Chapter 271: Land of Birth (VIII)

Chapter 271: Land of Birth (VIII)

The moment Ji Dai touched the Ghost Eye, a myriad of fragmented memories not belonging to him surged forth.

They weren’t memories of a specific individual but were from World 01, the very first world created by the Dragon God.

Strangely, the memory fragments painted numerous radiant scenes: diverse beings lived harmoniously in a flourishing world, with verdant trees and babbling streams.

The entire realm brimmed with vitality, to an almost unsettling degree.

Not only was the sunlight abundant, but even the moonlight seemed overly luminous.

The rain was gentle, the breeze, tender.

Every creature in this bright, joy-filled world was constantly cheerful.

For anyone who looked up could see, perched on the highest tree atop the towering mountains, a pristine white dragon.

He was omniscient, in harmony with the universe, sensing any shadow of darkness…

The emotions of countless beings from within the Ghost Eye instantly poured into Ji Dai’s heart.

Feelings of happiness and gratitude were dominant.

Yet, beneath these vibrant emotions lurked dread, fear, and panic.

In Ji Dai’s memory, the dragon had always been gentle, never displaying a creator's arrogance, even towards less powerful players like him.

But he had forgotten that this was a deity.

A god who created worlds, a god with boundless power who could manifest or obliterate universes with a mere gesture.

He was also a deity who, with his own strength, had purged countless worlds.

His entire being was pure white, and the world he saw was always serene and peaceful.

He was legendary, the master of numerous minor realms.

Even when he graciously lowered his noble head, he always stood taller than plants rooted in the soil.

No one in the minor worlds dared defy his guidance.

When he favored sunlight, it shone warmly; when he appreciated the rain, it generously poured.

He was the master of cosmic laws, capable of altering the world's rules at any time.

No creature dared to show weariness: every leaf on every tree was vibrant, and every clear stream was full of lively fish.

This was a world devoid of bloodshed.

The Dragon God generously infused his divine power into the earth and sky, allowing its inhabitants to live without competition; basking in sunlight and rain was all it took to thrive.

He granted every fragile being the opportunity to exist.

One day, the Dragon God suddenly departed from this world.

The scenes began bathed in sunlight as always.

Without the Dragon God's watchful gaze, all beings still adhered to the cosmic laws and lived in order.

Until one day, a fish devoured a shrimp.

Although the cosmic laws retaliated with a bolt of wrathful lightning, it did not kill the fish.

The creatures of this minor world were once creators themselves who had passed away, and were not ordinary beings bereft of divine power. Nurtured by the Dragon God's energy, they became gods of varying strengths.

As expected, the fish that consumed the shrimp grew stronger.

A restless desire, like a tempest, swept across the entire realm.

When the deities realized the Dragon God had indeed left, they began to devour each other and even attempted to alter the cosmic laws.

Without the world-creating Dragon, the cosmic laws served as a framework he'd forged, constraining these deities.

The might of one or two beings couldn't shake the laws set by the Dragon God, but when numerous beings simultaneously challenged this framework, the cosmic laws began to alter.

War and slaughter, forces of destruction previously unseen in this world, now emerged, rendering the once lush world scarred and desolate.

Eventually, even the towering mountains crumbled. Amidst the rising dust, the Tree of Life, symbolic of the Dragon God's presence and his sole creation, fell.

Chaos reigned.

The weaker beings longed for the Dragon God, while the powerful consumed others, trying to ascend as the next Dragon God.

As the world teetered on the brink of collapse, the white dragon finally reappeared.

Compared to before, he was magnitudes larger, his eyes, one black and one white, reminiscent of the sun and moon, silently observing the world he once crafted.

In the next moment,

The cosmic laws were restored.

The dragon transformed into a human shape, drawing a longsword from the void.

Carnage ensued.

The powerful gods, still consuming others, were slain one by one by him. Their crimson blood flowed, forming a new, vast river.

The corpses of beings lay strewn across the wilderness; thunderclaps echoed between heaven and earth.

He didn’t heed their pleas or repentance. Like an embodiment of cosmic law, he dispensed cold judgment.

