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

Tongtian gazed at the vast emptiness.

He didn't rush to make a move; instead, he observed.

He observed the trajectory of Taixu's aura as he stood there, the direction of the sword intent flowing around him, and the subtle sharpness emanating from the core of his body.

At the billion-dollar gathering, he had met countless sword cultivators.

But I have never seen such a pure sword.

Like the first ray of light at the beginning of time, it was pure, without any hesitation, and without any way back.

A hint of appreciation involuntarily appeared in Tongtian's eyes.

Yet beneath that appreciation lies a complex emotion that is hard to define.

Although the newcomer was powerful, his heart seemed to be trapped by something.

Taixu and Tongtian confronted each other at the edge of the primordial world. The sharp sword intent was contained within a small space, like a blade in its sheath, drawn but not yet unleashed.

Even when it was restrained, its aura was still like an invisible giant mountain pressing down on the void at the edge of the primordial world, causing the chaotic energy for billions of miles to tremble slightly.

Tongtian stood still, his green robes fluttering slightly, his sword intent flowing like water around him.

He didn't rush to draw his sword, but simply gazed quietly into the void, his eyes as calm as an ancient well.

Taixu remained motionless.

Two figures, one blue and one gray, stood facing each other in the void at the edge of the primordial wilderness.

The chaotic energy surged between the two, yet it never dared to cross that invisible boundary.

At that boundary, two completely different sword intents collided silently.

And at that very moment.

Inside the Lingxiao Palace, Haotian suddenly sat up straight on the dragon throne.

He shuddered, and a sudden light shone brightly in the depths of his majestic eyes.

He sensed it.

An extremely powerful aura was slowly spreading from the edge of the primordial wilderness.

That aura was extremely sharp and pure, carrying a sense of oppression far surpassing that of a saint.

Haotian's pupils shrank sharply, and his face turned deathly pale instantly.

"What... what is this aura?!"

His voice was hoarse, filled with a panic he had never felt before when he had hundreds of millions of dollars.

The sense of oppression was even heavier than when Hongjun Daozu descended upon the Heavenly Court.

Even across billions of miles of void, he, a quasi-saint at the peak, still felt an indescribable sense of suffocation.

It was as if an invisible giant sword was hanging in the sky, ready to fall at any moment.

The heavenly soldiers and generals in the hall had already knelt on the ground, trembling with fear.

They couldn't even sense the source of that aura, yet an instinctive fear surged through them like a tide, making it impossible for them to even lift their heads.

Haotian stood up, supporting himself on the armrest of the dragon throne. His imperial robes hung down, and his crown was majestic. However, his resolute face was now filled with surprise and uncertainty.

"What...what is this aura?"

"Who came to the primordial world?"

"Could it be that, besides Dao Ancestor Hongjun, there are other such beings deep within the chaos?"

His mind raced, and he immediately thought of Xuandu.

When the man in blue left the primordial world, he went to the depths of chaos.

Could it be that this aura is related to Xuandu?

Haotian took a deep breath, suppressing the shock surging in his heart, and stepped out of the Lingxiao Palace.

In the blink of an eye, he stood outside the South Heavenly Gate, his aura as a peak Quasi-Saint surging like a tide, gazing into the distance towards the edge of the Primordial World.

In that void, chaotic energy surged like a tide, and he could see nothing.

But he could sense it.

That aura was like a sharp sword piercing between heaven and earth; its sharpness, even across billions of miles of void, still made his heart tighten.

"Someone come here!"

Haotian roared, his voice shaking the southern sky.

Several figures shot in from all directions of the Heavenly Court, landing behind him and kneeling on the ground.

Those are the current righteous gods of the Heavenly Court. They were all disciples of the Chan Sect, the Human Sect, and the Western Sect in the past. After their true spirits were listed, they were appointed as gods by Haotian.

The highest level of their cultivation was only the peak of the Great Luo Golden Immortal, but at this moment, sensing the terrifying aura coming from the edge of the primordial world, their faces turned ashen.

"Your Majesty... what... what is that?"

A righteous god spoke with a trembling voice, filled with unease.

Haotian did not answer, but stared intently into the distance, his eyes churning with turbulent emotions.

"Issue my decree."

He spoke, his voice as cold as ice.

"All the gods of Heaven, return to your positions, strictly abide by your duties, and refrain from any rash actions."

"Without my order, no one may approach the edge of the primordial wilderness."

"Those who disobey will be beheaded."

As soon as the words fell, the righteous gods all kowtowed.

"Your Majesty, we obey!"

Their voices were filled with awe, and then they transformed into several streaks of light, rushing towards various parts of the Heavenly Court.

