Cultivation is Creation-Chapter 285: The Eldest Tree

The Vermilion Vale unfolded below like a painting come to life.

A vast circular valley, perhaps thirty miles across, cradled within the embrace of the surrounding mountains. Despite the season, the forests covering its floor glowed with autumn colors: rich reds, deep oranges, and burnished golds. Rivers wound through the woodland like silver-red ribbons, all flowing toward the valley's center.

And there, rising from the heart of the vale, stood the World Tree.

Even from this distance, it was breathtaking.

A colossal living tower that dwarfed everything around it, reaching so high that its uppermost branches disappeared into low-hanging clouds. Its trunk must have been wider than entire villages, and its canopy spread out like a second sky above the forest floor.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Bram said quietly. "The Eldest of the Nine, they call it. The first and greatest of the World Trees."

"It's said to have witnessed the Sundering itself," Isara added. "Some believe it predates even the original golden sun."

As we descended toward the vale, I studied the massive tree with growing excitement. If any connection could be made between my Genesis Seed and this world's fundamental structures, this ancient being would be the key.

"We should land at a distance," Corwin decided. "Approach the final stretch on foot to avoid detection."

Our steeds touched down in a small clearing about a mile from the World Tree's base. As my feet returned to solid ground, I felt an immediate connection to the earth beneath me, a resonance that traveled up through my legs and into my core, where the Genesis Seed responded with eager vibration.

"The ground here is saturated with primal energy," Isara observed, noticing my reaction. "Many cultivators find it overwhelming at first."

"I'm fine," I assured her, though in truth, the sensation was intense.

The entire vale felt alive in a way I'd never experienced, as if the boundary between physical matter and energy had grown thin, allowing the two to intermingle more freely.

Corwin gestured toward a faint path leading through the forest. "We'll follow this route. Stay alert for patrols or guardians."

The forest around the World Tree was unlike any woodland I'd encountered before. The trees, though dwarfed by the central colossus, were themselves ancient and massive. Their trunks twisted in impossible spirals, and their branches reached toward each other to form intricate archways above the path. Flowers bloomed everywhere, many species I'd never seen, with petals that seemed to shimmer between colors as we passed.

"Many of these plants exist nowhere else in the world," Bram commented, his painter's eye clearly appreciating the unique beauty around us. "They thrive on the World Tree's ambient energy."

"Some have remarkable properties," Isara added. "Healing capabilities, spiritual enhancements, and other effects. Alchemists would give fortunes for specimens from this forest."

"But collection is forbidden," Corwin reminded them sternly. "We're here for a specific purpose, not botanical sampling."

As we walked, the World Tree dominated the view ahead, growing impossibly larger with each step. Now I could see that what had appeared to be simple bark from a distance was actually a complex tapestry of patterns and textures, some areas smooth as polished wood, others ridged and furrowed like mountain ranges in miniature.

"We're approaching the outer perimeter," Corwin warned. "If any defensive formations remain active, we'll encounter them soon."

"Should we be concerned about wildlife?" I asked, noting the strange rustling sounds from the undergrowth around us.

"The creatures here generally avoid humanoid presences," Isara replied. "Though they're said to respond to intent, those who come with malicious purpose face greater challenges."

That information gave me pause. My intentions toward the World Tree weren't malicious, quite the opposite. But it could explain why the Saints were usually unaware of the truth behind their missions, it made them less likely to trigger any protections put in place.

We continued forward cautiously. The forest grew denser as we approached the World Tree, the undergrowth more lush and tangled. Strange fruits hung from branches, some glowing faintly.

"Don't touch anything," Corwin warned. "Some plants here respond defensively to contact."

After another twenty minutes of careful progress, the forest suddenly opened up before us. We stood at the edge of a vast clearing surrounding the World Tree's base, a perfect circle of short, soft grass stretching perhaps half a mile in every direction before reaching the trunk itself.

"The Sacred Ring," Bram whispered reverently. "Nothing grows tall here except the Eldest itself."

From this vantage point, the World Tree was almost too enormous to comprehend. Its trunk rose like a living mountain before us, so wide that a hundred people could stand around its circumference without touching shoulders. The surface wasn't the brown I'd expected but instead a rich tapestry of colors, predominantly deep red-brown but with swirls of amber, gold, and occasionally, startlingly, blue.

"No signs of guardians or defensive formations," Corwin observed, scanning the clearing carefully. "The Skybound must have indeed redirected their resources to the Academy."

"What now?" Isara asked, looking to me.

All three of them turned expectantly in my direction, awaiting the divine guidance that would supposedly flow through their Saint. The moment of decision had arrived.

"I need to approach the tree alone," I said firmly. "The blue sun's message indicated that the ritual is meant for the Saint only."

Corwin frowned slightly. "Our instructions were to protect you at all times."

"And you will," I assured him. "Maintain your positions here at the forest edge. Watch for any approach. This clearing offers no cover, you'll see any threat long before it reaches me."

The three Lightweavers exchanged glances, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of letting me proceed alone but unwilling to contradict what they believed to be divine instruction.

"Very well," Corwin agreed reluctantly. "But at the first sign of danger..."

"I'll signal immediately," I promised.

With a final nod to my escort, I stepped out from the forest's edge and into the Sacred Ring. The moment my foot touched the short grass, I felt a change in the energy around me, a subtle shift, as if the clearing itself had registered my presence.

"The ground is thrumming," Azure observed in my mind. "Can you feel it? Like a massive heartbeat."

He was right. With each step toward the World Tree, I could feel a rhythmic pulsing through the soles of my feet: slow, steady, and immensely powerful. But not only that, the clearing itself seemed to be a natural defensive formation, it likely would activate if it sensed any malicious intent towards the World Tree.

