Primordial Era: Starting by overwhelming the Sages, Hongjun was stunned!

into the night.

The stars hang low.

A crack in the sky, with a line of white light.

Kong Xuan stood there and heard a very faint sound coming from his sleeve.

He reached into his sleeve.

My fingertips touched those leaves, that blade of grass, that petal.

It has a warm and smooth feel.

It felt as if warmth was slowly seeping out from those tiny objects.

He took out the white petal.

The petals lay in my palm, their pale gold lines shimmering slightly in the starlight.

It's like it came to life.

Kong Xuan stared at it for a long time.

Then put the petals back into the sleeve.

He looked up at the crack.

Deep within the white light, the flower was still blooming.

He knew. He always knew.

Because every time the wind blew in from that direction, he could smell that very faint fragrance.

It's as if it was carried all the way from a distant mountain peak by the wind.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again.

The wind is still blowing.

It was still dark.

Kong Xuan stood there, his black robe billowing.

The seedling behind him is slowly unfurling a new leaf.

The leaf was small, but the golden lines along its edges were already shining.

Like a ray of unburnt sunlight falling onto the clouds.

After the tender shoots break through the soil, they are renewed every day.

Kong Xuan stood before the crack, watching it rise inch by inch.

The leaves changed from three to five, and then a seventh and a ninth leaf grew.

The gold lines along the edges are exquisitely detailed, gleaming warmly in the sunlight.

Every few days, the Golden-Winged Roc would go over and take a look, perching on the clouds as if examining some rare object.

"Brother, I think it has a temper," he suddenly said.

What's wrong with you?

"When the wind is strong, it doesn't hide; it leans towards the white light."

But if the wind blows from behind, it won't move; its roots are firmly planted, as if it's challenging someone.

Kong Xuan did not answer, but his gaze lingered on the seedling for a moment.

It does have a temper.

Like the last stubborn breath left behind by that pioneer who created the world.

The wind blew from the depths of the wilderness, yet it remained motionless.

As the wind rushed in from the other side of the crack, it turned slightly to the side, its leaves stretching out towards the white light.

That afternoon, the Golden-Winged Roc went out for another stroll and returned with a crimson-gold bird perched on its shoulder.

The bird paced a couple of steps on his shoulder, flapped its wings, flew up, landed next to the seedling, and then quietly squatted down.

Like a sent guard, watching over this tree that is growing taller.

Kong Xuan looked at its crouching posture, which was exactly the same as the red-gold birds that had come through the crack before.

They are like messengers from the other side of the world, or like a hand reaching out from the other side, gently resting on this seedling.

A breeze emerged from the white light, stirring the leaves of the seedlings.

The bird's feathers were also blown about, overlapping with the swaying of the leaves.

From a distance, it looks like the seedling has bloomed a crimson-gold flower.

A few days later, when the Golden-Winged Roc flew back from the south, its expression was somewhat different from before.

He landed on the clouds, folded his wings, and transformed into human form. His expression was calm, but his lips were taut.

Kong Xuan looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

"That three-headed dragon is dead."

Kong Xuan looked at him.

"What I saw in the Blackwater Marsh was that the water was dyed deep red, and three heads had been cut off at the neck by something and were piled up on a stone platform, arranged neatly."

The body disappeared, as if it had been dragged away.

There were no signs of a fight or any remaining magical energy fluctuations in the vicinity.

Clean and tidy.

The Golden-Winged Roc paused here.

He looked up at the white light: "It's like something bypassed the crack and went somewhere else in the primordial world."

Kong Xuan remained silent for a moment.

He didn't turn around, but his gaze deepened at that moment.

The shadow never truly disappeared.

It's just a trial.

Try to see if this door only has one entrance directly in front of it.

Try looking through the gaps around the door to see if there are any narrower passages.

It is looking for another way.

Kong Xuan lifted his foot and stepped into the air.

The Golden-Winged Roc did not ask where it was going.

He simply transformed into his original form, spread his wings, and followed behind Kong Xuan.

The two flew south, one after the other.

Half a day later they arrived at Blackwater Marsh.

Just as the Golden-Winged Roc had said, the Zeshui River was a dark red color that slowly surged beneath the surface, like something still alive breathing deep within.

Three dragon heads are neatly stacked on the stone platform, their cuts as smooth as a mirror.

Kong Xuan landed on the stone platform, squatted down, and glanced at the edge of the cut.

The cross-section was smooth, yet it carried a very faint smell of decay.

The scent was exactly the same as the one he had smelled before the crack.

Kong Xuan stood up but didn't touch the three heads.

He looked around, his gaze sweeping across the surface of the marsh.

Something was moving beneath the ripples, extremely slowly and deeply, like a giant finger gliding across the bottom.

Kong Xuan raised his hand and pointed out with one finger.

Golden light pierced through the water's surface and plunged deep into the depths.

The underwater thing suddenly shrank and then accelerated away into the distance.

It was so fast that it was imperceptible in the blink of an eye.

