"Zhuanxu" walked into the tangled mass of nature.
His goal had always been clear.
He wanted to find the source of all this. In his view, it had to be inside this mass of "nature," where all the auras were tangled together.
This was the most terrifying place.
It was also the place most likely to resolve "Zhuanxu's" doubts.
The farther he walked into it, the more dangerous it became.
With no other choice, Zhuanxu began to give off an aura resembling nature. It was absurd.
Absurd because this aura should never have appeared on a human being.
This "aura" approached "nature" infinitely closely, to the point of converging with it.
And within this "aura" was an incomprehensible quality of "dismantling."
Dismantling meant separating. He separated the "nature" before him, forcibly carving out a path.
This single, simple act actually contained at least three actions.
Each was as difficult as ascending to heaven.
The first was definition.
First, he had to define "nature."
He had to establish that such a thing existed before him, and what "nature" was.
Which conditions had been created by "nature," and which had not.
Next, he had to distinguish the boundaries of "nature."
To separate a complete instance of "nature," dismantling it into several pieces to weaken its influence—
"Zhuanxu" could not do that.
But separating two instances of "nature" stuck together was relatively easy.
The final step was cutting.
"Zhuanxu" was now stuck on the second step. He had to distinguish the boundaries of "nature." Before his eyes, many instances of "nature" were tangled together. If he had to describe them, these tangled instances of "nature" looked like a brilliantly colored aurora.
Within the aurora were countless dreamlike visions. Things humans could understand and things they could not were all tangled together, leaving anyone