Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator

"Hey, Su Zi, are you really not planning to become an immortal?"

During their travels, Yu still hadn't given up on persuading Su Kai to pursue immortality.

The issue with Su Kai was simple—he lacked understanding of immortals, which made it impossible for him to resolve the bloodlust problem. But more than that, he simply had no motivation to address it.

If he himself became an immortal, he'd have no choice but to urgently solve the problem of bloodlust to reclaim his full strength. After all, constantly using part of one's power and mental energy to suppress an innate impulse was a burden for anyone.

"...Yu, an immortal's eternal life is not what I desire. I've long been prepared to relinquish my own life," Su Kai said, gazing upward with a wistful sigh. "The beauty of life lies not in its length but in the brilliance one creates. Sleeping for centuries or millennia as you do—what's the point of having eternal life in that case?"

"Yu, there's still so much for you to learn. For starters, you need to understand what it means to be human."

Su Kai's empty, unfocused gaze locked onto Yu's bewildered expression. "Even immortals are still a kind of human. Your bloodlust is not a major issue—set it aside for now."

Yu couldn't decipher what lay within Su Kai's hollow gaze, though she wasn't particularly concerned. Smiling, she replied, "True enough. After all, I can live for a very, very long time. Before you die, I'm sure we'll find a way to solve this bloodlust issue!"

"...Now, that's the attitude of a true disciple!"

Su Kai shook his head with a faint smile. This was only the second time he'd taken on a disciple, but he liked to think he had some knack for teaching. Perhaps, he thought, he might be able to straighten out this lazy immortal.

"So, Su Zi, where are we headed next?"

It wasn't an unreasonable question. After leaving the forest, they had been walking for over ten days. Initially, Yu had been curious about the outside world, but upon seeing the human settlements and cities, she clearly grew displeased. Still, she tolerated it.

Such restraint was characteristic of immortals. Suppressing bloodlust was one form of self-control; enduring soul-deep aversion to something, like human civilization, was another.

"Yu, do you hate humans?" Su Kai didn't answer her question. Instead, he posed one of his own, his tone cryptic.

Yu's temper flared briefly, but she took a deep breath and muttered to herself, Can't beat him… before calming down.

"I've never hated humans," she replied, casting her gaze from Su Kai to the city in the distance. "But I despise civilization."

"Whenever I see cities built by destroying nature and cutting down forests, I feel an urge to raze them to the ground."

"I see. An environmentalist," Su Kai said with a nod, suppressing a smile. "That makes sense. After all, you immortals are nature's children. But tell me, weren't there immortals of your era who became tribal leaders and passed down knowledge to humans?"

"They only did that to make humans easier to eat. Do you think immortals just idly devoured people without a care?" Yu scoffed, raising a finger as if to calculate. "Before the Yellow Emperor rose to power, the total human population of the Central Plains barely reached a million. If all the immortals indulged freely, humans would've been wiped out in no time."

"To let humans reproduce naturally, they had to create comfortable lives for them—enough so that even knowing they might be eaten, humans would willingly serve under immortals."

"All of it—civilization, culture, progress—was to support our bloodlust. It wasn't until the Yellow Emperor resolved the bloodlust issue that immortals realized this soul-deep curse could actually be removed."

"A single leaf obscures the mountain. That's ignorance born of limited perception," Su Kai mused. He compared it to the way no one questioned established truths until someone pointed out they were wrong. People tolerated these limitations because they could live with them.

Just as those in a slave society couldn't conceive of feudalism, and those in feudalism couldn't imagine…

To people of a slave society, slaves and masters were the only identities in the world. The idea of a third role was unfathomable.

Similarly, in feudalism, life without an emperor seemed inconceivable.

"This is the barrier of limited knowledge," Su Kai said. "And not just humans. Even immortals are bound by it. Perhaps it's a trait shared by all intelligent life."

Looking up, Su Kai couldn't help but admire the Yellow Emperor's brilliance. Despite living in an era of limited understanding, he had forged his path free of these constraints.

"Limited knowledge…" Yu repeated the phrase, nodding thoughtfully. "It's an apt description. Su Zi, your achievements and intellect might indeed rival those of the Yellow Emperor."

