He released the Du'e Boat again and drew the Ancient Wilds Gold over. When the boat touched the gold, that incomparably hard metal actually turned liquid and flowed into the hull. The Du'e Boat blazed even brighter; its old wounds were slowly repairing. At the current pace it would take ten days to be fully restored. Finally, it could be fixed—an old wish fulfilled. Ever since he first obtained the Du'e Boat, he had wanted to repair it when the chance came; now he'd done it.
He looked up into the distance—something was approaching, likely drawn by the boat's radiance. They weren't friendly. The Ancient Wilds' depths are like a colossal hunting ground—the deeper, the more so. Aside from a few special existences, most beings have the instinct to hide themselves; the moment anyone shows their head, others lock on. Right now the Du'e Boat was shining fiercely, its aura spilling in all directions for who knew how far, already attracting lots of attention. The being born from the Ancient Wilds Gold earlier had been the same; it simply didn't fear being targeted—too tough for ordinary beings to handle. The Du'e Boat would be similar once fusion-repair completed, its defense formidable. Lin Moyu could feel the boat's defenses climbing—good. It wouldn't be able to "strut sideways" here as it could in the Chaos, but safety would improve. Ancient Wilds Gold doesn't rely on the dao of the Chaos; its sheer hardness alone could ensure the boat's basic safety here.
As for the curious beings gathering—Lin figured he could harvest another batch. It was a good method; he'd even considered using the glow to bait all those incomplete beings to greatly speed things up. But the Primordial Chaos Gem's warning made him drop the idea: in the Ancient Wilds' depths, there are eerie, terrifying existences he can't contend with. Lure them, and he'll have serious trouble.
Half a day later several fearless beings arrived—only to be greeted by a sea of fire. The Worldburning Flame devoured them, erasing their sentience; what remained were lumps of world-origin primal materials in various forms. Lin couldn't help muttering, "How much world-origin material came here back then? The amount seems… a lot."
The gem said, "The Worldwall poured out plenty of such materials. When this world first formed it wasn't as vast as now; not a few pieces fell in here. In fact, every world is like this. These beings have a common name: Origin Spirits. Their existence no longer serves the world—just a symbol from the very start of its evolution. But there is one exception."
"What exception?" Lin asked, eyes on the distance. More beings were rushing over—another feast for the flame—when they suddenly scattered and fled at shocking speed.
"What happened?" Lin frowned. "Why did they run?"
"Move!" the gem barked. "A big one is coming!"
Trusting the gem, Lin dove into the Du'e Boat and withdrew at once. Moments later he sensed a terrifying aura arrive where he had just been—so strong it felt like facing an Almighty; perhaps stronger than most. Even an Almighty here would likely have to run.
"What is it?" Lin asked.
"That exception," said the gem. "Within the World's Genesis, incomplete beings are called Origin Spirits. But besides them there's a special class. A tiny fraction of world-origin materials are ejected from the Worldwall and drift into this world; for various reasons they travel extremely slowly, reaching the World's Genesis only after ages. While crossing the Chaos, the world's laws nurture them; by the time they arrive, most of their incubation is complete. They finish their final growth inside the World's Genesis—but by then they bear its brand and cannot leave. They are born stronger than ordinary Origin Spirits, wield unusual abilities, can cultivate by absorbing the power here, and gain a fair share of Primordial Dawn Qi. They're called Origin Spirit Kings. In any given world there aren't many—maybe none, or only a few—but all are powerful. Outside the World's Genesis, Almighties are kings; here, the Origin Spirit Kings are kings. Even that 'Heaven's Calamity' you mentioned—until he truly becomes a Supreme—must behave himself here. That half-step won't help; within the World's Genesis, he's no match for an Origin Spirit King."
Lin understood: in the Ancient Wilds' depths, an Origin Spirit King is invincible. Even the current Heaven's Calamity—or the Dao—could at best fight one to a draw, and might well be inferior. Only a true Supreme could surpass an Origin Spirit King and rule and refine an entire world. No wonder the Origin Spirits bolted. Good thing he left quickly, or he'd be in trouble. Could an Origin Spirit King break the Du'e Boat? Lin believed so—the only question was how troublesome it would be.
Perhaps… he could use an Origin Spirit King's hand to level up. A wild thought flashed across his mind—risky, but maybe doable. Problem: Origin Spirit Kings are sentient; they wouldn't necessarily act according to his plan. What if after killing him a few times, one got bored of killing yet refused to let him go? That would be the real disaster. He shelved the idea—for now. Only if he found no other way would he gamble like that.
He told the Primordial Chaos Gem his notion; the gem rejected it at once. If Lin had to court death, this wasn't the way. If he truly wanted to try, better to seek out the Dao or negotiate with the hidden Heaven's Calamity—at least safer than an Origin Spirit King. One can be bargained with; the other cannot.
Lin sighed, "If only there were a mindless Origin Spirit King that knew only slaughter." He knew he was daydreaming.
After hearing this, the gem fell silent, then murmured, "There might be a place that meets Master's requirements."
"Where?"
"The Primordial Dawn Vortex—the vents that spewed Primordial Dawn Qi at the very start of a world's evolution. After the eruption ends, a vortex forms. Outside the vortex is the Forbidden Zone of Life; within the vortex is a trace of the Forbidden Zone's power. If Master goes in, you'll die instantly."
