The Omniscient

Chapter 60: The Cause of the Flood

Huang Ji went to sleep at midnight and woke up at nine the next morning. His brain required more rest due to its constant fatigue.

During his sleep, he had a vivid dream. In it, he saw an elephant trampling farmland and eating crops. The local farmers, furious, dug a trap nearby to lure the elephant in, capturing it when it fell into the pit. Eventually, the farmers killed the elephant, which turned out to be the last one in Henan Province. After that, wild elephants in central China became extinct.

Upon waking, Huang Ji practiced a complete set of Inner Canon exercises, from the first group to the fourth. He then brushed his teeth, washed his face, and walked to the suite’s living room.

There, Lin Li was sleeping on the carpet. Without asking, Huang Ji already knew that Lin Li had stayed up all night practicing until dawn. He had made minimal progress—succeeding only two more times—but at the cost of losing approximately 20 hours of lifespan due to overexertion.

Shaking his head, Huang Ji left Lin Li undisturbed and went out to buy breakfast. Returning to the sofa, he sipped on congee and ate boiled eggs while continuing his reading.

“I dreamed about central China’s elephants... Of course, it’s because the last thing I read last night was a historical account of their extinction,” Huang Ji mused.

In the past, Henan Province had been abundant with elephants—so much so that they roamed freely. Before sleeping, he had come across a historical record from the early Northern Song Dynasty about farmers hunting elephants, which turned out to be the last recorded wild elephant in the region. For over a thousand years since then, wild elephants have not existed in northern China.

“Why did the central China elephants go extinct?” Huang Ji turned to his books, determined to deduce the reason.

“Although the last elephant died in the early Northern Song, wild elephants were already rare in northern China by the Han Dynasty.

“Even the famous story of Cao Chong weighing an elephant involved one that was brought in as tribute by Sun Quan from the Lingnan region. Clearly, by that time, elephants were already extremely endangered in the north, surviving only in the deep forests of Henan.

“Records from the Spring and Autumn Annals of Lü Buwei state: ‘Shang warriors tamed elephants to devastate the Dongyi tribes. The Duke of Zhou drove them to Jiangnan.’ During the wars between the Shang and Zhou dynasties, elephant armies were deployed, which indicates elephants were once plentiful in central China.

“However, the Shang Dynasty overhunted elephants. Excavations at the Yin Ruins in Anyang have uncovered a significant number of ivory artifacts. With demand comes slaughter. Wild elephants were decimated during the Shang era and further driven south by the Duke of Zhou. By then, elephants remained only in the remote forests, teetering on the brink of extinction. Whenever one was discovered, it would be hunted down, leading to their total extinction.”

Huang Ji believed his deduction was sound: the central China elephants were wiped out due to excessive hunting by humans. The root cause was the Shang people’s obsession with ivory, which turned a once-thriving population into a handful of survivors.

Yet, he did not unlock the past-state information.

This indicated that his deduction was either conceptually flawed or entirely incorrect.

“Could it really be wrong?” Huang Ji tilted his head, perplexed. Could the extinction of central China’s elephants truly not be due to human overhunting? That explanation seemed irrefutable.

He even considered the ancient legend of Emperor Shun working alongside elephants: “Shun plowed the fields at Mount Li, and elephants plowed alongside him while birds weeded.”

Could the large-scale killing have started as far back as the era when elephants were used for farming?

Huang Ji pondered further, attempting to deduce a scenario where the elephants began facing mass hunting in prehistoric times, leading to their endangered status.

Yet... it still didn’t work!

Frowning, Huang Ji found himself fixated on solving this riddle. How could deducing the extinction of elephants be this challenging?

By 1 p.m., he had made no progress. Closing his eyes in frustration, he muttered to himself, “How did the elephants go extinct?”

At that moment, Lin Li stretched and woke up, apparently stirred by Huang Ji’s muttering.

“Boss?” Lin Li called out groggily.

“What do you think caused the elephants in Henan to go extinct?” Huang Ji asked casually.

Lin Li was startled. “Huh? Elephants in Henan? Aren’t elephants only found in Africa and Southeast Asia?”

“...Never mind. Let’s go eat,” Huang Ji said, setting the matter aside for now.

After lunch, Huang Ji began focusing on his plans for obtaining credentials. As they wandered through the streets, he found what he was looking for: a utility pole plastered with small advertisements for various services, from “miracle cures” to “missing dog notices.”

