Chapter Forty-Four: The Primordial Celestial Mirror

Although the Vitality Fruit could replenish Wood’s rapidly depleting true essence, the energy it restored was swiftly consumed again by the runes threading between his fingers. Anxious, Wood was grateful he had stocked up on both this fruit and the so-called “Miraculous Beans.” Without hesitation, he grabbed a handful of Vitality Fruits and shoved them into his mouth.

In that instant, true essence surged within him, never ceasing. Yet Wood suddenly perceived he was no longer inside the burial chamber, but adrift in a boundless chaos. Before him, the primordial mist was cleaved by a beam of light; pure and ethereal matter drifted outward, spreading through the vastness of space, while the heavier, turbid matter slowly settled and gathered, forming spheres or olive-shaped masses.

A phrase surfaced in Wood’s mind: “Heaven and earth were chaos like a hen’s egg, and Pangu was born within. After eighteen thousand years, heaven and earth split open, with the pure rising to form the sky, and the impure sinking to become earth.”

Abruptly, Wood understood—this was the moment of creation, the opening of heaven and earth. But how was he able to witness such a cosmic event? He came to his senses only to discover his dantian had been utterly drained of true essence, and all the Vitality Fruits in his mouth were gone. Alarm gripped his heart: he had stumbled upon a rare and fateful opportunity, but his strength was insufficient—he now faced grave danger.

The woman nearby noticed Wood’s shifting expression—joy, then worry, until finally his entire body was devoid of true essence and even the last spark of life seemed ready to depart him. Clearly, he was in peril. Her own hope for escape rested with him; she could not simply let him die. Yet, as a primordial spirit whose physical body was bound by the Dragon-Pillar, she was powerless to act—her anxiety mounting as she watched him falter.

Suddenly, she looked up at the seven-colored fungus growing upon the coffin. Though unsure of its nature, her instincts told her it was a rare and precious treasure. Summoning her power, she plucked the fungus and placed it into Wood’s mouth.

The seven-colored fungus melted instantly on his tongue; a fragrant, sweet liquid surged into his mouth, and a warm current rose in his depleted dantian—a thread of golden true essence was born. This was no ordinary essence; as it circulated within him, the energies of heaven and earth poured madly into his body.

Moments before, Wood had feared a lack of true essence, but now it was as if he would be crushed by the overwhelming influx. The thread of golden essence swelled, forming a sphere, and finally burst apart—just as chaos had split at the dawn of creation.

Time lost all meaning. Wood felt as if he floated in the vastness of the universe, an observer at the birth and flourishing of the cosmos, quietly comprehending the mysteries of heaven and earth. For a moment, he felt all creatures lay within his grasp, yet also as insignificant as ants...

After what felt like ages, Wood finally opened his eyes. Now, with each breath, he could stir the primordial energies of the world; immense power coursed through him.

He realized he had tried to use his cultivator’s arts to carve divine runes from the silver tablet into the jade bead. Instead of engraving the runes into the bead, he had somehow imprinted them directly into his mind.

The words “Heavenly Mirror of Primordial Chaos” appeared in his mind, followed by the runes operating on their own, forcibly drawing away his true essence like a waterwheel, recreating the origin and flourishing of the cosmos in his sea of consciousness. Wood realized he had unwittingly acquired a wondrous scripture. Though he did not recognize the writing, it seemed the scripture did not require comprehension—it evolved the workings of the universe on its own, inviting the cultivator to sense and understand it.

Immersed in this state for three days and nights, Wood awoke to discover that the true essence in his dantian had transformed: what was once liquefied essence was now all golden. Though he had not formed a golden core, he felt his cultivation was now in perfect harmony with the Dao. Every movement could stir the energies of heaven and earth—a feat that, by his understanding, only a Nascent Soul cultivator could achieve.

“Congratulations, Immortal, on your enlightenment!” the woman said respectfully. She had witnessed how, as Wood stood there, the spiritual energies of the Qinling mountains seemed to gather around him, his eyes shining like crystal, his cultivation wholly transformed. She knew he had encountered a tremendous opportunity.

“The Great Dao, is it?” Wood wondered at what level he had reached. Yet, the Dragon-Pillar before him no longer appeared so mysterious or unapproachable.

“Rise!” With a single gesture, the towering Dragon-Pillar flashed with golden light and began to shrink, inch by inch, revealing the buried portion below. Only then did they realize the so-called Dragon-Binding Pillar was, in fact, a gigantic pair of scissors. The scissors gleamed gold from tip to handle, and on the hilt were three large seal-script characters: “Golden Jiao Scissors.”

