Chapter One: The Ancestor of Heaven and Earth

White clouds drifted across the azure sky. The boundless sea stretched on, vast and hazy, its surface heaving with waves several feet high even in the absence of wind.

Amidst the churning waves, a black reef, roughly the size of a small hall, could be faintly discerned. No matter how the raging winds and towering waves battered it, the rock remained utterly unmoved.

Though it appeared to be an ordinary reef in the ocean, within it a world was concealed—a great island realm. The island was lush with verdant growth, filled with rare and wondrous flora; deer galloped freely, cranes soared through the air, the ground was paved with jade, and lakes shimmered with nectar. It was truly an immortal’s island, a paradise untouched by the world.

At the island’s center, within a lake shimmering with five-colored light, mists of the same hues rose and curled. Dimly visible amidst the swirling aura was an immortal root tree, brilliant and suffused with spiritual energy. Upon its branches hung fruits the size of dragon’s eyes, each glowing in five colors. If one were to count them, there were precisely three hundred sixty-five, corresponding to the full cycle of the heavens. Each fruit seemed to slowly draw in the ascending five-colored mist from the lake below.

The immortal tree did not grow directly from the waters, but upon a small island in the lake’s center. Though diminutive, this isle was formed entirely of innate spiritual earth, providing the nutrients and energy the tree required to thrive.

It was well known that innate primeval earth was the most fundamental spiritual soil, its uses limitless. This spiritual earth derived from it was second only to the original, and wherever an innate spiritual root grew, such earth would be present. Without it, even an innate root would gradually degenerate into something less. Only the innate essence within this soil could preserve the root’s primordial nature.

Upon this island of spiritual earth, aside from the immortal root tree, there stood a great black square cauldron on four legs. Its surface shimmered with a chaotic radiance, within which the birth of worlds and the transformations of sun, moon, mountains, and rivers could be glimpsed. It was truly wondrous, its aura extraordinary.

Suddenly, a faint and distant cry of pain echoed from within the cauldron—a sound so abrupt and fleeting, it seemed almost as if it had never been.

Inside the cauldron was a vast world, surrounded by chaos, pure and turbid energies swirling together to form a unique space. Floating at the center was a large, flat, gray-black stone, like an island of rock suspended in the void.

Seated cross-legged atop the stone was an old Daoist in a bluish-gray robe, his head crowned with a purple cap, three long beards flowing over his chest. His head was tilted, brow furrowed, as if caught in the throes of a nightmare, his body trembling occasionally, his expression shifting restlessly. Who knows how much time passed before the old Daoist suddenly jolted awake with a startled cry.

“Where… where is this place? Qian Kun? Patriarch Qiankun? Am I Qian Kun or Patriarch Qiankun?” the old Daoist muttered in confusion, glancing at his robe and stroking his three long beards in bewilderment, his face twisting between laughter and tears. “No way… Patriarch Qiankun? I, Qian Kun, have actually transmigrated to the world of the Primordial Desolation and become Patriarch Qiankun? Heaven, are you playing a joke on me?”

“This is no joke. This is the arrangement of the system! My master, welcome to the Primordial Dao Proving System,” a cold, emotionless voice, stiff and mechanical, suddenly rang out in Qian Kun’s—no, in Patriarch Qiankun’s—mind.

Startled, Patriarch Qiankun cried out, “Who? Who are you? What system? What is this nonsense?”

“I am not a ghost, but the Primordial Dao Proving System!” the mechanical voice replied, “My dear, do you know why you’re here in the Primordial World? To prove the Dao! If not for proving the Dao, why would you come here?”

Patriarch Qiankun was almost in tears. “Damn it, I never wanted to come to this wretched world! Weren’t you the one who dragged me here?”

“I’ll say it again: the system is not a ghost. I exist only to help my master prove the Dao,” the system replied.

“How will you help me prove the Dao?” At this, Patriarch Qiankun’s spirits rose, and he asked eagerly. Since he had arrived in the Primordial World, he had no choice but to accept reality. As the system said, now that he was here, his only path was to seek enlightenment and become an immortal, a powerful sage, and live freely. But attaining sagehood was no easy feat.

The system replied calmly, “There are many paths to proving the Dao. But if my master seeks true freedom and wishes to become a powerful sage, then you must rely on your own comprehension to attain the fruit of the Hunyuan Golden Immortal.”

“Damn, that’s as good as saying nothing!” Patriarch Qiankun grumbled in frustration. “Tell me first, how did I become Patriarch Qiankun?”

He recalled that not long ago he was a miserable programmer, a shut-in, secluded and working on a game system. Perhaps he had overexerted himself and fallen asleep, drifting off into a long dream in which he seemed to arrive at a world filled with chaos in every direction. Then a giant, dazzling axe cleaved the world, splitting heaven and earth, and a new world was born… The memories were vivid, as if he had lived through them himself, until he awoke in a new identity.

“To inform my master, Patriarch Qiankun was gravely wounded after joining Patriarch Yin-Yang, Patriarch Yangmei, and Patriarch Hongjun in combating the Demon Ancestor Luohu. The system thus selected him as your host, allowing you to seize his body, inherit his identity, memories, and insights into the Dao,” the system explained.

Patriarch Qiankun nodded in realization, muttering, “That explains why my mind has been flooded with so many strange images and memories—they all belonged to Patriarch Qiankun!”

“Your soul has now merged with Patriarch Qiankun’s original spirit. From this day forth, you are Patriarch Qiankun,” the system continued.

“Patriarch Qiankun? That doesn’t seem like a bad identity!” Patriarch Qiankun chuckled softly, then stood and gazed at the world around him, his eyes shining. “This must be the world within the Qiankun Cauldron, right? As expected of an innate supreme treasure, it contains a world within itself. I recall that my other magical artifacts and rare treasures are stored here as well, aren’t they?”

With a thought, light streaked through the surrounding chaos in the cauldron: refining materials, spiritual herbs, rare fruits, and even several innate spiritual treasures.

Most of the treasures were of little interest to him, but his eyes shone when he saw two in particular—a scroll and a ruler—both innate spiritual treasures of the highest quality. The Qiankun Diagram and the Qiankun Ruler, one for defense and one for offense, were the finest treasures at his command.

The rest were mostly lower-grade innate spiritual treasures, with a few of middle grade, which failed to catch his eye.

Both the Diagram and Ruler were already refined by Patriarch Qiankun, his regular instruments, and now he wielded them with ease. After reacquainting himself with them, he stored the two treasures within himself to nourish them with his power and spirit, tidied up the other materials, and then left the cauldron with another thought.

Appearing suddenly on the spiritual earth island beneath the immortal root tree, Patriarch Qiankun gazed at the Qiankun Cauldron, which radiated a formidable aura, and reached out to caress it. With a thought, he stored the cauldron within himself. This was, after all, a supreme innate treasure and would be his foundation in the Primordial World.

“I’d best sort through my memories and insights into the Dao first,” he murmured, then sat cross-legged beneath the tree, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.