Back then, the Golden-Winged Roc was famed as number one in speed—only the Time-Space Boat could edge it out, and even then that boat had many constraints and was, overall, inferior to the Roc. Now that Xiaopeng's bloodline had fully awakened, he once again displayed the Roc's former majesty. Beyond speed, his combat power had surged. Given a hundred more years to fully adapt to his bloodline, he was confident he could solo a quasi-Supreme, and even face a Supreme head-on.
Little Tree and Chaoszi were excited—but only for a few breaths. A vast will crashed down.
"The Dao is here."
It had sensed a change from the depths of the Grand Dao and noticed Xiaopeng's awakening bloodline.
"Everyone, suppress your aura," Lin Moyu barked, and simultaneously pushed the Hidden Spirit Pearl to its limit.
This wasn't Chaos—it was the Ancient Wilds, far from Chaos. The Dao's power wasn't so strong here. Even if it detected them, it might not be able to do much to Xiaopeng. And they had the Hidden Spirit Pearl. As long as they were careful, they could completely avoid the Dao's probe.
They all damped down their presence. Xiaopeng stopped circulating his bloodline; his speed dropped sharply. Little Tree refrained from using spacetime power. In the face of the Dao, making too many moves could backfire—the Dao was very likely the Skyscreen Beast, preternaturally sensitive to spatial shifts; the slightest change could be noticed. Meeting change with stillness was the best strategy.
As the colossal will descended, the void for billions of miles became a prison. It swept back and forth. The Hidden Spirit Pearl did its work; no matter how the Dao probed, it found nothing. Moments later, the Dao's will withdrew, empty-handed.
Xiaopeng exhaled. "It finally left." He'd been tense—if discovered, he'd be dead for sure. Thankfully, they'd fooled it. The ruckus from his full awakening had been loud; as long as they were careful now, there'd be no problem.
Before he could relax, Lin said, "Don't. Keep your aura down. There's more—more."
Xiaopeng blinked—then another vast will descended. It was no weaker than the Dao's; in some respects, it felt even stronger. Like the Dao, it turned a billion-mile stretch of void into a cage and swept it clean. Finding nothing, it left.
"Who was that?" Xiaopeng asked, half-relieved.
"Who else? The Calamity Supreme," Lin said.
Little Tree sighed. "Master's deduction was right. The Calamity Supreme really had a backhand—a scheme within a scheme." He was surprised, but thanks to Lin's prior warning, he'd been mentally prepared.
"Little Tree, can you track the second will's direction?" Lin asked.
"I can't get an exact bearing. Roughly: from the Ancient Wilds, very far away."
"That's enough," Lin nodded. The Calamity Supreme was indeed hidden in the Ancient Wilds—and he'd reached the same tier as the Dao. The Dao and the Calamity Supreme: one in Chaos, one in the Ancient Wilds. Their level was comparable—beyond Supremes, yet not completely beyond; still a step shy of the Almighty level.
More importantly, that descending will confirmed Lin's deduction. He had planned for Xiaopeng's full awakening to occur here in the Ancient Wilds, knowing the Dao would descend at that moment. He was confident he could hide from the Dao—and he wanted to see whether another will would come. If one did, it could only be the Calamity Supreme. That would seal his theory.
Lin stirred a thought and roused the Primordial Chaos Gem. "Wake up. Got a question."
The gem yawned. "Master, this isn't nice. You'll get karmic backlash for this."
Lin could only laugh. "You're a rock—what are you sleeping for? Tell me: if someone surpasses Supremes but hasn't reached the Almighty realm, what do we call that?"
"No such formal realm. Master can name it whatever," the gem said breezily. "Call it 'half-step Almighty'—or 'failed ascendant.' It's just a label; as long as we both know what it means."
Casual—but fair enough. Names are just names.
"Then tell me: if someone fails to break through to Almighty, what happens?"
The Primordial Chaos Gem had seen many worlds—and many Almighties. It thought for a moment. "Two outcomes. One: body and Dao both perish on the spot—not even a chance to reincarnate. Two: more complicated. He survives and gains power just below Almighty—but he'll be shackled by world-rules, because he didn't transcend them. Think of him as stuck in the rules. The rules become a prison and impose all kinds of limits. His actions grow difficult: can't fight at full strength; can't kill freely; can't show himself easily; and so on. The exact limits vary with the degree of failure. There are lots of these types—hard to count. Almighties are rare (one per world), but failed ascendants are many. Their failures differ, but failure is failure, and if they're lucky enough to live, the world's rules bind them."
"Can a failed ascendant try again?"
"Of course. Heaven never seals all exit paths. There's always a sliver of life. I've seen someone fail, lie dormant for countless years, get a heaven-defying chance, then succeed. But such late bloomers end up the weakest Almighties and eventually lose to other Almighties."
The gem's arrogance showed—he looked down even on Almighties. Lin didn't comment; the gem had the standing to be proud—a resident of the Forbidden Zone of Life.
"In this world, if there are two failed ascendants, what happens next?" Lin asked.
"Give me a second, Master—let me take a look." The gem rubbed its eyes. The Soul Gem and Domain Gem on the Calamity Scepter flared, their strange powers seeping into the void: the Soul Gem into the world's 'virtual' side, the Domain Gem into its 'real' side. Combined, they gave the gem a quick grasp of the world's overall state—no fine details, but the big picture. To Lin, it was an absurd ability—he had to deduce for ages what the gem skimmed in a glance.
