Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator

"Is that all?"

The steam from the wild rice in front of Guiguzi still swirled softly in the air, yet an unbearable chill seeped into his very bones.

What an unfathomable sage this was—so "great" that he no longer seemed human, but rather like the boundless heavens themselves.

"No kinship, no self-interest, no ego, no self…"

Collecting his thoughts, Guiguzi sighed. "Su Zi, why does a 'being' like you concern yourself with humanity at all?"

"This defies human nature. To empathize with others, one must first cherish oneself. Those who love their own families come to care about the families of others. This is the essence of putting oneself in another's shoes."

"If you do not even care for your own kin, why strive for the happiness of all humanity?"

Su Kai set down his rice bowl, having finished his meal. Contemplating Guiguzi's question, he finally answered earnestly, "Perhaps it's because I love you."

"I love humanity. That's why I cannot abandon humanity, nor can I give up on saving it."

Su Kai still remembered the inevitable fate awaiting humanity. By the year 2017, all traces of humankind would vanish. Every achievement of human civilization, every brilliant creation, would be erased.

The vast heavens and universe would no longer bear witness to the existence of humanity or its legacy.

Su Kai refused to accept such an ending. This calamity-filled human history demanded a resolution—one that would allow all people to live in peace and harmony. If mankind itself couldn't create that future, then Su Kai would find a way.

"…"

Guiguzi remained silent for a long time before speaking again. "Su Zi, have you ever shared these thoughts with anyone else?"

"No," Su Kai replied with a long sigh. "Because no one in this world understands me."

Guiguzi nodded slowly. "Then, Su Zi, would you be willing to hear the words of a foolish man who cannot let go of kinship?"

"Please, go ahead."

"The salvation you seek for all humanity does not lie here," Guiguzi said calmly. "Surely you've noticed by now: this is a world of hierarchy and ritual, where even the Hua-Xia feudal lords treat their own subjects with callousness. How much worse, then, is their treatment of foreign 'barbarians'?"

"Before you strive for universal love and harmony, could you first look down and find a solution for the strife of this world?"

"How can one end the chaos among nations?"

This was the question the Spring and Autumn-era philosophers had been pondering. The Hundred Schools of Thought all sought ways to end this turbulent age, each with its own vision.

"I understand your point, Guiguzi," Su Kai said with a nod. "That's precisely why I am studying and traveling. I am not some idle dreamer spouting empty ideals."

"I was born in this era, so naturally, I must seek a solution for it."

Humanity's salvation lay far in the future, not in the past. Su Kai was merely experimenting during humanity's most illustrious eras, testing solutions in its moments of greatest triumph.

In Britain, he had explored the path of sainthood, only to find it culminated in self-destruction.

In golden Greece, he had pursued the ideal of the philosopher-king, but it had all been undone by the all-consuming desires of the so-called King of Kings.

Now, in this era, Su Kai was ready to try his third experiment, seeking answers to the problems of this world.

Yes, this era was ill, plagued by a grave and systemic sickness.

Guiguzi nodded thoughtfully. "I have lived long, yet I see only two paths for the feudal states: alliances and diplomacy. Small states may form alliances to resist large states, while large states may use diplomacy to annex the small ones. This tenuous balance might lead to a semblance of peace."

Su Kai raised an eyebrow. Guiguzi's wisdom was undoubtedly that of a sage, but it was also limited by the constraints of his time. For instance, Guiguzi could not conceive of a world without the system of enfeoffment, a practice dating back to the days of Yao, Shun, and Yu.

During those ancient times, tribal leaders who performed great deeds were granted lands where their descendants could flourish, their rule legitimized. Over centuries, these noble lineages evolved into the feudal lords of today.

Nearly three millennia had passed since those early enfeoffments.

"If true peace is to be achieved, it cannot rely on alliances or diplomacy. All nations must be abolished."

"The grand trend of the world," Su Kai continued, "is that what is united will divide, and what is divided will unite. Whether the world should be united or fragmented is not up to you, me, or the feudal lords and scholars. It depends on the common people."

"Your words are as bold as they are shocking," Guiguzi said, his voice heavy. "What do you mean by 'the common people'?"

Such radical ideas would have enraged Guiguzi in the past. He would have denounced them as heretical. But now, he knew Su Kai spoke without personal ambition. Su Kai genuinely believed this was the only path to peace.

