Chapter Thirty-Five: Persona

“What is it?”
A strange sensation swept over him; a change had begun in utter silence, a searing heat welling up from deep within the divine core.
Chen Ming sensed inwardly. Inside him, a complete, ancient divinity suddenly radiated a gentle light. It was not intense, yet it carried with it a vision from some mysterious realm, flooding his mind.
After a moment, the transformation ceased. The once luminous core returned to its ordinary, unremarkable state, resembling a piece of plain jade, nothing out of the ordinary.
Then Chen Ming looked up.
Above his head, a golden thread tinged with azure—his life’s essence—emerged, gathering streams of white fortune that coalesced into golden luck, suffusing the air. Deeper still, a haze of five-colored energy shrouded the thread, condensing into a star-like fragment, unfathomably enigmatic.
Staring at that fragment, Chen Ming was momentarily stunned.
From the void came a faint sense.
He saw a war-torn world, myriad city-states and kingdoms locked in battle, countless heroes wielding their swords on the field, and innumerable totems wreathed in black smoke howling as they devoured the living. The scene was chaos incarnate. Dimly, Chen Ming glimpsed warriors charging forward, shouting the name of the God of Nature, clashing with their foes. Behind them, the silhouette of an ancient tree loomed...
“Is this... destiny?”
Startled, he forced himself to look again, but the vision shifted, different from before.
At the same time, he sensed the world’s power around him growing ever thicker, a mysterious force converging upon him.
As that power coalesced, a certain legacy within his divine core was unlocked, and a thread of enlightenment flashed through his mind.
“This is the authority of a Child of the World...” he murmured, gazing at the dazzling star above his head.
Above, faint ripples spread outward, and a point of starlight flickered quietly, as if condensing the very essence of the world.
This was authority—a right bestowed by a complete greater world, representing its deepest foundation. To possess this authority was to wield a share of the world’s dominion, worthy of being called a Child of the World, invincible within its bounds.
Of course, Chen Ming was far from such terrifying heights; all he possessed was a mere fragment of the complete Child of the World’s authority, his share even less than one-thousandth of the whole.
Even so, it was exceedingly rare. This was one of the most precious things a world could produce, often only born when the world faced great upheaval.
Feeling the authority within him, Chen Ming gently tugged at it.

Immediately, a surge of potent natural energy poured into his body, its aura growing ever more stable. From the third tier, he steadily advanced to the peak of the third tier.
Then Chen Ming opened his eyes. In the silence, the star above still shimmered, though its light was somewhat dimmed from having drawn upon its power.
He stood quietly in place, gazing southward, a great tree swaying behind him.
In the south, guided by some mysterious sense, a thread of starlight faintly flickered, resisting him.
He seemed to see a grand, magnificent palace, where an immense star glimmered, filled with an ancient aura.
With all this done, Chen Ming looked around. He saw faint, clear energy constantly spreading outward from the tree’s trunk, exuding the vitality of nature, gradually purifying the corrupted earth around it.
Seeing this, Chen Ming lifted his head and made his way back toward the tribe.
This time, he chose not to let his soul leave his body again but to remain quietly within himself, letting all settle and condense.

Twenty years later...
In the north, along a rugged path, a large party traveled on foot, trailed by countless horses straining to pull their loads. Behind them followed throngs of people, among whom were some who looked like refugees.
“No matter how many times I walk this road, it never gets any easier,” sighed a burly middle-aged man, stopping beneath a tree ahead.
He glanced forward, then at the sky, then hurried to the rear and said to a leaderly figure, “Alec, it’s about time. There’s a grove and a stream just up ahead—let’s tell our people to rest there.”
At once, the leader passed the word, and a cheer erupted among the crowd.
Seeing this, some merchant caravans behind also instructed their people to stop ahead for a break.
This had long been the custom: after many journeys, everyone knew the routes and the best places to rest. So, upon reaching this spot, many chose to halt and recover their strength before pressing on to the next stop.
Soon, the travelers dispersed, most staying behind while a smaller group continued onward.
Watching the merchants and travelers who did not stop but pushed forward, a plump merchant in a black linen shirt shook his head. “They must be in too much of a hurry. It’s already noon, and the next rest stop is several hours away—what’s the rush?”
“It’s not them, it’s their cargo,” a skinny old man beside him replied, shaking his head.
“Cargo?” someone nearby asked, puzzled. “What kind of goods could be so urgent?”

The old man pointed to the crests on the wagons of some people nearby and explained, “These aren’t merchants like us; they’re buyers sent by the southern city-states and kingdoms.”
At this, several in the group were startled. “Does this mean another war is coming?”
“Heh, is there ever a time without war?” a warrior-like man nearby sneered.
“Last time, a southern city-state sent a caravan and bought five hundred suits of vine armor in one go.”
“Five hundred! Those lords really are rich!” The crowd was amazed.
“But five hundred suits of vine armor is enough to arm an entire city-state. Why would the Church sell them?” someone wondered.
“That's right. I remember some years ago, Patriarch Grama forbade trading in vine armor. Usually, you could only buy one or two at a time. Why make an exception now?”
The warrior, clad in such armor himself, knew its rarity and value well, which was why he was so puzzled.
At his question, the old man gave a soft sigh and replied, “These were sold privately by a large tribe that refuses to submit to the Church’s authority. There’s nothing Patriarch Grama can do about it.”
“Don’t they still have the branches from the sacred tree? Surely, with the power of relics, they could suppress a mere tribe?” the skeptical voice persisted.
At this, the old man nodded. “True, if they used the relic, there’d be no problem.
But first, both sides are followers of the God of Nature. The deity would never permit His power to be used against His own faithful. Second, that tribe doesn’t acknowledge the relic as a gift from the God of Nature; they believe it was taken by the Patriarch from the sacred tree before the deity awoke, and so they don’t recognize his leadership.”
“Nonsense! If that were so, would the deity allow him to become Patriarch?” the warrior scoffed.
“Even so, the Patriarch is powerless. Without force, all he can do is maintain this stalemate,” someone else remarked.
At this moment, a young man, barely of age, looked curiously at the old man. “Sir, you seem to know this area well. How do you know so much?”