Lin Moyu's thinking was simple: don't worry about what might happen to the Chaos Ancient Wilds. Even if they were to be destroyed in the next instant, that would be beyond his control—and beyond his ability to fix. If he wanted to intervene, there was only one path: raise his strength. As long as his strength was sufficient, he could survive even if the Chaos Ancient Wilds perished; stronger still, and he could shelter his family and friends.
He thought of the System in the Life-Forbidden Zone and of the Hongmeng Gem that had drifted there for countless years—proof that the Life-Forbidden Zone was not wholly inaccessible. Besides, he had his storage space, an independent world. He had many avenues of retreat. All he needed to do was proceed step by step, push his strength to the limit, and every problem would resolve itself. Sometimes that's how it is—the more complicated the matter, the simpler the method required.
Little Tree and Chaos Seed agreed: strength is the root; overthinking is useless.
Passing another area where battle had just ended, the blood of countless powerhouses was still hot, and fragments of souls still howled their resentment through the void. Most of the dead were southerners—nearly all from the insect clans. Insects were cannon fodder in the South; their numbers were inexhaustible. Lin had visited the Insect Stele and knew the South's situation well—at the core, the insects existed in staggering numbers. If the sea of insects erupted, sheer quantity alone could crush his undead thralls.
The South–Central war looked fierce, but for the South it was merely the loss of some cannon fodder. Central cultivators had also fallen, but far fewer—and when they died, they were truly gone. The South, with the Stele, could spawn more.
Lin didn't interfere. In his view, life and death are each person's fate. If you die on the battlefield, that calamity was in your fate—if you can't defy heaven, you perish. Even he faced calamities and had to defy heaven again and again to survive.
As he was about to clear the battlefield, a figure suddenly appeared, holding a black vial that drew all blood and souls from the void. From the aura, Lin was certain he was from the North. His realm wasn't high—Chaos Realm, Great Completion—so coming here didn't violate any rules. Beneath his feet hovered a pitch-black sword that concealed his presence—ordinary people wouldn't notice him. Using the Hidden Spirit Pearl, Lin watched him from very close, and the man never sensed a thing.
"Master, should we intervene?" Little Tree asked.
Lin shook his head slightly. "No. I want to see—if their method works, what they'll feel when, after opening the World's Wall, they discover there's nothing to gain. The World's Wall—coveted since ancient times—and for that result? They'll probably cry themselves to death."
A small streak of mischief sprouted in his heart. He watched the man harvest blood and souls for a while, then signaled Xiaopeng to leave. Boring. So long as they didn't provoke him, he couldn't be bothered.
After several more days of flight, massive fortresses appeared ahead—clearly Central Domain God Alliance in style: mobile war-citadels with formidable combat power, garrisoned by large forces—the Alliance's South-pole base. After war broke out, the Alliance purged the South's incursion into the Central, then counterattacked through the Cross-Domain Grand Array and set up this base. Most stationed there were human cultivators, with some other races— all from the Central. Powerhouses were legion; Lin sensed no fewer than a thousand Perfection auras, and among them he found Candle Dragon's presence. Curiously, although Candle Dragon was only Chaos Realm—Lesser Completion, he was in the company of several Perfection experts—because he served the blue-robed old man, a Supreme; status brings privileges.
Ignoring the outer wards, Lin drew a rune; under the Hidden Spirit Pearl, even the rune was invisible. It opened a passage for him. The base's warning formations might as well not have existed. The complex was vast; the Cross-Domain Array lay at the very rear. The Pearl's effect shone: no one noticed him as he slipped straight to the back. After a brief search he locked the array's precise location. Little Tree then acted, threading the stacked space-seams to find the array itself. A rune fell, and Lin stepped inside.
"Who goes there!" a cold shout cracked beside his ear.
Lin turned. A bare-chested middle-aged man glared at him. Lin had stowed the Pearl before entering; he hadn't expected anyone to be inside. Normally, arrivals appear outside the array. The man was a Perfection expert—top tier, very strong.
"Grand Elder of the Central Domain God Alliance, Lin Moyu. And you are, fellow Daoist?"
"You're a Grand Elder?" Suspicious. "Show your identity token."
Lin produced it. The purple-gold gleam was indeed a Grand Elder's mark; such tokens can't be forged. The man relaxed, took out his own—also purple-gold.
"I am Huo Chenzi, Grand Elder of the Central Domain God Alliance. Greetings, Elder Lin."
"What brings Elder Huo here?" Lin asked.
"By order, I stand guard over this array lest anything happen. May I ask Elder Lin's purpose?"
"I have business here," Lin said, "but it's not convenient to say."
Huo Chenzi paused, a bit displeased but kept it to himself. "Then is Elder Lin returning to the Central now?"
"Not yet."
As they spoke, Lin strolled to the array's core, as leisurely as walking a garden path—clearly familiar with its workings. Huo followed, uneasy; his orders were to guard this array—no matter who came, he would watch.
Lin didn't stop him; he chuckled. "Since Elder Huo is so vigilant, I'll take my leave for now."
He traced a rune and triggered the array. It seemed to start up—then, before Huo's eyes, Lin vanished.
"Gone?" Huo frowned. Lin came and went oddly. "Whatever—gone is good." Unable to make sense of it, he sat back down to continue his watch.
Lin hadn't left. He'd briefly activated the array, then hid himself with the Pearl and drew another rune to slip into the array's core—appearing as if he'd been transmitted away.
