Chapter Sixteen: Hongjun Seeks Opportunity, the Great Dao Calls

Hongjun listened carefully to what Morningstar had said, calculating it in his heart. Fate did indeed reveal that his opportunity to attain the Dao had already appeared in the primordial world; he simply needed to seek it out himself.

Joy blossomed in his chest, and he bowed to Morningstar with sincere gratitude. “Thank you, Daoist Brother, for your guidance. I am deeply indebted to you!”

Morningstar smiled gently. “Go, then. Remember: never force anything. When the time is right, all things will fall into place of their own accord.” With a casual gesture, he dissolved the island’s enchantments, and Mount Fangzhang once again emerged from the mists of the primordial world.

Hongjun bowed deeply once more, then turned to Fuxi and his sister and inclined his head. “My friends, I shall take my leave.”

Fuxi and his sister hurried to return the courtesy. “Daoist Brother, please don’t stand on ceremony. Your opportunity is precious—go without concern!”

Saying no more, Hongjun’s figure flickered and vanished from Fangzhang Island.

After Hongjun’s departure, Morningstar beckoned and summoned the little spirit, stroking her head with gentle affection. “These years, have you blamed your brother for not taking you out to play?”

The little spirit blushed, darted a glance at Morningstar, then quickly averted her gaze. “With Sister Nuwa for company, I have been very happy. How could I ever blame you, brother?”

Though her body remained childlike after tens of thousands of years, her mind had matured greatly from spending so much time with Nuwa and Fuxi. She no longer threw herself into Morningstar’s arms in search of affection at every idle moment.

From her conversations with Nuwa, she had learned that the fierce beast clan had attacked her, causing Morningstar to eradicate their entire tribe in a fit of wrath, sparing not a single survivor. This knowledge only deepened her attachment to Morningstar.

Yet, with her newfound maturity, she was too embarrassed to cling to him as before, keeping her devotion quietly in her heart. Over time, that attachment grew tinged with something more, and she found herself growing shyer in his presence.

Morningstar failed to notice this change. In his heart, he still saw himself as the man from Earth, believing merely that the little spirit had grown up and was too shy to be so close anymore. He felt a father’s pride watching his daughter mature, mingled with a faint sense of loss.

Nuwa, observing the little spirit’s expression, sighed inwardly. She understood well what it meant, and her heart ached with bittersweet emotion.

After countless years together, although Morningstar was often unpredictable, Nuwa—who had seldom interacted with other men—had unwittingly let a thread of feeling wind itself around her heart for him. But before she could make any progress, the little spirit’s situation arose, leaving her at a loss.

When Nuwa turned to look at Morningstar, she couldn’t help but laugh. Before her stood Morningstar, stroking the little spirit’s head with fatherly pride, while the child herself blushed and hung her head—a scene more reminiscent of a loving father and filial daughter than anything else.

Fuxi, standing aside, cast Nuwa a puzzled glance. He saw nothing particularly amusing.

Ignoring her brother, Nuwa sighed to herself: Let it all follow its natural course. She knew well how important the little spirit was to Morningstar.

“Little spirit, your brother may need to leave for a while. Would you like to come with me, or would you rather stay here on the island?” Morningstar asked gently.

At first, hearing that her brother was leaving, the little spirit panicked. But when he asked if she wished to accompany him, her heart settled. She asked curiously, “Where are you going, brother? Will you come back?”

“Of course I’ll return—this is our home,” Morningstar replied with a smile.

Nuwa, who had been anxious at the thought of his departure, was also reassured by his answer to the little spirit.

After some thought, the little spirit responded firmly, “Brother, I don’t want to go out this time. I want to stay here with Sister Nuwa and focus on my cultivation, so I can become a quasi-sage soon.”

Morningstar was surprised. He’d expected the little spirit to follow him, but instead she chose to remain. “Why the sudden interest in cultivation? With me here, no one would dare bully you!”

She bowed her head in silence, shyly thinking: Only by reaching the quasi-sage realm can I truly grow up, and always stay by your side.

Nuwa could watch no more. She pulled the little spirit away and rolled her eyes at Morningstar, muttering, “Come, little spirit, let’s go. Ignore this blockhead!” With that, she led the child out.

Morningstar scratched his head in embarrassment and asked Fuxi, “Did I say something wrong?”

Fuxi shook his head. “Not at all.” The two exchanged a glance, each at a loss for words.

“By the way, Daoist Brother, do you have business on this journey? Do you need my help?” Fuxi asked with curiosity.

Morningstar shook his head. “Just a small matter, nothing for you to trouble yourself with. I only ask that you and your sister look after the little spirit for me while I’m gone.”

Perhaps for Morningstar, the matter at hand really was trivial. But if Fuxi knew what he was actually planning, he would have been terrified.

Just the day before, as Morningstar slept, his spirit was suddenly stirred—a strand of grandiose will from the primordial chaos, transformed into the Great Dao, had run into a problem it could not solve and had no choice but to contact its original self.

