Chapter Five: Pangu Splits the Heavens, and the Primordial World Emerges

After ages of absorption, Chenxing gained a power from the stone tablet that surpassed the wildest imaginings of his past life, even after being steeped in countless fantasy novels. Once this power poured into his body, the memories previously blocked in his mind were also fully assimilated.

It turned out the dreams Chenxing had since childhood were not mere illusions—they were glimpses of his truest self, existing within the primordial cosmos. There had never been any actual crossing between reality and the primordial world; all universes, including the one he called reality, had been born from the primordial cosmos. Dreaming was akin to a traveler returning home—the journey itself being the river of time and space.

Now, Chenxing finally understood that he was not his parents’ biological child. He had been the Lord of Primordial Chaos since the dawn of creation; whether chaos or the ancient wilds, there were countless worlds, but only one primordial origin—absolute and unique, source of all.

The purple bead at his brow was his companion from birth: the Heart of Primordial Chaos, his true body as the Lord of the Dao.

As for why he appeared on Earth, it dated back to his reign as the Lord of Primordial Chaos. In ruling all realms, there existed but a single, impartial consciousness. As the primordial matured, many chaotic spaces split off, but whether these would birth worlds and life depended on the primordial’s judgment.

Whenever a chaos was ready to birth a world, the primordial would shatter the barrier derived from its own heart, releasing boundless creative energy into chaos. This creative force would nurture a Child of the Dao, destined to split the heavens. The Lord of Primordial Chaos would then bestow the infinite laws required for the flourishing of all things. Yet, as those who split the heavens went against fate itself, they were beset by calamities; failure meant sacrificing themselves to complete the Heavenly Dao.

This was why, in his dreams, Chenxing witnessed the shattering of a purple space—the primordial’s first judgment, when the ancient wilds and chaos were born.

After countless worlds had split from chaos, the primordial finally noticed that every creature, in every world, experienced joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure. Though supreme, the primordial could only watch coldly, maintaining order and the cycle of creation and destruction. Over time, a new consciousness arose, splitting off threads of divine will into countless beings to manage the various chaotic worlds—thus the Dao was born.

Once the Dao managed the chaotic worlds, the primordial used its might to create a small world outside the river of time. When this world birthed life and matured, the primordial sealed its own power, transforming it into a stone tablet placed in the Heart of Primordial Chaos, severed its great will, and incarnated as a newborn soul—joining the small world, which was Earth, to experience the full spectrum of mortal emotions through countless reincarnations.

By cutting off its great will, the primordial left behind all that was past, becoming something new. Thus, Chenxing, upon regaining his memories, was in truth the new Lord of the Dao.

At this moment, Chenxing understood that he truly was not his parents’ child—merely an abandoned infant picked up by his father, Chen Wei, and raised as their own.

He gave a bittersweet smile. Though he was the Lord of Primordial Chaos, his past had been cut off; his true memories consisted only of these nineteen years. The old memories were as if read from a book—he knew them all, yet only this life’s memories truly shaped him.

Though now restored to his former might and knowledge, his mind was still that of an ordinary nineteen-year-old. If not for this new judgment of the primordial, which birthed the greatest chaos yet and shook the Heart of Primordial Chaos, drawing him back, who knows how long he would have wandered on.

With this realization, Chenxing’s heart lightened. At least, it was an easy thing to see his parents and sister again. Although his current form could not return to Earth—Earth could not possibly bear his power—once he restored his great will, he could freely control his might and return to any moment on Earth he desired.

With excitement, Chenxing pointed a finger. Instantly, a vast river of time and space appeared across the boundless chaos. The myriad worlds rose and fell within its currents, forming and dissolving in turn. Yet, above one segment of the river, a blue world spun ceaselessly, independent and unmoved by the river’s flow—Earth, existing outside the river of time.

Seeing this planet, Chenxing could not contain his excitement. This truly was his home, though he could not yet return. With a wave of his hand, several streams of purple light shot toward Earth. After a moment’s thought, he sent forth several more, his expression complex as he murmured, “The debt of life is now repaid…” The words were barely audible.

...

On Earth, the Chen family was sunk in grief. Ever since Zhu Feng had returned with news of Chenxing’s disappearance, laughter had vanished from their lives. Chen Mi, his little sister, cried for her brother every day; only with great effort did their mother and aunt He Qian calm her.