"If true peace is to be achieved, if the feudal states are to end their conflicts, it will depend on whether the people desire change or stability," Su Kai explained.

"If the people desire change, even Confucius, who taught without discrimination, would fail. Despite his travels across states with three thousand disciples spreading the teachings of benevolence, he accomplished little more than securing a minor official post after a lifetime of hardship."

"But if the people desire stability, then even the schemes of a few ambitious individuals would soon be crushed, and the world would naturally return to unity."

"The suffering of the feudal states is the suffering of their people. Only by eliminating the states themselves can true peace be achieved."

The feudal states waged war for countless reasons: hegemony, conquest, national strength. In the end, it was the common people who paid the price.

When the Zhou dynasty was founded, the Son of Heaven enfeoffed eight hundred lords. Now, fewer than twenty remained, most wiped out by other feudal states or foreign invaders.

It was the insatiable ambition of the great states that perpetuated chaos and suffering. Whenever their rulers waged war, it was their people who bore the cost.

"Ah, Su Zi, I once heard that Confucians speak of the 'Five Evils'—a heart reaching but insidious, actions perverse yet resolute, words false yet persuasive, records vile yet widespread, and compliance with the wrong yet profitable."

Guiguzi chuckled bitterly. "Now, I finally understand the meaning of the Five Evils. Even though I believe you are wrong, I cannot refute you."

"Reason is always supported by strength," Su Kai said with a smile. "Confucius could condemn Shaozheng Mao, but you cannot condemn me."

"That is true, Su Zi. Your wisdom and understanding of the world are unparalleled," Guiguzi admitted. "If my disciples ever harbored such ideas, I would strip them of all their abilities."

"But you surpass me in both wisdom and power, leaving me with no rebuttal."

"Su Zi, I do not welcome you. You are far too loathsome."

Guiguzi stood, his expression icy. "Su Zi, I may not be your match, but someday, my disciples will surely become your enemies. The Guigu School will oppose you, no matter the cost."

"I see…"

Su Kai sighed deeply. "Master Guigu, I respect your choice. I respect your disdain for my power. That is a right everyone possesses."

"However, Master Guigu, by now, you should also understand why I refuse to use magic to dominate the Chidi people, don't you?"

"…"

Guiguzi staggered and fell back into his seat, silent.

Yes. It was precisely because Guiguzi knew Su Kai would not use such magic on him that he could express his genuine disgust and dissatisfaction.

He trusted Su Kai's tolerance—that Su Kai would not act against him for opposing him.

Su Kai allowed anyone to challenge him.

Since Su Kai declared his aversion to using dominative magic, he naturally would not violate his own principles by altering Guiguzi's thoughts.

This understanding was unspoken between them. Su Kai's rebuttal was deliberate:

You asked me why I didn't use magic to control the Chidi people, but now, because I don't control others with magic, you oppose me…

Guiguzi, is this what you mean?

If Guiguzi admitted Su Kai was right, his opposition and loathing would lose their foundation—the conviction needed to justify his stance.

Without that conviction, his words would lack moral clarity.

But if Guiguzi believed Su Kai was wrong, why had he instinctively acted in a way that aligned with Su Kai's reasoning?

It was a contradiction.

Faced with this paradox, Guiguzi chose silence, expressing his defiance through inaction.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Master Guigu," Su Kai said with a shake of his head. "While I can emulate Confucius, I lack the patience to waste my time here. Time will prove you wrong."

If Su Kai were to eliminate every so-called "wise man" who was flawed in their understanding, he would do nothing but hunt down and kill philosophers all day.

In Su Kai's eyes, they were all misguided, each embodying the Confucian concept of the Five Evils.

Just as Guiguzi considered Su Kai's ideals to be dangerously deranged—twisted wisdom from a sage—Su Kai viewed Guiguzi's beliefs as outdated and rigid. How could one seek peace without dismantling the feudal states?

The idea of smaller states forming alliances to counterbalance larger states was a naïve fantasy, even less reliable than Su Kai's ideals.

The meat-eaters are foolish; the Six States were destroyed by the Six States themselves.

Even as Qin devoured the Six States one by one, they continued their infighting. How much worse would it be in the current era, where power was more evenly distributed?

At least now, no single state could take on two others simultaneously. Whether it was Qin, Jin, Qi, or Chu, any state under siege by two major powers would need reinforcements to survive; otherwise, it would face inevitable destruction.