At the bottom of the pole was a small, inconspicuous ad about creating fake certificates. Huang Ji pointed it out to Lin Li. “Call this person and ask them to make a graduation certificate and a medical license for me.”

Lin Li nodded but then pointed to a larger, more prominent ad at eye level. “Why not contact this one? The description is more detailed, the paper is bigger, and it’s placed in the most visible spot. It looks like a top-tier professional.”

Huang Ji chuckled, amused by Lin Li’s reasoning.

Lin Li assumed that the larger and more noticeable the advertisement, the better the service. But this was a classic logical fallacy. Upon closer examination, the reasoning made little sense.

“Am I wrong?” Lin Li asked, confused.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Huang Ji laughed. “The person who put up that ad certainly put in effort. They grabbed the best spot, used larger paper, and might even check daily to replace it if it gets covered or torn. No matter when we pass by, their ad is probably still there.

“But all that effort only proves they’re good at advertising. How does that relate to their skill at making fake certificates? It certainly doesn’t make them an industry leader.

“In fact, I’d say they’re not even in the same league as the pros.”

Lin Li scratched his head, puzzled by Huang Ji’s logic.

Huang Ji elaborated, “Think about it this way: someone who puts that much effort into their ad is likely already under surveillance.”

“That...” Lin Li froze, then had an epiphany.

A high-profile approach might attract business temporarily, but in the end, it only draws unwanted attention. Such boldness doesn’t last long. Even if the person hasn’t been caught yet, it’s only a matter of time.

In contrast, those who discreetly place small ads in inconspicuous spots are the true veterans of the trade—the ones who rely on long-term stability and repeat customers. They’re confident in their skills and don’t need flashy promotions to secure clients.

“Big, flashy ads? What’s the point? Even if their skills are excellent, they’ll still get caught eventually. Slow and steady wins the race,” Huang Ji said.

Suddenly, he paused, struck by his own words. Lin Li, still nodding in agreement, was caught off guard as Huang Ji clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s it... Large size, impressive strength, and adaptability mean nothing without longevity. Survival is what truly matters. To survive, you must adapt to your environment,” Huang Ji exclaimed, realizing where his earlier reasoning had gone wrong.

Lin Li blinked in confusion. “Wait, how did fake certificates lead to survival of the fittest?”

“There’s no such thing as ‘survival of the fittest.’ Only the adaptable survive,” Huang Ji corrected. “The success of a species isn’t determined by its strength. Just because you can’t beat me in a fight, does that make you inferior?”

"Species that occupy higher ecological niches are actually more prone to extinction because they struggle to adapt to environmental changes!" Huang Ji explained. "Take dinosaurs, for instance. They were incredibly powerful and dominated the middle and upper levels of the food chain, while the ancestors of mammals were weak and barely surviving at the bottom. But after a catastrophic event, the dinosaurs went extinct, while those tiny mammals endured. Now, who’s truly superior?"

Lin Li scratched his head. "Right... I’ll keep that in mind, boss. But why are you telling me this?"

"No particular reason," Huang Ji replied with a smile, then resumed deducing the extinction of central China's elephants.

In the early Northern Song Dynasty, extensive deforestation and land development left wild elephants without food or shelter. Desperate, they encroached on human farmland to eat crops. Naturally, this led to conflicts with humans, and they were killed. This was how the last elephant met its end—not because humans were overly bloodthirsty, but because the environment left the animals no choice.

During the Shang Dynasty, people hunted elephants extensively for ivory, killing many. Yet, despite centuries of hunting, wild elephants were not wiped out, indicating that some form of regulated hunting or even captive management might have existed.

Henan, as one of the most fertile regions for agriculture, saw its ecosystem significantly altered. The Duke of Zhou drove war elephants south during conflicts with the Shang, not to kill them but to protect farmland from being trampled. By then, Henan was already heavily developed, unable to sustain large elephant populations.

“The environment certainly changed because of humans, but jumping to the conclusion that humans were directly at fault—and using that as a basis to interpret historical records—is not a proper way to investigate history.”

"The extinction of central China's elephants was due to habitat loss. While humans contributed to this by developing agriculture, agriculture was itself a later phase. The earlier cause of mass elephant migration and death was... the Yellow River!"