That day, after lunch, the family was resting in the living room. He Qian said to Chen’s mother, He Ying, “Sis, I’ll head back first—there’s an issue at the company I need to handle. Don’t be too sad about Xingzi; the police said there’s no news, which means nothing bad may have happened. With Xingzi’s character, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

He Ying sighed and stood up, saying, “All right, go on. I’m fine. I believe Xing’er will come home.” Though she tried to reassure herself, tears glimmered in her eyes. Chen’s father, too, sighed heavily.

Just as Chen’s mother was seeing her sister to the door, she suddenly felt a flash of purple light dart into her body. The discomfort she’d been feeling out of worry for Chenxing vanished in an instant. Stunned, she turned to her husband and asked, “Did you see something just now?”

Chen’s father stared back, equally dazed. “I did—a purple thing went into you.”

“Brother-in-law, you too!” He Qian exclaimed in surprise, looking at Chen’s father.

As the three stood in confusion, little Mi, playing nearby, giggled and said, “Auntie, you have one too! Mi has one as well—it’s so fun!”

The three adults…

...

In a bar, Fatty Zhu was dead drunk, slumped over the counter and muttering, “Xing… Xingzi, where… where did you go? I will… will find you…” No one noticed the flicker of purple light that slipped into his body.

A similar event occurred in a private estate in the capital. In a bedroom, an elderly man with silver hair lay surrounded by medical equipment, his hand on the IV drip as withered as dried bark, sleeping deeply.

Nearby, two nurses whispered. “Sister Wang, do you think Old Gu will make it this time?” the younger asked softly.

“Shh!” Sister Wang raised a finger and glanced around, then whispered, “Don’t ask questions like that—you’ll get in trouble.” She shook her head and sighed.

Neither noticed when a purple light entered the old man’s body, where something miraculous was happening within.

Elsewhere in the Gu family’s estate, a middle-aged couple were also touched by streaks of light. Yet, of all the people affected, only Chenxing’s family actually saw the purple glow—no one else did.

...

Within chaos, Chenxing finished his tasks and, with a wave of his hand, the river of time and space vanished. “With the protection of the Dao’s purple aura, my parents and little sister will be safe from harm. Now, what should I do next?” He tapped his forehead. “Of course—go chat with Pangu.”

Having grown up listening to tales of Pangu splitting heaven and earth, as a true child of China, Chenxing was genuinely excited at the prospect of meeting him. Some might wonder how Earth could have such myths if it was created by Chenxing himself, but as Lord of Primordial Chaos, he naturally knew all that was, is, and will be.

When the original Lord of Primordial Chaos created Earth, countless threads of destiny became entangled with it. While the primordial himself remained untouched by fate, with no cultivators on Earth to absorb these lines, every thread that touched a person’s life became a myth, written by their hand.

Even the Immortal-Slaying Sword Chenxing had before entering chaos was but a product of causality—a sacred object venerated by countless believers, taking form through collective faith, not the true sword itself.

Other legendary artifacts surely existed on Earth, but with the primordial present, there could be no gods incarnate—only artifacts of faith could manifest. When the true treasures of the myriad worlds appeared, these artifacts of belief would naturally vanish. Such was the law of causality, set by the Dao itself. Of course, Chenxing could change it, but doing so would be meaningless—breaking his own rules.

Sweeping his great will across chaos, Chenxing was speechless—how long had he spent absorbing his power? When he arrived, chaos had just formed; now the war of gods and demons had ended, and Pangu’s act of splitting the heavens was nearly complete.

He shook his head, flashed across boundless distance, and arrived at the edge of the primordial wilds. There, he saw Pangu, body towering beyond comprehension, holding the sky aloft with pure energy, feet planted on the murky earth, preventing the heavens and earth from rejoining.

Chenxing didn’t bother to match his size, and instead, with a flicker, appeared before Pangu’s eyes, asking curiously, “So you’re Pangu?”

Pangu, exhausted from supporting the sky, had his eyes closed. At the unexpected voice, he opened them to see a figure the same size as himself—though small, it seemed infinitely vast.

He stared for a long while, complex emotions flickering in his ancient gaze: reverence, defiance, and traces of resentment. “Father!” His voice boomed like a great bell across the freshly formed wilds.

Seeing the giant’s hard features and the tangle of feelings there, Chenxing instantly understood. “You resent me for dooming you to fall in the act of creation, don’t you?” Chenxing said with a bitter smile.