Kong Xuan withdrew his hand, turned around, and rose into the air, saying to the Golden-Winged Roc, "Let's go back."

The Golden-Winged Roc didn't ask any more questions, and simply followed and flew up.

Returning to the cloud above the crack, Kong Xuan squatted down beside the seedling and gently touched its leaves with his fingers.

The leaves trembled slightly, dew rolled off, and the golden lines at the edges shone for a moment.

He whispered, "Something's gotten around to your side."

The leaf remained still for a moment, without moving.

Then a wind surged out from the white light, stronger than usual, carrying a sense of urgency.

It was as if the heavens and earth over there heard his words and shook their heads.

Kong Xuan stood up and returned to the front of the crack.

His robes billowed in the wind, fluttering and billowing.

The Golden-Winged Roc stood behind him, not approaching.

He gazed at Kong Xuan's retreating figure from afar; that figure stood motionless like a mountain in the wind.

The next day at dawn, a leaf drifted out of the crack.

It was bluish-green with golden edges, almost identical to the leaves of the sapling under the tree.

It passed through the white light and landed in Kong Xuan's palm.

There was a shallow mark on the leaf, as if something had gently scratched it.

Kong Xuan examined the mark for a moment, then put the leaf into his sleeve without saying anything more.

He knew that they were also keeping watch over there.

The flower blooming on the mountaintop also sensed the unusual wind.

Two days later, the Golden-Winged Roc returned from the north, bringing with it a piece of broken bone.

The bone was only the length of a little finger, with jagged breaks and a very thin layer of grayish-white powder on it.

He opened his palm: "I found it on the hillside outside Phoenix Perch Palace."

There were no signs of a struggle nearby, and no lingering traces of life.

This piece of bone lay alone on the ground, as if it had fallen from somewhere.

Kong Xuan looked at the bone fragment but didn't reconnect it. The residual aura on the bone was extremely faint, yet remarkably clear.

"Rotten, hollow, like the chilling air rising from the depths of a dry well."

It's the same as the lingering aura of the Blackwater Marsh.

Kong Xuan withdrew his gaze: "Are there any footprints around?"

"No. Nothing was left behind."

Kong Xuan was silent for a moment before speaking, "It hasn't come in yet."

"They just brought the things in."

Upon hearing this, the Golden-Winged Roc frowned: "Sending something in? Like that dark figure probing out from the crack?"

Kong Xuan nodded: "It's testing the waters."

"Look how vast the wilderness is, look how tightly we guard it."

The Golden-Winged Roc clenched its fist, then relaxed it: "So, how should we respond?"

Kong Xuan did not answer.

He walked over to the seedling and squatted down.

The seedlings are already over two feet tall, with straight branches, emerald green leaves, and bright golden lines along the edges.

The golden bird crouching nearby saw him approach and gently flapped its wings, but did not fly away.

Kong Xuan reached out and gently brushed a small patch of moss at the base of the seedling.

The moss was brushed aside, revealing a tiny speck underneath, like a grain of sand or a very fine seed.

He condensed a drop of golden light from his fingertip, placed it on the object, and enveloped it.

Then, with a gentle flick, the object wrapped in golden light was sent flying towards the Blackwater Marsh.

The Golden-Winged Roc watched the golden light streak across the sky and asked, "What was that?"

"A mark." Kong Xuan stood up. "That thing had soil from the roots of this tree on it."

"I will be able to sense it whenever it reappears anywhere in the primordial world."

The Golden-Winged Roc was silent for a moment: "When did you start laying it out?"

"When I came back last time."

The Golden-Winged Roc did not ask any further questions.

He stood behind Kong Xuan, his gaze fixed on the seedling.

It is growing quietly, its leaves swaying gently in the wind, its roots deeply embedded in the clouds.

It seems to ignore everything, but it's always there.

In their own way, they guarded the line on this side of the crack.

Kong Xuan stood back in front of the crack and looked at the white light.

The wind surged in from that direction, carrying the scent of grass and trees, and the scent of the flower on the mountaintop.

He knew the dark figure was still searching for a way and would try again.

But the seedling is still growing, the crack is still shining, and he is still here.

He's not afraid to take it slow.

What he feared was that this place would be the first to give out.

Dusk was falling on the horizon.

The clouds were tinged with a warm orange light.

The golden lines along the edges of the seedling's leaves shone quietly, like an inextinguishable little lamp.

The Golden-Winged Roc sat down beside him, looking up at the white light: "Brother."

"Um."

"The three-headed dragon is dead. The shattered bones outside Phoenix Palace, and those things floating over from the other side of the crevice—are they all heading in the same direction?"

Kong Xuan did not answer immediately.

He stood there, the wind surging from behind, ruffling his dark robe.

Then he spoke: "The primordial world and that side are slowly approaching."

After saying that, he said no more.

The Golden-Winged Roc did not ask any further questions.

But he knew that those words carried great weight.

Two worlds are slowly closing in on each other.

The door had cracked open.