"The tree is alive," I replied silently. "Not just in the way normal trees are alive, but actively, consciously alive."

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"And sleeping," Azure added. "That rhythm is too slow for it to be awake. It's in some form of hibernation or dormancy."

I continued my approach, each step bringing me closer to the colossal trunk. The grass beneath my feet was unusually springy, as if charged with subtle energy. Nothing else moved in the clearing, no insects buzzing, no birds calling, no breeze stirring the air. The silence felt anticipatory, like the held breath before a momentous event.

When I finally reached the base of the World Tree, I had to tilt my head back painfully to see where trunk gave way to the first massive branches, hundreds of feet above. Up close, the bark's complex patterns were even more apparent: swirls and whorls that almost resembled written language, punctuated by knots and burls that could have been deliberately placed illustrations.

"It's like a massive text," I murmured.

"If it is, it's in no language the System recognises," Azure replied. "It looks more similar to natural ancient runes."

I raised my hand, hesitating just inches from the trunk's surface. This was the moment. According to the blue sun's vision, I was supposed to use the tree as a canvas, painting an elaborate formation that would ensure it never awakened.

Instead, I wanted to see if the Genesis Seed could form a connection with this ancient being.

"Here goes nothing," I whispered and placed my palm flat against the bark.

The contact was electric. Energy surged through my palm, up my arm, and directly into my core.

Within my inner world, the Genesis Seed responded immediately, quivering with recognition and what felt strangely like joy. Without conscious direction from me, it extended a glowing green tendril that traveled up through my chest, along my arm, and out through my palm into the World Tree. freewёbnoνel-com

The connection formed instantly, a bridge between my inner world and whatever consciousness resided within the massive tree. Through this link flowed not words but pure sensations: ancient patience, deep wisdom, and an awareness so vast it made my mind reel.

"It's working," Azure breathed. "The Seed is establishing communication."

Images began to flow into my mind, fragmented and disjointed at first, then gradually coalescing into coherent visions. I saw the World Tree as it had been eons ago, when it was merely a sapling in a very different world. The sky above held not two suns but a single golden orb that bathed everything in warm, harmonious light.

I witnessed the gradual growth of civilization around it: people who revered the tree and learned to cultivate the golden sun's energy in balanced, sustainable ways. I saw the origins of cultivation itself, not as separate red and blue paths but as a single integrated system that promoted harmony between all aspects of existence.

Then came darkness, a shadow that didn't fall from outside but grew from within the hearts and minds of the most powerful cultivators. A corruption that spread like a virus, turning wisdom into obsession, power into domination.

I witnessed the desperate measure that followed: thirteen cultivators, the last uncorrupted masters, performing a ritual to split the golden sun, hoping to separate the corruption from the pure energy. Their failure as the split created not purification but polarization: two distinct expressions of the same fundamental corruption.

And finally, I saw the World Trees: nine sentinels created or awakened by the thirteen masters before their sacrifice. Designed not to fight the corruption directly but to maintain the world's integrity, to prevent the complete dissolution of reality as the twin suns pulled it in opposing directions.

Gradually, I became aware that the World Tree was awakening from its dormancy, not fully, but enough to establish more direct communication. The rhythm I felt through the ground quickened slightly, and the bark beneath my palm grew warmer.

"Master," Azure warned, "your escorts are growing restless. They can tell something is happening, but not what you intended."

I risked a glance over my shoulder. The three Lightweavers remained at the forest's edge, but their postures had tensed, and they appeared to be arguing among themselves. I couldn't hear their words at this distance, but their concern was evident.

"We need to work quickly," I told the Genesis Seed through our connection. "Can you help the tree wake enough to protect itself?"

The Seed's response came as a series of impressions rather than words: confidence, assurance, and a clear sense of method. It knew what to do.

I turned back to the tree and placed my second hand against its bark. "Show me," I whispered.

The Genesis Seed extended more tendrils, creating a network of glowing green lines that spread across my inner world and extended outward through both my palms. These lines formed a pattern on the tree's surface, not the destructive formation the blue sun had intended, but something more organic, more supportive.

As the pattern took shape, I felt the World Tree respond, its own energy rising to meet mine. The bark beneath my hands began to glow with a soft golden light, not blue or red, but the original unified color that had existed before the Sundering.

"It's working," I breathed. "The tree is..."

The world went black.

There was no warning, no gradual darkening.

One moment I could see everything—the massive trunk before me, the moss-covered ground beneath my feet, the filtered sunlight through the canopy above—and the next, absolute darkness.

Instinctively, I tried to pull my hand away from the tree, but I couldn't move. My entire body was frozen in place, held by some invisible force. Panic flared briefly before my training kicked in, allowing me to calm down and try figure out what was going on.

I wasn't blind; this was an external effect. And a powerful one at that.

In the absolute darkness, a single glowing character suddenly appeared before me: "bind”.

The calligraphy technique flashed brilliantly, then expanded outward. Golden chains of light materialized from nowhere, wrapping around my limbs, torso, and throat with crushing force. They yanked me backward, tearing my hand away from the Eldest Tree and suspending me several feet above the ground.

My vision returned just as suddenly as it had vanished, revealing a scene of confusion and alarm.

"Saint Tomas!" Isara cried out, her hands already moving to form the first notes of a counter-technique.

Bram was drawing frantically, his brush a blur as he attempted to create some defensive construct. Corwin had already written a character for "release," sending it flying toward the chains that bound me.

"I wouldn't do that," came a dry, rasping voice from behind me. "The chains will tighten with each attempt to dispel them."

The three Lightweavers froze, their expressions shifting from confusion to shock as a figure emerged from the shadows beneath one of the massive roots.

Elder Thorn.

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