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

Although there were no plows, sickles, or hoes in the primordial land, the shamans could summon clouds and rain with a wave of their hands, burn grass and kill insects with a wave of their sleeves, turn the soil as if flipping paper, and draw canals as if drawing lines—where human power could not reach, supernatural powers could do it, far surpassing ordinary farming.

Seeing that she had harvested the last handful of millet, Daoist Qinglian smiled and asked, "Fellow Daoist, do you know how to plant now?"

"I dare not say I am an expert in everything, but I am capable of everything from clearing land and planting seeds to protecting seedlings and harvesting. You have a profound understanding of nature and are truly a recluse of our time." Houtu spoke sincerely and without any pretense.

"The millet is the destiny of the Wu tribe. I merely gave it a push. How dare I claim to be 'righteous'?" Qinglian sighed softly.

What is meant by "having the Way"? It means not being tainted by external influences, not pursuing fleeting fame, but seeking only the Way. He himself was still wandering in the dust of the world, with one foot inside the threshold and the other still outside.

"There's no need for you to be so modest, Master. Why don't you come back to the camp with me to rest? I will immediately present you with the true method of the Ancestral Witch for your perusal." Houtu smiled, her eyes shining.

"Thank you, fellow Daoist. I was just about to go into seclusion for a few days to clear my mind, observe the phenomena, and experience the rhythm of the four seasons."

His primordial spirit was clear and pure. In just over a hundred days, what seemed like casual conversation and the transmission of seeds was actually a connection between his heart and the earth's veins, and a resonance between his spirit and the natural phenomena—what he gained from this was far greater than sitting idly for a thousand years.

The two chatted and laughed as they headed towards the tribe. Qinglian wanted to find a quiet place to rest and recuperate, while Houtu was in a hurry to summon the twelve great shamans to discuss matters such as cultivating new fields, dividing and saving seeds, and rotating crops to store grain.

Stone houses lined the settlement of the Wu tribe. Qinglian casually chose an empty room, brushed the dust off the stone bed, sat down on it, lowered her eyes, and gradually became deep in her breathing.

From then on, the Wu tribe planted millet, which reduced killings, stopped famines, reduced bloodshed, and increased the smoke from cooking fires on the land. Such merits were silent and formless, yet they reached the source of the Great Dao more directly than refining ten thousand years of profound energy.

Several months later.

The Azure Lotus Daoist suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze clear and bright as ever. Standing at the doorway was a burly shaman, broad-shouldered as a mountain, his expression tense, his lips moving slightly before stopping, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. The Daoist smiled gently, his voice unhurried: "Great shaman, what brings you here, disturbing my peace for a moment?"

"Xingtian, the shaman of the Houtu tribe, pays respects to the True Man!" The man clasped his hands and bowed deeply, his eyes burning with fervor. "I have long admired your profound knowledge of creation and your skill in forging supreme treasures, and I have come to earnestly request—that you forge a suitable weapon for me!"

"Forging artifacts? The Great Witch Xingtian is going to refine a spiritual treasure?" Qinglian raised an eyebrow slightly, her voice tinged with surprise.

If the Wu tribe does not cultivate their primordial spirit, nor condense their magical power, and cannot refine spiritual treasures, where can they offer them as sacrifices?

Xing Tian had no intention of refining any spiritual treasures. He simply stumbled upon a strange iron stone by chance and only thought of melting it down to make a weapon for self-defense.

But this stone is incredibly strange—it cannot be penetrated by water, burned by fire, or cleaved by an axe. Even when Zhu Rong personally activated the Ninefold Divine Fire, it remained unburnt.

He had just returned to his tribe when he suddenly heard someone mention the name "Qinglian Daoist." His heart skipped a beat: cultivators' methods were unpredictable, and the fire condensed from their primordial spirit was even more mysterious. Perhaps he could succeed? So he immediately went to ask for help.

"I don't need a magical treasure, I only ask that you help me forge a weapon," Xing Tian quickly added, bowing.

arms!

The Azure Lotus Daoist raised an eyebrow slightly: "Forging weapons is not difficult. However, the Witch Clan does not cultivate the primordial spirit and does not understand magic. If I were to forge it with my primordial spirit fire, I'm afraid even the Great Witch Xingtian would not be able to hold it firmly, let alone control it."

