Darkness.
That was the first sensation he remembered—an endless, suffocating void without shape or sound. No up, no down. No breath. No heartbeat. No flesh to call his own. Only drifting consciousness, shredded memories swirling like dust in a forgotten breeze.
Who… was I?
A question with no answer.
He tried remembering a name, a face, a life. Everything dissolved the moment he grasped it, like smoke slipping through fingers he no longer possessed.
Then—
A tremor.
A pulse.
Faint, distant… yet powerful enough to ripple through that primordial darkness.
Thump.
Not a human heartbeat—but the pulse of life itself. Ancient. Mysterious.
The void tore open.
Light, cold and white as a winter dawn, flooded through his being. Not through eyes—he had no eyes—but through the very fibers of his soul.
And then he heard it.
> [Initializing… Reincarnation Protocol Complete.]
[Welcome, Awakened One.]
[Designation: Sapling Form — Willow Species.]
[Bound System: Grand Dao Sign-In Engine.]
A system voice.
Mechanical yet divine, echoing through his formless consciousness.
He froze—if a drifting soul could freeze.
Reincarnation? Willow? Sign-In?
Before he could question further, sensation returned.
But not as flesh.
Instead—
He felt soil. Moist and cool, cradling him from below.
He felt sunlight. Warm and gentle, brushing over his thin, fragile branches.
He felt wind. Soft currents pulling at delicate leaves that had once been a part of nothing, and now were everything.
Am… am I a tree?
The realization struck harder than any lightning tribulation.
His awareness unfurled—not like a human opening eyes, but like a network of roots slowly spreading through earth. He sensed stones buried beneath him, tiny insects crawling by, the faint flow of spiritual energy in the environment.
He stretched higher, testing his body.
Leaves rustled.
Branches quivered.
The sound was small, almost pitiful—because the truth was undeniable:
He was a withered willow, frail, thin, barely alive.
At least five branches were cracked.
His trunk was split by old scars.
His roots were shallow, tangled, and starved.
He stood at the edge of a barren forest, one of countless dying trees in a land forgotten by heaven.
And he was the weakest of them all.
Why this form?
Who reincarnated me?
Why give me a sign-in system but a body weaker than a mortal sapling?
Questions spiraled through his mind—but the divine mechanical voice cut through.
> [Congratulations, host.]
[Because today is your first awakening, you may perform your first Sign-In.]
[Would you like to Sign-In at: "The Desolate Willow Graveyard"?]
"...Sign in," he commanded through thought.
The world trembled.
Not physically—something deeper.
As though reality itself acknowledged him for the first time.
> [Sign-In Successful.]
[Reward Granted: Primordial Spirit Sap (1 drop).]
[Reward Description: Origin liquid condensed at the birth of the cosmos. Capable of regenerating roots, rebuilding the foundation, and awakening ancestral potential.]
[Warning: Consuming Primordial Spirit Sap may trigger drastic evolution.]
His consciousness vibrated.
A drop of Primordial Spirit Sap?
Even mortals in his past life—whatever that past had been—would sense the overwhelming significance. In this new world? This was the stuff of legends. Even ancient sect masters would wage war over a fragment of this treasure.
He hesitated.
Only for a moment.
Then—
Absorb.
The single drop of golden sap dissolved into his trunk.
Light exploded from within him, rushing through every vein-like channel inside his wooden body. His decayed bark shed off like dust. His shriveled roots expanded, splitting soil as they burrowed deeper. His thin branches grew stronger, supple and full of hidden resilience.
Power—pure, unfiltered, primordial—surged.
He drank it greedily.
The barren ground trembled as roots expanded meters in seconds. Pebbles cracked. Insects fled. Even nearby dead trees leaned away as if bowing before a rising sovereign.
More… more…
He didn't know why, but the instinct was there—deep, ancient, guiding him. A desire not just to survive, but to ascend.
Then—
A whisper.
Not from the system.
But from something older. Inside him.
Willow… is merely the beginning…
Grow.
Expand.
Devour the land.
Take root in Heaven.
Become… the World Tree.
He shuddered.
The vision came unbidden—of towering branches piercing clouds, roots spreading across continents, fruits birthing races, leaves influencing the cycle of seasons. A titanic tree connecting realms, revered by saints and feared by demons.
World Tree… me?
His childish sapling body trembled at the thought.
But the instinct was real.
The evolution path was carved into his soul.
And the system confirmed it:
> [Hidden Potential Unlocked.]
[Evolution Path Acquired: "World Tree Genesis Route."]
[Current Stage: Withered Willow Sapling.]
[Next Stage: Spirit Willow Tree.]
[Required Conditions: Spiritual Soil, Moon Dew, 1 additional Sign-In Treasure.]
His fate was no longer ordinary.
Before he could revel in the newfound power, vibrations traveled through the ground.
Footsteps.
Dozens.
Rough, heavy, scraping over dry leaves.
Humans? No… beasts.
His senses sharpened. Being a tree, he couldn't see with eyes—but he could feel everything through spiritual perception.
And what he felt chilled him:
A pack of Iron-Fang Jackals, low-tier demonic beasts, padded into the clearing. Their fangs glinted like metal. Their bodies radiated hostility.
Behind them, a man in tattered robes staggered through the brush, clutching a wounded arm. Blood dripped freely, scenting the air. Spiritual energy flickered weakly around him—he was a cultivator, but an extremely injured one.
He collapsed against the roots of a nearby dead oak.
"Not… yet… I can't die here…"
The jackals circled him with hungry growls.
Why are they here?
Why now—right when I awaken?
It didn't matter.
They were too close.
And he—still partially withered—couldn't move. He was rooted. Helpless.
No…
Power thrummed faintly within him, but not enough to fight a pack of beasts.
Then the system spoke again, timely as divine intervention:
> [Host has encountered external threat.]
[Sign-In Location Detected: "Battle of the Desolate Clearing."]
[Would you like to Sign-In?]
He didn't hesitate.
"Sign in."
Reality shivered.
> [Sign-In Successful.]
[Reward Granted: 'Willow's Whispering Gale Art (Heaven-Grade).']
[Reward Description: An ancient technique allowing willows to bend wind essence, form cutting wind threads, and create invisible slicing gusts.]
Wind.
His leaves trembled.
His branches quaked.
Wind essence gathered around him like a spiraling vortex—hidden, subtle, but sharp enough to taste.
The jackals froze.
One lifted its head, ears twitching.
Then—
Swoosh.
A thin, crescent-shaped gust sliced through the air.
—And severed the jackal's leg cleanly.
Blood sprayed.
The beast howled.
The rest screeched in panic, backing away in confusion. They scanned the clearing wildly, searching for the source of the invisible strike.
No one suspected the frail willow.
Again.
He didn't know how he knew the technique—but knowledge poured into him instinctively. He bent his smallest branch—
—Wind essence gathered—
—slice—
A second jackal collapsed, throat opened by an unseen blade.
The pack panicked.
They bolted into the forest with frightened yelps.
Silence fell.
Wind rustled his newly-strengthened leaves.
Alder—though he still didn't know that would one day be his name—felt something stir within him.
Not pride.
Not joy.
Something deeper.
A connection.
The world felt different now. Bigger. Brighter. Full of danger… and possibility.
Today, a dying willow awakened.
Tomorrow—
He would grow.
He would evolve.
He would ascend.
And one day…
I will become the World Tree.