Haotian stood outside the South Heavenly Gate, his imperial robes fluttering in the wind.

He gazed in the direction of that sharp aura and muttered to himself:

"Xuan Du...who have you brought to the prehistoric world this time?"

That extremely sharp aura made Haotian's unease grow stronger.

But he also understood that if that aura was truly hostile to the Jie Sect, he would be no match for it.

He could only wait.

Wait for the owner of that aura to reveal his true colors, wait for his true intentions.

Just as Haotian was filled with doubt and uncertainty, deep within the Lingxiao Palace, on the Investiture of the Gods, five long-dormant true spirits trembled slightly at the same time.

Within the true spirit of the Supreme Saint, the remaining will seemed to sense something and began to slowly surge.

Within the primordial true spirit, the lingering essence suddenly coalesced, as if resisting some invisible pressure.

Nuwa's true spirit was as still as ice, but beneath that ice, a faint ripple was flowing.

The true spirits of Jieyin and Zhunti intertwined, and the remaining Buddhist light flickered faintly.

They are all saints and true spirits.

Even with only a wisp of their will remaining, they could still sense the terror of that aura.

It was a sense of oppression that far surpassed their peak performance in life.

Half-step to the peak of Hunyuan Taiji, the Great Dao of the Sword.

Such a realm has never appeared in the primordial world.

Even if they are Heavenly Saints, at their peak they are only at the seventh level of Heavenly Dao, equivalent to the seventh level of Hunyuan Daluo Golden Immortal.

But this aura was clearly far beyond the ninth level of the Primordial Grand Luo Realm.

That is half-step Hunyuan Taiji.

That was a realm they couldn't even imagine in their lifetime.

The true spirits of the five saints fell silent under that aura.

Deep within the true spirit of the Supreme Saint, the remnant will slowly surged, as if recalling something.

He cultivated the billion-dollar club, attained sainthood, and looked down upon the primordial world.

But he never even touched the threshold of Hunyuan Taiji.

Now a person has arrived, a person countless times more powerful than he was in life, standing on the edge of the primordial wilderness.

The sword intent was so sharp that even his remaining wisp of true spirit felt an instinctive tremor.

Taiqing's will slowly subsided.

There was no struggle, no resentment, only a calm that would settle down after hundreds of millions of yuan had been spent.

Because he knew that he was now nothing more than a wisp of true spirit.

It's a name from the Investiture of the Gods.

He was no longer qualified to concern himself with matters of the primordial era.

The will of the Primordial One surged even more fiercely.

Within his remaining true spirit, a trace of resentment was churning.

He is the true descendant of Pangu, the leader of the Chan Sect, and a sage of the seventh heaven.

But now he is trapped in the Investiture of the Gods, driven by the Jade Emperor.

Deep within the chaos, an existence of unknown origin hovers on the edge of the primordial world, radiating a sword intent that even those who look up cannot reach.

That sword intent was even more fierce than that of the Dao Ancestor Hongjun back then.

The lingering resentment of the Primordial Beginning wanted to break free from the shackles of the Investiture of the Gods, but the golden light of the Investiture of the Gods held him firmly down like a net.

He can't get out.

They can't turn things around.

His struggle lasted for a moment, then slowly subsided.

Because he knew that struggling was futile.

The true spirits on the Investiture of the Gods can never escape.

Even though that sharp sword intent was hanging on the edge of the primordial world, he could only watch and do nothing.

Nuwa's true spirit remained as silent as ice.

She was neither as resentful as Yuanshi nor as calm as Taiqing; she simply remained silent.

That aura reminded her of some things, some past events she didn't want to recall.

When Xuandu killed her with a single sword strike, she sensed his sword intent.

But that sword intent was completely different from the one I'm seeing now.

Xuan Du's sword intent carried a sense of composure and strategic planning, yet within this sword intent lay only pure sharpness.

It's as if that person's life was a sword.

Within Nuwa's true spirit, there was no turmoil, no struggle.

She simply sensed that aura quietly, and then slowly faded into silence.

On the Investiture of the Gods, all five true spirits vanished into oblivion.

Haotian stood outside the South Heavenly Gate, sensing the unusual movements of the five true spirits deep within the Investiture of the Gods, and his heart grew even heavier.

Even the five saintly spirits reacted this way, so that person's cultivation level was probably even more terrifying than he had imagined.

He clenched his fists.

In that instant, a thought surged into his mind.

How about... we go and take a look at the edge of the prehistoric world?

But he suppressed the thought as soon as it arose.

can not go.

He is no match for him.

Going there would only be suicide for him.

He could only wait at the South Heavenly Gate, waiting for the owner of that aura to reveal their intentions.