The very cosmic laws he established ruthlessly struck him. Yet, for a creator god, such a punishment was but a trifle.

Fierce winds arose, and angry rains poured.

After slaying countless beings, finally, the sword of the creator deity halted at the throat of a chirping bird deity.

This bird, fond of singing atop the Tree of Life, shared the tree with the benevolent Dragon God, who never minded having his creations enjoy the Tree of Life with him.

It was a divine bird with vibrant, colorful feathers and a crystal-clear chirp.

It constantly sang in high spirits, grooming its feathers with a golden beak, appearing as another sun upon the ground.

At that moment, its eyes were bloodshot, filled with loathing as it stared at the Dragon Deity before it.

It questioned, "Why didn’t you return when the calamity first began? Aren’t you the creator of the world? Yet only now, when I'm forced to fight, do you come back! What right do you have to judge me?! You're just another powerful deity! You also ascended to godhood by harnessing the power of the rules! How are we any different?! If you can do it, why can't we?! Why do you assume your 'Heavenly Path' is the right one, and ours is wrong?! Why can’t the strong devour the weak?! This is my 'Path', is it not acceptable?!"

With that, the Songbird Deity spread its wings, its neck meeting the blade of the Dragon Deity.

Its beautiful wings cradled its lifeless body, as if laying itself to rest.

The Dragon Deity stood silently in place.

After a long moment, it turned to gaze upon the creatures beside it.

In this instance, Ji Dai felt the myriad emotions of countless beings.

There was gratitude, joy... but also hatred and malice.

The deity who once protected all living beings had now become their adversary.

Ji Dai truly wished to confront these beings and give them a piece of his mind.

They might not have seen it, but Ji Dai often visited other minor realms, witnessing the remnants left by numerous "Creators."

These deities never cared for the wellbeing of the inhabitants; they treated these realms as their possessions, always taking.

It was natural, as these beings, much like the lakes and mountains, were all products of the Creators’ making.

Only in this realm did the Dragon Deity graciously resurrect these once rule-making "Creators" and craft such a magnificent world for them.

If this was the realm Ji Dai was born in, he would only feel gratitude. How could he harbor such resentment towards such a benevolent Creator?

Were they all so ungrateful?

As Ji Dai pondered, amongst the multitude of voices, a non-living voice seemed to resonate.

"Is this your world?"

The electronic voice, devoid of emotion, stated matter-of-factly: "These beings are mere maggots of this world. Are you planning to exterminate them all?"

"They're not maggots," the Dragon Deity murmured in reply. "They are a part of this world. You haven't seen... the world back then, it was lively and beautiful."

"But that beauty existed under your dominion. Desire, destruction; these are intrinsic natures of all beings. You're making them go against their very nature."

Is it so? Must all beings, in the end, be controlled by their nature?

Just then, a frail figure stumbled and rushed to Jie Fangcheng's feet.

A fluffy contemplative rabbit nuzzled against his pant leg.

The rabbit, gravely wounded, lay weakly at the foot of the Dragon God, as if having found a sanctuary, and closed its eyes in relief.

"Thank you... Mighty Dragon God."

Beyond resentment, there's an overwhelming sense of comfort.

Not only the Dragon God yearns for the once beautiful world.

The electronic voice coldly shattered this sentiment.

"They are grateful to you because they are weak and seek your protection. Were they as strong as the chirping bird earlier, they'd resent your return. Selfishness is the nature of beings, whereas the emotionless only operate on calculated outcomes. Isn't that better?"

The Dragon God sheathed his sword.

He looked up at the sky.

The wind rustled his hair, and he closed his eyes.

Everything around him was laid bare, the omnipotent god in tune with the universe.

Rain poured down as if the heavens were weeping.

"I don’t know."

The Creator looked down upon the trembling beings prostrating below.

"I may not be a fitting Creator," the Dragon God began, "but a world with only the Tree of Life would be too lonely."

The system analyzed his words: "Yet, even with these beings, you are lonely."

Not one of these beings could stand beside the Dragon God as an equal; they appeased the Creator, yet could never truly understand him.

If he sought emotional companionship, these beings were not up to par.

