Tribulation of Desolate Life and Death

The black rocks surrounding Cang are undergoing a transformation that will overturn all perceptions.

Those outer shells, once as cold and hard as Eternal Black Iron, seemingly able to withstand the impact of the Heaven and Earth Laws, are now like ice and snow kissed by the Warm Sun on the banks of an early spring stream, peeling off with a soft, crisp sound, each sound like the soft turning of the gears of time.

The detached stone fragments did not fall to the dust like ordinary pebbles, but instead transformed into billions of tiny specks of light in the void. Each speck of light shimmered with a warm, grayish-gold glow, as if it contained the Power of Desolation accumulated over billions of years. It traced fleeting paths in the void before slowly merging into the surrounding flowing Law Flow, disappearing without a trace, like a prodigal son returning home.

As the outer layers of rock peeled away, the phantom woven from pure Principle gradually emerged—this phantom initially resembled a reflection in ripples under the moon, or a hazy, uncertain reflection of flowers in a mirror, its edges shimmering with a flowing gray light, as if a gentle breeze could scatter it between heaven and earth without a trace.

But as the surging Power of Desolation within him and the warmth of new life continued to merge, collide, and coexist, the illusory figure began to solidify at a visible speed: first, it outlined a torso as majestic as Primordial Mountains, with faintly visible human-like solid shoulder and arm lines, yet at the joints, it produced agile curves full of power like Strange Beasts; then, it revealed interwoven patterns of Principle like a spider web, those patterns like the annual rings of a thousand-year-old tree, layer upon layer recording the changes of time and the cycle of life in the Wild Frontier for billions of years.

Ultimately, the phantom transformed into an ancient form that was neither human nor god, neither beast nor demon. It had no clear face, yet it exuded a majesty originating from the Beginning of Chaos; it had no defined limbs, yet one could feel the weight of the heavens and earth it bore—this was the original, undifferentiated form of the Primordial Chaos Wild Frontier it was first born, the most authentic and pure appearance of this land at the moment it was born from Void.

"The Origin of the Wasteland, after billions of years of waiting, has finally met one who can merge with its Dao."

Cang's voice underwent a complete transformation, no longer the hoarse and grating sound of rusty iron grinding against each other, but instead transformed into a clear echo that pierced through eternity. The sound was like a mountain stream that had been silent for hundreds of millions of years, finally breaking through the shackles of layers of rock and flowing over jade that had been eroded by millions of years. Every syllable carried the warmth of time and the weight of history, resonating in every inch of the Wild Frontier.

He slowly raised his hand, and the Giant Axe that had accompanied him through countless eras and witnessed countless births and deaths was suddenly plunged into the earth. The moment the axe blade sank into the sand, a low rumble that shook the surrounding area exploded outwards, and the Black Quicksand beneath his feet suddenly boiled, like Ancient Giant Python had been awakened, instantly cracking open with countless deep, spiderweb-like patterns.

These patterns spread wildly outwards from the axe's body, covering a thousand miles of territory in an instant. The gray-gold Origin Power surging from the depths of the patterns transformed into thousands of agile dragons, their scales shimmering with the phantoms of creatures from past generations of the Wild Frontier —birds with outstretched wings, running beasts, enlightened cultivators, and tribal ancestors—as they coiled and intertwined, carrying the most core and primordial aura of this land, rushing towards Ren Xiaoyao, as if in worship, or perhaps in merging with him.

The Cyan-Gold Flame surrounding Ren Xiaoyao suddenly surged, no longer the restrained Light Orb as before, but transformed into a pillar of flame that shot straight into the sky, tearing a huge gash in the gray-yellow sky and revealing the deep void behind it.

The Laws of Life and Death contained within the flames were operating wildly, emitting dense and crisp crackling sounds. The sounds seemed to indicate that billions of stars were born and then Annihilation within them, with each flicker representing the beginning and end of a cycle.

The Chaos Cauldron slowly floated out of his body, its flowing cyan-gold aura more dazzling than ever before, as if gathering all the light of the entire Chaos Realm. The cauldron's mouth was precisely aimed at the distant, hazy pillar of light, radiating an aura of longing and resonance.

