It was like being a living person thrown into a spinning washing machine, with a terrifying whirlpool right before his eyes.
Had Lin Feng not been extraordinary, this single onslaught would have nearly killed him.
A deadly spin.
Everything went dark.
More importantly, time around him kept shifting. Green Mountain finally revealed its true face to Lin Feng.
Someone was speaking.
Someone was beside him.
Strange scenes appeared around him, one after another. Lin Feng felt only dazed. Without using Heavenly Fire, he forcibly gathered his intent.
Fortunately, gathering his intent
was not particularly difficult.
He struggled to stay lucid, listening to the clamor around him and trying to pick out something useful from all the noise.
"What is this?"
"I don't know what it is, but it can bring us fire."
"Fire?"
"This, this right here. Look, the darkness fears it. Look, the beasts fear it. With it, we'll be safe. We'll be safe."
"This is 'fire.'"
Someone carved a character into the ground. The moment it appeared, the ground began to burn.
"This is what I saw. I just understood. I just understood what it is."
"This is 'fire.' I can finally write it. I can finally write it!"
Lin Feng opened his eyes and saw something nearby. Wait, where was he now?
Looking closely, Lin Feng realized he might be inside a cave, but outside it, someone had already written an Incantation Script on the ground.
Or perhaps it was merely a single character.
"Fire."
Observation of nature had ultimately become an Incantation Script: "fire."
Daoism and the Shamans had both inherited the earliest treasures of culture.
An understanding of nature.
Flame, as in fire. When "fire" appeared on the ground, it burned in a way that defied understanding.
The ground was still soaking wet.
A torrential