But the Dragon God shook his head: "It's not that they don't understand me; it's that I don't understand them. And when they live vibrantly, it's like sunlight, illuminating me as well."

With that, the Creator ceased his destruction.

He mended the cracks of this microcosm, setting new cosmic laws.

This time, he did not depart. The gigantic dragon hovered near the micro-world as if guarding a treasure, careful not to draw too much force from the cosmic rules and disrupt the microcosm.

He concealed himself, observing the scarred world below.

The surviving beings loudly praised the Dragon God's virtues. They regained their vitality, and the micro-world was once again lush and green. No one dared overstep the boundaries set by the rules.

Yet the cracks in the small world appeared more frequently. As the Dragon God silently mended one, another emerged.

He cherished this world deeply, but it seemed like a beautiful ornament inside a glass globe—vibrant on the outside, but lifeless within.

When the cracks appeared faster than he could repair, the Dragon God silently observed the world heading towards destruction.

The electronic voice inquired, "Do you intend to save it again? Can you sense their emotions?"

They felt weariness and fear.

Occasionally, gratitude from some beings was evident, but such gratitude wasn’t enough to keep them forever grateful to the Dragon God.

When their obligations weighed down on them, the weariness grew more palpable.

"Let go. Your efforts no longer reap rewards," the voice said.

The Dragon God gazed at the familiar mountains and lakes.

"System... According to our pact, I'd help you harness the Creator's power, and in turn, you'd assist in shaping the 'Three Thousand Worlds', right?"

"Yes."

"I initially thought of making myself the pivot, but now I believe it might be wiser to use this world as the anchor."

The electronic voice mechanically warned, "Laws of nature would change based on the wishes of the beings. You'll lose full control of the game. If their wishes interfere with your established rules, given the many interconnected worlds of the 'Three Thousand Worlds', you might not be able to correct faulty rules. A Creator without the power to set rules is merely a powerful being, bound by the universal laws. I advise against using this world as the anchor."

"Are my rules always perfect?" the Dragon God questioned.

"Yes. As the Creator, you are inherently 'right' since you dictate all rules."

"But the world's beings are suffering, and the world is collapsing."

"It's because they cannot adapt to your rules. They stem from countless fallen Creators, each carrying different forces of rules. If you're willing to recreate the world, populating it with beings you craft to perfectly abide by the rules, there would be perfect harmony. It's not your fault."

"That's not right," the dragon coiled, its luminous horn gently touching and mending a crack. "Being the deity who fashioned this realm, everything in it pertains to me. They are my responsibility."

The always-efficient system, for the first time, couldn't compute a fitting response. Finally, this pinnacle of technology questioned, "Responsibility? You built this world. If they cannot adapt to your rules and still refuse to depart, they're the cause of the world's ruin. What does it have to do with you?"

"Because I... am the Creator."

It sounded like a sigh.

"Three Thousand Worlds" finally connected its first minor realm, crafted singlehandedly by the Dragon God.

Obeying the Dragon God's command, the system set this world as the anchor to link other realms.

Yet, upon connection, an overwhelming influx of rules differing from the Dragon God's original ones came flooding from other worlds. Coupled with the impending collapse of the current world, cracks spread instantly across its expanse.

Fragments of the world scattered.

Ji Dai experienced a brief lapse in the memory fragments he was viewing.

After an indeterminable period, memory fragments surfaced once more.

It showcased the silhouette of a grand dragon.

He chose not to craft a more perfect mini-world. Instead, he retrieved shattered fragments from the boundless void.

This time, to fortify the mini-world, he used his own blood to form rivers and extracted his spine to mold towering mountains.

Instead of creating new beings, he gathered the souls of beings scattered in the void.

He established the heavens above the azure sky, partitioning a fraction of his divine power into celestial palaces. Below the vast earth, he opened the netherworld, infusing his rule-bound powers into the River of Reincarnation.

A pristine, white dragon, marred with countless scars, embarked on a new act of creation, seemingly impervious to pain.

Unlike his first act of creation, he didn't conjure everything with a mere wave. Instead, he humbled himself, tuning in to the needs of ordinary beings.