"Of course they do. I'm not inferior to anyone."

Su Kai's confidence was unwavering. "It's a shame I didn't live in his time. I'd have liked to meet the Yellow Emperor, to debate philosophy with the progenitor of human civilization."

The ancients deserved respect, but not reverence.

Respect required only praise; reverence demanded submission, even if only in spirit.

"Coming with you was the right choice after all!" Yu said, smiling brightly. She wasn't surprised by Su Kai's casual tone when discussing the Yellow Emperor. In every era—especially the ancient ones—those with aspirations naturally compared themselves to the sages of the past, believing themselves equal or superior.

This proud, self-assured ethos of the Hua Xia people endured even into the Song dynasty. It wasn't until then that the culture began venerating the ancients excessively, viewing them as untouchable paragons.

From that point onward, anyone bold enough to compare themselves to the sages of old was mocked for arrogance, and society collectively assumed no modern individual could surpass the wisdom of the past.

"If an ancient sage said it, it must be true. If a contemporary said it, it must be inferior," Yu murmured with a wry smile.

"We're heading to Yingdu in the Chu Kingdom next," Su Kai said, finally answering her earlier question. "I've heard that two philosophers are presenting their doctrines to the King of Chu."

"Since I'm still in a period of study, it's a good opportunity to observe."

"Do someone like you really need to listen to other people's ideas?" Yu asked, her tone skeptical. She clearly disliked the idea of visiting a princely court, knowing it would make her even more irritable.

"Even if I already know the path lies beneath my feet, it doesn't hurt to see how others attempt to pave the way," Su Kai said, his eyes briefly igniting with passion as he spoke of his philosophy. "My path is the right one, but I still need to see more to figure out how to walk it to the end."

---

The capital city of Chu, Yingdu, was as lively as ever.

The people of Chu were famously stubborn. Despite relocating their capital several times, each new capital was always named "Ying."

Other states typically named their capitals after the city itself—for instance, Wei's original capital was Anyi before moving to Daliang, and Han's was Yangdi before shifting to Xinzheng after conquering Zheng.

Chu, however, was different. Wherever the capital moved, that place simply became Ying.

Today, Yingdu was especially bustling. Two prominent figures—Mo Zi (Mo Di) and Gongshu Ban—were presenting their respective philosophies and innovations to the King of Chu.

Mo Zi, a proponent of universal love and non-aggression, opposed Chu's frequent invasions of neighboring states and had come to offer his defensive strategies for fortification.

Gongshu Ban, on the other hand, was a craftsman who adored mechanical ingenuity. His primary concern was securing funding to continue his work. If the King of Chu supported his research, he was willing to share his siege-engine designs with the state.

The King of Chu, who had once declared himself a king after being snubbed for promotion by the Zhou Son of Heaven, frequently justified his aggressive conquests with the claim, "We are mere barbarians." This rhetoric had allowed Chu to rapidly expand its territory.

But there were consequences. Successive hegemonial rulers of the Central States allied to counter Chu. Starting with Duke Huan of Qi, Duke Wen of Jin, and even Duke Xiang of Song, all waged war against Chu—though Song's overcommitment to ritual led to their defeat.

Nevertheless, Chu remained part of the broader Zhou cultural alliance. Its rituals, warfare, and written language derived from the Central States. Even the largest southern barbarian tribe, the Hufang, had been annihilated by Chu, their culture and script burned, leaving only a single line in historical records.

It wasn't until much later, through archaeological discoveries of Hufang bronzeware, that researchers reconstructed their unique script—distinct from the oracle bone script of the Central States.

In the current era, Chu's claims of barbarism no longer held weight. It didn't matter if one identified as a "barbarian" or even an "animal"—such excuses were no longer valid for waging war.

---

In the Palace

Within the palace, the King of Chu was growing increasingly irritable. Mo Zi was here to lecture him again.

Still, the King had no choice but to meet him. In this era, rulers openly demonstrated their respect and desire for talent. They didn't play hard-to-get or dismiss visitors, knowing it would only result in enmity.

