Chapter One Hundred Forty: Savage Fiends — Stirring Restlessly

Volume Four: The Dao Gives Rise to Myriad Things — Life First Sprouts

Yet behind the flourishing of life, shadows also bred. The Savage Fiends — extreme existences condensed from the residual blight of turbid qi, unlike the chaotic death-qi suppressed in earlier ages yet more violent still — had, across the long years, not perished but gathered strength. Even as life upon the surface flourished, the fiends underground began to stir.

Pangu probed the underground with his remaining Spirit-Consciousness. He found that the Savage Fiends had, unnoticed, already woven themselves into an enormous web, extending like subterranean roots to every corner of the earth. They lurked between the rock strata, awaiting the moment to erupt.

The fiends' awakening was a response to the world's vitality. The more life flourished, the more active the fiends became — for the fiends were the very antithesis of life. They were like light and shadow: the brighter the light, the deeper the shadow. The richer the world's vitality, the fiercer the fiends' counterattack would be.

Pangu knew a new battle was coming. This time, the enemy's strength was nearly incalculable, almost equal to the sum total of the world's vitality. And him? His Primordial Source was nearly gone; his strength was on the verge of exhaustion.

Savage Fiends, stirring restlessly. Standing between Heaven and Earth, Pangu felt the tremors rising from underground. The fiends were massing their power, preparing to break through the surface. He clenched his fists and readied himself for the final battle.

Just as grasses and trees flourished above, the suppressed turbid qi remnants deep within the earth were silently transforming. Stimulated by the Wuxing cycle — not assimilated, but enraged — the turbid qi had coalesced underground into a thick, semi-liquid substance, like a layer of black grease slowly spreading through the strata. Pangu sensed a new pulse rising from below — not the pulse of the Earth Veins, but something heavier, more imminent, carrying a primal hostility.

Pangu sank his Spirit-Consciousness deeper underground. He pierced through the rock strata, through the heat flows of the Earth Veins, through the layers of primordial qi woven with the breath of the Wuxing, all the way down to the zone where that black grease was spreading. The moment his Spirit-Consciousness touched that condensed turbid filth, a bone-deep chill shot through him — not cold in the sense of temperature, but something more fundamental, like a mirror reflecting back the other face of his own existence as the embodiment of order.

That black grease was seeping — slowly, patiently — along the fissures in the strata. It was like a net in the process of being woven, strand connecting to strand. Pangu noticed it was not spreading randomly but with clear purpose: it was seeking out the weak points of the earth, seeking the gaps not yet fully covered by the Wuxing qi. Every gap was marked; every weak point was reinforced.

He thought of the first parting of Chaos. Then, turbid qi, though heavy and foul, had ultimately been part of Chaos, of the same origin as clear qi though different in nature. What lay before him now was something entirely different — a heresy spontaneously bred within the ordered world itself, a monster mutated after being rejected by Heaven and Earth. Its very existence was a mockery of the world: Look — the more refined your order becomes, the stronger I, your antithesis, shall grow.

Pangu withdrew his Spirit-Consciousness and opened his eyes.

The world before him was still tranquil and beautiful. Grasses and trees swayed in the breeze; streams sparkled under sunlight; the air was rich with the scent of soil and newborn plants. But he had already seen the great black net underground, already seen the fiendish qi channels slowly constricting. He knew this peace was only a surface — the last stretch of calm before the storm.

Xiwei hung high, radiating warmth, but warmth could not reach the abyss below. Yuanji, deep within the Earth Veins, emitted a low hum, as if also sounding a warning to Pangu. Pangu extended his hand and looked at the lines of his palm. Those lines were growing faint — the mark of his Primordial Source draining away. He did not have much time left.