Primordial Era: Cultivation level equals the sum of the Jie Sect's total; the Three Pure Ones a

Shouyang Mountain.

The area was shrouded in mist and purple clouds.

The Eight Views Palace stands atop the mountain, its gates tightly shut. Innate Dao patterns flow ceaselessly above the gates, connected to the energy veins of the entire Shouyang Mountain, remaining unshaken even by billions of yuan.

Inside the palace.

The purple clouds dimmed, and the ground was covered with green jade.

Lao Tzu sat cross-legged on the cloud bed, his body surrounded by a purple and clear Dao light that surged like a tide, as vast as the sea and as deep as an abyss.

The brilliance, purity, and vastness of that light were far beyond anything seen in the past.

Sage of the Heavenly Way.

The Seventh Heaven.

But deep within those once tranquil and indifferent eyes, now lay a gloomy darkness.

He sensed it.

The aura came from the direction of Mount Sumeru. Although it was only for a moment and was concealed, he could still sense it.

Xuandu.

Lao Tzu slowly closed his eyes.

The ashen look on that withered face deepened.

Xuandu.

Tens of thousands of yuan were spent.

He thought he had forgotten the name.

He thought that time would heal all wounds.

He thought that once his cultivation broke through to the seventh level, he would be able to let go of that past.

But only now did he realize it.

Can't let go.

I can never let it go.

Because what Xuandu took away was not just the Kongtong Seal.

It's not just about human destiny.

It's not just about his reputation as the Supreme Sage.

What Xuandu took away was his Dao.

The position of leader of the People's Church is the foundation for his enlightenment and sainthood.

It is the foundation of his billions of dollars in spiritual practice.

It is the deepest bond between him and the Heavenly Dao.

Xuandu deposed him from his position as leader, thus severing his path to enlightenment.

That destroyed his foundation.

That is, he could cultivate his skills and gain hundreds of millions of yuan, only to have it all vanish in an instant.

This hatred and resentment are etched into my very bones.

The tens of thousands of yuan spent have not faded away in the slightest.

Lao Tzu opened his eyes.

The purple light in those eyes was cold and sharp.

Hatred.

Naked hatred.

It is deeper than the Primordial Beginning, more profound than the Guide to Receiving, and more intense than the Cundi.

Because what Yuanshi lost was nothing more than the Central Wuji Apricot Yellow Banner.

What Jieyin lost was nothing more than the Azure Lotus Banner.

What Zhunti lost was nothing more than the twelve-petaled golden lotus of merit.

What his father lost was the Tao.

It represents the hard work of a multi-million dollar organization.

It is everything that the Supreme Saint possesses.

"Xuan Du".

Lao Tzu spoke in a low, hoarse voice:

"You've finally emerged from seclusion."

As the sound faded, a deathly silence fell over the Eight Views Palace.

The dim purple glow seemed to freeze for a moment.

"Master?"

A voice came from below.

Lao Tzu lowered his eyes and looked down at the cloud bed.

There, a figure sat cross-legged.

He had a youthful face, a slender figure, and an aura as deep and profound as an abyss.

Peak Quasi-Saint.

Bai Shou.

Lao Tzu's disciple.

He was also his only disciple.

Bai Shou was originally a rogue cultivator from the foot of Shouyang Mountain, with mediocre talent and ordinary background.

Before the meeting, which cost tens of thousands of yuan, Lao Tzu's teachings were abolished, he had no followers, and he lost all face.

To save face, he had no choice but to take on an apprentice.

That is Bai Shou.

It is achieved by accumulating elixirs, infusing the head with magical power, and nourishing it with the essence of the Heavenly Dao.

They forcibly elevated a mediocre rogue cultivator to the peak of Quasi-Saint.

But so what?

An unstable foundation leads to insufficient staying power.

Even at the peak of Quasi-Saint level, it's nothing more than a castle in the air.

Even if he were to fight against the Twelve Golden Immortals of the Chan Sect, he might not be their match.

Not to mention the Primordial Golden Immortals like Duobao and Kong Xuan of the Jie Sect.

Laozi looked at Bai Shou, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

He never truly cared about this disciple.

Taking on apprentices is just for show.

The purpose of spreading the Dharma is simply to avoid losing face.

The act of receiving elixirs was merely a way to make oneself look good.

He didn't care whether Bai Shou lived or died.

Bai Shou seemed to sense something as well, and slightly raised his head to look at Laozi.

In those eyes, there was doubt, awe, and an undeniable sense of alienation.

He spent tens of thousands of yuan to become a disciple, but he never felt any care or concern from his master.

Only indifference.

It's all just perfunctory.