At the core stood the same faceless statue as before. It slowly turned toward where Lin stood, and a deep voice rang out: "Show yourself."
Lin laughed. "You can even detect this? Impressive."
No one along the way had pierced the Pearl. Even the Jin Supreme couldn't. Yet the Calamity Supreme's shard of will noticed him here. Though this was Calamity's own array core, and Lin understood arrays well, he still shouldn't have been seen. He sensed something off—and gathered a few guesses. He dispelled the Pearl.
"Do you have something to tell me?" he asked.
Sensing Lin's aura, the statue slowly turned back around. "No. You already know the whole matter. I've nothing more to say." As the voice fell, the void twisted and a time-space tunnel formed.
"You may have nothing to say," Lin smiled, "but I have something to ask."
The rippling void stilled. "What do you want to ask?" Calamity's will said, still with his back to Lin, poised to depart. For some reason, Lin felt Calamity had urgent business elsewhere and had waited only for him; now that Lin had arrived, he meant to leave.
"Your will is focused in the Ancient Wilderness, isn't it?"
"Mhm." No attempt to hide it.
"The deepest Ancient Wilderness—" Lin paused deliberately. He felt the slightest ripple in the will within the statue. Expertly hidden—Little Tree and Chaos Seed sensed nothing—but Lin caught it.
"Something has come out of the deepest Ancient Wilderness and is heading toward the Chaos. You can feel that, right?"
After a few breaths: another soft "Mhm," with a hint of relief.
"Do you know what it is?"
"I don't."
"What will it bring?"
"I don't."
"Do you know its exact location?"
"I don't."
All the same answer: don't know.
Lin sighed. "Alright then—go. I'm done."
"Good." The void split; the statue plunged into the time-space tunnel and vanished.
After he left, Lin began refining the array, while the Hidden Spirit Pearl's power shrouded his soul-world. His soul glimmered as he pondered. This Calamity Supreme felt… different. He'd detected the Pearl—something even the Jin Supreme's will hadn't done. Yes, Lin was close; yes, this was Calamity's "home field." But it was still only a shard of will. If even the Jin Supreme couldn't pierce the Pearl, how had this?
If Dao had spotted him, that would be understandable—but this was not Dao. It was merely Calamity's will. The anomaly raised a troubling suspicion: perhaps Calamity's realm was no longer merely "Supreme."
In the known story, the Calamity Supreme had fallen—leaving behind a grand plan and fragments of will. But had he truly died? Lin had never fully believed it. Calamity seemed to have thrown himself into the board—but might there be a board within a board? Why such confidence that a plan spanning countless years would certainly succeed—relying on companions? That wasn't his style. Like Lin, he trusted himself most and preferred to act personally.
A conjecture crystallized: Calamity's scheme ran deeper than anyone thought. He may not have fallen at all. Dao did strike him down back then—faking death under Dao's nose would be nearly impossible—unless Calamity obtained a certain treasure, or went somewhere Dao could not probe. Of places known in the Chaos Ancient Wilds, only the deepest Ancient Wilderness seemed capable of that.
So Lin had paused on purpose when mentioning that depth—and indeed, Calamity's will had rippled.
"Back then, his will-shards were unlinked, so each fragment didn't know the whole story—he even concealed himself," Lin thought. "Now, as his wills rejoin, little tells slip through."
He couldn't be 100% sure, but he was over seventy percent confident: the Calamity Supreme hadn't truly fallen. More: he may have found a way to break past "Supreme."
"No—he's likely already broken through, reaching a tier comparable to Dao. And ten to one, it's tied to the deepest Ancient Wilderness. He saw Heaven's Primordial Qi there, then took the residue from the Insect Stele. His game isn't aimed only at Dao—but at the whole Chaos Ancient Wilds."
The more Lin thought, the more plausible it sounded. Perhaps even the blue-robed elder and the others had been deceived.
Gathering himself, Lin first summoned the Hongmeng Gem, then called Little Tree, Chaos Seed, and Xiaopeng, and laid out his thoughts. He had some confidence, but it was still one man's inference; pooling minds might yield better answers.
They listened and found his reasoning solid—but they had little to add. They were not fools, yet compared to Calamity's machinations, they felt like infants. How could one mind reach so far?
Hongmeng Gem yawned. "What's the point of all that? Just go to the World Origin Point someday and see for yourself."
"What's the World Origin Point?" Lin asked.
"The Origin Point is that deepest Ancient Wilderness," the Hongmeng Gem said. "Every world has one—a place of genesis. This world's genesis is there. What you said isn't groundless; the Origin Point indeed offers wondrous possibilities. It's also lethal: eight or nine out of ten who go never return."
"What exactly is there?"
"Too lazy to explain—and I couldn't make it clear anyway. Go see when it's time."
Lin believed he truly didn't know how to describe it. World Origin Point—the deepest Ancient Wilderness, the true genesis of this cosmos. With the Hongmeng Gem's words, Lin felt his conjecture gained weight: at that time, Calamity likely slipped into the deepest Ancient Wilderness, feigned death, seized a chance, and broke past the Supreme realm. The process must have been perilous—but in line with his character; to reach his goal, he did not fear death.
Now, after countless years, Lin had appeared, and the grand design had begun to move; Calamity's wills were returning and merging.
Softly, Lin said, "The Chaos Ancient Wilds… really are about to erupt into chaos."