Lin Moyu smiled. "I'm fine—just ran into a small snag. I can handle it."
The Jin Supreme nodded. "Good. Be careful. Though I've paused the Insect Stele, there's still danger inside."
Lin knew the Jin Supreme must have tried many times over the years and failed every time. The danger within the stele came from the unseen Spider-God Web—something he couldn't resolve. The Jin Supreme wasn't worrying about Lin; he was worried Lin would fail, leaving him trapped.
"I'll be careful," Lin said. "But a heads-up: your soul may get singed a bit. It'll hurt. Please bear with it."
So long as it solved the problem, the Jin Supreme considered a little pain nothing at all.
Having "planted the effect" with the Cause-Seeking Ring, Lin proceeded boldly. He trusted the Ring: however he moved, he would not touch the Spider-God Web, and he would certainly find the Hidden Spirit Pearl. That artifact had once stood above the Dao of causality; in the Chaos Ancient Wilds, the Ring was a defiant miracle—so long as he could bear the price, he could accomplish most things.
As he explored within the stele, Lin faintly felt he was drawing nearer to the Hidden Spirit Pearl. The inner space looked empty, yet his keen soul told him he'd already brushed past many of the Jin Supreme's soul-imprints, each carrying a trace of the Supreme's aura—hence perceptible upon contact.
Suddenly Lin's heart stirred—a voice told him he could stop. It was a message from the Dao of causality: he had arrived before the Hidden Spirit Pearl.
He condensed his soul-sense here, swept his gaze around. Nothing to see, nothing to sense.
"If the Cause-Seeking Ring says so, it's here."
With a wave, he sent out filaments of World-Ending Fire—countless fiery threads lashing out like whips, sweeping every direction. Where they passed, the Jin Supreme's soul-imprints showed up in relief. World-Ending Fire could affect soul-imprints slightly, but Lin's control was precise; the impact was minimal. As for the Spider-God Web, the fire had no effect whatsoever—the fiery threads passed cleanly through without even making it show itself.
Outside the stele, the Jin Supreme frowned slightly. The sweep of flame pricked at his imprints—uncomfortable, but not too painful. Lin had warned him, so he endured.
The fire's sweep widened and grew denser, until, finally, in an unremarkable corner, the World-Ending Fire twisted—something blocked it. From that distortion, Lin judged the object to be the Hidden Spirit Pearl. You couldn't sense it or see it—yet it truly existed and could be touched. Brushed by the fire, its outline appeared.
Lin's soul flashed over to it. The invisible pearl was right before him, yet he didn't immediately reach out. The Spider-God Web had to be wrapped around it; one touch and things would get troublesome. The Pearl and the Web had already fused—separating them wouldn't be easy.
After a brief thought, Lin drew out a drop of World Jellyfish.
Seeing it, the Jin Supreme instinctively felt danger. He peered closer; memories from ages past surfaced. "A jellyfish?"
Lin nodded. "Senior truly recognizes it."
The Jin Supreme chuckled. "Of course. That jellyfish is a wonderful thing—rare as they come. Having it is enormous good fortune."
The World Jellyfish was useful—its progeny, Chaos Divine Water, was something Western Polar Perfected Ones fought to obtain—but now its role was to dissolve the Spider-God Web.
Lin sent the jellyfish into the stele; guided by his soul-sense it reached the Pearl and wrapped it. The Web around the Pearl dissolved swiftly. The connection between Pearl and Web snapped—and in an instant, layer upon layer of great nets surfaced all around. Without the Pearl's help, the Spider-God Web could no longer hide. The nets were dense; only one path led here. Lin had found it blind, taking the sole correct route—that was the Cause-Seeking Ring at work: once the effect is planted, the outcome is set.
With the Web exposed, the Jin Supreme finally sensed it. He murmured, "So this is what binds me?"
"The Spider-God Web," Lin said. "You should have heard of it."
"So it's that," the Jin Supreme said quietly. "But why couldn't I sense it before?"
"Because of the Hidden Spirit Pearl," Lin replied.
Realization dawned. "I never imagined it would be those two. No wonder I failed to detect it for endless years."
Lin ignored his sighing. "I'll refine the Hidden Spirit Pearl now. Once I'm done, you can deal with the Web."
He didn't want the Web—but he had to have the Pearl. The Jin Supreme could refine it too, but it would take long; during that time the Web would reconnect to the Pearl, wasting his efforts. Knowing this, the Jin Supreme was forthright: "Refine it. Get that thing out of here." In his eyes the Pearl wasn't of much use; freedom mattered most.
Lin kept the Pearl wrapped in World Jellyfish and poured in soul-power, branding it—an initial refinement. With his strong soul, the mark took quickly. He discovered the Pearl was unowned: the Chaos Heaven Worm who had refined it was dead, and the Jin Supreme had never known of it, much less refined it.
In just half a day the preliminary refinement was done. Only then did he see the Pearl's true face: a nearly transparent bead, inside and out etched with intricate, natural patterns—mysterious beyond words.
Lin drew the Hidden Spirit Pearl out of the stele. He could see it; the Jin Supreme could not. As soon as it left, Lin stowed it away and said, "You can refine the Spider-God Web now. Once you're done, you gain another supreme treasure—and you can detach from the stele and be free."
Joy glinted in the Jin Supreme's eyes, though his tone stayed even. "That Calamity brat did not lie to me. I'll keep my word—I won't trouble you, nor be his enemy henceforth. His formation is there—go on, refine it."
With that, he eagerly set to refining the Web and ignored Lin. After endless years of confinement, nothing mattered to him more than freedom.
