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

Kong Xuan stared at it for a long time, as if trying to etch every single stroke of those three lines of markings into his mind.

Then he squatted down in front of the stone wall.

At the bottom of the stone wall, there is a thin layer of soil covering the junction between the stone wall and the ground.

He placed his palm on the layer of soil and gently pressed down, sensing the thickness and texture of the soil layer.

The soil was loose, as if it had just been turned over.

What's beneath the soil?

Kong Xuan didn't rush to dig. He first walked around the bottom of the stone wall to make sure there were no other traces before squatting back down and gently brushing away the layer of soil with his hands.

The soil is very shallow.

After pushing two fingers deep, what was underneath was revealed.

It is a stone slab.

The stone slab was not large, about the same size as the previous one, and its surface was polished smooth.

There are four lines engraved on it.

The first line is curved, like a slightly concave arc.

The second line goes vertically down from the middle of the curve to the bottom, and then makes a small left turn.

The third line is a horizontal line, neither too long nor too short, placed at the inflection point of the second line.

The fourth line is even shorter, and it is drawn diagonally above the third line, like the shadow left by a bird flying by.

Kong Xuan stared at the four lines for a long time.

He mentally arranged all the patterns he had seen before, like piecing together a picture.

The riverbed, the hillside, the stone slabs, the stone hills, the walls of the stone chambers, the embedded stones in the cracks, plus this one.

These patterns stretch from north to south, from the wasteland to the stone wall.

Like a thread that has been taken apart and then sewn back together, it strings the entire land together.

He stretched out his hand, his fingertips lightly tracing the fourth diagonal line.

It has a rough texture, like the astringency of a stone after it has been ground.

The surface of the stone slab gleamed slightly as his fingertips traced the diagonal line.

It was extremely brief, like a spark that flickered and then went out.

Kong Xuan withdrew his hand.

The stone slab returned to normal, the patterns lying quietly on its surface.

He didn't take it away; he covered it with soil again, just like he had done with the previous one, and pressed it flat with his palm.

After doing all that, he stood up.

He glanced again at the three lines of carvings on the stone wall, then turned around.

On the way back, the wind picked up a bit.

It came from the southwest, carrying a dry, stale smell.

It's as if the stone wall itself is breathing.

Kong Xuan did not stop and flew back to the front of the crevice.

The golden-winged roc was squatting by the nursery, using bamboo strips to build trellises for the seedlings.

Seeing him return, she looked up and asked, "Found it?"

Kong Xuan landed beside him and squatted down: "Found it. A stone slab, buried under the stone wall."

"Four lines."

The Golden-Winged Roc put down the bamboo strips: "Can they be connected with the previous ones?"

"It connects."

Kong Xuan stretched out his hand and drew the direction of the four lines on the clouds in front of him.

"The first bend is that dried-up riverbed."

"The second vertical line marks the bend in the ditch."

"The third horizontal line represents the living tree."

"The fourth diagonal line marks the low hills I just passed."

The Golden-Winged Roc looked down at the lines, remained silent for a moment, and then said, "It's drawing a map."

"Um."

Kong Xuan stopped and erased the lines. "It's drawing a map from north to south."

Every marker says: I've been here.

The Golden-Winged Roc raised its head: "And what happens after we reach the south? Is the map finished?"

Kong Xuan thought for a moment and said, "Once the map is drawn, the journey is over."

But that person kept walking forward.

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

He turned back to the edge of the nursery and continued building his bamboo scaffold.

Under the gentle touch of his fingertips, each seedling was firmly secured by thin bamboo strips.

As evening approached, the wind subsided.

The pale purple flower suddenly moved, its petals curling slightly at the edges, as if it were contracting.

Kong Xuan walked over and squatted down in front of the flowers.

The petals are closing one by one, slowly curling up from the edges to the center, like a hand closing.

The light in the heart of the flower did not go out; it remained lit.

A sliver of warm light shines through the closed petals.

It's like a light still on inside a closing window.

The Golden-Winged Roc also came over and squatted down on the other side: "It's thanking us."

"Um."

"After all this time, we should thank you."

After the petals fully close, the entire flower shrinks into a small, pale purple ball, hanging on the branch.

The light from the center of the flower shines through the translucent petals, like a lamp veiled in gauze.

Will it bear fruit?

Kong Xuandao: "Yes."

"When the flowers wither, the fruit will grow."

The Golden-Winged Roc nodded and said nothing more.

He stood up, brushed the dirt off his knees, and said, "Then I'll weave a new cage after it bears fruit."

"Leave the old one for the bird."

That night, Kong Xuan sat under a tree, took out all the stone fragments from his sleeve, and placed them side by side on his lap.