At that moment, the once tranquil pillar of light seemed to be infused with endless life, suddenly bursting forth with boundless brilliance. The light was like an Primordial Giant Dragon awakening from its slumber, opening its massive maw to spew out billions of strands of Law Light Filaments, each strand containing immense power.

These threads of light, as fine as silkworm silk, contain the power to shatter mountains and split seas, to overturn heaven and earth. Each thread carries within it the memories of life and death over billions of years in this Wild Frontier: the astringent feeling of the first wild grass struggling in the cracks of rocks as it broke through the frozen soil, carrying the most primal yearning for life; the blood-red sunset reflected in the eyes of the last ancient beast lying in the gravel, its life force fading away, revealing endless sorrow and resentment; the ecstatic joy of a cultivator comprehending the Dao in dire straits, the Principle exploding within their body, bursting forth from the depths of their soul, carrying the exhilaration of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon; and the desperate cry of the last member of a primitive tribe, piercing through the sands, filled with longing and reluctance to leave their homeland after the destruction of a calamity...

These memories surged into the Chaos Cauldron like a raging tide, causing the cauldron's azure-gold aura to surge violently, like a boiling ocean, unleashing towering waves. The originally still patterns on the cauldron now opened and closed at an increasingly faster pace, each opening and closing greedily devouring this primordial memory. The light flowing within the patterns gradually tinged from azure-gold to a layer of gray-gold, as if the Laws of Life and Death and the Origin of the Wasteland were engaged in a dialogue spanning countless ages, expressing their mutual loneliness and resonance.

Ren Xiaoyao could clearly feel that the Laws of Life and Death within his body were resonating deeply with the Origin of the Wasteland, like a trickle of water finally flowing into a vast ocean, finding its final destination.

The once clear-cut boundary between "birth" and "death" began to blur, yet within this blurring, a grander and more inclusive order was born—as if the entire Cycle of Life and Death in the Wild Frontier was being reenacted within his meridians, from the condensation of Nebula to the settling of dust, from the sprouting of life to the Annihilation of All Things, endlessly repeating, without beginning Wu Zhong.

"To transcend the Tribulation of Desolate Life and Death, one must enter the Origin Core and personally experience the birth and death of all things in the wilderness."

The ethereal figure of Cang slowly raised his hand, pointing to the distorted Primordial Chaos at the center of the pillar of light, his voice filled with guidance and expectation.

There was neither Dazzling Light nor deep darkness there, only countless tiny Law Fragments undergoing ceaseless Brownian motion: sometimes colliding to produce gray-gold sparks, fleeting yet illuminating a momentary Void; sometimes merging into brief Light Orb, reflecting the silhouettes of Rebirth, carrying emotions of joy or sorrow.

This is the purest and most primitive form of the Origin of the Wasteland, the starting point of all life and death in the Wild Frontier, and also its final destination. It is the beginning of Primordial Chaos before division, and also the end of the All Things Return to One.

Ren Xiaoyao a deep breath, and the Power of Desolation and new life force in the air intertwined in his mouth and nose to create a wonderful rhythm. It was a concerto of destruction and creation, a symphony of ending and beginning.

He took a step forward and resolutely stepped into the pillar of light. In an instant, the world spun around him, and the surrounding scenery shattered into countless points of light. His consciousness was as if it had been thrown into a scalding furnace of time, rapidly traversing through countless bizarre and fantastical scenes, unable to stop.

The Tribulation of Desolate Life descended first.

Beneath our feet lay the earth, recently cooled from scorching lava. The black rocks still radiated a burning heat, and the air was thick with the pungent smell of sulfur and metal, which, when inhaled, almost burned our respiratory tract, causing waves of stinging pain.

His consciousness transformed into the humblest moss, its body merely a thin green membrane, clinging tightly to the scorching cracks in the rock, as if it might be baked dry by the intense heat at any moment.

The sunlight, like countless tiny flames, scorched every inch of his body, bringing indescribable pain; the gale, whipping up sharp-edged sand, was like a thousand tiny knives, constantly lashing at his fragile leaves, almost tearing him apart.

But there was an unyielding obsession in his heart, a primal and instinctive desire for life, a stubborn determination to live no matter what.

