Primordial Era: Starting with Self-Created Mythical Great Luo Law

That method is a secret manual passed down directly from the twelve ancestral witches. Outsiders cannot even glimpse its secrets. Even the bloodline of the witch clan must undergo rigorous selection before it can be inherited.

The Wu tribe does not cultivate the primordial spirit, nor does it discuss the laws with the Xuanmen. This technique has been sealed deep within their bloodline since ancient times and has never been leaked out.

Houtu lowered her eyes and remained silent, her knuckles slightly curled, her expression shifting between light and shadow. The Green Lotus Daoist sat motionless, waiting for her thoughts to settle.

After a short while, she raised her head and sighed softly, "Please enlighten me, Master. However, I must explain—the method of the Ancestral Witch's true form cannot be received by those who are not of the Witch Clan bloodline, and it may not be of any real benefit to you, Master."

"Although the law itself cannot be learned, the principles can be studied."

The Taoist Qinglian smiled and nodded. "The Xuanmen has the 'Law of Heaven and Earth,' and the Wu Clan has the 'True Body of the Ancestral Witch.' When the Taoist Ancestor Hongjun attains enlightenment and begins his lectures at Zixiao Palace, the two may be able to mutually verify and communicate with each other. What I seek is merely to see its essence."

"In that case, please, True Man, speak frankly of your best strategy." Houtu's tone was calm and steady. "As long as it can alleviate the famine of our people, I am willing to offer my true method for the True Man to see."

For her, the lives of the living are more precious than countless volumes of secret scriptures.

"This humble Taoist thanks you for your generosity, fellow Taoist."

"In my early years, I traveled through the wilderness and once saw a kind of herb called 'millet' in the mountains and fields. It takes exactly 365 days from spring planting to autumn harvest; the ears hang down like bells, each grain is plump and the color is like molten gold. Peel off the outer skin and you will find bright yellow seeds inside. When boiled in water, they are soft, sticky and fragrant, and can fill your stomach."

"When winter ends and spring arrives, after the second nine-day period of winter, take three or five seeds and bury them in the soil. Several months later, the new seedlings will sprout, grow ears of grain and flower, and one plant can produce more than a thousand seeds."

"By following this method, one can cultivate the land year after year and have an inexhaustible supply of grain, enough to meet the needs of the entire clan for a year. There is no need to chase after birds and beasts, harm or kill living beings, nor will one be burdened by karma or entangled in cause and effect."

Qinglian Daoist had no deep knowledge of agriculture, but seeing that the Wu tribe did not know what crops were or had never heard of the word "millet," he revealed the matter to them.

As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly felt his altar clear and bright, his spirit shining like a mirror, and his primordial spirit seemed to spontaneously bloom three flowers, directly in harmony with the breath of heaven and earth.

In fact, he only saw the surface and did not see the underlying truth—those hunted beasts, if they had awakened their consciousness, belonged to the demon race.

If the witch clan continues down this path, the more bloodshed they will suffer, the deeper their karmic burdens will become, ultimately setting the stage for an endless bloody war between the witch and demon clans.

If the Wu tribe ceases its warfare and focuses on its fundamental needs, replacing hunting with millet, Heaven will surely be grateful and bestow merit to repay the Qinglian Daoist for his enlightenment today.

Only food can truly sustain the myriad members of the Wu tribe. Otherwise, why would he have asked for the cultivation method of the Ancestral Witch's true form?

In the primordial world, all living beings either ate flesh and blood, breathed in pure air, or drank morning dew, without ever considering the origin of the five grains.

Cultivators live on air and drink dew, and have no concern for the smoke from the stove; the witches refine their bodies and attain divine power, believing that a single punch can split mountains and a leap can capture birds, so why should they bow down to the earth?

Later humans, though physically weak and unable to enter the gates of immortality, were forced by the need to survive to observe the four seasons, examine the plants, gather leftover seeds, cultivate wasteland, and tame chickens and pigs. Over time, they managed to forge a path of agriculture and sericulture.

粟！

Cultivate!

"May I ask, sir, where exactly does this millet grow? If it is as you say, I, on behalf of the entire Wu tribe, will forever remember this kindness!"

Upon hearing this, Houtu trembled slightly, a look of surprise flashing in her eyes, and she hurriedly stepped forward to ask a question.

Qinglian Daoist pondered for a moment and said, "Su Xing is easygoing and is often seen in the mountains and fields. I remember that he is in the mountains around here."

