Qing Ling did not pursue rapid advancement; time was the least scarce commodity in the Primordial World.
To take a wrong path in order to enter a higher realm prematurely would require countless eons to rectify.
Therefore, despite possessing the supreme Great Dao principles of the First Generation Flat Peach, the celestial fortune granted by the Jian Mu tree, the earth vein augmentation of the Lord of the Earthly Dao, and an unparalleled foundation of one hundred and eight thousand Dao steps, he remained at the eighth heaven of Great Luo.
Qing Ling cultivated his Dao steadily, advancing incrementally and never rushing.
His Great Luo Golden Light expanded from eight hundred mu to a massive fifteen hundred mu, surpassing the thousand-mu Golden Light typically possessed by those at the tenth heaven of Great Luo Golden Immortal.
These thousand-plus mu of Golden Light phenomena were all manifestations of his magical power and cultivation, condensed and gathered bit by bit.
Furthermore, Qing Ling reforged the spiritual treasure "Zhu Shen" in the earthly realm, tempered his body in the Sea of Blood, refined his spirit in Samsara, steeped it in the Yellow Springs, and cleansed his arrows in the River of Forgetfulness. Thirteen Dao inscriptions were carved into Zhu Shen, increasing its power by countless times.
The cold winds in the north grew fiercer, snow howled, and the land was plunged into miles of absolute desolation.
The driving blizzards reduced visibility to mere feet, turning everything into a white expanse. Even without the extreme cold, the swirling snow alone was enough to make any living being lose their way.
Qing Ling walked for a long time, feeling the chill seep into his bones, the ice piercing his body.
Until, he stopped before a colossal stone monument.
Raising his head, he gazed at the monument.
Amidst the ice and snow, a divine stone stood. Its original form was no longer visible, completely covered by ice and snow, rendering it pure white.
Two Dao inscriptions were carved upon it: "Bei Ming"!
Leaning on his arm, he felt the cold snow blow, questioning the fleeting mayfly; beyond comprehension was the profound Xuan Ming, the North Star. A glance was enough to ignite primordial chaos, a sudden awakening as if in a dream.
Qing Ling had arrived at the Bei Ming.
The Bei Ming Sea stretched vast and boundless. It was a sea, yet it harbored no dragons.
For in the Bei Ming resided the fish, known as the Kun, whose immense size was beyond measure, spanning thousands of miles.
This was the domain of an ancient beast, and the territory of a clan.
Here resided the first Kun Peng in existence, the ancestor of this clan. This clan was a clan of one person!
His name was Kun Peng. In all the world, there was only one Kun Peng, and he was a clan of one.
Yet, in the Outer Heavens, the Touring Kun Peng swam with the wind.
And in the Sea of Thunder, the Divine Thunder Kun Peng soared with outstretched wings.
There were many Kun Pengs in the world, but all of them were merely manifestations of the Ancestor Kun Peng himself.
The Dao of this great being was not to sever the three corpses; each avatar was not a mere avatar.
In this era, the avatars of many powerful beings were unique existences, blurred and not easily categorized as simple avatars.
Qing Ling stepped further into the Bei Ming, the ancestral land of the Kun Peng.
The wind was high and the waves turbulent, the heavens and earth were dim, the land was white, and the Bei Ming Sea was blue.
But the water in the sea was far colder than the ice and snow, yet it refused to freeze.
Qing Ling’s tower-like form moved upon it, and a slender river of light began to flow beneath his feet, the River of Time that he cultivated.
However, it was short, thin, and small, barely a foot long.
The scenery of the Bei Ming, after the initial grandeur, became monotonous.
By day, there was the blue sea, devoid of islands, living beings, or any objects.
Qing Ling walked upon the sea, and another river began to flow from the River of Time beneath his feet.
This river was a manifestation of the Great Dao of Water.
As Qing Ling’s understanding grew, the river of water gradually expanded.
With each step, a new Bei Ming unfolded; with each stride, a thousand miles passed. Snow became water, everything was water, the sky was water, the earth was water, all began with water.
As Qing Ling traversed the Bei Ming Sea, the violent ocean gradually calmed, and the clamorous waves softened.
His water was water in stillness, while the water of Bei Ming was water in motion.
The stillness and motion merged, and the cold water began to warm. Yet, the warmer the water became, the more it froze.
Thus, wherever Qing Ling walked, the sea turned into ice.
For ten thousand years, Qing Ling had been comprehending the Dao in the Bei Ming Sea. He had encountered few living beings, only a few ice and snow spirits born of the heavens and earth had appeared.
