Creation Of All Things

The wind hit his face like someone had thrown a pillow soaked in spirit energy.

Adam blinked.

He was back.

The red sky of the lower cultivation world stretched wide above him. The cracked horizon glowed faintly. The pit he'd left behind—the one that had screamed, whispered, and begged for attention—was still there, trembling like a child that had seen too much.

He stared at it for a moment. No words. No dramatic thoughts.

Then he raised his hand.

Snapped his fingers.

Reality folded itself shut like a lazy book.

The pit vanished.

Done.

Closed.

No ripple. No trace. Like it had never existed.

Adam stood in silence.

Then he nodded to himself and muttered, "Okay. Now I deserve some fun."

He stretched, cracking his neck. "God-devouring resets, Core conspiracies, my shadow trying to kill me later… I've earned a vacation."

And with that, he floated off the ground and headed west.

Not fast.

Not flying.

Just floating.

One leg crossed over the other like he was lounging on an invisible recliner, hands behind his head, drifting sideways through the sky like the world's laziest comet.

The cultivators below stared up in horror. Or wonder. Or both.

Because Adam didn't exactly blend in.

He still wore the same black coat, dusted with Core ash. His hair danced even when there was no wind. His eyes didn't glow—but they didn't not glow either. And the air around him didn't just hum—it whispered rude comments in old languages.

By the time he reached the first village, people were already bowing without knowing why.

He landed softly in the center plaza.

Someone screamed.

Adam raised a brow. "Bit rude. I didn't even say anything yet."

A man stumbled forward, holding a wooden staff like it could help him survive whatever this was.

"Wh-who are you!?"

Adam pointed at himself. "Me? Just a wandering cultivator."

"You—you're flying without spiritual pressure. You don't even have a Qi signature—!"

Adam leaned in. "And yet… here I am."

The man dropped his staff.

Adam picked it up and handed it back. "You might want this. Someone might rob you."

The man blinked. "You're the one robbing us of sanity…"

Adam patted him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit."

The villagers watched as Adam walked casually to a large stone in the middle of town—the one with inscriptions nobody could read for five hundred years. Adam crouched, squinted at it, and muttered, "Ah, right. It's upside down."

He flipped the entire stone with one finger.

The moment he did, the words lit up in golden flame.

Every cultivator in the area felt their dantian twitch.

Adam grinned. "Boom. Free enlightenment."

He didn't wait for thanks. Just waved and strolled away.

Behind him, three cultivators spontaneously broke through to Foundation Stage and passed out from joy.

Adam wandered into the mountains next. He found a sect mid-training—a hundred disciples on a bamboo platform, surrounded by shouting elders and stern-faced instructors.

He hovered above the crowd.

No one noticed until his shadow passed over the Grandmaster's lunch.

"WHO DARES INTERRUPT—oh."

Adam slowly descended like a feather made of sarcasm.

One elder pointed. "You can't be here! This is a sacred trial ground for—"

Adam held up a finger.

The elder shut up.

Literally. His voice just… vanished.

Adam nodded. "Better."

He looked at the disciples. "Alright, who here thinks they're talented?"

A few raised their hands.

Adam pointed at a nervous-looking boy in the back. "You. What's your name?"

"L-Lin Hao, sir!"

"Good name," Adam said. "You're now at Nascent Soul stage."

The boy blinked.

And exploded.

Not violently.

Just upwards in power.

The ground cracked beneath him as his aura skyrocketed. The elders staggered back, robes flapping from the force of it.

Adam turned to the instructors. "He's your new Head Disciple. Try not to get jealous."

He left before anyone could scream.

By the time the elders started arguing about whether this was a blessing or a nightmare, Adam was already brewing tea with an old lady in the next village over.

"You're not from here," she said while pouring.

Adam nodded. "Just visiting."

"You're very polite for someone that makes the sky nervous."

Adam sipped. "I try."

"Want to start a sect?" she asked.

He blinked. "Pardon?"

She shrugged. "You've got the vibe."

Adam stared at the tea.

Then at the mountain range nearby.

Then at the tea again.

"…yeah. Why not."

She pointed at a patch of forest. "Plenty of space over there. Just don't wake the stone dragon. He gets cranky."

"Noted."

Two hours later, there was a mountain-sized structure made of floating glass and obsidian hovering ten feet off the ground. Cultivators from miles away watched in awe as celestial music played from nowhere and golden leaves floated lazily around it.

A large banner hung from the front, written in bold, chaotic brush strokes.

SECT OF WHATEVER I FEEL LIKE.

The old lady from earlier was now Chief Elder.

Lin Hao was automatically recruited as the First Disciple. He was still adjusting.

A small girl who could talk to animals joined too. She rode in on a tiger that wouldn't stop purring. Adam gave her the title "Beast Commander Supreme," mostly because it sounded cool.

They gained over eighty disciples in under a day.

Adam made no entrance exam. If someone knocked, they got in. If they annoyed him, they left.

One man tried to sneak in with evil intentions.

Adam gave him a sandwich, rewrote his personality, and sent him on a redemption arc.

He's currently writing poetry about flowers and crying a lot.

Word spread fast.

Other sects got nervous.

"What kind of cultivator raises disciples by accident and empowers them with a look!?"

One tried to investigate.

They sent a spy.

The spy was offered a bathrobe, a cup of coffee, and enlightenment.

He joined instantly.

Adam didn't care about rival sects. He wasn't here for war. He was here for fun.

One day he woke up and decided he wanted to see who was the strongest in the world.