"It won't throw me straight into the Forbidden Zone, will it?" Lin asked. "Once inside, there's no return. No matter how many rebirths I have, it would be pointless."
"There's danger," the gem said, "but if we can find a suitable Primordial Dawn Vortex, it's worth a try." With some hesitation, he told Lin about the place.
Lin felt the gem had… changed. On the surface it seemed the same, but if you listened closely, its tone and manner had subtly shifted—as if beginning with that mirror he'd encountered. Lin concluded something must have happened then, though he remembered nothing. Vaguely he felt he'd glimpsed a past life.
"What are you thinking, Master? Are we going?" the gem prodded.
"Risky, but safer than an Origin Spirit King. Let's take a look—maybe we'll find a suitable Primordial Dawn Vortex."
"Then use the Cause-Seeking Ring to plant a fruit," the gem said. "It'll help somewhat. The ring is under ever heavier suppression—maybe less than one percent of its effectiveness in the Chaos—but a little help is still help."
Lin began planting fruits to seek a Primordial Dawn Vortex. The previous time he'd planted a fruit aiming for the center of the Ancient Wilds' depths; it had "succeeded," but only kept him from flying away rather than actually guiding him to the center. Now the target was clearer: find a Primordial Dawn Vortex. The ring buzzed and glowed for a few breaths, then went dark. No backlash—just some loss of soul power. Failure. "Again." Not unexpected: last time it had taken a dozen tries. With heavier suppression here, the failure rate would only rise.
He planted again and again; each failure consumed soul power. But soul power was the one thing Lin had in abundance: Little Tree kept drawing power from his own storage space to replenish Lin. Ten tries, twenty, thirty—no success. Lin didn't lose heart. For now, the ring was still the best method; even if imperfect, at least it kept him from flying blindly.
Fifty straight plantings—no success. Anyone else would have burned through their soul several times over; Lin was unruffled. Just the replenishment alone made Little Tree a solid bulwark. At last, on the fifty-sixth attempt, a backlash rose from the ring—weak, easily blocked. The suppression here was so heavy that even the backlash was less than one-tenth of normal. Backlash meant success; weakness meant the fruit was poorly rooted—usable for now, but who knew for how long.
A sudden intuition struck; he pointed. "That way."
The ring's fruits are usually silent and traceless—if planted, they will come to pass, leaving no sign. But this time, under layer upon layer of suppression, the ring finally leaked a trace. Lin felt causality flowing. That's how it should be—everything leaves a trail, quite in line with his understanding of the world's dao.
The Du'e Boat headed where he pointed. In this place without clear space or time, who knew how long they flew. During that time the boat finished its self-repair, sheathed in a soft glow. Both defense and speed improved greatly; still slower than Xiaopeng, but around half of Xiaopeng's speed—good enough. And with the new Ancient Wilds Gold fused in, its defense surpassed its old peak; even an Almighty would need serious effort to harm it. As long as he stayed aboard, safety rose dramatically.
After a long flight, Lin finally sensed something unusual—Primordial Dawn Qi ahead, in fine threads, plenty of it—yet strangely flickering, its quantity rising and falling.
"Primordial Dawn Vortices," the gem murmured. "We're here at last."
Eyes closed, Lin felt it and said softly, "There's danger ahead."
"Of course," the gem replied. "One misstep and even an Almighty dies."
He had already explained: during the world's first evolution, the world expands violently; everything starts from the World's Genesis. Vast Primordial Dawn Qi erupts like volcanoes, flooding the world. The Primordial Dawn Vortex is the crater of that eruption. When evolution stabilizes, the vortices stop spewing qi and become whirlpools that persist in the World's Genesis until the world collapses. The far end of each vortex opens to the Forbidden Zone of Life—a conduit linking world and forbidden zone. Every world has them, no exceptions.
No Primordial Dawn Vortex has appeared yet in Lin's personal world, because his world is still in its eruptive phase—Primordial Dawn Qi keeps rising, so no vortex has formed. Vortices can spin either way. Some—though no longer erupting—still blast out such power that no one can approach. Others, with opposite rotation, pull in everything that nears, dumping it into the Forbidden Zone—certain death. A vortex's state can also change, with no pattern. If Lin were sucked into the forbidden zone, he would die without question. But vortices vary in strength; they needed one of suitable intensity—one Lin could resist—so that even if its rotation flipped, he would be safe. Each vortex carries a trace of forbidden-zone power, ruinously destructive—exactly what Lin needs. The problem is judging which vortex is suitable; choose wrong and you die.
The Du'e Boat edged closer. Now he saw them: vortices large and small spread through the void. Primordial Dawn Qi rose and sank within, flashing in and out as they spun. "So many…" There were at least several million, like stars, clustered in groups rather than packed together.
"This is the common type," said the gem. "Some worlds have only one vortex—so vast even a Supreme wouldn't dare approach. Here, Master must be cautious. Ignore the large ones entirely—they're too dangerous. Pick the tiny ones and test little by little." Easier said than done.
As the Du'e Boat drew near, an invisible pull seized it; a vortex had locked on and was dragging the boat in.
"Run! Don't get sucked in!" the gem shouted.