After all, this was a time when even a disgruntled carriage driver might lead you straight to the enemy camp. Neglect or disrespecting someone often made them a lifelong adversary.

If the King refused Mo Zi's request for an audience today, no other scholars or philosophers would dare visit Chu for the rest of his reign.

Even rival schools like Confucianism and Gongshu's School of Mechanics operated by the same principle. This was the era of the Hundred Schools of Thought, a golden age for scholars and philosophers.

"Mo Zi, Mo Di, pays his respects to the King of Chu," Mo Zi greeted, bowing deeply but not rising.

"The King greets Mo Zi in turn," replied the King, bowing respectfully in return. Only after these formalities did both stand.

Mo Zi sat opposite the King. Since he was not a subject of Chu, he was treated as an honored guest, granted equal seating.

"What wisdom does Mo Zi bring to enlighten us today?" the King asked, though he already anticipated the lecture. Protocol dictated he feign ignorance, as Mo Zi could not begin speaking without being prompted.

Mo Zi, aware of this ritual, began his argument. "I have heard it said that a wise ruler does not use what he lacks to pursue what he already has in abundance. Such actions are unbecoming of a sage king."

"You are correct, Mo Zi! Absolutely correct!" The King nodded enthusiastically, though his thoughts were elsewhere, calculating how long it would take Gongshu Ban to arrive.

"I have also heard that Chu is vast but sparsely populated. Waging wars to expand territory might succeed in enlarging your domain, but at the cost of lives. Chu does not lack land, but people. Why, then, would Your Majesty trade what is scarce for what is plentiful?"

In the Spring and Autumn Period, people spoke with blunt candor, often disregarding tact.

But the King of Chu was pragmatic. While he understood Mo Zi's point—that war caused deaths—the casualties were not his concern. The benefits of conquest far outweighed the losses.

From his perspective, war brought him gains without personal sacrifice. The Chu people were merely numbers to him. Moreover, new territories meant new populations, who, within a few generations, would integrate and identify as Chu citizens.

Even local noble families, whose states had been destroyed by Chu, eventually forgot their origins and considered themselves loyal to Chu after several generations.

"With all due respect, such actions are unworthy of a wise king. Do you not fear that a weakened nation will invite opportunistic attacks from other states?"

"Then, Mo Zi, teach me," the King replied, finally regaining control of the conversation. He began praising Mo Zi's defensive strategies, subtly implying that if Mo Zi shared his techniques with Chu, they wouldn't need to fear defeat.

In essence: If your methods are so effective, help us win every war, and we'll never be invaded.

This logic stunned Mo Zi. For the first time, he realized words alone could not sway stubborn rulers.

At that moment, Gongshu Ban entered the hall, overhearing Mo Zi's bold declaration:

"The Mo Zi School's tenets of non-aggression and defensive mechanisms cannot be breached in an unjust war!"

Gongshu Ban's curiosity was piqued. He'd recently developed a siege engine that he was eager to test.

"Wrong! War knows no righteousness," came a calm but authoritative voice.

Before Gongshu Ban could speak, Su Kai strolled in leisurely through the main entrance. Fixing his gaze on Mo Zi, he said, "When addressing someone like the King of Chu, you must first demonstrate that your techniques can defeat Chu itself. Only then will he feel fear."

"Righteousness is subjective, shaped by perspective," he continued, turning to the King. "To a statesman, concepts like righteousness and benevolence are meaningless."

The King, intrigued by this uninvited guest, asked, "Who are you?"

"Su Kai, a mere traveler. Greetings, King of Chu."

"Ah, so you are Su Zi. It is said that you are a master of all magical arts, revered as the 'Progenitor of Techniques.' To meet you is truly Mo Di's fortune."

Mo Zi stood and, with a brief nod, acknowledged Su Kai. Yet before Su Kai could return the courtesy, Mo Zi's sharp gaze bore into him.

"You, who arrive uninvited—what great insights do you bring today?"

Who are you to criticize everyone? Whose side are you on?

---

T/N: Su Zi is basically Su Kai's second name lmaoo

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