A massacre erupted. No matter their identities—even many from the Central Domain Divine League and the Upper Domain Divine League—the moment they arrived, they all fell under the world-rules' sway: what they "saw" was no longer themselves, but a supreme treasure that could let them prove the Dao. Faced with that lure, who could resist? In such a situation, if he ring-fenced them without killing and tried to reason with them, it would be laughable.
All beings now stood within the Great Calamity. Since the world-rules sent them here, this was their tribulation. Calamities are unreasonable; in the last Heaven-and-Earth Life-and-Death Calamity, countless powerful, world-nurtured beings fell. In this round as well, unnumbered lives would perish. These were neither the first nor the last.
The undead thralls struck; beings fell in droves, blood spattering the void. Lin Moyu felt that with each life he slew, a sliver of karma landed on him—small, but real. Enough of such slivers would become an ocean and eventually swallow the self. The nine domains thundered together; domain power mixed with faith-power poured out, shrouding Lin Moyu and offsetting part of that karma. The nine domains were his backing; overwhelming power can waive vast karmic weights.
In half a day, more than half of those drawn by the rules were dead. A few Chaos Realm Perfect cultivators, besieged by the undead thralls, could only defend themselves.
The Primal Chaos Gem said, "You can move—finish them."
Chaos-Seed chuckled. "No need for me." His inner world yawned open; out flew one Calamity Supreme and one Quasi–Calamity Supreme. Calamity Supremes and Quasi–Calamity Supremes from his inner world were weaker than the "real" ones of the Ancient Wilds—about on par with a top-tier Perfect—but culling ordinary Perfects was no trouble. As Chaos-Seed recovered, he regained control over the inner world's Supremes; those Supremes were originally incubated by him. Now he re-bestowed vitality and used them as his own. The inner world held nine Calamity Supremes and nine Quasi–Calamity Supremes; aside from the special case Ye Yangyan, the rest now obeyed Lin Moyu and were being revived one by one. Under Chaos-Seed's orders they executed targeted kills of the Perfects. Pinned by undead thralls, even leveraging domain power, the targets could not escape.
This bout of interference by the world-rules ended in failure.
Lin Moyu continued fusing the nine domains. The fusion was at its final stretch—just a last step left. Through the domains he sensed the world-rules more clearly than before; many secrets of Heaven-and-Earth unfolded before his eyes. He was not yet a Heaven-and-Earth Public Enemy, so he could still borrow the vantage of a calamity-bearer to examine the rules—perhaps the next instant he wouldn't be allowed to. Every moment counted.
Using nine Perfect and compressed domains as bridges, plus the calamity-bearer's status, Lin Moyu for the first time saw the world-rules with true clarity—not a hazy intuition but actual sight: those profound, formless statutes lay bare. They were useful; he could draw on them, perhaps to deploy later in the Yushen World. As Lord of the Yushen World, once he became its Transcendent, he could operate the world and amend its rules with ease.
Vast, arcane knowledge surged into his soul; Lin Moyu soaked up the rules like a sponge. From his soul's depths memories welled up—his entire cultivation journey replayed again and again in an instant. Without any effort to recall, scenes repeated under the mirror of the rules. He saw his detours: he had once cultivated many daos, then abandoned them to keep only his Undying Dao—that was a detour. He had chased so-called grand divine arts of various daos, yet after obtaining them, rarely used them. Under the rules' reflection, he understood he had taken a big detour. There were many others—large and small. Perhaps he had done better than most, but he had still spent needless effort. Thankfully, his main path had been right; his later insistence was correct.
The world-rules, like a mirror of self-reflection, let him see his shortcomings and "told" him how to proceed.
Lin Moyu smirked with a hint of disdain. "You're teaching me how to act?" He erased the "path" the rules suggested. The rules' path was not his path. Seeing the past was compensation enough; as for the future—he'd follow himself.
The nine-domain fusion advanced again. Lin Moyu touched the membrane between Chaos Realm and Calamity Supreme a second time; the crack widened, his power rose. A few more times and he could directly break from Perfect into Calamity Supreme. But he didn't launch the Supreme assault; the foundation was ready, yet not the time.
This time, the world-rules didn't intervene. As if accustomed to his provocations, they ceased to meddle. Lin Moyu knew he hadn't truly broken the bottom line yet; they had tried to interfere and failed—they wouldn't do so endlessly. He had passed this checkpoint.
"Since you're quiet, it's my turn to break your bottom line."
He laughed softly and completed the final fusion. The nine domains merged utterly; a Great Sun rose over his crown. Within it, the nine domains revolved like nine suns—now welded into a single, larger, stronger domain. This meant a tenth domain had appeared.
Lin Moyu looked at his domain. "This is my domain—Tenfold-Nine Domains."
The bottom line of the rules cracked. A roar swept the rules; he clearly felt warnings and intense dissatisfaction from Heaven-and-Earth.