Driven by this unwavering determination, he painstakingly and meticulously burrowed his delicate roots deep into the rock crevices, drawing upon the meager, almost nonexistent, moisture and nutrients, searching for life amidst despair.

Countless years have passed—perhaps a thousand years, perhaps ten thousand years, or even longer—and this moss has finally spread into a lush green carpet, completely covering the entire rock. That green stands out brilliantly against the desolation.

It was this tenacious green that attracted the first drop of rain to the Wild Frontier —a crystal-clear raindrop, like the purest crystal, falling with a soft "plop," splashing tiny water droplets on the moss, the water droplets carrying the initial sweetness of life as they rolled down, nourishing every cell.

Rainwater gathered into streams, flowing slowly along the rocky gullies, nourishing the first shrub; after the shrubs grew into a forest, they attracted birds carrying seeds and beasts running about... The chain of life began to turn at this moment.

He witnessed the billions of years from desolation to prosperity: watching the first tribe in the Savage Wilderness build simple dwellings with stones, and the campfire flickering in the caves, igniting the first glimmer of civilization; watching them carve the first symbols on the rock walls with rough bone needles, passing down the wisdom of hunting and the experience of survival from generation to generation; watching civilization gradually take shape in the smelting of fire and bronze, with Bronze Giant City rising from the ground, piercing the sky, the runes on the city walls shimmering with the light of wisdom, and the tolling of bells penetrating thousands of miles of wind and sand, conveying the message of order.

Each blossoming of life, each advancement of civilization, deepens the "life" Principle within him, like the accumulation of towering mountains, steady and majestic, brimming with creative power.

Just as civilization reached its zenith, and the bells of the Bronze Giant City could awaken the slumbering mountains, and the city was bustling with activity and vibrant with life, the Tribulation of Desolate Death suddenly descended like a dark cloud.

Without warning, a massive chasm opened in the sky, and a gray, Power of Annihilation poured down like a waterfall. Wherever it passed, vegetation withered and turned to ash, losing all vitality; rushing rivers instantly turned into dry valleys, their riverbeds cracked like an old man's skin; even the sturdy Bronze Giant City collapsed silently, the runes on its walls extinguishing one by one, like candles flickering in the wind, ultimately returning to Void.

His consciousness transformed into a cultivator guarding the city, clad in Bronze Armor engraved with protective runes, wielding a longsword imbued with his life's cultivation, desperately resisting the World-Ending Power, even if there was only a sliver of hope.

He could feel the Principle within his body burning wildly. His Sword Qi energy soared into the sky, but it was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot, melting away inch by inch before the Power of Annihilation, turning into nothingness.

He watched helplessly as his clansmen turned to ashes in the Power of Annihilation, disappearing completely before they could even utter a scream; he watched as the Principle he had painstakingly comprehended melted away like ice and snow, and his Primordial Spirit felt a tearing pain, as if his soul was about to be ripped apart.

Finally, he fell into boundless darkness, feeling the biting cold of the stars extinguishing, the bone-deep despair of the collapse of the Heaven and Earth Laws, and the suffocating silence of all things returning to Void —a fear that even consciousness was about to dissipate.

The Principle of "annihilation" grew wildly within his body, like a wildfire that devoured everything, colliding most violently with the Principle of "life." The two forces raged through his meridians, almost tearing his soul apart and causing him to cease to exist.

"Life and Death are One Body; how can there be distinction?"

Just as he was about to collapse and his consciousness was about to dissipate, the hum of the Chaos Cauldron resounded in his sea of consciousness. The sound was not loud, but it was like a morning bell and evening drum, awakening his consciousness and bringing a sliver of clarity.

Ren Xiaoyao suddenly realized: in the Tribulation of Desolate Life, the seeds of decay were already hidden behind the prosperity—every brick of the Bronze Giant City embodied the plunder of resources; every war between tribes foreshadowed the final destruction, and life contained the cause of destruction.

In the depths of Annihilation Tribulation of Desolate Death, a new pulse of life is hidden—after the Power of Annihilation dissipates, life still lingers in the cracks of rocks, and beneath the ashes, seeds await their chance to sprout; Hope of Life is nurtured within destruction.

