“Think of it like this: a world on the brink of collapse is like an old man on his deathbed—spent, drained, with no hope left. But the birth of a world is like a newborn—seemingly weaker than the old man, but brimming with possibility. Anything can happen here.”

  Her heart gave a small tremor. “You mean… I could achieve anything in this place?”

  “Yes. Do you want to reclaim this land? Become the god of a world? Rule this space as its master?”

  Lauren: “…” The words were seductive, far too familiar somehow—like a trap she’d heard before.

  Edmund pressed on. “While this realm has no owner, find the Weak Tree and seize its heart. I’ll show you how to fuse it into your body.”

  Her pulse jumped. “How does this compare to the Hidden Mist Secret Realm?”

  “The Hidden Mist was owned, long ago. This one isn’t. Which do you think holds greater potential?”

  Lauren remembered what he had once said—the master of the Hidden Mist Secret Realm had died, leaving the place adrift. That was like buying a second-hand house where someone had died in it. This, however… this was brand new.

  “This one’s better,” she said quietly.

  “You’re not stupid,” Edmund said.

  “Thanks,” Lauren muttered dryly.

  “You don’t seem very grateful for such a great favor.”

  Lauren: “…”

  “Isn’t it a favor? You’re getting the chance to fuse fragments of a world’s origin into your body—something human cultivators have dreamed of for ages. If you succeed, you’ll be the first.”

  Her heart skipped again. The first human…

  “I’m giving you a free, fully furnished single-room apartment,” Lauren added. “Otherwise, you’d still be squatting in that miserable Sky-Covering Valley.” Lauren snorted to herself. That’s his idea of a great favor.

  “…I don’t understand half the crazy things you say,” Edmund muttered, baffled.

  Ahead, the lightning grew fiercer. Dodging cautiously was no longer enough—if one of them slipped, they’d be blasted.

  Fortunately, their cultivation protected them for now. At worst, their hair stood on end, but the deeper they went, the stronger the thunder became. A single unlucky strike could pulverize them. They had no choice but to pull out every lightning-warding talisman and artifact they had to endure it.

  Edmund’s words rang in Lauren’s ears. This was what the beginning of a world looked like. Downstream, there had still been life, but the further they went, the more barren it became. Ahead, massive cracks yawned open across the ground.

  Some of the largest fissures were cloaked in mist. Dante leaned over one, wondering aloud what lay beneath—until Edmund whispered to Lauren: That’s the Void. Fall in, and with your cultivation, you’d be crushed to dust instantly.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Lauren shivered. The thought of it chilled her more than the lightning.

  At the dawn of a world, the earth was still unstable. Gaping wounds split the land apart. In time, those wounds would heal. But for now, each step was taken on fragile ground, with nothing but thunder above and the Void yawning below.

  Lauren was on edge. Fearing that the ever-curious Nash might pull another stunt, she grabbed a Fishwife’s Eyeball and tossed it ahead of them.

  The thing hit the ground with a wet thud and shattered into glittering fragments.

  Until that moment, Lauren hadn’t known where the Weak Water’s vortex sent things—but now she did.

  The three men jumped, faces blanching. “What… what the hell was that?”

  Dante’s expression darkened. “The Void.”

  “The Void?” Nash echoed.

  “Yes,” Dante said, voice low. “It’s unstable as hell. Look around—lightning everywhere, thunder rolling nonstop. There must be violent wind currents below. Anything that falls in gets torn apart, body and soul.”

  Nash and Westin instantly stepped back, wide-eyed, and took the long way around.

  The further they walked, the hotter the air became. Even through their boots, the ground burned. Ahead, bubbles rose from fissures in the earth, and molten pits gurgled, spitting lava.

  “What the—what’s going on?” Nash muttered, staring at the glowing landscape.

  Dante and Westin looked toward Lauren for answers.

  “Ms. Lauren,” Westin asked uncertainly, “you’re sure there are trees here?”

  Lauren, reassured by Edmund’s voice in her mind, nodded firmly. “Yes. There are trees.”

  Nash gawked at the molten ground. “Trees? Here? The whole damn place is cooking—any tree would’ve been ash by now!”

  “These aren’t ordinary trees. They’re sacred. Don’t compare them to common weeds.”

  “…Right. Sacred trees,” Nash muttered under his breath.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Lauren said.

  “Along the Weak Water?” Dante asked.

  She nodded.

  Curious as ever, Nash glanced at the bubbling river beside them and crouched. He stuck a hand in, only to jerk back instantly. “Hot! Damn it, it’s boiling!”

  “What now?” Dante called back.

  “Nothing! I’m fine! Just—uh—boiling water. Keep going!”

  “Then stop poking at things!” Dante snapped. “You’ll kill yourself before anything else does.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Nash grumbled.

  They pressed on. Between dodging lightning strikes, leaping over lava bursts, and enduring the blistering heat, it was pure torment.

  Even with protective robes and their Core Formation strength, the air felt like fire. Their throats were dry, their lips split, and every breath burned.

  Lauren, unable to watch them suffer, drew out her remaining flower dew, chilled it into ice water, and passed it around.

  After a few grateful gulps, everyone’s color improved.

  Westin, whose water-and-wood spiritual roots made him especially vulnerable, was practically steaming as he talked, though he bit back any complaints. Nash, of course, had no such restraint and grumbled every few minutes.

  Lauren’s eyes drifted to Dante. His entire body was glowing faintly gold, and with sweat pouring down his skin, he looked like he was melting.

  “Dante… are you okay?” she asked.

  “Huh?” He wiped his brow, blinking. “Yeah, Ms. Lauren, what’s wrong?”

  “You’re glowing.”

  He glanced down and chuckled. “It’s fine. I can handle a little heat. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  Thanks to her Immortal Roots and her affinity with ice, the temperature barely fazed her.

  Seeing the others suffer, she gathered her spiritual energy and conjured a small orb of ice for each of them.

  The three men cradled them like treasures, the relief immediate.

  In that burning wasteland, those tiny ice balls were the most beautiful things they’d ever seen.

  Even as they walked, everyone kept glancing at Lauren. She’d been their backbone this whole trip.

  “We don’t know how long this journey will take,” Westin said, worry creasing his brow. “Ms. Lauren, you need to conserve your strength. We’re all depending on you.”

  Lauren smiled faintly, though she could feel the dryness in her throat and the weight in her limbs. Edmund’s calm voice echoed in her mind: You’re almost there.

  She still had no idea how he knew that—but she clung to it anyway.

  “It’s fine,” she told them. “I can hold on. Just a bit longer, and we’ll reach it soon.”