That area by the riverbed, that area on the mountainside, that area beneath the rock face.

When the three pieces are put together, the patterns shimmer slightly under the starlight, like three breathing rivers.

He looked at them and walked along the lines of the patterns again and again.

Then he stacked the three stone pieces together, arranging them according to where they were unearthed, placing one on top of the other.

The bottom is the mountainside area, the middle is the riverbed area, and the top is the area at the foot of the rock wall.

After the three pieces were stacked, the patterns did not completely connect into a single line.

There are gaps in the middle, like a torn map, with a few pieces missing.

Kong Xuan could already make out the general outline.

The north is a wasteland, the middle is a fissure, and the south is a stone wall.

Further south along the stone wall, the patterns break there.

It seemed that after that person reached the stone wall, he did not go any further south.

Or rather, he did not carve the southern route onto the stone tablet.

Kong Xuan carefully put away the three stone pieces.

The next morning, the stone slabs at the bottom of the cliff unfolded in his mind like an old map being re-unfolded.

He looked at those four lines many times, and remembered every single one clearly.

He kept them in his heart, placing them alongside all the patterns he had seen before.

It's like putting a new piece on a giant jigsaw puzzle.

The Golden-Winged Roc walked to his side and squatted down next to him.

"You said yesterday that person was still walking forward. Where has he gotten to?"

Kong Xuan thought for a moment: "He walked to the stone wall and carved the last stone slab."

Then he got up and continued walking south.

"But after he left, he never went back and carved a new road."

He stopped.

The Golden-Winged Roc said, "It's not that I can't walk anymore, it's that I don't want to carve anymore."

"He carved so many roads, and when he reached the last section, he suddenly felt it was enough."

Kong Xuan did not deny it.

He gazed at the white light, and the wind surged from that direction.

"Perhaps he felt that carving up to this point was enough."

"If there's a road ahead, the person who comes later will find it themselves."

The Golden-Winged Roc stood up: "So, what are you going to do next?"

Kong Xuandao said, "I'll go south again, and take a look further south from the stone wall."

"Look what's left after that person walked away."

The Golden-Winged Roc nodded: "Then let's go. While it's still early."

Kong Xuan took to the air and flew south.

The morning light fell on his shoulders.

The wind swept in from the south, dry yet warm.

He glanced at the low hills again as he flew over them; the undulating terrain shimmered with a grayish-white light in the morning glow, like an old piece of linen that had been spread out.

He crossed the rock wall and continued south.

The wasteland beyond the stone wall was not much different from the one before; it was also grayish-white and flat.

But the wind has changed.

There was a very faint, almost imperceptible scent in the wind, like the lingering dampness of soil after it had been soaked by rain and dried in the sun.

He slowed down and flew low.

The further south you go, the more pronounced the aura becomes.

Fine green hues began to appear on the ground, like a thin layer of moss, covering the cracks in the rocks and low-lying areas.

The moss was grayish-green, just like the one on that hillside.

Kong Xuan landed next to a patch of moss and squatted down.

The moss was very thin, growing almost flat on the ground, with slightly curled edges, as if it hadn't had water for a long time.

He gently touched the surface of the moss with his fingertips; it felt dry and brittle, as if it would crumble at the slightest touch.

But it is still alive.

He stood up and continued walking south.

After walking for about half an hour, the terrain ahead changed.

The ground gradually changed from grayish-white to grayish-brown, becoming undulating and forming gullies.

The gullies are not deep, but rather shallow channels carved out by water, crisscrossing like a fine net.

He stopped in his tracks.

The ravines followed the same pattern as the lines he had seen on the stone slabs, as if those lines had been magnified many times over and covered the entire land.

He walked along one of the gullies for a while.

At the bottom of the gully is a layer of fine gravel, smoothed and rounded by the water.

He bent down, picked up a grain, and placed it in his palm.

The sand and gravel were warm.

Like all the marks he had touched before, it carried that dry, old, warm feeling, as if it had been exposed to the wind for a long time.

He put the gravel back where it was and didn't take it with him.

Continuing along the gully, the shallow channels gradually merge into a deeper and wider ditch.

A thin layer of dark sediment had accumulated at the bottom of the ditch, as if it had been left behind after the water receded many years ago.

Kong Xuan squatted on the edge of the ditch, looking at the layer of sediment.

The sediment has a very fine texture, like a layer of compacted fine mud.

There is a mark on it.

It is a footprint.

It wasn't big, a little smaller than his foot, with rounded edges, as if it had been washed by water or polished by the wind.

The footprints are pointing south.

The person walked past here, leaving this footprint, and then continued south.

Kong Xuan neither stepped on it nor touched it.

I just stared at that footprint for a while.