"Aha. There are three failed ascendants in this world," the gem said.
"Three?" Lin blinked, expression turning odd. "How can there be three?"
"Don't ask me why there are three. There just are," the gem said, shrugging. "I'm not wrong."
"Can you tell who they are?"
"No. My power stops there—unless Master becomes an Almighty; then I can go all-out." As an artifact spirit, it couldn't unleash the scepter's full power without a suitable wielder. "But I can tell this: two of them are ancient—very ancient. The other isn't so old. The two ancient ones are nearly at the end, but a world-calamity seems about to begin. I don't know who'll pass or if any of them can break through to Almighty. If they fail this calamity, those two ancients will die. The other one will live a while longer, but not long—he won't make it to the next calamity."
Lin's thoughts churned. Of the two ancients, one was the Dao. Who was the other? He was from the same era—a peer of the Dao. Back then, the Dao seized the strange flower and thus advanced. How had the other tried? A mystery. The not-so-ancient one was, without question, the Calamity Supreme.
"Will they die of old age?" Lin asked.
"Yes," the gem said flatly. "Because they failed. They're trapped and constrained by world-rules. One of those constraints is time. After failing, they can only live for one great kalpa. Those two ancients likely attempted in the previous kalpa. So this calamity is their last chance. The other tried later, but this calamity is his last chance too; he won't live to the next."
Another tidbit dropped.
"What exactly is a 'great calamity'?" Lin asked.
"Every world has them. It's destiny. A world is born through calamity and dies through calamity," the gem said.
"Details," Lin pressed. He sensed he was brushing against secrets above Chaos and the Ancient Wilds—knowledge likely only the Primordial Chaos Gem possessed.
"Since Master asks so sincerely, I'll tell you," the gem said, basking. "After any world is born, it first undergoes a calamity belonging to the world itself. This decides whether it becomes a living world or a dead world. That's the First Calamity—the Life-and-Death Calamity. If it becomes a dead world, then that's that—nothing follows. At the next calamity it shatters entirely or becomes a 'world remnant,' a treasure trove for Almighties.
"If the world survives that first calamity, it becomes a living world and begins nurturing beings to bear the Dao. As living beings grow and strengthen, the world is gradually perfected—then comes the Second Calamity. This is the World-Origin Calamity, also called the Living-Beings' Dao Calamity. In it, countless beings die; their deaths coalesce into strands of Dao that fully complete the world. Those Daos become the world's origin—the foundation for future beings. In this calamity, survivors are one in ten thousand—almost none. But there's one ray of hope: a chance for beings to break past the world and become Almighties. In this world, they clearly missed it. Two tried—failed—but lived on, with another chance: the next great calamity. If they succeed, Almighty; if they fail again, they wait for death.
"There are many such existences. And by past experience, those who fail rarely sit and wait. They do crazy things. Quite a few worlds were destroyed that way. Easy to imagine—if you can't live, why mind others? Go mad and gamble on a way out."
"So we're facing this world's third great calamity now," Lin said. "How many can a world endure?"
"Varies by world. Each calamity injures the world. Some worlds only manage three—if no Almighty emerges, the world weakens and collapses. Some are born strong and endure many. The strongest I've seen lasted nine. It was too strong—after nine calamities without birthing an Almighty, it still shattered."
"What about our world?" Lin asked.
"This world isn't strong—at most four," the gem said. "But it depends. If those two ancients fail and then go berserk, this very calamity could end the world. That's likely—I've seen it many times. Master, be ready." The gem, unusually, sounded concerned.
Lin feigned being moved. "Thanks. One more thing. I once saw a scene—someone used the Calamity Scepter to smash people, and the five gems separated from it. Do you know about that?"
This had long puzzled him. The gem claimed it had always wandered in the Forbidden Zone, yet in the Calamity Supreme's memories he wielded a complete scepter to strike the Dao. The two didn't align.
"I know. I separated on purpose," said the gem.
"Why?" Lin didn't understand why it would voluntarily split off from the scepter.
"It went like this. When I left the Forbidden Zone and came to this world, its Second Calamity had ended not long before. Its Dao had only just formed and was weak. To adapt, I did my best to suppress my power. No matter how I suppressed it, I was still too strong. I tried for a long, long time—no success. I had to put myself to sleep and let time grind me down. Later, someone got me. Some guy used me to club people. I woke up—everything I'd done went to waste. I was angry. I was still too strong, and the world began to reject me. So I had to split myself apart—each part going its own way—waiting for the day we could reunite."
So that's what happened. The scepter wasn't shattered by the Dao; the Primordial Chaos Gem split it by choice. That finally resolved Lin's old doubt. At the scepter's level, the Dao shouldn't have been able to do anything to it—let alone smash it apart.
"Aren't you afraid of being scattered for good?" Lin asked.
"Not at all," the gem said, brimming with confidence. "We're bound by causality. No matter how long we're apart, we'll reunite in the end. That's fixed. Can't be changed."
Lin believed him. "So back then, if you'd wanted, could you have clubbed that guy to death?"
"No," the gem answered emphatically. "Couldn't have."