Chapter 3503: History Of The Butterfly Kingdom
Chapter 3503: History Of The Butterfly Kingdom
Lin Mu smiled faintly. "I’m just here to look at books."
The old man studied him for a long moment.
Then he snorted.
"Hah. Of course you are."
He leaned back in his chair, though his eyes never fully relaxed. "People like you never come to places like this unless they want something."
Lin Mu walked closer to the counter. "I was told this is where I can find the most information, no matter how old it is."
The old man’s lips twitched.
"That depends on what kind of knowledge you’re looking for," he said. "If you want cultivation manuals, we have some. If you want history, we have more than most. If you want truth..."
He shrugged. "That costs extra."
The young man shifted awkwardly. "Grandpa, maybe we should at least ask what he’s looking for."
The old man waved a hand. "Fine."
He looked back at Lin Mu. "Speak."
"I’m looking for information about this world," Lin Mu said calmly. "Especially about the Butterfly Kingdom."
The air in the shop seemed to still.
The young man froze mid step.
The old man’s eyes narrowed.
"...That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time," he said quietly.
Lin Mu watched him closely. "So it did exist."
"It did," the old man replied. "And it fell."
He studied Lin Mu again, more carefully this time.
"You’re not just a sightseeing traveler," he said. "You’re here because you have to be."
Lin Mu did not deny it.
The old man exhaled slowly, then reached for the teapot, finally pouring himself a fresh cup from a formation heated kettle beneath the counter.
"Sit," he said. "If you’re asking about the Butterfly Kingdom, then this won’t be a short conversation."
Lin Mu took a seat and accepted the cup of tea the old man poured for him, though he did not drink it immediately. He simply held it in his hands, feeling the warmth seep into his palms as he listened.
Old Man Jeon leaned back in his chair, one arm resting on the counter, his gaze drifting toward the shelves rather than Lin Mu directly.
"The Butterfly Kingdom fell," he said calmly, "around one hundred and twenty years ago."
Lin Mu nodded. "I’ve already heard that much. From the supervisor at the teleportation array."
Jeon let out a low chuckle. "Figures. Even dusty old halls remember that much."
Lin Mu lifted his eyes. "Why did it fall?"
The old man glanced at him, one eyebrow lifting slightly, as if the question amused him.
"Why do kingdoms fall?" Jeon countered.
Lin Mu answered without hesitation. "War. Plagues. Conflicts over inheritance. Famines. Natural disasters."
Jeon’s lips curled into a grin. "Good. You’ve read your history."
He took a sip of his tea before continuing.
"In the case of the Butterfly Kingdom," he said, "it was war... and inheritance. A particularly ugly combination of the two."
Lin Mu remained silent, allowing him to continue.
"People say the kingdom fell one hundred and twenty years ago," Jeon went on. "That’s when the banners came down, the royal seal was broken, and the land was officially divided. But the rot?" He shook his head slowly. "That began nearly nine hundred years before that."
Lin Mu’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Tell me," Jeon said, fixing him with a look. "How long do you think an immortal king should rule?"
Lin Mu considered it. "Long enough to ensure stability. Not long enough to stagnate."
Jeon laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "Exactly."
He set his cup down.
"The Butterfly Kingdom once had a king who ruled for nearly eleven thousand years," he said. "A terrifying reign, not because he was cruel, but because he was... enduring. He outlived his rivals. Outlived his enemies. Outlived every generation that opposed him."
Lin Mu’s fingers tightened slightly around his cup.
"He ruled until his longevity ran out," Jeon continued. "No hidden breakthrough. No miracle. Just time, finally catching up."
"And his heirs?" Lin Mu asked.
Jeon’s expression darkened.
"That was the problem."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering.
"When a reign lasts that long, the children grow old alongside the king. His sons and daughters weren’t young, ambitious princes fighting for the throne. They were old immortals themselves. Some were eight thousand years old. Some closer to ten."
Lin Mu immediately saw the issue.
"And they couldn’t break through," he said.
Jeon nodded grimly. "Most of them were stuck. First Tribulation. Second Tribulation. A few Third or even fourth. Even the most talented of them who managed to reach the sixth stage died before the king did. None could step further. Their longevity was already stretched thin."
He gestured vaguely with his hand.
"After the king’s death, the kingdom entered what historians politely call a ’succession crisis.’ In reality?" He scoffed. "It was a slow funeral procession."
Lin Mu listened intently.
"For the next five hundred years," Jeon said, "the heirs died one by one. Old age. Failed breakthroughs. Injuries that never healed. Each death weakened the royal bloodline further."
"And the nobles?" Lin Mu asked.
Jeon smiled humorlessly. "Smelled blood."
He tapped the counter.
"With each passing generation, the royal family lost power. Authority became symbolic. Real control shifted to the great noble houses, generals, sect-backed families. They began fighting among themselves, each claiming legitimacy."
He paused, eyes hardening.
"And when the royal family was reduced to only the youngest descendants—barely First or Second Tribulation immortals—the surrounding kingdoms saw their chance."
Lin Mu exhaled slowly. "War."
"Yes," Jeon said. "Not a single war. Many."
He lifted a finger.
"Coalitions formed. Borders were tested. The Butterfly Kingdom was attacked from three sides at once. Internal rebellion crippled their response. Within decades, the land was carved apart."
"And that was the end," Lin Mu murmured.
Jeon nodded. "No final heroic stand. No legendary last king. Just paperwork, treaties, and blood."
Lin Mu absorbed the information in silence.
To him, it was... familiar.
He had read stories like this countless times. Had even seen similar patterns unfold in sects and minor powers. A long reign bred stagnation. Longevity without renewal was decay disguised as stability.