The defining trait of something like a World Will is its simplicity.
It can't be helped.
A macro-level consciousness that governs the operation of reality doesn't understand scheming, subtlety, or wordplay.
So if Lin En wanted to communicate with it, he had to keep things straightforward—
Plain.
Direct.
To the point.
I'm here seeking investment.
And once you invest in me—
You can't exactly keep rejecting me, can you?
As for whether it would succeed, Lin En wasn't overly worried.
If this plan ranked first among his contingencies, it wasn't just because the payoff was high—
Its theoretical success rate was solid.
To use a cultivation-world analogy:
He was like a newly born immortal seedling, landing directly within the territory of a supreme holy land—
Currently being hunted by its mountain-protecting grand formation.
Sounds dangerous.
But if he could just attract the attention of the higher-ups—
They'd take one look and say:
"Whoa. An Ancient Sacred Physique. And one whose path hasn't been severed. Limitless potential!"
At that point—
Would anyone refuse to invest?
Especially since his "physique" was special.
Once he passed the infancy stage, he could condense Gates of Traversal.
At that time, even if this universe gained no material or energy from him—
Simply receiving foreign laws and rule-structures from other worlds would be pure profit.
Loss?
Impossible.
But…
Where was the reply?
After waiting quietly for some time, Lin En sensed something was wrong.
Regardless of the disparity in scale, at the level of existence—
He and the universe were equals.
Like basic etiquette between people—
Even rejection warrants a response.
Even if it's just:
"Get lost."
Yet now—
Silence.
…Don't tell me something's actually wrong?
That possibility unsettled him.
He knew this universe was chaotic.
Anyone who paid attention to in-game lore could piece together hints of its cosmic backdrop—
The ultimate law that "all who live must perish."
The dark fate.
The light that devours the cosmos.
Certain implications suggested the universe had only recently passed its golden age—
And began declining rapidly.
But Lin En hadn't taken it too seriously.
Possessing a World Seed of equal rank—even as a seed—gave him a clear sense of what that tier's "HP bar" looked like.
Even a "rapid decline" on a cosmic scale unfolds over vast spans of time.
Meaning—
Any disasters would need time to mature before threatening the universe's foundations.
By then?
He'd have grown strong, settled his karmic debts, and left.
What did it matter?
But now—
The universe wasn't responding at all.
That left only three possibilities:
The calamities were far worse than expected. The universe was overwhelmed and unable to answer.Teyvat happened to lie in a "fallen zone," and the signal couldn't reach.The worst case—
The universe was terminally ill.
Its macro-consciousness blurred.
It had fallen asleep.
None of these were good.
…That complicates things.
Unwilling to give up, Lin En sent several more messages.
Like the first—
They vanished into silence.
No choice.
Then we move to the next-best option.
Returning to the earlier analogy—
If the "holy land elders" were unreachable—
Then what?
How does a newborn Sacred Physique deal with the hostility of the grand formation and obtain resources to survive infancy?
Simple.
If you can't reach the elders—
Find the disciples.
And one just happened to be right beneath him—
The planet upon which Teyvat rested.
Let's just call it Teyvat.
In transcendent settings, living planets almost always possess planetary wills.
Similar in nature to a universe's will—
Just lower in rank.
Having decided, Lin En withdrew his gaze from the stars—
And turned it downward.
From the perspective of a world—
He examined Teyvat.
And if he'd still been in human form—
He would've hissed sharply.
Teyvat's planetary will was in terrible condition.
If likened to a human body—
Its surface was riddled with wounds.
Its internal organs were failing.
Its circulatory and immune systems nearly collapsed.
Its limbs crippled.
Poisoned.
Unconscious.
But considering what it had endured over millennia—
It wasn't surprising.
The dragon race it birthed was nearly annihilated.
Half of the elemental authority once held by Dragon Sovereigns was seized—
Turned into the cornerstone of a new order—
Which in turn suppressed the old order it had established.
Then came Nibelung—
Returning from the cosmos with the Abyss—
Clashing with the Heavenly Principles in a battle of mutual devastation.
The planet itself suffered in the crossfire.
After that—
Outsider humans fully replaced the native dragons.
The fragments of the Heavenly Principles birthed gods—
Who waged wars of their own.
Each death left near-permanent corruption.
The Abyss actively sought to invade.
"…Rough," Lin En muttered internally.
With a decisive motion—
He cut off a piece of himself.
More precisely—
As a world, he partitioned a portion of his Origin.
The universe's scale dwarfed him.
Whatever its state, he could do nothing.
But Teyvat?
That was different.
Severely wounded? Dying? Dormant?
Didn't matter.
Though still tiny compared to Teyvat in sheer size—
His Origin, in terms of rank—
Was a miracle cure for lower-tier kin.
Here you go.
Ignoring the instant weakening sensation that followed—
Lin En thrust that fragment of Origin directly into Teyvat's planetary will.