Like the sands of Wild Frontier, today they may be the remains of withered bones, carrying the scent of death; tomorrow, nourished by rain, they may become Fertile Soil for grass and trees to grow, giving birth to new life. Birth and death are inherently a cyclical process.

He no longer resisted the clash between the two Principle, but instead actively guided the "life" and "death" within his body to merge and coexist.

The cyan-gold Laws of Life and Death and the gray-gold Origin of the Wasteland rotated within his body like Yin-Yang Fish, intertwining and transforming with each other, You in Me the Me in You, forming a wondrous balance.

The patterns on the Chaos Cauldron revealed a timeline of life and death over billions of years in the Wild Frontier: from Nebula coalescing into stars, to stars burning out and turning to dust; from the first signs of life appearing on the Savage Wilderness land, to the rise and fall of civilizations over time; from the bustling activity of prosperous times, to the utter silence of moments of Annihilation, and from the Void after Annihilation to the quiet emergence of new forces...

Every scene was crystal clear, as if he had personally traversed the vast river of time spanning billions of years, experiencing every moment of joy and sorrow, every birth and death.

The Chaos Cauldron suddenly contracted, transforming into a stream of light interwoven with cyan and gray-gold, which "whooshed" into his brow and completely merged with his soul.

In an instant, Ren Xiaoyao's figure blurred in the pillar of light, and countless Law Light Filaments overflowed from his body, like millions of threads, closely connecting with the entire Wild Frontier and forming a huge Energy Network.

In the distance, the black mountains began to change visibly: buds of green sprouted from the cracks in the rocks, withered vines unfurled tender green shoots, and even unnamed wildflowers bloomed in the crevices, releasing delicate petals and a faint fragrance; clear springs seeped from the parched earth, their waters crystal clear, turning gravel into fertile Black Soil where they flowed, the fresh scent of growing vegetation filling the air; the Power of Desolation in the air no longer carried a suffocating stillness, but instead flowed with a rhythm of endless life, as if whispering the truth of Cycle of Life and Death, the mystery of balance.

The ethereal figure of Cang raised its head and roared. The roar was no longer suppressed in the slightest, but filled with complete liberation and heartfelt joy. It was like an ancient glacier breaking apart, making a deafening sound that spread to every corner of the Wild Frontier and awakened the sleeping creatures.

As the whistle subsided, his figure transformed into countless points of light, gently merging into every inch of the Wild Frontier land like a spring drizzle—merging into the mountains, giving the rocks a rhythmic breath, undulating with the Heaven and Earth Rhythm; merging into the rivers, allowing the clear springs to flow with lively melodies, playing the music of life; merging into the soil, allowing the earth to nurture vigorous life, Nourishing All Things.

He became the link between Ren Xiaoyao and this land, allowing the Lord of Ten Thousand Wastelands to sense every heartbeat, every breath, and every subtle change in the Wild Frontier at all times.

The Giant Axe axe stuck in the ground now hummed, as if responding to the newborn world. The gaps in the axe were gradually filled by the Power of Principle, and the originally cold metal surface shone with a warm green light, eventually transforming into a staff that was entirely emerald green, full of the Breath of Life.

The staff is wrapped in vine patterns symbolizing vitality, and the vines are adorned with dewdrops condensed from the Principle, crystal clear and refracting seven-colored light; at the top of the staff is a Primordial Chaos- colored pearl, within which flow two kinds of light, blue gold and gray gold, intertwined and not conflicting, which is the core of the Origin of the Wasteland, containing all the mysteries and power of the birth and death of the Wild Frontier.

Ren Xiaoyao slowly opened his eyes, and the scene before him was astonishing: one half of his left eye was a vibrant, golden-blue, like an endless forest in spring, every ray of light pulsating with the Hope of Life, and he could see the phantoms of tender buds breaking through the soil and fledglings spreading their wings, full of infinite possibilities; the other half was a serene, golden-gray, Annihilation scene, like a desolate wilderness in autumn where everything withers, every shadow carrying the weight of time, and he could see the trajectory of Fallen Leaves Return to Roots and stars falling silent, carrying the tranquility of ending.