He chuckled. "Already upset? This is only the beginning. I'll shatter your bottom line."
The eighty-one domain replicas he'd prepared stirred. One turned to streaming light and fell onto him; after circling through his body, its domain power flowed into the Tenfold-Nine Domains. The Tenfold-Nine Domains grew—beyond an already broken limit, it took another step up. The rules were heavily provoked; their displeasure deepened, their wrath rolling like thunder. The emergence of a tenth domain already enraged Heaven-and-Earth—within the rules, nine domains is the limit. Lin Moyu's method slighted the rules. Yet, because he had used a workaround—linking nine into ten with himself as hub—he still wasn't branded Public Enemy.
He was well aware that directly fusing a tenth domain would trigger the strongest countermeasures: he might fail to fuse; all beings within his domains would die. Thus he chose nine fused into one. Once fusion finished and Tenfold-Nine Domains formed, they fell outside the old governance. Even more so the eighty-one domain replicas beyond the rules—each replica streamed through him into the Tenfold-Nine Domains, further empowering it. At last, he drew the rules' full fury. Warnings came again and again; Lin Moyu ignored them. Replica after replica turned to current, entered him, then fed the Tenfold-Nine Domains, making it more complete and powerful.
With no change of realm, Lin Moyu was already far beyond Chaos Realm Perfect. At this pace, even without body or soul power, domain power alone would let him match a Quasi–Calamity Supreme. If all eighty-one replicas fused, how strong would he be? A Perfect surpassing Supremes—the world could not allow such a rules-breaking outcome.
With warnings useless, Heaven-and-Earth finally acted. In the current Calamity, the rules cannot simply drop heaven's punishment to smite the target—especially as Lin Moyu is the calamity-bearer, the key figure. A direct kill would collapse the Calamity and harm the world itself—even shatter it. Thus, the harshest available punishment was to brand Lin Moyu the Heaven-and-Earth Public Enemy, to be slain by all.
Lin Moyu had already seen through the world; he was stepping them along, forcing them to label him Public Enemy. And he had another thought: before that label, the rules might try a different punishment—one he wanted. So he didn't rush; he slow-fused replicas at a steady rate, giving the rules a chance to "punish."
At last, a qi descended. Lin Moyu felt his bloodline begin to hum; his power diminished—a little. The lost power vanished into the void—destination unknown. The rules had to keep basic fairness; his power wouldn't just blink away. He felt bloodline resonance—which had faded when Lin Mohan returned—ignite again under punishment. Lin Moyu smiled. Exactly as planned. He wanted the rules to reopen bloodline resonance and suppress him; the power he lost would flow to Lin Mohan. Newly broken through, she still lagged behind Dao and the Calamity Supreme; with the earlier resonance gone, he could hardly aid her. Now, using the rules' punishment to restart resonance, Heaven-and-Earth would press him down while he boosted her—greasing the path to push her to Transcendence. Some things she must do herself; he could push, but not drag her up after he'd already stood atop.
Resonance continued; his strength kept dropping, but he didn't care. He walked a different road; titles in the Ancient Wilds mattered less than substance. His true foundations are body and soul; realm and dao are secondary. Besides, he had only fused a handful of the eighty-one replicas—lots left to play. Resonance wouldn't last long; by his estimate, eighteen replicas' worth would be enough to push the rules' punishment to its next phase.
In Chaos, within an independent space, Lin Mohan, stabilizing her realm, snapped her eyes open. Her aura surged; bloodline resonance reappeared. She looked into the distance. In all the Ancient Wilds, only Lin Moyu could do this. She neither saw him nor knew how he was doing it—irrelevant. Between siblings, no words were needed. If he did this for her, then she would make the most of it. Power welled without end; a realm that would have taken a century to settle stabilized in minutes, then continued to grow. She adapted to the new realm, contemplating her Sword Dao and its relation to Heaven-and-Earth.
Lin Moyu ignored the resonance and kept refining replicas. When he finished the seventeenth, resonance plummeted and ceased. The rules seemed to realize this wasn't working: keep going, and Lin Mohan would rise instead. At her current realm, the next step would be Transcendence—too soon for an unloosed Calamity. So the rules halted resonance—exactly as Lin Moyu had foreseen.
Thunder rumbled; sheets of lightning gathered. A new punishment descended—this time not against Lin Moyu, but the domain replicas. Heaven-and-Earth would destroy them to stop him.
"You might as well brand me Public Enemy already," Lin Moyu murmured, mildly scornful. "Why all the fuss?"
This move, too, was within his expectations. To the world, smashing replicas wasn't hard—if no one stopped it.
The Primal Chaos Gem said low, "Little Yuan-Yuan, time to work."
The Elemental Gem blazed; endless lightning surged, forming thunder masses over the domain replicas. World-thunder, laden with annihilation, crashed down. The Ancient Wilds shuddered; space splintered to pieces.