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

Kong Xuan did not answer.

He had no answer, but he had a vague feeling that the lines, when connected, would form a complete line.

A line that stretches from the northwest all the way here.

Like a road.

He stood up and went back to the crack.

The white light was still shining, and the wind, just like it had been yesterday, the day before yesterday, and countless days before, surged from that direction, brushing against his robes.

He stood there for a while, then suddenly said, "I'm going to the northwest."

The Golden-Winged Roc didn't ask any further questions, only saying, "I'll go with you."

Kong Xuan turned and glanced at him: "Where's the tree?"

"Trees don't run away."

The Golden-Winged Roc had already stood up, patting the dirt off his hands: "We don't need to keep an eye on those seedlings all the time."

"I planted them not so that they would become dependent on people."

Kong Xuan did not stop him.

The two rose into the air, one after the other, and flew towards the northwest.

A breeze blew in my face, dry and slightly warm.

A golden-winged roc flew beside him, its wings creating a small ripple of air as it spread them: "You think that fragment was placed there by someone?"

"Um."

"When that person released it, did they know that one day we would find out?"

Kong Xuan thought for a moment: "Maybe he knows. Maybe he doesn't."

"He just released them. He left after that. The rest, time will tell."

The Golden-Winged Roc did not reply.

The two flew over mountain ridges and over wilderness.

The dried-up riverbed spread out below, the grayish-white mud layer cracked into countless fine lines by the sun.

Like a crumpled and then flattened old piece of paper.

Kong Xuan landed on the edge of that riverbed.

He squatted down and placed his palms on the ground.

Clouds rose from the ground, and golden roots swayed gently beneath the mud.

The fragment is still in the same place.

But it has indeed changed.

Large patches of the grayish-white shell on the surface are peeling off, like a cicada shedding its shell.

The exposed material is bluish-gray, resembling both jade and pottery shards.

The lines rise from the surface of the fragment, no longer scratches, but more like veins growing from within.

The Golden-Winged Roc squatted beside him, held its breath for a moment, and whispered, "It was buried before, but now it's awake."

Kong Xuan did not respond.

He reached out and gently touched the edge of the fragment.

It was warm to the touch.

Like a pebble just illuminated by sunlight.

The fragment trembled slightly, as if in response to him.

Then the raised lines began to glow, changing from bluish-gray to a warm, gentle gold.

Like a lamp that has been lit.

Light seeped out from the patterns and flowed slowly along the edges of the fragments.

Then they didn't stop...they continued to extend forward, like a river flowing into the main stream.

It flowed over mud and rocks, spreading out all the way towards Kong Xuan.

The Golden-Winged Roc suddenly stood up: "It's paving the road!"

Kong Xuan did not move.

He watched as the golden patterns spread from the center of the riverbed and stopped on the surface of the soil beneath his feet.

The lines formed a very faint circle, encircling the small patch of land where he stood.

Like marking a location.

The light lingered around the edge of the circle for a moment, then slowly dimmed, like a lamp being dimmed.

The fragments returned to a bluish-gray color, and the patterns no longer glowed.

But the road has already been paved.

Kong Xuan looked down at the faint golden circle at his feet and remained silent for a moment.

Then he stood up and said to the Golden-Winged Roc, "Let's go back."

The Golden-Winged Roc didn't ask any further questions.

The two rose into the air and returned along the same route.

The crack drew closer, and the outline of the small tree became clearer and clearer in the clouds.

As Kong Xuan landed in front of the tree, the pale purple flower was being blown by the wind and tilted slightly toward him.

The silver lines along the edges of the petals shimmered with tiny lights in the sunlight.

The golden-winged roc folded its wings and landed: "That road was paved for you."

Kong Xuan did not deny it.

He sat down under the tree, leaning against the trunk.

The wind blew from the northwest, sweeping over the row of tender buds, brushing past the flower, and skimming the edge of the crack.

A grain of sand, carried by the wind, landed on his shoulder and then rolled off.

The grain of sand was warm.

It was exactly the same temperature as when the fragment touched my hand.

He watched the grain of sand fall onto the cloud, lying there quietly, like something that had been returned.

He didn't pick it up. He just left it there.

Night fell quickly.

The row of tender buds glowed faintly in the night, each one neatly facing the white light.

It was as if the golden thread that had been laid out had awakened them, and they knew which direction to exert their efforts in.

The Golden-Winged Roc sat beside him, still weaving a third grass cage.

He stopped halfway through weaving, listened intently, and asked, "What's in the wind?"

Kong Xuan also heard it.

The wind came from the northwest, carrying a very faint sound.

It was like a string being plucked in the distance.

It made one sound, then stopped, and was never heard again.

Kong Xuan gazed calmly at the northwest horizon.

The line had already been laid to his feet.

Whatever the other end of that line is, it has found its way.

At the end of the road was the small patch of cloud where he stood.

He won't leave here tonight.

The wind is still blowing.

The grain of sand still lay on the cloud, like a tiny marker.

Kong Xuan turned his gaze from the distance to the grain of sand, looked at it for a while, and then closed his eyes.

It was almost dawn.

A drop of dew clung to the edge of a leaf on the sapling.

The dew glistened faintly in the morning light.

Like a waiting eye.

Kong Xuan opened his eyes.

The morning light is falling on the leaves, and dewdrops are rolling off, seeping into the clouds.

He sat there all night, his back still ramrod straight.

The grain of sand was still lying on the cloud at his feet.

Overnight, its color deepened, turning from grayish-white to light brown.

It looks like it's absorbing something.

Kong Xuan reached out, picked it up, and held it in his palm.

The sand was warm, exactly the same temperature as his body.

He stood up.

The Golden-Winged Roc has woken up and is squatting by the nursery, loosening the soil around the tallest seedling.

He looked up at Kong Xuan, said nothing, and then lowered his head to continue fiddling with the fine cloud fragments.

Kong Xuan walked to the crack.

Sunlight seeped through the white light and fell on his face, warm and comforting.

The wind from the northwest has stopped.

The fragments beneath the riverbed fell completely silent.

After it finished paving that road, it seemed to have completed some task and then fell back into slumber.

Kong Xuan was able to sense its presence.

Like a seed buried in the soil, lying quietly.

Don't rush to grow.

Not urgent.

The wind was very light all morning.

So small that even the leaves barely move.

The row of tender buds stood quietly, each one straight, like a row of children standing properly.

The pale purple flower fully bloomed in the sunlight.

The five petals are perfectly round, and the silver lines along the edges shine like silk in the sunlight.

The tiny point of light in the heart of the flower also brightened a bit, like a small sun being absorbed into the heart of the flower.

The Golden-Winged Roc sat under the tree, leaning against the trunk, holding a blade of grass in its hand.

He wasn't weaving anything; he was just holding it, occasionally twirling it between his fingers.

After a long silence, he spoke: "Brother, the road has been paved for you now, what's next?"

Kong Xuan thought for a moment: "Now that the road is paved, people should start walking on it."

The Golden-Winged Roc turned its head: "Who's coming to leave?"

Kong Xuan did not answer immediately.

He gazed at the white light, and at the golden roots that were slowly spreading along the edge of the light.

"Perhaps it's something," he said. "Perhaps it's a scent."

"Once the road is paved, things will always come along it."

The Golden-Winged Roc was silent for a moment: "Then shall we wait?"

Kong Xuan nodded: "Wait."