He produced information; Boyang Supreme did the same. This wasn't the sort of thing to brush off with a random treasure. Unless that treasure was on the level of the Cause-Seeking Ring, Lin Moyu would only sneer.
Boyang didn't disappoint. He took out a jade tablet, recorded what he wanted to say into it, and handed it to Lin. "Too much to explain—better if you read it yourself."
Lin swept it with his soul sense. There was a lot—indeed awkward to narrate—and exactly the kind of news he wanted.
First: his wives were all safe. They had been accepted as disciples by the Purple Star Supreme. Each had cultivated to top-tier Perfection; eight together could rival a pre-Supreme. They were helping Purple Star Supreme with something. The tablet didn't say what—clearly no simple task. The Gold Supreme seemed to know a bit and had only said it was dangerous; judging from Boyang's tone, though, it shouldn't be life-threatening.
"You can relax," Boyang added. "They'll be fine."
The jade tablet crumbled to dust in Lin's hand. His expression stayed even. "Which world are you lot exploring?"
Boyang's eyes changed. He was about to speak when Lin cut him off. "Save the explanation—I've guessed it. Even if you can obtain Heaven's Primordial Qi from that world, it's hard to push higher—unless you've got something else in hand."
He said it as a certainty, giving Boyang no room to explain. After thinking over their exchange, Boyang realized where he'd slipped and chuckled. "What a little fox."
"This is something you have to do," Lin said. "If it's exposed, it will descend immediately."
"We're exceedingly careful—and you should be too," Boyang replied. "You had someone shielding you before; that person's gone to walk their own path. Even I may not be able to pull free."
"I don't need babysitting," Lin shook his head. "Everyone just do their job."
"Heh, good. One more thing—those decades you spent in the South: is that business done?"
"It's done," Lin said. "Calamity Supreme's old promise has been fulfilled. In a few hundred years, the Gold Supreme will regain his freedom."
"Good. That's one less enemy. Calamity Dao-friend truly judged the right man," Boyang said.
Lin sneered inwardly. Calamity Supreme had judged Lin correctly—but they were misjudging Calamity Supreme. Even if he bore no malice, fate is fate; not everything bends to will, not even his. There are many things even he cannot fully control.
"Since you're here, I won't trouble anyone else," Lin said. "I'm heading to the North Pole—leaving from Linbei City via the Cross-Domain Array."
"No problem," Boyang smiled. "I'll take you." The North Pole and the Central were already at war; Linbei had been taken over by the Upper Domain, and even Lin's status didn't grant use of the array. He'd planned to slip through quietly; with Boyang here, no need.
Boyang didn't use a teleporter. He produced a flying boat treasure instead. "This sky ark was an unexpected find," he said. "It's damaged now—far from its peak—but still faster than arrays."
Lin could tell it was a Supreme-grade treasure, beyond the Chaos Realm tier, with wondrous abilities. Its level matched the Du'e Ark—both relics born in antiquity from Heaven's Primordial Qi fused with world-origin treasures. The Du'e Ark excels at defense; the sky ark excels at speed.
Boyang infused soul power; the ark pierced the void. Moments later it halted—they were already above Linbei City.
"That fast?" Lin blurted, startled. From Alliance HQ to the Wangbei World takes at least five days by array; Wangbei to Linbei is half a day even at Xiaopeng's speed. This felt like under half an hour—faster than a peak Golden-Winged Roc.
"Not really," Boyang laughed. "We crossed a time-space channel. It felt like a moment, but a day actually passed."
Thinking back, Lin did feel time skew. Even a day was astonishingly fast.
"I'll see you in," Boyang said.
With a Supreme leading, rules bent. The Central Alliance's sticklers folded; Lin entered the Cross-Domain Array without trouble and transferred to the North.
In transit he shrouded himself with the Hidden Spirit Pearl and, in his soul world, asked, "Do you know this 'sky ark'?"
"That wasn't a sky ark," Little Tree said. "Its true name is the Time-Space Ark. It can traverse time and space."
"In those days," Chaoszi added, "the only thing that could match a Golden-Winged Roc for speed was that ark."
"Speed wasn't even its worst trick," Little Tree said. "It could slip into time itself and strike from the past—impossible to read. It could also stir time into confusion, make foes lose control."
"And so what?" Chaoszi sniffed. "It still got wiped out. Great ability, lousy battle power. Ten of its hits weren't worth one of theirs." In short: not enough raw strength. The ark had its spirit scrubbed; now it's merely a fine treasure.
The Cross-Domain Array ferried Lin across the Scar back into the North. With the Hidden Spirit Pearl, no one noticed. The white-robed blocker from before was gone; Central forces manned the site instead—war fortresses floating in the void, countless cultivators on alert, faces grim and edged with killing intent. Yet strangely, Lin felt they weren't strong—and it wasn't illusion; they really weren't.
The Pearl kept him unseen. He slipped to the array nexus and entered. Inside, another Central Alliance Grand Elder stood guard; Lin didn't disturb him, but went straight into the core—and dismissed the Pearl.
The Calamity Supreme's statue slowly turned. "You finally came—sooner than expected. Any questions? If not, I'm leaving."
"When the arrays are complete," Lin asked, "when do you plan to activate?"
The Supreme was silent for a beat. "The decision isn't mine—it's yours." Then he corrected himself. "Perhaps not entirely yours, but the world's fate. I can't give a time. Much remains undone—but it should be soon."