Qing Ling’s Dao of Water was gradually taking shape. He stopped and turned back.
But suddenly, he heard the wind begin to rise, and his primordial spirit, sensing the Dao of Wind, swept across the surroundings.
In an instant, a voice appeared beside him.
Qing Ling was startled and looked at the newcomer.
The person was clad in a grey robe, exuding a cold aura. Though his eyes held a hint of melancholy, his naturally handsome features involuntarily gave him the appearance of a pitiable, melancholic youth.
Only after Qing Ling had finished observing the other person did a great wind begin to sweep across the sky from the north, moving south. The gale reached him.
Qing Ling’s heart leaped. This was a contest of wind, no, a contest of speed that surpassed the transmission of the void. His speed had far exceeded that of the wind, so much so that the person arrived before the wind he generated.
The wind would only hinder his speed.
"Who are you?"
The youth tilted his head and asked with confusion.
"Who are you?" Qing Ling retorted.
The youth lowered his head and said weakly, "I am a tiny bird."
Qing Ling blinked and asked, "How tiny?"
The next moment, a colossal bird, stretching for tens of thousands of miles, appeared before him, resembling a continent.
"Does this still count as tiny?" Qing Ling exclaimed. "You are truly enormous, the largest bird I have ever seen."
The giant bird vanished. The melancholy on the youth's face lessened considerably, replaced by a hint of joy. "Really? Am I truly that big? You're not lying to me, are you?"
Qing Ling couldn't help but find the melancholic youth a bit simple and reached out to gently stroke his short hair. "I'm not lying to you, you are indeed very big."
"My name is Kun. And you?" The youth's blue eyes were like the ocean, captivating.
Qing Ling smiled and replied, "My name is Qing Ling. I come from the Eastern Desolation."
"Oh~" The youth said in surprise. "The Eastern Desolation? Where is that? Isn't the world only white and blue like the Bei Ming?"
Qing Ling immediately asked, "Have you never left the Bei Ming?"
"Isn't the world just the Bei Ming?"
"How can the world be just the Bei Ming?" Qing Ling's tone softened by three parts. He raised his right hand and pointed southeast, smiling, "Over there, southeast of the Bei Ming, if you keep going straight, you will see a very, very large tree. I come from beneath that tree."
"A tree? What is a tree?" Kun frowned, asking in confusion.
...
Qing Ling found himself unsure of what to say. The Kun before him, after all, was a Great Luo Golden Immortal, yet he didn't even know what a tree was.
"Have you never left the Bei Ming?"
"Yes. They say the Bei Ming is the world, and the world is the Bei Ming. This world is only this big." Kun scratched his head, his face full of consternation, unsure whom to believe.
Qing Ling felt a pang of pity for Kun and said softly, "Then you must not have seen spring outside. Do you want to see it?"
"Spring? What is that?" Kun asked another big question. "I want to see it. I want to see it."
Qing Ling looked at the ripples in his ocean-like eyes and smiled. With a wave of his sleeve, an ancient painting slowly unfurled, spreading across the void.
In an instant, the sky turned blue, the earth black and yellow. Clouds like a vast sea stretched across the sky, bathed in myriad rays of golden light. The great sun rose, casting a magnificent dawn. Flowers bloomed, green grass flourished, birds and beasts, insects and fish, bees and butterflies, and the dew of rain, all filled the air. The spring breeze of ten miles swept by.
Kun's eyes widened in disbelief as he gazed at everything before him. Everything overturned his perception; the world could be like this.
The flowers, grass, trees, birds, fish, insects, and beasts here were all vibrant and radiant.
Qing Ling watched Kun grin foolishly, like a child with a new toy, and stepped into the spring painting. With a sweep of his hand, thousands of flowers and grasses floated up, countless petals drifted, the scent of green grass filled the air, dandelions were pure white, the fields bathed in golden light, a scene as beautiful as a painting, the scenery itself a part of the painting.
"This is a spring that blooms for you alone, opening in the Northern Sea, spreading amidst ice and snow, fearless of storms, for your eyes only."
The melancholy in Kun's eyes seemed to transform into excitement. At this moment, his eyes held not just the calm blue of the ocean, but also the vastness of stars and seas.
He exclaimed with joy, "How beautiful!
So the world is not just the Bei Ming. So the world is not just ice, wind, snow, and water. So the outside world is so colorful."
Kun ran uninhibitedly through the spring fields, finding surprise in every flower, blade of grass, and tree.
But just then, a sharp shout came from the north: "Kun! What are you doing?"