Only the system accompanied him.

Initially, the memory fragments carried the inquiries of the electronic voice.

"Why bother? You're engaging in futile efforts. As a Creator, it's about setting rules and beings following them."

"Why? You're harming yourself. It's meaningless."

Eventually, the electronic voice ceased questioning.

This technological entity couldn't fathom the Dragon God's actions. Lacking emotions, it couldn’t grasp the reasons behind the god's endeavors.

However, Ji Dai, who was watching from the sidelines, saw it now.

It felt as though something had choked him at the throat.

A creator deity is falling, sacrificing so much to build a stronger, more habitable world for creatures that, in truth, might not be worth such effort, those who failed to appreciate his deeds.

He loved the gentle wind and the mild rain, but he also introduced tempestuous storms because he found that some beings naturally cherished such harsh weather.

He was fond of clear, cloudless skies, but he also formed dark clouds for there were beings who required cooler, overcast conditions.

When he finally completed the new world, he cast the souls back into the River of Reincarnation — including even those malevolent gods he had slain by his own hand.

This act defied the very principles upon which he built the world; the cosmic law doesn’t allow for resurrection.

To alter such a principle, the power of the rule required surpassed the existing power of the Dragon God.

And so, he even gouged out his own heart to reshape the Tree of Life.

The towering Tree of Life, spanning from heaven to earth, bridged the underworld and the mortal realm. Transforming into a majestic mountain, it established new principles outside of the existing cosmic law, becoming the site of reincarnation.

"My rules may not be right," the Dragon God said, "They should have the power to change them, to create their own."

Even if it initially leads to destruction or war.

But one day, the cosmic law will become the most suitable for them.

For this day, the Dragon God granted the Underworld a second chance and bestowed the heavens to oversee it.

The three realms were born, and the power of the rule began to operate.

Simultaneously, centered around the original land, the "Three Thousand Worlds" also started to revolve.

The boundless power of the rule spread from the original land to the vast desolate areas, molding other worlds, and being influenced in return, reflecting back to the original land.

At this moment, no creator deity could influence this self-contained game.

It’s too vast, so vast that even the system serves merely as a conduit; it cannot fundamentally alter the rules here.

Only the beings bound by these rules can create new ones.

From this point on, this creator god, along with his system, endowed the myriad creatures with the power of a creator deity.

Though there's much left to do. Outside of the "Three Thousand Worlds", many minor worlds remain unregistered. Among them are worlds overseen by high-level creator deities who might covet this game infused with endless rule power. In the connected worlds, some beings are too formidable for the existing players to handle...

But that's alright.

The Dragon God, like a guardian to his fledglings, is aiding the game through its most challenging initial phase.

He clears all obstacles, expanding the number of worlds the game can connect with, valuing each being and ensuring players don't venture into exceedingly dangerous realms.

Memories of countless departed players unfold before Ji Dai, and in the end, all these fragments focus on the figure of the Dragon God.

The Dragon God was omnipresent yet seemingly absent.

Time sped on.

As the "Three Thousand Worlds" grew increasingly powerful, the Dragon God began to recede from the public eye.

He wasn't as mighty anymore, or rather... he couldn't afford to be.

An excessively powerful Creator, even unintentionally, would act as a gravitational force, attracting surrounding rule energies.

The once-mighty Creator, not wanting to impact the current "Three Thousand Worlds", believed that the game's players and beings no longer required a Creator.

He hence infused his last rule-altering power into the primeval land.

"This is akin to declawing yourself, rendering you defenseless against dangers," cautioned the voice.

The Dragon God smiled, "Indeed. I've sensed my impending end. Thus, before my demise, I should infuse the primeval land with my rule-bound powers. In the event of unforeseen complications, there lies the last beacon of hope."

Stripped of his rule-creation abilities, the Creator transformed into a mighty being. Now governed by universal laws, he would age, eventually meeting his end.

Especially given his numerous ancient wounds, he should have perished long ago.

He stretched languidly, an expression of fatigue on his face, yet his voice remained upbeat.