This time, Morningstar was heading to the world where this Great Dao resided, to resolve the issue—and, while he was at it, to sightsee in another world. How could he pass up such a twofold opportunity?

Fuxi replied, “Of course. I shall ensure the little spirit’s safety.”

Morningstar nodded, produced a jade talisman, and tossed it to Fuxi. “This is the controlling token for the island’s grand formation. I leave everything in your hands.” With that, his figure flickered and faded into the void.

Unseen by Morningstar, at the moment of his departure, the little spirit seemed to sense it from afar. She looked toward the place where he had vanished, murmuring, “Brother, when you return, you’ll see the grown-up me. I’ll be waiting.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

A pair of gentle hands brushed the tears from her cheeks, pulling her into a warm embrace. “Don’t worry, little sister,” Nuwa whispered. “Big Brother Morningstar will never abandon you.” In her heart, she added: If only you knew how important you truly are to him.

In the chaos of the void, a figure flickered—a young man in peculiar attire appeared. It was Morningstar.

He glanced at himself, having used the power of the Great Dao to traverse a vast distance with a single step through chaos, yet had only covered a fraction of the way. At this rate, by the time he reached that grand world, solved the problem, and returned, the next Dragon-Phoenix Calamity would likely be over.

After a moment’s thought, he slapped his forehead and released a surge of purple light. His sealed might and will broke free, and he became the Lord of the Primordial Chaos. In a flash, he vanished into the depths of chaos.

Meanwhile, after leaving Fangzhang Island, Hongjun wandered the borders of the primordial world, searching for his opportunity to attain the Dao.

A dozen years passed in the blink of an eye. Hongjun gradually discerned the current state of the world: the three great clans stood in a delicate balance, rife with conflict, destined for war.

He sensed his chance for enlightenment lay hidden within the coming calamity, yet his calculations revealed nothing further. With no better option, he returned to his own abode on Jade Capital Mountain.

Upon his return, he found his sanctuary deserted save for the cave where he cultivated. The loneliness pressed upon him, and thoughts of Fangzhang Island stirred a longing to renovate his own domain.

Several years later, he surveyed the Taoist temple he had constructed and was well pleased. With a casual flourish, he inscribed the plaque above the entrance: “Purple Cloud Palace”—the very place where, in ages to come, the three thousand greatest powers of the primordial world would gather to hear the Dao.

Had Morningstar and Fuxi been present, they would have recognized the architectural style at a glance. The Purple Cloud Palace bore the unmistakable influence of Morningstar's designs, resembling an earthly villa in some respects.

Looking at the palace, Hongjun felt something was missing. After a moment’s reflection, he realized it lacked the vitality of people.

In a flash, Hongjun appeared atop Kunlun’s summit. There, two blocks of jade had long absorbed the essence of heaven and earth and awakened to consciousness. Hongjun nodded in satisfaction, pointed once, and the jade transformed into a boy and a girl of about seven or eight years old. As soon as they assumed human form, the two children bowed to Hongjun. “We greet you, master!”

“From now on, you shall be called Haotian,” he said to the boy. To the girl he said, “And you shall be Jade Pool.” With a wave of his wide sleeve, he brought the two children back to Jade Capital Mountain to await their destinies.

As for Morningstar—after resuming his form as Lord of the Primordial Chaos, he instantaneously arrived in a different region of chaos. At the sight of this place, his brow furrowed; this chaos was unlike any other. Where all other chaos was a dull gray, here it was utterly black—a blackness so profound it seemed to devour all light, as if threatening to swallow everything.

As Morningstar surveyed the darkness, a figure appeared before him. “Greetings, Lord of Chaos!” A man in scholar’s robes bowed deeply.

“Rise,” Morningstar said indifferently. “Tell me about your situation here.”

The scholar was puzzled. Wasn’t the Lord of Chaos omniscient? Why would he need to ask?

Seeing the confusion in the man’s eyes, Morningstar slapped his own forehead. He had grown lazy over the years, rarely using his primordial might, and couldn’t be bothered to trace everything back to its source. With a wave of his hand, the endless river of time and space appeared; within it, infinite worlds flickered in and out of existence, and countless beings lived entire lives without ever making the smallest ripple.

Here, the author must clarify: the river of time and space is unique to the Primordial Chaos. Only Morningstar can control it.

Unlike the river of destiny, which any Da Luo Golden Immortal can transcend to gain the fruit of immortality, and which can be observed and manipulated by those who reach the quasi-saint or saintly realms, the river of time and space encompasses all the rivers of destiny in the myriad worlds. Whether mortal, sage, heaven’s will, or even the Great Dao itself, none can escape its flow.

Throughout the entirety of the Primordial Chaos, only Morningstar, who masters the river of time and space, has ever stepped outside it. Even in those worlds where a peerless figure seems to defy the river of time and space, they are merely traversing a tiny tributary.

If any being could truly transcend the river of time and space, only then would they have the chance to stand face to face with Morningstar. Not because he is so formidable—but because he is the Primordial Chaos itself. Without him, the heavens and all worlds would dissolve into nothingness...