Lin nodded. "I feel chaos brewing. Maybe that's our chance."
"Perhaps," the statue said, and left—identical to the other statues; it had places to be.
Lin stood in thought. "The decision is yours"—with layered meanings. On the surface: when he finishes refining all arrays. Only then would they have the baseline conditions to strike at the Dao. But arrays alone merely annoy the Dao—perhaps not even much. Victory would still hinge on Lin himself. By the Calamity Supreme's plan, they'd ideally wait until Lin reached the Supreme realm; even that wasn't safe. Best would be Lin surpassing a Supreme: tenfold Ascension, ten Realm-Domains, exceeding the Supreme limit to unlock the full might of the Calamity Scepter. Calamity had fought the Dao with ninefold Ascension—the Dao-Sovereign limit—and lost, wounded by the Dao. So it wasn't enough.
Lin had followed the plan—with some personal tweaks. But now he'd spotted an anomaly: Calamity had other arrangements. If he hadn't truly died, there was only one place to hide for so many years—the deepest Ancient Wilderness. Perhaps he found something there and broke past his former realm. Otherwise, how did his will see through the Hidden Spirit Pearl?
What was his true endgame—good or ill?
"Since antiquity's end, Calamity Supreme may be the deepest schemer," Lin murmured.
"If what you think is true," Little Tree said, "then they're the same kind."
"They" meant Calamity Supreme and the Dao. Back then, when their war raged, the Dao appeared very late—near the end, when most were dead or broken. He wasn't the oriole behind the mantis, nor the hunter behind the oriole—he was the shadow behind the hunter.
Lin smiled faintly. "Let's just power up. On one point he's right: chaos is coming, and maybe it's our chance." He meant himself and Little Tree, not Calamity. For now he was still a piece—but one about to fly off the board and strike the player.
He refined the array, back-linking through the sub-array to the main—old hat by now. In just a few days, it was done. All four Cross-Domain Arrays were his; a thought could halt them all.
Once they were his, they changed—linking to each other. Four main plus four sub arrays fused into one network. He could jump freely between any node—North sub to South main, anywhere he wished. Using the network as coordinates, the exact positions of the three remaining grand arrays lit up—not rough bearings but precise marks, with error under ten thousand li (a trivial speck in the void; one of his strides could cover more).
Leaving the Cross-Domain Array, Lin cloaked himself and Xiaopeng with the Hidden Spirit Pearl and flew toward the North's inner grand array. He ignored local teleporters; on the way, he'd finish refining the Pearl, then use Heaven's Primordial Qi to fully awaken Xiaopeng's bloodline. With the Pearl, even a fully awakened Xiaopeng wouldn't draw the Dao's notice. Then Xiaopeng's speed, if not peak Golden-Winged Roc, would rival arrays—saving Lin the trouble of hunting down sites one by one.
Once the Pearl was fully refined, not only would Lin be safer; Xiaopeng could recover his bloodline, Little Tree and Chaoszi could throw off their restraints and fully restore themselves, and later his Undead Thralls—once raised to Perfection-tier combat—could also fight unbound. The Pearl's utility was immense; better to finish it soon.
Along the way, he witnessed battle after battle. War between the North Pole and Upper Domain had fully ignited—fierce fighting with heavy losses. Behind the lines, he again saw the North Pole Supreme act—an avatar with a special treasure harvesting blood and souls from the fields. According to intel, the East would move soon too; when they did, the North Pole Supreme would surely go as well.
Xiaopeng sped through the void toward the North's center. He flew for decades. Refining of the Pearl was nearly complete—one last breath to go—yet that breath wouldn't budge. He had refined nine-tenths, but was stuck on the final tenth, blocked by what felt like a wall guarding the core. Soul force after soul force ran aground. Every trick failed to pierce the Pearl's heart.
"Back then, the Chaos Celestial Worm also failed to fully refine it," Little Tree said. "Seems it wasn't unwilling—it was unable."
"With Master's soul strength, the Pearl should be manageable," Chaoszi frowned.
"The Hidden Spirit Pearl is one of the Heaven-born Spirit Pearls," Little Tree said. "It absorbed Heaven's Primordial Qi back then—never birthed intelligence, but…"
Lin's eyes flickered. "You mean the Primordial Qi in the core never dispersed—condensed into an armor-like shell protecting the heart?"
"Our greatest instinct before we awaken intelligence is self-protection," Little Tree said. "The Pearl would be the same. We gained minds, so we used Primordial Qi better; it didn't, so it used the Qi to protect itself."
If the core's guard was formed from Heaven's Primordial Qi, brute-forcing soul power through it would be hard.
Lin roused the dozy Hongmeng Gem. "That core guard—can you smash it?"
The Hongmeng Gem glanced at the Pearl. "Yes. But once smashed, the Pearl's ruined."
"Uh… can't you smash it gently?"
"Not about force," it said. "The Primordial Qi it absorbed has fused with the body."
Heaven's Primordial Qi hadn't just become armor—it had bonded with the Pearl itself. Break the shell and you shatter the Pearl.
Lin frowned. "Any other way?"
"Of course," the Gem said. "Impossible for others—trivial for you."
If others can't—but Lin can—his eyes lit. "Heaven's Primordial Qi!"