The primordial energy was vast and boundless, and the innate pure energy had not yet dissipated, so the mountains, rocks, grasses, and trees were extremely lush. Millet quietly hid among the secluded valleys and slopes, unassuming and unassuming, yet full of vitality.

Moreover, he had traveled extensively for many years and had seen no fewer than dozens of edible plants. If he randomly chose one and named it "millet," who could tell the difference between the real and the fake?

Houtu immediately rose, curtsied deeply, and said, "Master, this is no small matter; it is the very survival of our Wu tribe. I humbly request your personal guidance. I would be eternally grateful!"

"It was nothing, no need for thanks," said Daoist Qinglian with a smile as he rose.

The matter of millet was of great importance; why would he feign indifference or try to maintain a proper balance? The two exchanged few words, and with a slight flick of their sleeves, they had already left the Houtu tribe.

Strangely enough, the Wu Clan, with only their flesh and blood bodies, could withstand the might of a Grand Luo Golden Immortal and shake the eight wastelands.

Unfortunately, without cultivating his primordial spirit, understanding the workings of Heaven, or comprehending the secrets of Heaven, he ultimately missed out on becoming the protagonist of Heaven and Earth.

A mere few thousand miles was but a fleeting moment beneath their feet. Before long, with the clouds still lingering, the two stood amidst the trees on the mountainside, searching high and low.

Suddenly, the Taoist Qinglian stood on auspicious clouds, raised his hand and pointed to the hillside, laughing loudly, "If my eyesight is still good, that's where the millet is."

After speaking, he descended on a cloud, his toes lightly touching the ground. Before his eyes, a golden wave surged—the grass stems were upright, about six feet tall, with leaves like sword blades and ears like drooping bells, densely packed with golden grains.

Although he didn't know the local name, he recognized it at a glance: it was undoubtedly millet, ensuring a plentiful and worry-free meal.

He stepped forward slowly, plucked an ear of grain, rubbed the husk open in his palm to reveal the bright yellow kernels, picked up a few and put them in his mouth, chewing them slowly. A warm, sweet fragrance instantly spread, refreshing and delightful, far surpassing the grain stored in granaries in later generations.

"Fellow Daoist, you might as well try it—this millet is fragrant and slightly sweet, non-toxic and harmless, and drought-resistant and easy to grow. Widespread planting can relieve the tribe's hunger worries."

As soon as she finished speaking, Houtu immediately bent down, picked up a few golden seeds, and put them in her mouth to chew carefully.

Just as the Taoist Qinglian said, it is refreshing and delicious, and it makes your mouth water when you chew it. It is indeed a good food to fill your stomach.

"The profound kindness shown by the True Man will be forever etched in the hearts of the entire Wu Clan, and will never be forgotten for generations to come!"

She stood on the edge of the field, gazing at the golden ears of grain surging like waves before her, bowed deeply, and looked solemn.

The Taoist Qinglian stroked his beard and laughed: "Fellow Daoist, why bother with thanks? The Wu tribe gained millet to sustain their lifeline, while I, the poor Daoist, exchanged it for the cultivation method of the Ancestral Witch's true form—in fact, I have gained the greatest advantage."

How profound is that method? For ordinary cultivators, it is equivalent to hundreds of spiritual treasures and a thousand years of arduous cultivation.

But for the Wu tribe, a handful of millet that can take root and feed thousands of people is more precious than a thousand scrolls of secret manuals.

"No matter how miraculous the true form of the Ancestral Witch may be, it is ultimately an ancient method kept on a high shelf; while this millet is the root of life, the light in the fire, how can they be compared!"

Houtu's brows relaxed, and she asked eagerly, "But Immortal, when exactly should this millet be sown, and how should it be cared for?"

"Don't rush. Heaven and earth have their own rhythms: spring brings forth life, summer fosters growth, autumn harvests, and winter stores away—observe the changes calmly, and you will naturally understand." The Qinglian Daoist's voice was gentle.

He hadn't actually cultivated millet himself many times, but he had seen, tried, and remembered the basic skills of weeding, irrigation, pest control, composting, harvesting ears of grain, and drying. Compared to tribes in the ancient times who couldn't even distinguish between wheat seedlings and barnyard grass, he was already quite knowledgeable.

He told Houtu everything he knew, and accompanied her every day to watch over the fields, observing how the leaves unfolded, how the ears of grain filled, and how the awns drooped.

More than a hundred days passed in the blink of an eye. For the creatures of the primordial world, it was merely the time it takes to take a nap.

When the entire millet field turned from green to yellow and the ears of grain were full and drooping, Hou Tu personally bent down, cut down each stalk, shook off the dust, and carefully put them into his leather bag.