Chapter Forty-Seven: Adaptation Is Not Distortion, and Dramatization Is Not Fabrication

The world within the pot has grown vast and expansive, capable now of sustaining increasingly powerful creatures and greater volumes. Where once its largest inhabitants were barely the thickness of a strand of hair, it later accommodated beings the size of a fingernail, then a fingertip, and now even those as large as a palm. Yet, the miniature humans remained unchanged in their stature, still no wider than a hair’s breadth—only varying between coarse and fine threads.

Regardless of whether their size evolved alongside the world’s expansion, these miniature humans found themselves once again ignorant of their surroundings. It seemed that their world had grown both larger and more profound. Regions they had once explored had become broader, and within them appeared colossal beasts never seen before.

Gigantic creatures, tall as mountains, roamed the land, devouring a hundred cattle in a single meal—lucky for the little folk that these monsters would sleep for a month after each feast. The once familiar yet peculiar monsters, as seen through the eyes of a certain observer, were slowly being phased out. This was not the survival of the fittest but rather the world’s own selection.

Yes, as Lord Luo gathered more animal samples from the primordial wilderness, the creatures he shaped through his manipulation of creation became increasingly “normal.” The previously enlarged forms of microbes and bacteria, used merely to fill space, were gradually supplanted.

Luo did not intervene directly; he simply altered the environmental conditions and let nature take its course. The creatures adapted to the new environment, returning to their original domains, though these domains were now occupied by newer, more competitive species, forcing the original inhabitants to face the same trial of survival.

Luo observed this process with interest, understanding that the fate of microbes was crucial to any race. Should a bacterium as formidable as the miniature humans emerge, it might bring about a devastating epidemic—an outcome too dreadful to imagine.

Yet Luo refrained from interference. He grew ever more distant from the miniature humans, content to observe without action or comment. Even when their actions played out in ways that pained him, he did not intervene—unless signs of self-destruction appeared before he was ready with his own plan for their removal.

For now, the miniature humans lived in relative tranquility. Only the emergence of the demon had prompted Luo to personally intervene. But if another such demon appeared, he would not act again. The demon was not necessarily a pest, but an aberrant branch of the miniature humans, worthy of cultivation to foster greater diversity within their civilization. Perhaps they could stimulate each other, driving the miniature human society towards a brighter future.

People must eventually come to terms with certain things.

The miniature humans discovered not only the emergence of giant beasts but also a race of humanoids. Resembling humans in appearance, they possessed robust bodies and vigorous blood, though their intellect was lacking, their minds simple, and their tempers easily flared.

The miniature humans dubbed them Barbarians, Savages, and Foreigners. They held these new people in contempt, dismissing them for lacking even the rudimentary forms of tribal civilization, and did not consider them kin, though their lineage was the same at its root. Yet, definitions of race are often abstract, impossible to specify.

The miniature humans showed no mercy, seeking to enslave the previous generation as their own. The aged Sun Sovereign was the first to object, opposing slavery as a regression, especially towards a race so similar in form. He warned that opening this door would have dire consequences for human civilization: “We must not allow this precedent. What if someone later harbors such intentions toward our descendants?”

His question was published in the national newspaper, sparking debate across the land. Some agreed, others dissented, but the majority sided with Sun Sovereign, and so the proposal failed.

Luo remained uninvolved, content to observe and gather information on the miniature humans’ explorations and cultivation. With the increase in spiritual energy, many among them awakened innate magical abilities, and cultivation no longer led to wasteful internal conflict or the loss of flesh and spirit in pursuit of higher realms. These three centuries saw an explosion of talent among their kind.

No longer restricted to the Yang Spirit method, practitioners quickly adopted Yin Spirit techniques, then Bright Spirit, Inner Landscape, Organ Spirit, and even revived the ancient Blood Energy Refining Spirit method.

In the span of a single year in the primordial era, Luo tallied up three hundred and twenty-four cultivation methods devised by the miniature humans. At first, they were cautious, making only modest changes to the Qi refining and Yang Spirit techniques; later, they became bold.

Sun Sovereign was the first to innovate, creating a method of True Void. This True Void was forged within the Yang Spirit, constructing emptiness to reflect the world, turning the Yang Spirit into a new cosmos, thus achieving True Void and attaining the Way, transforming into a True Immortal.

Such a revolutionary concept was tried by Sun Sovereign himself. He succeeded, and yet he failed.

For the path was not as imagined.

Unexpectedly, Sun Sovereign triggered the second great transformation bestowed upon humanity by Lady Nuwa. Innate magical abilities were once again awakened, reaching a profound and mysterious realm—one that Luo himself had defined as the Daoist realm.

Many second and third-generation humans could not reach this state in their lifetimes, requiring a primordial treasure to achieve it. Yet Sun Sovereign, through his experiment, attained a realm that even the ancient ones had not reached. Upon reaching this state, his lifespan doubled, allowing him to live past three hundred years.

His unexpected breakthrough led him to believe he had found the true path, and so the True Void method spread widely. Owing to his fame and authority, many followed his lead, embarking on his new path.

Luo did not stop them; after all, he could not say for certain that this path was wrong.

And so, Sun Sovereign brought ruin upon himself.

The path ended there.

For magical abilities, however extraordinary, are not cultivation itself. Using innate powers to resonate with the cosmos creates an illusion, but in the end, magical abilities remain separate from cultivation. When abilities grow too rapidly, practitioners must use daily refined Qi to maintain their powers, leaving no way to increase their Daoist attainment.

Nor can magical abilities advance further.

Thus, they remain forever locked at Sun Sovereign’s achieved realm, unless aided by external force to break through continuously, reaching the stage where spirit refines and returns to the void, balancing cultivation and abilities.

But at that time, Sun Sovereign was already peerless—who could help him?

This is the principle of failing to cultivate both life and destiny; in the end, it is all emptiness.