Chapter 83: Awakening

In the North, as time trickled by, the once-scattered strands of fate—like loose sand—began to stir, gathering steadily into a single point. From there, they streamed ceaselessly into a slender pillar of the heavens, illuminating a single star above with dazzling brilliance. Supported by this newfound power, the pillar surged in size; the domain of its influence radiated outward, gradually spreading across the northern lands and expanding its reach.

Yet with the pillar’s expansion, in the South another pillar, this one blood-red, began to undulate as well. A subtle, fated antagonism flickered into being, setting the two pillars in implicit opposition.

Two tigers cannot share one mountain.

Throughout the North, though countless starlit fragments of fate were sown and nurtured, only these two pillars were vast enough to echo the celestial will. Under the mysterious guidance of destiny, they instinctively began to tug at one another, vying for dominance in the confined northern realm, each striving to suppress the other.

As they drew closer, within the blood-red pillar, wisps of black miasma churned and rose in frenzy. Gradually, the hulking shape of a wolfish beast—ferocious and savage—took form. Around it swirled a haze of blue and violet, and within its wolfish eyes lay profound violet light and the force of destiny itself, unleashing a thunderous roar.

Opposite, within the other pillar, an ancient tree coalesced, draped in hues of green and purple, though far less intense than its adversary. Its branches swayed gently, releasing a breath of clear air.

The two clashed; in a single instant, the ancient tree was overpowered, retreating beneath the might of the other's potent fate. Yet behind the tree, a glimmer of pure, white faith slowly emerged, enveloping the ancient tree and shielding it closely.

With this newfound aid, though the ancient tree remained at a disadvantage, it finally gained a sliver of resistance, standing hidden within the pillar, enduring under the radiance of faith as it struggled against its foe.

And as time crept onward, the balance began, little by little, to shift.

In the North, as the tribes one after another pledged themselves to Yadis’s cause, subtle changes were set in motion.

...

In a hidden corner of the unseen world, there lay a divine realm, unchanging through the ages—a place steadfast through centuries of upheaval, a witness to countless cycles, yet ever constant. Within it stood an ancient tree, lush and towering, exuding an air of dominion over the world, as the energies of fate quietly brewed upon its boughs and subtle transformations unfolded.

With a ripple of destiny, the long-dormant tree shivered faintly. Its branches danced with the wind, trailing threads of the world’s primordial essence. Deep within, a slumbering consciousness began to stir.

As the tree absorbed the endless flow of origin force from its surroundings, a divine light seemed to flicker in the unseen. In that radiance, Chen Ming opened his eyes, awakening from a long and dreamless slumber.

At his return, the tranquil natural energies nearby erupted into wild motion, surging and roiling, drawn irresistibly to him as if recognizing their sovereign and bowing in worship. Beneath the flood of nature’s power, a darker current—tinged with the scent of blood and slaughter—also began to ripple, spurred to restlessness by an overarching will.

“Fifteen years… so it has been,” Chen Ming murmured, unable to suppress a soft sigh at the scene before him.

Fragments of memory, guided by the thread of his true spirit, streamed into his mind. From the moment of his rebirth, to his early campaigns and battles, the recollections of his avatar Yadis’s fifteen years of life surged within him.

After a while, once the memories had settled and been safely absorbed, Chen Ming felt no sorrow or joy. He simply reached out with his senses, quietly aware of the changes time had wrought.

Time flies; the years slip by like a shuttle’s thread. Fifteen years—the span of a generation. To a being such as he, a god, it was but a fleeting instant; but for mortals, it marked the journey from youth to middle age, from old age to death.

Through the unseen threads of faith, Chen Ming could clearly feel that in the once desolate northern wilderness, countless followers of his now prayed and chanted in silence. With their prayers, an immense force of belief poured ceaselessly toward him, transforming into pure divinity. His divine form shone with crystalline clarity, radiating a serene, profound light that cleansed the space for several meters around him into a realm of purity.

“So this is the radiance of divinity,” he whispered.

It was the knowledge passed down from the inheritance of the godhead. Only those who had grasped true divinity, who had set foot upon the path of godhood and attained profound comprehension of a certain law, could, under the right conditions, manifest this sacred light—a sign of the birth of a divine being.

In a sense, only with this divine radiance could one be said to have truly embarked upon the path of the ancient gods.

If compared to other systems of power, this would be the equivalent of the fifth rank: when the true spirit first touches the aura of the laws, undergoing a fundamental transformation.

“So, it’s true—I have reached the fifth level,” Chen Ming mused as he explored his own being. Within him, the fifth seal of his godhead had vanished, revealing a core of pure and potent essence.

He looked up, his eyes flickering with light as he studied his own fate. Above his head, his former pure green life-source had disappeared, replaced by a far thicker pillar, green tinged with violet, merging with the surrounding aura and gradually transforming.

Yet, perhaps because this transformation was so recent, the trace of violet was still faint and occupied only a small portion. When the green faded away, leaving only pure violet, that would mark the entry into the sixth level.

“But after reaching the fifth rank, to hope for a transformation as quick as before is no longer so simple.” Chen Ming’s thoughts were calm as he sensed the final, unbreakable seal within his godhead, undisturbed by any ripple of emotion.

After entering the fourth rank, each step forward became a formidable challenge. The leap from the fifth to the sixth rank was especially daunting. At this stage, simply recruiting more followers or gathering more divine power would not suffice to break through; the barrier was far greater than the long climb from mortal to the fifth rank.

“Only if an overwhelming quantity creates a qualitative change, or if I gain at least the greater part of this world’s origin force, will it be possible.” Sensing that last, seemingly indestructible seal in the depths of his godhead, Chen Ming silently reflected: “For beyond the sixth rank lies true godhood.”

“At that level, the true spirit becomes immortal, transcending the three thousand worlds. Unless caught in a calamity that sweeps the entire multiverse, one can exist eternally.”

“And to be at the sixth rank, closest to divinity—called the reserve of the gods—there lies a sliver of hope to ascend to godhood itself. Yet, across the vast multiverse, so few have ever reached that state—how could it possibly be so easy to attain?”