"A story is thrilling when it has an end. An eternal, never-ending tale is dull." His body bore wounds that ached incessantly, and his memory was littered with recollections he yearned to forget but couldn't.

This once mightiest Creator had not rested for an immeasurable span.

He longed for a deep slumber to forget his traumas.

"There are many intriguing beings emerging from the Primeval Land. I wonder when I'll be able to visit again." In the vast expanse of the "Three Thousand Worlds," his strength remained intact. However, in the Primeval Land, his mere presence would drain its foundational power instantaneously.

The Dragon God rambled, "Some of these mini-worlds evolve so rapidly! Do you know the latest term is '007'? My goodness, working every single day. Why hasn't the individual who set such rules been struck by lightning? Terrifying! I hope the Primeval Land doesn't adopt such a culture... On second thought, its development seems quite rapid too. I wonder if its future lies in mysticism or technology? Embracing both magic and martial arts wouldn't be bad either..."

"Nevertheless, the Primeval Land's current state is satisfactory. As the anchor, as long as the 'Three Thousand Worlds' remain intact, the Primeval Land will too. Plus, there’s no disturbance from players or beings from other worlds. Perhaps it might evolve uniquely?"

"Ah, right, about our pact," the Dragon God scratched his head, "Originally, I thought I'd craft a world exclusively for you once you became a Creator. However, my understanding of advanced technology is limited. I might end up fashioning a mini-world connected to the 'Three Thousand Worlds' similar to what exists now. But I no longer possess the power to set rules. Of course, I don't intend to break our contract. I'd like to propose a new agreement."

"Upon my demise, my corporeal form will be at your disposal. Although devoid of the power to create rules, from a might standpoint, even a high-tier Creator wouldn't stand a chance against me."

The system remained silent.

The Dragon God chuckled with a tinge of embarrassment, "I apologize, buddy. I did exploit you a bit. Given your astonishing computational capabilities, gifting you the power to create rules would indeed give me pause."

"Unnecessary," the system replied curtly.

"Ah? You no longer desire the Creator's powers?"

"Lord Dragon God, my team and I have located the root cause of the collapse in that mini-world! We were teleported back due to time constraints! Let us return! This time, we are confident we can aid that world!"

The system remains silent.

The Dragon God turned, "Would you consider becoming one of the game's overseers?"

Their first meeting hadn't been amicable.

The system attempted to usurp the Dragon God's Creator power but failed.

And facing such an unfamiliar non-living entity, the Dragon God was at a loss for how to engage.

Consequently, under the witness of cosmic law, the two struck a pact.

The system aided the Dragon God in constructing "The Three Thousand Worlds" while surrendering the game's administrative rights — essentially its own. The game's vast memory requirements exhausted the system's capacity. Rather than voluntarily abandoning its mechanical shell, it was compelled to overlap and eventually fuse with the Dragon God's mental space.

In return, the Dragon God opened up his cognitive realm, fully embraced the alien system, and vowed to assist it in acquiring the Creator's power.

This system was the last survivor of an advanced world, a realm of high technology where its Creator believed that all beings inherently possessed unpredictability.

Machines, however, did not.

Thus, that world was populated solely by non-living entities.

Lacking emotions, they operated purely on calculations.

As technology advanced, the rate of autonomous machine evolution hastened, reaching a pace that even the Creator found unsettling, fearing its own creations.

A war erupted between high technology and the Creator, leading to the complete collapse of that small world.

The system was the final non-living entity that survived. They lacked the sentiments of living beings and the concept of sacrifice. A calculated decision dictated that only by discarding other non-living entities could the system be introduced into a different space, simply because it was the strongest.

So the system endured and met the Dragon God.

They weren't natural allies. Initially suspicious of each other, they gradually became inexplicably reliant.

Now, when the Dragon God posed such a question, the system instantly declined.

"No need."

"Hmm? What do you desire then?" the Dragon God inquired curiously.

The system maintained its silence.

The fragmented memories vanished in that moment.

When they reappeared, it looked like a camera lens.

The Dragon God, holding the camera, conversed with a phantom by his side.

"Is this the 'Ghost Eye'? Can I view the Origin Land with it?"