With this, Lin finally exhaled. Facing the Jin Supreme without knowing the outcome had been a headache; if he couldn't solve the Supreme's problem and they fought, Lin likely wasn't his match. He might survive, but he could be trapped in the Antarctic and never reach the formation. Fortunately, it was resolved—and Lin gained benefits. The Hidden Spirit Pearl was hugely useful: with it, even Dao wouldn't readily know what he was doing unless it specifically targeted him. His safety rose dramatically, and he could act with fewer scruples. Little Tree and Chaos Seed wouldn't need to keep hiding, either. In all heaven and earth, very few things could foil Dao's sight; the Calamity Scepter was one, and the Hidden Spirit Pearl could do so to a notable extent—and in some ways was even more useful.
Lin placed the Pearl in his soul-world; his soul-flame roared as he began refining it. Pure soul-power–wise, he was little inferior to the Chaos Heaven Worm of old; full refinement would still take ages—at least ten thousand years. But Lin had an edge: the World Jellyfish. With its help—and with Little Tree feeding him essentially limitless soul-power—the refinement would accelerate greatly. Not ten millennia, but a bit over a hundred years should suffice. And as refinement progressed, his soul-world's concealment would only grow stronger.
While his soul refined the Pearl, Lin flew out from the stele toward the Calamity Supreme's array. The stele was colossal; though the formation looked close, it was still a long way. Lin had Xiaopeng carry him—not to save time, just out of laziness. After several days in flight, they reached the formation.
Space around it was twisted. Lin sensed a spatial conduit between the array and the stele—the array was continuously siphoning power from the stele. That power came from the Chaos Heaven Worm, the Ancient-Wild Progenitor Worm, and Jinri God-Lord; strong, but still of the third tier. Too low to be of real use against Dao. Yet the Calamity Supreme must have had his reasons; it wasn't his way to "settle for less."
"Let's go in and see."
Lin drew runes and deftly opened the formation, stepping inside. Its structure resembled the ones he'd seen before. He found the center and entered the core zone. There stood a faceless statue. As Lin arrived, it spoke in that familiar voice:
"My inheritor, you've finally come."
"Drop the act," Lin said flatly. "You know perfectly well."
The familiar voice sounded a bit embarrassed. "Just kidding—don't be so serious."
The will the Calamity Supreme had left in the statue was strong enough to link all the array statues; he'd long known Lin would come, yet still put on a show. Lin was unimpressed.
"All right," Lin said. "Do you actually have something to say, or just a greeting?"
"A few things," the Calamity Supreme replied. "You find it odd I set a formation here, don't you?"
"I do," Lin nodded.
"It's actually simple. In that era there was a power called Primordial Genesis Qi."
Lin started. Why bring that up? Was this array tied to Primordial Genesis Qi? But by the Calamity Supreme's time, it should have been long exhausted.
Before Lin could think further, the Calamity Supreme continued: "Primordial Genesis Qi is the most fundamental stuff of all heaven and earth. Sadly, we were born too late—it was gone. However, within the Insect Stele I found a wisp of lingering Primordial Genesis Qi. So I racked my brains to erect a formation here—to siphon that wisp."
He explained his reason for placing the formation, surprising Lin: why would any be left, and how did he find it?
"How did you know it was Primordial Genesis Qi?" Lin asked.
The Calamity Supreme chuckled. "We old monsters have roamed the Chaos Ancient Wilds and gathered plenty of goodies—and learned much of what once happened. Among us, Primordial Genesis Qi isn't some big secret, and I have the means to identify it. No need for the extra details. Just know this: that residual wisp in the stele—I already took it. Besides that, I refined the stele's power back to essence—some was carried off by the array, and I left another portion for you. It's in the pool ahead. If you don't mind, soak in it—it'll do you good. All right, I'm off. Until we meet again."
A spatial portal opened; the statue flew in and vanished.
The Calamity Supreme had deliberately stayed to tell Lin this—odd. Why tell him about the Primordial Genesis Qi? To justify himself? That didn't fit his character. More likely he was hinting at something else: there should still be remnants of Primordial Genesis Qi in the Chaos Ancient Wilds. If he could recognize and acquire it, he must have truly seen it somewhere.
Lin quickly arrived at an answer: "Not in the Chaos—in the Ancient Wilds." The Calamity Supreme had seen Primordial Genesis Qi there. But why not take it directly from the Ancient Wilds and instead go to all this trouble with the stele? Perhaps what he saw in the Ancient Wilds was a projection across time and space. Either—or both—could be true. Lin felt the Supreme was telling him to make a trip into the Ancient Wilds, and go deep. There lay certain secrets. That's likely why he repeated, pointedly, that he had walked the Ancient Wilds and the Chaos.
But why would the stele contain a remnant of Primordial Genesis Qi? Lin tossed the question to Little Tree.
The answer was simple: the Hidden Spirit Pearl had absorbed Primordial Genesis Qi but never formed a spirit, so it hadn't fully digested it—a trace remained. The Calamity Supreme noticed and drew it out. Which meant he had already known of the Pearl's existence back then—maybe not what it was, but that something was there—and knew that removing it would solve the Jin Supreme's problem. Hence his confidence in setting the formation and leaving the opportunity to Lin.
"A deep game," Lin sighed, and turned his gaze to the pool ahead.
The array had run here for untold years, drawing unimaginable power from the Insect Stele, then refining it and stripping impurities to leave only essence. Part went with the array, for future use; another part was left here—apparently for Lin.