The same is true of his right eye; the two extreme powers coexist harmoniously in his eyes without any conflict, as if it were meant to be this way from birth, where birth and death are two sides of the same coin.

He gently raised his hand, and the incomplete Star Map in the distant sky began to automatically complete itself: the missing star in the Big Dipper slowly emerged from Void, emitting a soft light, making the outline of the Big Dipper complete and guiding the way; the black mist at the position of the South Pole Star receded like the tide, revealing the long-dormant star, shimmering with a steadfast glimmer, guarding the boundary; the broken Milky Way reconnected, transforming into a dazzling ribbon, the flowing Star River making a melodious "whoosh" sound, as if heaven and earth were softly singing, praising the return of order.

"From this day forward, I shall be the Lord of Ten Thousand Wastelands."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a majesty that penetrated the laws of Principle, clearly resounding throughout every corner of the Wild Frontier and penetrating the depths of every living being's soul.

The ancient beasts slumbering deep within the towering rock strata were awakened by the sound. The primal ferocity in their eyes gradually faded, replaced by submission and peace. They bowed their heads in reverence towards Ren Xiaoyao. The Ancient Runes buried deep underground lit up again, emitting a faint golden light that flowed with the glimmer of protection for this land. The runes combined to form the words "Life and Death in Order," proclaiming a new rule. The newly sprouted vegetation bowed slightly in his direction, as if paying homage to their new master. The entire Wild Frontier was enveloped in a solemn and dignified atmosphere, awaiting a new beginning.

The pillar of light that supported the birth and death of the Wild Frontier completely merged into his body, becoming a part of his power, perfectly integrated with his Laws of Life and Death, inseparable from each other.

The Heaven and Earth Laws in the Wild Frontier began to rearrange around him, forming a new order, with each Principle radiating an aura of balance.

The once grayish-yellow sky was dyed a clear azure, as if thoroughly washed, spotless and without a trace of impurity; the first rays of sunlight pierced through the thick clouds, sprinkling onto the vibrant earth, illuminating a new trajectory of the cycle of Life and Death of All Things —rivers rushed forth, their melodious sounds nourishing the creatures on both banks; grasses and trees grew, stretching their tender green leaves, carrying out photosynthesis; birds and beasts sang joyfully, weaving a natural symphony, full of vitality, everything operating in an orderly and harmonious manner according to the new order.

Ren Xiaoyao took a step forward, his figure appearing like a ghost at the edge of the Space Rift without any hindrance.

He looked back at the revitalized Wild Frontier: the distant mountains were lush and green, waterfalls cascaded down cliffs, splashing up rainbows, dazzlingly beautiful; rivers meandered like silver ribbons, their surfaces reflecting the blue sky and white clouds, serene and peaceful; flocks of birds soared through the sky, their wings cutting through the clouds, flying freely; beasts frolicked on the ground, their hooves clattering over the green grass, full of life and vitality, a scene brimming with life.

He then looked at the Tianyan Continent on the other side of the Rift, where a familiar aura faintly emanated—the calls of relatives and friends, the pulse of his homeland, and memories of the past. A look of understanding flashed in his eyes—the balance of the Tianyan Continent was perhaps closely linked to the birth and death of the Wild Frontier from the very beginning. The two were like two ends of a scale, influencing and restraining each other, neither of which could be dispensed with, and together maintaining a greater order.

He gripped the Emerald Green Staff tightly; the Chaos Pearl at its tip was slightly warm, radiating a gentle power. It was the Origin of the Wasteland responding to his will, as if saying, "Ready, we can set off now to complete our unfinished mission."

"It's time to go home."

Before he finished speaking, his figure transformed into a streak of light interwoven with cyan and gray-gold, moving with lightning speed, disappearing into the Rift in a flash, leaving only a fleeting shadow, like a shooting star streaking across the night sky.

Only on the Wild Frontier land remained, the vibrant sounds of life's revival echoing continuously: the babbling brooks were the earth's joyful song of awakening, each drop of water seeming to count the joy of new life; the rustling of roots and stems stretching through the soil was the rhythm of life, each inch of growth carrying the power to break free from constraints; the calls of birds and the growls of beasts intertwined to create a symphony of nature, each note filled with submission to the new order...