Golden Jiao Scissors? Wood’s heart leapt. Why did that name sound so familiar? Suddenly, he recalled: in ancient Chinese myths, this was a treasured artifact wielded by Yunxiao, Bixiao, and Qiongxiao, the three female disciples of the Grandmaster of the Sect of the Heavens. But why was it now binding this silver dragon? Wood could not fathom the answer.

Wound around the handle was a lifelike silver dragon—the very woman who had been bound. Wood summoned the scissors, which shrank to fit his palm and landed lightly in his hand. Understanding her intentions, and grateful for the fortune she had brought him, he flicked his fingers, breaking the restraints that bound the dragon.

To tell the truth, even Wood himself was unsure how he now possessed such abilities. The silver dragon coiled around the Golden Jiao Scissors suddenly opened her eyes. The woman’s form merged into the dragon’s body. Then, from the hilt of the scissors, a stream of silver light shot out, and a small dragon emerged, unfurling itself to a length of five or six zhang—much smaller than the dragons of legend.

The silver dragon rolled and twisted in the tomb chamber, then transformed back into human form, prostrating herself before Wood in gratitude. “Thank you, Immortal, for your mercy.”

“Enough. All is as fate decrees. Were it not for you, I would not have received such an opportunity; and without this opportunity, I could not have undone your bonds.” Wood said, helping her up. “Besides, I am no immortal—just a cultivator, still far from the realm of the true immortals.”

“Three days ago, perhaps you were a cultivator, but now you bear the blood of immortals.”

“What?” Wood was startled.

“Immortal, look at the wound on your finger. The blood that flows is golden—that is immortal’s blood!”

Wood looked, shocked to find that although the cut on his middle finger had healed, the blood clinging to it was golden and emitted a faint, exotic fragrance.

“Why has this happened?” Wood worried. If all his blood turned gold, would he not become a monster?

“All immortals’ blood is like this,” the woman replied. “As to why, that I do not know.”

Wood pondered. He was no longer an ordinary person; if his blood became golden, so be it. Besides, she said it was a good thing.

“You are free now. What do you plan to do?” Wood asked.

The woman replied at once, “Three days ago, I told you that if I survived this ordeal, I would serve as your mount, Immortal.”

Three days? So I have been in meditation for three days, Wood thought. Then he said, “There’s no need for that. Though I helped you escape, it was you who brought me this opportunity. In truth, I should thank you.”

But the woman fell to her knees, pleading, “Immortal, I was bound to the Dragon-Pillar for thousands of years—my powers nearly lost. As you see, my true form is only five or six zhang long, and my abilities greatly diminished. If I venture out now, I’ll surely become a prize for cultivators everywhere. I beg you to take pity and shelter me.”

Wood realized she was likely telling the truth. Hadn’t Lu Daoxuan suggested entering the Magic Plane to hunt dragons and bathe in their blood to enhance everyone’s strength? Granted, there seemed to be no cultivators on Earth, so the little dragon’s fears were perhaps unfounded. Still, no matter how Wood tried to persuade her, the little dragon only begged to stay with him. Considering that the world was not as it once was, and her appearance would surely cause a sensation, he relented. “Very well. Rise.”

Delighted, the woman prepared to bow, but Wood stopped her. “We’ve spoken so long, yet I don’t even know your name.”

“I have no name, Immortal. Please grant me one.”

“How can you not have a name?” Wood wondered.

“I was once a silver carp, nameless from birth. After becoming a dragon, I was never admitted to the ranks of immortals, so I never received a name.”

Wood laughed. “You’ve had thousands of years to think of one—surely you could have picked a name yourself?”

The woman replied solemnly, “For those of us who cultivate, names are not chosen lightly. They are usually bestowed by a master, elder, or lord.”

“Ah, so that’s the custom. My master never told me that!” Wood said. In truth, his own master, Wanderer Xiao, should have given him an immortal name, but bestowing a name in the cultivation world was no trivial matter. The master would have to inform the sect leader, obtain permission, convene a gathering, and then an elder would bestow the name. Since Wood had only met Wanderer Xiao twice—once when Xiao was busy forming a Nascent Soul, and once when imparting basic cultivation knowledge—this ceremony had been overlooked. Thus, Wood had no idea of the significance of naming in the cultivation world.

Seeing how serious the woman was, Wood dared not choose a name lightly. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Since your true form is a dragon, and as the saying goes, ‘Clouds follow the dragon, wind follows the tiger,’ your name shall begin with ‘Cloud.’” He looked at her and smiled, “Your appearance in human form is as ethereal and beautiful as a fairy in the clouds. How about the name ‘Fairy Among the Clouds’?”