Only the icy, bone-chilling elixir was poured over one's head.

He knew that he was nothing more than a tool used by his master to save face.

But he dared not complain.

They didn't dare to run away.

Because Lao Tzu was a sage of the seventh heaven.

Because he is the Supreme Sage.

Even if he escapes to the ends of the earth, he cannot escape Lao Tzu's grasp.

"Master."

Bai Shou spoke, his voice calm:

"Disciple sensed that Master seemed uneasy just now."

"But what happened?"

Lao Tzu looked at him and remained silent for a moment.

Then, he slowly began to speak:

"Xuan Du has emerged from seclusion."

As the three words fell, Bai Shou trembled.

Xuandu.

Deputy leader of the Jie Sect.

The Primordial Golden Immortal.

He spent a century proving his Dao, mending the heavens and supporting the sky, annihilating Nuwa, and forcing the Four Sages to retreat.

Before the Ten Thousand Yuan Meeting, he was already one of the most powerful beings in the primordial world.

Even his master had suffered at his hands.

Has he emerged from seclusion?

"Master."

Bai Shou spoke, his voice slightly deep:

"Has Xuandu left the pass and gone to Mount Sumeru?"

Lao Tzu nodded.

Bai Shou's expression changed slightly:

"Why did he go to see Jieyin and Zhunti?"

Lao Tzu shook his head:

"I don't know."

"but……"

He paused, his gaze deepening slightly:

"Whatever it is, it's none of our business."

"That's a matter for Jieyin and Zhunti."

"It's their karma with Xuandu."

Bai Shou remained silent.

He looked at Lao Tzu, at that withered yet somber face.

Thoughts raced through my mind.

How could he not know the cause and effect between his master and Xuandu?

Back then, Xuandu used the destiny of the human race to depose his master from his position as the leader of the Human Cult.

They seized the Kongtong Seal.

They severed the Master's path to enlightenment.

This hatred is irreconcilable.

Master hates Xuandu, hates him to the bone.

But so what?

Is hatred useful?

The Xuandu sect has achieved its great power, and the Jie sect is at its zenith.

Even if Master breaks through to the seventh level of Heaven, so what?

Bai Shou thought to himself, but his face remained expressionless.

He simply lowered his head slightly, his voice calm:

"Master is wise."

"The cause and effect between Xuandu and Jieyin and Zhunti is none of our business."

"Master, there's no need to worry about this."

Lao Tzu looked at him, his gaze slightly narrowed.

He never truly saw through this disciple.

Mediocre talent, ordinary background.

But those eyes remained calm and still.

No matter how indifferent, perfunctory, or effusive he may be.

Those eyes have never changed.

calm.

alienation.

With a hint of...pity that was hard to explain.

mercy?

Lao Tzu frowned slightly.

Is this disciple pitying him?

absurd.

He is a Heavenly Saint of the Seventh Heaven.

He is the Sage of Taiqing.

It is the authentic Pangu lineage.

Why should we need the pity of an ant at the peak of the Quasi-Saint realm?

Lao Tzu withdrew his gaze, his voice turning cold:

"You may leave."

Bai Shou bowed slightly.

"Your disciple obeys."

He stood up, turned around, and took a step forward.

The figure slowly disappeared into the depths of the Eight Views Palace.

Lao Tzu stood alone on the cloud bed, gazing at the disappearing figure, his eyes as deep as an abyss.

a long time.

He spoke slowly, his voice barely audible:

"Xuan Du".

"You wait."

"The next great calamity will be the Investiture of the Gods."

"That will be your death day."

"That will be the end of the Jie Sect."

The sound faded, returning to nothingness.

Inside the Eight Views Palace, the purple clouds remained dim.

That withered figure stood alone on the cloud bed.

It remained unmoved for a long time.

Shouyang Mountain.

Halfway up the mountain.

A simple cave dwelling, hidden among ancient trees.

Inside the cave, Bai Shou sat cross-legged.

His aura was as deep as an abyss, and his cultivation at the peak of the Quasi-Saint realm had reached perfection.

But that foundation is as flimsy as cotton.

That aura, however, was chaotic and disordered.

That power, however, was beyond control.

Pills piled up.

Infusion of magical power.

The Way of Heaven, originating from the source, gives back to its source.

His master gave him everything, but never gave him a foundation.

He was given power, but he was never taught how to control it.

He was given cultivation, but never the Dao.

Bai Shou looked down at his hands.

In his palm, the purple-purple Dao light flowed endlessly.

But that light was not his.

It belongs to Master.

It's a medicinal pill.

It is the origin of the Way of Heaven.

Not a single strand belonged to him.