No state could defeat two at once. Thus, the notion of smaller states forming effective alliances was laughable.

When facing aggression from a larger power, smaller states would simply seek aid from another major power. And smaller states harbored ambitions to annex one another, aspiring to become larger powers themselves.

With such self-serving attitudes and a world driven by greed, how could there be any talk of alliances or diplomacy?

It was impossible. Expecting the powerful to relinquish immediate benefits, Su Kai thought, was even harder than achieving universal harmony among humanity. After all, humans were social creatures, capable of banding together as a collective to achieve shared goals.

But the "meat-eaters," the elites, were often autocratic, magnifying their foolishness.

And those in high positions were less likely than subordinates to heed advice, convinced that they alone were correct.

---

[Age 18: You walked the entirety of Yunmengze, finally beholding every natural wonder the great marsh had to offer.]

[With the pure heart of a youth, you admired and explored this vast expanse—not in search of relics from ancient gods, nor to rely on the lake for sustenance, but simply to travel and experience its beauty.]

[Whenever you needed food, you exchanged your spells for supplies or performed small tasks for the local villagers, embracing the freedom to journey without worry and rejuvenate your spirit.]

[But all journeys must end. Leaving Yunmengze behind, you ventured into the deep forests of the Shanyue lands—a place even the Chu people regarded as barbarian territory.]

"What a shame there's no one living here. Otherwise, my warding spell could've easily earned me some rice," Su Kai lamented, tucking the freshly inscribed bamboo slip back into his satchel.

The forests of the Age of Gods were no ordinary wilderness. The miasma alone carried a deadly poison, fatal to humans with the slightest exposure. Beyond that, venomous creatures, predators, and insects swarmed these woods, each more dangerous than the last.

In later eras, humanity might have found ways to overcome such perils. But for those living in the Age of Gods, where resources were plentiful, why choose to settle in such inhospitable lands when safer regions beckoned?

Only a wanderer like Su Kai—one who delighted in traversing Hua-Xia and savoring its landscapes—would venture into this forsaken forest, abandoned by humanity.

And this forest's dangers extended far beyond its natural hazards. It was home to beings surpassing human comprehension—ultimate creatures that defied mortal logic.

Such as the one now standing before Su Kai: a mountain spirit.

"Ugh, I'm so sick of it. Humans, everywhere. They're like weeds—never-ending and impossible to kill…"

The irritable voice of a woman rang in Su Kai's ears. The being before him was breathtakingly beautiful, with pointed ears, hair black as ebony, and eyes glowing an unsettling crimson.

He lingers, distraught, forgetting to return.

I fill his thoughts, yet he cannot rest.In the mountains, I bloom like fragrant herbs,

Drink from stone springs, and rest beneath cypresses.

But he doubts his love, and I grow desolate.

— Excerpts from Chu Ci's Nine Songs

A strange, sickly-sweet scent began to permeate the fresh, verdant air of the forest. The mountain spirit, a creature as graceful as a forest nymph, transformed into a crimson sea of blood, glaring at the uninvited guest with palpable displeasure.

The adornments she wore—fragrant vines of baelii, virginsbower, rock orchid, and duheng—melted into the endless ocean of blood. These divine flowers and sacred herbs, once covering her fair, alabaster skin, dissolved into the chaotic, crimson expanse.

Though she resembled a demon or a fae, her origins were far more noble. She was no mere spirit of the forest. Connected directly to Earth's primal magical source, she could draw upon limitless mana.

This being was a true child of Gaia, akin to the gods themselves—an immortal spirit of the highest order.

However, most of her power was spent suppressing her blood-drinking impulses.

While immortals possessed unparalleled strength and advantages beyond human reach, they also had their own flaws. For many, the urge to consume blood was one such imperfection—albeit one most immortals had long since overcome.

Some relied on alchemy, consuming elixirs or magical stones. Others pursued ascetic practices, tempering their desires through discipline and self-restraint.

In short, there were ways to rid oneself of the bloodlust.

But this mountain spirit was an anomaly among immortals. She was too idle, her days spent indulging in idleness and whimsy…

She hadn't mastered either method, so she was forced to expend most of her energy suppressing her bloodlust. If not for this restraint—and with her power as a true immortal—this mountain spirit would have no reason to hide in the wilderness.

She could easily topple the existing human civilizations across Hua-Xia and instigate a divine calamity, rewriting the world in her image.

---

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