Despite being an expert in biology, Huang Ji initially failed to account for environmental factors in his analysis of a species’ extinction. He had been overly focused on finding clues in historical records, underestimating the need for a multidisciplinary approach.

Records alone, Huang Ji realized, were insufficient. Understanding the history of a phenomenon required a comprehensive perspective, incorporating biology, geology, anthropology, and more. Top archaeologists are also often experts in these fields.

As this understanding dawned on him, Huang Ji unlocked the past-state information.

Looking down at the cement ground, Huang Ji turned and walked into a nearby park. Standing there, he focused on the ground beneath his feet. Time seemed to reverse as he traced its history backward.

“Ah!” Huang Ji grimaced as the flood of information overwhelmed his brain. He quickly suppressed most of it, filtering to accept only geological data. The strain lessened immediately.

A hundred years... two hundred... a thousand... two thousand... two thousand five hundred years ago—this land was the capital of Korea.

“Damn... even with just geological data, I can only manage 2,500 years? There’s barely any geological change in that time!”

Suppressing the overload, Huang Ji felt the pressure dissipate. He discovered that while he could still trace further back, the information was merely being blocked. Unlike when previewing future states, where the constant flux of time caused continuous strain, historical data remained static. History does not change—no matter what happens today, the past remains the same.

This meant Huang Ji could take his time. He could shield himself from the full brunt of information, trace history in broad strokes, and then gradually reveal specific details. There was no need to rush. Even tracing billions of years into the past was possible, as long as he limited how much information he absorbed at once.

Closing his eyes, Huang Ji saw that 4,000 years ago, the area he stood on was submerged in floodwaters. His senses revealed an expanse of turbulent waves engulfing the region.

"Geological data alone isn't enough. Let's open up a bit more," he thought, releasing more filters. Immediately, his headache returned, but in return, he learned more details about the flood.

Approximately 3,950 years ago, an earthquake upstream of the Yellow River created a natural dam that trapped floodwaters. Six months later, the dam collapsed, unleashing devastating floods downstream. The flooding was relentless, recurring periodically over 42 years and destroying numerous ancient settlements.

The people of the Yellow River basin suffered greatly, with civilizations being severely impacted. Beneath Huang Ji’s feet lay the remnants of an ancient city buried by floodwaters and sediment.

The Yellow River once flowed through Xinzheng, forming a dense network of waterways across Henan. Seasonal flooding was nearly guaranteed during the rainy season.

“The old river channels were obliterated, the floods came and receded, again and again... People desperately sought to tame the river,” Huang Ji reflected.

Over the course of 42 years, spanning three generations, the effort to control the Yellow River culminated in the work of Great Yu. Through engineering and perseverance, Yu finally succeeded in taming the floods.

The inhabitants of the region adapted to the disaster by dredging rivers, carving canals, and redirecting floodwaters. Humans, as a species, modify their environment to survive—a form of adaptation unique to them. However, their success often comes at the expense of other species.

The dramatic ecological changes caused by the floods and subsequent human intervention drove many species to extinction. Higher-tier animals in the food chain, like elephants, struggled the most to adapt to these abrupt environmental shifts.

The elephants, once apex creatures of the central Chinese plains, were no exception. The catastrophic floods killed many, but the real blow came from Yu’s water management efforts.

Yu redirected the Yellow River northward, ensuring much of Henan lay south of the river. He also dug countless artificial tributaries, destroying vast tracts of natural habitat.

The combination of natural disasters and human activity created a perfect storm. Even the resilient elephants, who had survived the first two waves of catastrophe, were now dealt a chronic, slow-acting death sentence: agricultural expansion.

Yu’s irrigation projects were a boon for human agriculture, enabling new settlements and fertile farmland. But for the elephants, it was a nightmare. They lost access to major water sources—an essential part of their survival—since humans would never tolerate such massive animals near their hard-won water systems.

By the time Yu completed his waterworks, dividing the region into the “Nine Provinces” and establishing Henan as "Yuzhou," the plains were forever changed. Once roaming freely across the fertile plains, the elephants either migrated away or clung to the shrinking forests, only to eventually disappear.

Huang Ji couldn’t help but marvel at the irony. “So, Yu the Great, it was you all along…”

“This is nature’s way. To save one’s own kind often comes at the cost of others. For every cheer, there is a cry of despair.”