The wind is moving, the grass and trees are moving, the air is moving. And so is that dark figure.

It was at the end of the road, Kong Xuan was at the beginning of the road, and the seedling stood in the middle.

Like a silent boundary marker, it takes root between heaven and earth.

Kong Xuan stood before the crack, and the night wind surged out from the white light.

His robes billowed, yet he remained motionless. Like a mountain.

A mountain that grows in the clouds.

The sapling behind him also stood, grew, and stood guard.

Silently, little by little, it stretched out its leaves toward the direction of that white light.

Kong Xuan stood before the crack, the night wind howling.

The seedling behind me trembled slightly.

It's like nodding in the wind, or greeting someone.

Kong Xuan did not turn around.

He gazed at the white light.

Something was moving in the light, extremely faint and light, like an undercurrent beneath the surface of water.

The thing rose from the depths of the white light and stopped at the edge of the crack.

It's not a shadow.

It's a shadow.

It's very thin, as thin as a layer of gauze.

It has no shape, no outline.

Like a wisp of black smoke scattered by the wind, it barely managed to gather together, barely forming a shape.

Kong Xuan spoke up: "It's you."

The shadow swayed slightly, as if nodding.

Its sound was softer than before, as if it came from a very distant place, separated by several valleys.

"I've changed my appearance."

"I can't get through that door."

"But I found a side path."

Kong Xuan looked at it: "You can't get around it."

The shadow remained silent for a moment.

"I'll give it a try."

After saying that, it did not leave.

It rested on the edge of the crack, like a reef, floating silently in the light.

Kong Xuan did not move either.

The two of them stood facing each other, separated by that beam of white light.

The wind surged in from all directions, blowing my robes.

The leaves of the seedling behind me fluttered gently in the wind.

The Golden-Winged Roc walked back from afar, and upon seeing the shadow, it paused in its tracks.

He neither stepped forward nor uttered a sound.

He simply crouched down a short distance away, his gaze fixed on the shadow, quietly keeping watch.

The shadow stared at Kong Xuan for a long time, so long that the starlight in the sky dimmed.

Then it spoke: "That tree was left behind by Pangu."

Kong Xuandao: "Yes."

"You planted it here so it could take root in this crack."

Kong Xuan did not deny it.

The shadow was silent for a moment, then said, "You are smarter than Pangu."

"All he knows how to do is chop with an axe."

"You know how to plant trees."

Kong Xuandao said, "He can grow them too."

He once planted a flower.

The shadow seemed to pause for a moment.

The thin black mass swayed slightly, and ripples appeared at its edges.

Then it slowly retreated, as if it had thought of something, or as if it had been touched by something.

It retreated into the depths of the white light, and its voice became ethereal.

"I've seen that flower before."

"A long time ago, when I was still wandering outside the door."

I caught a glimpse of it from a great distance.

"White, with five petals."

"The wind is strong, but it didn't fall over."

After saying this, the shadow sank into the depths of the white light.

Like a drop of ink falling into clear water, it slowly spreads out and disappears from sight.

Kong Xuan stood still and did not give chase.

He stared at the white light for a long time.

It was long enough that the sky turned grayish-white, and that the morning light spread up from under the clouds.

The Golden-Winged Roc walked over and stood beside him.

"What did it say?"

Kong Xuandao said, "It said it had seen that flower before."

The Golden-Winged Roc paused for a moment: "Then what it said before in front of the crack—that it hadn't seen it before—was false?"

Kong Xuan paused for a moment, then said, "Not necessarily."

"It may have actually seen it, but just forgot."

"If you stay outside for too long, some things will become blurry."

The Golden-Winged Roc did not respond.

The wind rushed out from the crack, blowing the two men's robes.

The seedling unfurled its leaves in the morning light, the golden lines along its edges shining brightly in the sunlight.

It's like greeting a new day.

Two more days passed.

A very thin thread, pale gray, like spider silk, floated out from the crack.

It emerged from the white light and landed on the seedling's leaves.

The leaf trembled slightly, as if it had been touched by something.

The thread didn't linger; it slid down the veins of the leaf and landed at the base.

Then it seeps into the clouds and disappears.

Kong Xuan did not stop him.

He sensed a very faint aura emanating from the other side within that strand of silk.

There was no hostility.

Like a speck of dust blown by the wind.

He crouched down and gently brushed away the moss from the roots of the seedling with his fingers.

Beneath the moss, something is slowly growing.

It's not a root, but something smaller.

Like a net, it is spreading in all directions from the roots of the seedling.

Extremely thin, extremely fine, almost invisible.

But it is indeed extending.

Kong Xuan stopped.

As he watched the spreading net, a thought came to mind.

This seedling is taking root.

It's not rooted in the clouds, it's rooted on the edge of the entire crack.

Its roots are growing, growing longer and farther, becoming denser and denser.

They are gradually filling in the gap between this side of the crack and the other side of the world.

He withdrew his hand and stood up.

The Golden-Winged Roc approached and asked, "What's wrong?"