So he shouted into the sky.

"HEY. ANYONE THINK THEY'RE STRONGER THAN ME, MEET ME AT THE SKY POLE AT DAWN."

He floated away without explaining where the Sky Pole was.

At dawn, every major clan leader, warlord, and ancient beast ended up waiting at a massive cliff, unsure if it was the Sky Pole or not.

Adam didn't show up.

He slept in.

Instead, he left a note floating in the air:

"Too lazy. Maybe tomorrow."

The continent descended into an existential crisis.

Meanwhile, Adam was helping an old fisherman catch a legendary koi spirit that had mocked him for ten years.

He didn't kill the koi.

He invited it to dinner.

It accepted.

They're friends now.

One evening, Adam sat at the edge of his new sect, watching the stars and sipping wine made from moonfruit.

Lin Hao sat beside him, still awkward in his new power.

"Senior Adam?"

"Hm?"

"Who… are you really?"

Adam swirled his drink.

"I'm someone who got tired of asking why."

Lin Hao frowned. "I don't understand."

Adam smirked. "Good. Keep it that way. You'll live longer."

The night passed quiet.

But Adam knew it wouldn't last.

Eventually, the Core would try again.

His shadow would return.

The universe would pull him back into its web.

But until then?

He was going to enjoy this world.

One ridiculous day at a time.

He stood up.

Snapped his fingers.

The stars rearranged into a dragon.

Kids across the continent pointed and screamed in delight.

Adam laughed.

He had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

But tonight?

Tonight was his.

And he was going to make this world remember him—not as a god or anomaly.

Just as Adam.

The guy who floated into town one day and flipped the world upside down because he was bored.

And honestly?

It was just getting fun.

Somewhere beyond the Mortal Shells, in a fracture tucked between seconds, Veylor walked.

Not stepped—walked.

No trail. No footprint. No sound.

He didn't exist here. Not really.

The world was trying to reset.

He could feel it. A slow, creeping pressure. Like a hand reaching through time, fumbling for a cord to unplug the universe and start again. It wasn't from the Core. It wasn't from Adam. It wasn't even from anything alive.

It was something else.

Old.

Desperate.

Artificial.

He followed the signal like a hunter in the dark. Each pulse bled across the folds of space like oil on fire. Wrong. Messy. Dangerous. Whatever it was, it didn't belong—not even to the systems Adam broke.

And then, it stopped.

Not faded—stopped.

Veylor halted.

He was standing at the edge of a crater made of frozen time. The air hummed like a scream on mute. Light flickered in reverse. The trees nearby bent away, their leaves peeling off and reversing into buds.

Something had been here.

Something powerful enough to overwrite presence itself.

He narrowed his eyes.

And that's when the stars bent.

No—just one.

A streak of raw spatial energy tore across the horizon, slamming down in front of him.

She landed silent as a blade.

Aurora.

Still in her Celestial form. Cloak flickering like dark flame. Her hair glowing in pulses. Eyes cold. Focused. Determined.

"You're late," she said.

Veylor didn't move.

Aurora stepped forward. "You think I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't see you tracking these pulses?"

Silence.

"I've been watching you, Adam."

He didn't flinch.

Aurora's voice softened—just slightly. "Why did you hide from me?"

He tilted his head.

For the briefest second, he considered correcting her.

But he didn't.

Instead, he nodded once.

That's all it took.

Aurora's eyes narrowed. "So it's true. You've been back."

Veylor didn't speak. Not yet.

Not until he was sure.

Not until he saw it in her face.

She didn't know.

She really thought he was Adam.

Interesting.

He relaxed his stance. Let his body language shift just slightly—less void, more weight. Like someone carrying old pain instead of being made of it.

"I came to see it myself," he said, mimicking Adam's tone.

Low. Flat. A little tired.

"But you didn't tell us." Her voice was sharp again. "Joshua's worried. Aria's been trying to reach you for weeks. I thought you—"

"I'm fine," Veylor said calmly.

Aurora stepped closer. Her domain wrapped around them, folding the space into a locked chamber of silence and secrecy.

He didn't resist.

This was perfect.

She thought he was the real thing.

If he played it right, she'd tell him everything.

Aurora looked at him carefully. "You feel… colder."

He tilted his head. "Time does that."

"…Not to you."

Smart girl.

But not smart enough.

"You've been chasing something," she said. "I saw the fracture near Sector Twelve. You erased it before I could scan it."

Veylor said nothing.

"It was you, wasn't it? You were tracking the reset signature."

He nodded again. Slow. Intentional.

Aurora's expression darkened. "Is it back?"

Now they were getting somewhere.

Veylor studied her.

Still the same mind. Still trying to hold every thread together. Still the one who'd rather carry the world's burden alone than share it with those she loved. That part hadn't changed.

But something in her was cracking.

He could feel it.

She was scared.

Good.

"Yes," he finally said.

Just one word—but she heard everything in it.

Aurora closed her eyes. "Do you know what it is?"

"Not yet," he lied.

"Then we find it together."

He paused.

This wasn't part of the plan.

She stepped even closer. Her presence brushed against his. "You don't have to do this alone anymore. Not this time."

Veylor didn't answer.

His mind ran simulations faster than most realms could blink.

Aurora by his side?

Dangerous.

But also…

Useful.

She had access. Power. Memories locked away even from him. If he could steer her, use her without revealing himself…

"Yes," he said again.

Aurora gave a rare, small smile. "Good. Then we start now."