Xing Tian's expression darkened, and he remained silent for a long time before saying in a low voice, "To be honest, this stone is extremely strange. Even the Nine Divine Fire of the Ancestral Witch Zhurong could not destroy it. If a true person can melt it and forge it into an axe, even without any spiritual power, its weight and sharpness alone should be enough to split mountains and cleave peaks."

The spiritual treasures refined by cultivators cannot be separated from the power of their primordial spirit; but weapons are different. Even a mortal body can swing, chop, and smash them, but they lack the mysteries of maneuvering, transformation, flight, attack, and defense.

"In that case, I am willing to try the combination of the Primordial Five Elements True Scripture and the Primordial Five Elements Spiritual Fire, which may be of great help to the Great Shaman."

Qinglian was well aware of the power of Zhurong's Nine-Flame Divine Fire. Precisely because of this, he became interested—he wanted to see what was so strange about this iron stone that Xingtian spoke of.

Upon hearing this, Xing Tian's eyes lit up, and he clasped his hands in a fist and said loudly, "Thank you, Master! Please allow me to fetch it!" Before he finished speaking, he had already turned around and strode out the door.

Qinglian watched his retreating figure disappear into the distance, a slight smile playing on her lips as she murmured to herself, "The Great Witch Xingtian... is indeed no ordinary person."

The twelve ancestral witches of the witch clan govern the world, and there are more than a hundred great witches, with vastly different strengths: the top ones can shake those with great supernatural powers, while the bottom ones have only just stepped into the threshold of Taiyi.

Xing Tian was one of the most formidable generals under the Ancestral Witches, and later generations called him the "God of War." These four words perfectly encapsulate his unparalleled fighting prowess.

After about half a cup of tea's time, a heavy breathing sound came from outside: "Master! This stone is too heavy for us to carry into the house. Please, Master, come and take a look!"

Xing Tian's face was flushed red, the veins on his forehead were slightly bulging, and he was carrying a black stone as tall as a person on his shoulder. He stood outside the stone house door, his chest heaving like a bellows.

Qinglian rose, and a blue lotus quietly bloomed beneath her feet as she slowly stepped forward. Looking up, she saw Xingtian standing steadily on the steps, his hands supporting him on the stone.

The stone was almost as tall as him, completely black and dull, lacking even the luster of ordinary mountain rocks, looking like a piece of stubborn iron eroded by wind and rain.

If it weren't for the fact that he was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, and that it was already known that even the Ninefold Divine Fire couldn't burn him, anyone passing by would probably have thought he was a piece of trash.

"Look, real man! We went through so much trouble to drag this place here. Do you think we can forge a good axe?" Xing Tian slammed the iron stone heavily on the ground, grinned, and looked on with eager anticipation.

He had tried countless methods to deal with this stone, but was at his wit's end, and was now entirely counting on the fire from the Green Lotus Taoist.

"Please, Great Shaman Xingtian, step back a few paces so that I may examine this stone closely and find its origin."

Qinglian stepped forward, signaling Xingtian to move aside, then bent down and walked around the stone, examining it repeatedly.

The more he looked at it, the more confused he became—it lacked any spiritual energy or vitality, and was completely empty inside; it was clearly just a piece of dead iron. How could such a thing possibly withstand the True Fire of the Ancestral Witch?

"May I ask, Great Shaman, where did this stone come from?"

Upon hearing this, Xing Tian straightened his back and grinned, "You don't know, Master, it fell from the heavens! There was a strong wind that day, and the thunderclouds split open. It crashed down right next to our camp with a 'boom'—we reached out and grabbed it, and it was ours."

Above the Nine Heavens lies the Chaotic Realm, inaccessible to anyone but a Great Luo Golden Immortal. There, the chaotic energy permeates the boundless expanse, and even the occasional condensation of metal is extremely rare, one in ten thousand.

Iron and stone born from chaos, though not of innate origin, are naturally enveloped in a wisp of chaotic aura. Their hardness and richness far surpass ordinary innate spiritual materials.

Upon hearing this, Daoist Qinglian felt a sudden chill in his heart. He immediately focused his mind and quietly released his primordial spirit, slowly probing towards the iron stone.

The moment it touched it, it was as if it had hit a warm yet indestructible barrier, making it impossible for the primordial spirit to advance, and it was firmly blocked outside the iron and stone.

"The Chaos Divine Iron truly lives up to its reputation."