cave, both to honor their contributions to the people and to provide a place for them to dwell.

Thus, the primordial world ushered in a new era: the reign of the Flame Emperor.

Upon first engaging with matters of state, the Flame Emperor was overwhelmed, pondering how best to govern and improve the lives of his people—a challenge that became his greatest concern after ascending the throne.

His initial question was: why do people fall ill?

He soon discovered that when grain was stored for too long, it would rot, and consuming it led to sickness.

How could he prevent spoilage and mold? He began by placing fresh grain under the sun. This delayed decay somewhat, but did not solve the root problem—what would happen in winter, when sunlight was scarce?

He decided to distribute the surplus food, postponing winter’s worries, and addressed present needs first. At this time, an advisor suggested, “Your Majesty, why not reward these grains to those ministers who have rendered meritorious service?”

The Flame Emperor wondered why he had not thought of this himself. He immediately bestowed the grain upon the advisor and other contributors to humanity.

Yet this did little to change the situation—grain was scattered everywhere, and seeing this waste pained him. It was the fruit of a year’s labor; how could it be squandered?

During his travels, he witnessed impoverished people with nothing to eat, surviving on just one meal a day. The contrast between their lives and those on the sacred mountain of humanity was like heaven and earth.

The Flame Emperor promptly ordered surplus grain from the sacred mountain to be gifted to the poor, who gratefully offered their own unique products to him in return. At first, he demurred, saying such acts were his duty, but their chieftain explained, “This is a gift for the people of the sacred mountain.”

Thus compelled, the Flame Emperor accepted the gifts, teaching them how to plant grain. However, the seeds soon perished—not due to lack of water, but because the land itself was unsuitable. Even the Flame Emperor lamented that there were places in the world where the five grains could not be cultivated.

He then decreed: whenever people had surplus grain, they should give it to the poor, who would reciprocate with goods from their own tribes. In this way, exchange became a remarkable feature among humans.

The market—an institution essential for the flourishing of any race—was born from the hazy intuition of humanity. Gradually, the culture and quality of life of humans surpassed even those of Fuxi’s reign.

Yet some did not know how to store grain, leading to vast quantities wasted in damp conditions. News of this reached the Flame Emperor, indicating the gravity of the situation.

This further troubled him. Alone, he drank to ease his mind, grumbling, “This twenty-year-old wine is truly different. If only I knew how to store grain as well.”

Suddenly, he gazed at a distant jar. If a vessel could preserve wine, might it also preserve grain? Without delay, he emptied the wine, filled the jar with grain, and waited several days. He found the grain inside was tastier and fresher than that left in the sun.

He immediately taught the people how to make these jars and told them the best places to store grain. Thus, issues of illness, hunger, and food preservation were easily resolved by the Flame Emperor.

Moreover, he stored large amounts of grain to prepare for years of drought, thereby greatly reducing the suffering and hunger of his people.

Far away, Master Xuandao, using magic to observe the state of humanity from Golden Turtle Island, smiled in satisfaction. This was the sovereign humanity truly needed; perhaps his previous actions were not entirely right after all.

Since Master Xuandao led a large group of humans, Tongtian improved the three Golden Turtle Islands, assigning the second to human cultivators.

Even so, the Flame Emperor was not content with his achievements. He knew the seasons and months but not the division between day and night. So he established twelve hours and daytime, allowing chroniclers to better record events by their exact time.

Though people now had grain, they did not forget meat. In their leisure, they hunted wild beasts, using crude methods—either striking with stones or hurling spears with sharpened tips—often resulting in injuries.

A true leader must strive to relieve the burdens and dangers of his people.

Seeing the wounded, the Flame Emperor felt deep sorrow. He silently resolved to improve the rigid hunting methods.

He began by changing hunting techniques and weapons. Whenever someone was injured, he personally healed them.

He drove wild beasts into valleys, then attacked from above with bows and arrows—his own invention—greatly reducing injuries.

Moreover, those who were hurt could receive a healing pill from the Flame Emperor and recover.

When the Flame Emperor left his master, the Supreme Lord Laozi gifted him a famous treasure: the Universe Cauldron, borrowed from Lady Nüwa for him to refine pills. The Flame Emperor loved alchemy; it distracted him from worry and sorrow.

Yet, he faced a grave challenge—someone was afflicted with a strange illness, and he had no cure. As a healer knows, remedies must match maladies. Though some pills could cure many diseases, he had not yet mastered those miraculous, heaven-defying elixirs like the Ninefold Golden Pill. Helpless, he watched as a vibrant life faded before him, crying his name.

This was a devastating blow. Why could he not cure this strange disease?

He questioned the others about what the person had eaten, but no one knew. Determined to uncover the mysterious poison, the Flame Emperor began his legendary “Divine Farmer’s Hundred Herbs.”

After finishing his duties each day, he ventured into deep forests, gathering and tasting herbs, recording their environments, forms, and flavors, compiling them into a book called “The Divine Farmer’s Herbal Classic.”

This was the first time the Flame Emperor used the name "Divine Farmer" to establish his legacy.

Of course, at night he did not forget his grand plan to create humanity. Over the years, he and Tingyao had two children—a son named Yanju and a daughter named Nüwa, who would later become Jingwei.