Then he stood up and continued walking south along the ditch.

The ditch gradually became shallower after traveling about five miles, and eventually disappeared into the gray-brown ground.

The ground became flat again, and the area was open.

He stood at the edge of the open space, looking south.

On the horizon, there is a very faint outline.

Like the shadow of a mountain, or like a wall.

It wasn't grayish-white, but a dark color, like the color left after being soaked by wind and rain for a long time.

He looked for a long time, then turned around and went back the way he came.

Those ravines, those footprints, those pebbles, are still there.

Like the last page of a book.

He closed it without rushing to turn the page.

Beyond that page, there is another page.

But he knew he had to finish reading this page before he could move on to the next.

When he returned to the tree, the Golden-Winged Roc was sitting cross-legged by the nursery, holding a thin bamboo pole in his hand.

He stood up: 'After crossing the low hill, there's a shallow footprint pointing south. No more markings.'

"But he went in that direction."

The Golden-Winged Roc followed his gaze southward: "What's in the south?"

"have no idea."

"I haven't reached the end yet. I just see the road is still going."

"He's heading in the right direction."

The Golden-Winged Roc nodded, slowly sat down, his face expressionless: "Then let's keep going. As long as the road exists, we can finish it."

Kong Xuan also sat down.

The two sat side by side under the tree, the wind rushing in from the crack, passing through the canopy, and rustling the leaves.

The bird in the cage had woken up. It hopped around in the bamboo cage a couple of times, pecked at its wings, and then sat quietly.

The pale purple flower had closed up, like a sleeping fist.

The light in the heart of the flower still shines, seeping through the gaps in the petals like a covered lamp.

The fruit it bears is slowly taking shape.

In places unseen, the light of the fruit accumulates little by little.

The road is still there, the fruit is still there, and the lights are still on.

Kong Xuan leaned against the tree trunk, his eyes open.

He gazed at the white light, his eyes calm.

The stone wall in the southwest stands quietly on the wasteland, like a forgotten door frame.

The dark silhouette of the south lies quietly on the horizon, waiting for someone to take a step toward it.

He sat there, unhurried.

Those fragments told him that the road would not be broken.

As long as people keep walking, it will never stop.

The wind is still blowing. The night is still long.

But dawn will always break.

The night wind surged out from the depths of the crack, carrying a cool, damp air.

Kong Xuan sat against the tree trunk for a while, his fingertips resting on the edges of the three stone slabs on his knees.

The patterns shimmered with a faint luster under the starlight, like three thin rivers flowing slowly.

The Golden-Winged Roc sat beside him, holding a bamboo strip that had been cut in half.

I wasn't slicing it, I was just holding it.

"I'm going south tomorrow," Kong Xuan said.

The Golden-Winged Roc didn't turn its head: "Walk to that footprint and then head south?"

"Hmm. Walk towards that dark silhouette."

Is it far?

"If you can see it, you can walk to it."

The Golden-Winged Roc nodded and placed the bamboo strips on his lap: "Then I'll finish building the scaffold."

"By the time you come back, those seedlings should be standing much more steadily."

Kong Xuan did not respond.

A breeze surged from the white light, stirring the closed flower.

The petals trembled slightly, as if turning over in a dream.

Kong Xuan slept for a while that night.

He leaned against the tree trunk, his eyes closed, his breathing steady.

The Golden-Winged Roc did not sleep.

He sat down beside them and carefully inserted the shaved bamboo strips into the soil one by one.

A low fence was erected along the edge of the row of seedlings.

The movements were very gentle.

Kong Xuan woke up just before dawn.

He opened his eyes and saw the Golden-Winged Roc still by the nursery, using a thin bamboo strip to tie a support frame to the tallest seedling.

The movements were steady and light.

"You didn't sleep all night?"

"I slept for a while," said the Golden-Winged Roc. "When I woke up, I got up and got to work."

After binding the last bamboo strip, he stood up, took two steps back, looked around, and nodded in satisfaction.

Kong Xuan also stood up.

He stood in front of the crack for a moment, then stepped into the air and flew south.

The wind came from the south, dry and warm.

He flew over the low hills, over the dry ditch, over the gray stone wall.

Beyond the stone wall, the wasteland remained flat.

But the scent in the wind had changed; it was stronger than yesterday, carrying the earthy smell of soil that had been exposed to the long sun.

Dry, with a slightly astringent taste.

Kong Xuan slowed down and flew low.

The moss on the ground is still there, and it has stretched out slightly compared to yesterday.

Like dew that fell at night, they absorbed it all, and their leaves opened slightly.

He squatted down next to a patch of moss.

It's a bit greener than yesterday, like a breath that's finally coming in.