Chapter Fifty-Four: The Pomegranate Blossoms (Please Support the Novel with Your First Subscription)

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Back in the present, the spreading deep-green pillar of light completely engulfed the Avatar of the Withering. Its solid violet shell peeled away piece by piece, like shattered glass.

In the end, the pillar of light not only covered the entire underground chamber; it even pierced the hazy sky, forming a green line that connected heaven and earth aboveground.

After a long while, a ray of golden sunset descended through the breach in the sky. The once-filthy underground chamber had been utterly transformed.

The stagnant air began to circulate once more. The pitch-black, corrupted water became clear, and fresh shoots of grass and trees gradually sprouted around the fallen deadwood.

The Avatar of the Withering had been completely erased—at least on the surface.

But Lin Feng knew that the battle still had one final, and most crucial, step.

Unless the Withering’s lingering memories were dealt with, its next resurgence would soon arrive.

Everything stemmed from one of the Avatar’s abilities:

Leyline Rebirth: The memories of “death” may be injected into the earth and transformed into tiny seeds. If even one seed survives, the time required for the next revival will be greatly reduced.

Lin Feng had no time for the moment to concern himself with what the Aranara around him had learned.

He quickly shifted to the platform where the Avatar of the Withering had stood and keenly sensed the vast consciousness moving downward into the earth.

Knowing that his authority over consciousness was still insufficient to deal with something so purely conceptual, he made no futile attempt.

He faintly sensed the Withering’s delight and resentment.

Lin Feng merely lifted Little White from his shoulder and tossed it toward the heart of the platform.

In an instant, behind the green pillar of light, the Avatar of the Withering was subjected to another baptism—this time by pure white power.

Little White’s existence was like the reverse side of the world. Once it released its power, everything around it was erased without distinction.

A faint trace of panic came from below. As another spherical crater was born, everything belonging to the Withering was utterly reduced to nothingness.

Looking at the pockmarked platform before him, which had suffered blow after blow, Lin Feng could not help but sigh at the misfortunes endured by the sal tree born from Aramuhukunda.

As his authority was released, Lin Feng gained a deeper understanding of Little White’s power—but with it came even more questions.

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First, Little White’s power possessed a certain destructive quality toward the “world.”

Though its power appeared to be a mixture of elements, when truly unleashed, it directly erased everything within its range from the world entirely.

It did not transform them into another form. It genuinely reduced the “mass” of the world.

The priority of this power was terrifyingly high. It was a direct assault upon the “world” itself; other living beings, objects, and even concepts were merely collateral damage.

For that reason, Lin Feng had grown increasingly cautious in using Little White. Even when he called upon its power, he allowed it to activate only at the lowest output.

Lin Feng increasingly felt that, despite having revealed so many abnormalities, the reason he had yet to encounter the forces aligned with the Heavenly Principles might well be Little White.

After all, if pushed to the limit, Little White at medium output might be capable of punching a hole through the shell surrounding all of Teyvat—a prospect the Heavenly Principles would clearly find unacceptable.

Once the Avatar of the Withering had been completely destroyed, Lin Feng filled in the craters in the ground and stood at the center of the platform.

Through the breach he had just created, the last trace of sunset happened to shine upon him and Little White.

The warm sunlight gilded his silhouette in brilliant gold, as though the world itself were offering Lin Feng a reward for his good deed in bringing the nightmare to an end.

After restoring the shattered strata of earth, Lin Feng led the silent group of Aranara behind him back to the surface.

Though he did not know exactly what they had comprehended, Lin Feng felt that their gains could not have been insignificant.

After all, for at least the next thousand years, the Withering was unlikely to appear on the surface again.

If the value of a memory changed according to the impact of the event, then after this experience, the Aranara’s combat strength would rise by several levels at the very least.

He simply had no idea what form that improvement would take. Aramuhukunda still needed to cultivate, so the results could not yet be seen.

Perhaps the next time he visited Vanarana, he could have them demonstrate it.

By the time they reached the King of Trees, Lin Feng had set aside his curiosity. He placed both hands upon the tree’s withered trunk and began to fulfill the promise he had made before departing—to heal this ancient tree, which could rightly be called the “mother” of all the Aranara.

With the Withering completely gone, the King of Trees no longer needed to resist its corruption and had already become much lighter. Perhaps, given enough time, it could recover on its own.

All Lin Feng needed to do was use his authority over life to accelerate the process.

Perhaps because he had expended too much strength earlier, Lin Feng felt that maintaining the active state of his authority within his body was gradually becoming more difficult.

Outwardly, this manifested as the King of Trees requiring a little more time to recover.

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Just as Lin Feng was carefully manipulating the authority within him, another small figure appeared at his side, and the pressure suddenly eased.

The brown Aramuhukunda had also pressed its little hands against the trunk of the King of Trees. Beside its tiny body, green strands of life shone with dazzling radiance.

“Nara Lin Feng has cleansed the Avatar of Marana and is tired. He needs to rest.”

“Let me take care of healing the King of Trees.”

Aramuhukunda looked at the somewhat weary Lin Feng and willingly took upon itself the task of healing the King of Trees.

“That won’t do. Without the authority over life, the wounds left by the Withering’s corruption will remain in the King of Trees, and the healing power will simply be wasted.”

Lin Feng thanked it for its kindness. In truth, he was only drawing upon his authority lightly, and it would not place any burden on him.

“Aramuhukunda! Nara Lin Feng!”

“Healing the King of Trees—healing Mother—we will help too!”

Aranaga and Arapacati, who had contributed little along the way, led a large group of cabbage-like Aranara forward as well, infusing the King of Trees with their own strength.

For a time, countless brilliant green lights shimmered among the ruins of the palace. The Nara wielding the power of the King of Trees and the countless Aranara working together gathered within the Palace of the King of Trees.

Time seemed to return to several centuries ago—to an age when calamity had not yet touched the land, when Nara and Aranara played together and grew together.

As though moved by the scene preserved in memory, new branches and tender shoots once again sprouted from the withered body of the King of Trees.

Branches unfurled. Buds emerged. Leaves spread open.

Flowers bloomed. Fruit formed. The fruit swelled.

Surrounded by everyone, the King of Trees produced a beautiful, plump pomegranate.

The pomegranate slowly split open, revealing countless seeds within.

The first seed to mature fell to the ground, becoming the starting point of the entirely new age created by Lin Feng.