Chapter Thirty: Level Two

Within the divine realm, shrouded in a mantle of godly power, the figures of Largas and Cules manifested, their spiritual pressure radiating outward without the slightest restraint. Witnessing this, the surrounding shadowy souls could not help but feel a tinge of envy. Among them, one particularly imposing figure stood out—a burly man whose aura ranked foremost among all the spectral soldiers. This was Bag.

Bag was the very first whom Chen Ming had redeemed, a man of considerable might who held undisputed preeminence among the spectral ranks, both in seniority and strength. Above his head, a faint crimson strand of fate stood erect, pulsing gently, now even stronger than before.

Chen Ming nodded inwardly at this sight. “Bag,” he called.

“My Lord.” Bag’s eyes brightened at the summons, and he hurriedly bowed in reverence.

“I appoint you as vice-commander of this place,” Chen Ming declared in a tranquil tone. Instantly, a divine force cleaved through the domain and enveloped Bag before all present, aiding his transformation.

After some time, Chen Ming surveyed the three before him and nodded in satisfaction. Through the baptism of divine power, all three had shattered their limits and reached the first rank. Upon their heads, each bore a crimson strand of fate, wreathed in a faint red aura of fortune.

This particular red was unique, born of their own strength, and thus was exceedingly stable. Encircling it was another, more diffuse aura—fortune earned by their command over the ghostly soldiers.

But that was the extent of it. Chen Ming felt the vast depletion of divine power within himself and mused in silence. The crimson fate signified first-rank power; thus, their breakthrough had been relatively unimpeded, free of bottlenecks by fate’s design.

Even so, the drain on his divinity was like mountains and seas. If they sought to ascend further in the future, their very fate would become a formidable barrier—an immense bottleneck impeding them.

Yet, should their faith be truly devout, offering worship day after day without fail, subtle influence could allow their fate to break through. He gazed at the three, pondering thus.

There exists a mutual resonance between god and believer: if a follower offers ceaseless, heartfelt devotion, drawing ever closer to the divine, their essence is slowly transformed by the god’s own nature. Even one with a pure white fate who achieves the faith of a saint—utterly aligned with the divine—can be reborn with a royal violet fate.

At that thought, he shook his head. Though faith can reshape fate, the requirements are daunting indeed.

With such thoughts, after issuing a few final instructions, Chen Ming departed.

Returning to the tribe, he was drawn by a powerful force tugging at his soul. Before long, he stood beneath his true body and was taken aback by the sight before him.

On a vast plain stood a towering ancient tree, reaching a hundred meters high, radiating an aura of clarity and tranquility, silently protecting the land for several leagues around. But unlike his memories, the tree now bore dozens of blossoms, each quietly blooming, and faintly, world-source energy coiled about them as if nurturing something within.

Stunned, Chen Ming realized after a moment that within each blossom, slumbered a gentle, nascent consciousness, familiar and dear. Tendrils of world force wound around each, and as he attuned his senses, he perceived that each blossom was unique—surrounded by wisps of elemental energy.

Some consciousnesses burned hot as flame, others flowed gentle as water, each incubating a different element of nature.

Astonished, he sensed the resonance deep within himself. In his true spirit, a fragment of the natural divinity trembled, releasing an aura that echoed with the ancient tree.

As this aura surged forth, one blossom, wrapped in natural elements and teeming with life, suddenly burst open, releasing a flood of vitality. At that instant, world-source energy surged into it, condensing the bloom into a small fruit.

The fruit was pale green, about the size of an egg, etched with faint patterns and radiating the same divine glow as that within Chen Ming himself.

He froze, and then, as his fragmented divinity spun rapidly, synchronizing with the tree, he looked up at the dozens of unique buds upon his true body, a flash of understanding dawning.

Every divine office, every divinity, is formed from countless strands of divine nature. The office of Nature, strictly speaking, is but a rule governing the world’s order. It encompasses not just the growth of flora, but all elements—earth, wind, water, and fire.

The dozens of buds upon the ancient tree, in a way, represented the many aspects of the Nature divinity. But as Chen Ming’s natural divinity contained only a single strand, only one flower could bear fruit.

“World…” he murmured, gazing at the enveloping force of the world, his emotions complex.

Then, his soul began to glow, slowly merging back into the ancient tree.

The moment he returned, it was like entering the womb; a profound warmth and surging power flooded his being. In the depths of his true spirit, the broken divinity trembled, its contained divine nature wildly agitated, greedily absorbing the world-source energy pouring in. The ancient tree’s body stirred, and transformation began.

Chen Ming suddenly felt an unprecedented fatigue, drawing him into a deep, fated slumber.

Outside, the ancient tree waved gently in the wind, standing in silent vigil.

Far away, beneath a mighty waterfall, a robust, middle-aged man stood tall, a faint green tree-shaped mark upon his brow. With a single punch, he shattered a demon beast before him, his expression cold.

Suddenly, he was seized by a sensation from deep within, as if his very bloodline was about to undergo a profound transformation.

He paused in surprise, turning instinctively toward the tribe, sensing the familiar aura of the ancient tree. “My Lord…” he whispered.

Perhaps due to the foundation laid by his previous transformation, this time Chen Ming slumbered only a few days.

A few days later, his divine soul began to awaken.

He gazed blankly at the world, feeling for the changes that had occurred. Advancing to the second rank had not wrought enormous change, but his fragmented natural divinity had grown more consolidated by the support of world-source energy during his ascent.

And as his divinity became more solid, he sensed, faintly, many voices calling his divine name from afar.

“Great God of Nature, please keep my child safe.”

“My Lord, you are the supreme deity.”

“My Lord, you are the one true God…”

Prayers drifted to him along the lines of faith, though the voices were weak and indistinct. Only those of the most devoted, the zealots, could reach him as his perception was still feeble.

Such perceptions require a corresponding divine office and divinity. Had Chen Ming only possessed a divine office without true divinity, any prayers to the God of Nature from his followers would have gone unheard.

Now, however, Chen Ming stood in silent contemplation, letting part of his consciousness sink into his divinity, responding to his followers’ prayers one by one.

Then, his soul detached from his body and stepped out from the ancient tree, gazing upon his true form.

The fruit upon his body had grown slightly larger, suffused with a pale green hue and patterned with intricate lines, resonating with the world’s laws.

He sensed that the consciousness within had grown stronger, and, as if aware of his presence, a gentle feeling of kinship came forth, as if greeting him.

He smiled faintly and looked again at the tree.

The massive ancient tree appeared unchanged, but in a place invisible to the naked eye, a faint spiritual light shimmered, with a golden strand of fate standing proudly above, quietly upright.

A golden fate signified the second rank, and already, a faint green aura was beginning to form atop the strand.

Seeing this, Chen Ming nodded, then turned to look in the direction from which he had come.

“It’s about time to resolve things there.”

Sensing his resolve, the world’s power surged and boiled around him.