Primordial Era: The Three Senior Brothers of the Taiqing Clan

The black-robed man's fighting style was no longer the reckless madness of the past, but had become precise, restrained, and ruthless. Each strike perfectly blocked Chen Qing's next attack, forcing him to change his evasive direction.

After dodging to the side, Chen Qing suddenly held the Purple Lightning Hammer horizontally in front of him, neither attacking nor retreating.

He glanced at the purple lightning hammer in his hand, which remained as gleaming as ever after countless clashes, then looked up at the man in black robes: "Your fighting style has changed."

The man in black paused slightly in mid-air: "You've changed too."

Chen Qing did not deny it. The two moved again, their figures intertwining in the chaos. Wherever they passed, the chaotic air currents retreated, and even the void could not withstand the aftershocks leaked out from their battle.

On the front line at the edge of the primordial world, Laozi stood on a raised platform in the void behind him, with Haotian, Yaochi and several powerful beings from the Heavenly Court beside him.

They gazed at the battlefield, now enveloped in endless Daoist energy, where neither side showed any sign of retreating amidst the interplay of light and shadow.

Chen Qing swung his hammer again, aiming for the black-robed man's chest. This time, the man didn't completely dodge; the hammer's force swept past him.

Taking advantage of this opening, Chen Qing did not pursue, but instead lifted the Purple Lightning Hammer upwards. The hammerhead drew an arc in the air, and a thin golden light swept diagonally across the black-robed man's shoulder. Although the light was brief, it left a shallow mark.

The man in black robes glanced down at the wound on his shoulder that was rapidly healing itself. When he looked up again, his eyes held something Chen Qing had never seen before.

It was an extremely subtle emotion. When he saw the power contained in that golden light, the light in his eyes still flickered slightly.

"You have merged with the Way of Pangu?" The black-robed man's voice was a notch lower than before.

Chen Qing gripped the Purple Lightning Hammer firmly again: "I melted a portion of it."

Although the golden light was only a thin line, it carried an aura that originated from the same source as this chaos, an aura like the most primordial wisp of power at the beginning of chaos.

The man in black robes was silent for a moment, a silence that, in Chen Qing's perception, was like ice floes frozen on the surface of water.

Then, in the next instant, the black-robed man's body suddenly swelled several times, transforming into a giant whose form was completely different from the last one.

A dense, almost tangible black light condensed in his palm, which he thrust out suddenly toward Chen Qing. Before the light even arrived, the chaotic energy began to tumble and retreat to the sides.

Chen Qing looked up at the rapidly approaching black light and gripped the handle of the Purple Lightning Hammer with both hands.

Golden light began to shine from the head of the Purple Lightning Hammer. It looked faint, but it contained a power that continued to penetrate downwards.

He held the purple lightning hammer horizontally in front of him.

The moment gold and black collided, the entire chaotic border seemed to be held down by an invisible hand, and even time stood still.

The figures fighting on the battlefield were frozen in their respective postures, swords hovering in the air, spells frozen, and each person's face retained the expression from the previous moment—surprise, focus, fear, ecstasy, a thousand different expressions, yet all frozen like ice sculptures.

then,

The shockwave swept outwards like a tsunami, tearing the chaotic airflow into tiny fragments wherever it passed, like a shattered sky.

The dozens of demon god realm cultivators who were closest to the source didn't even have time to scream before they were blasted away by the aftershock. Their bodies tumbled in the void for an unknown distance before they could barely regain their footing.

Meanwhile, on the Primordial side, Laozi promptly summoned the Taiji Diagram. The black and white light spread out a flexible barrier in front of the battle line, deflecting most of the shockwave's force into the depths of the void.

Chen Qing staggered back nine steps at the center of the impact. Each step he took left a golden crack in the void, like a footprint branded into the chaos.

His hand felt slightly numb, and a faint black line appeared on the shaft of the Purple Lightning Hammer. It was a mark left by the black light that had just eroded it, and it was slowly fading away.

A very thin line of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, but it was quickly evaporated by the Pangu Dao flowing within his body.

The black-robed man opposite him took seven steps back.

The difference caused Chen Qing's pupils to shrink slightly. He raised his head and looked at the giant's figure. The black giant was like a mountain rising from the abyss, with broad shoulders and a wide back. Its body was wrapped in fine black lightning patterns, each line containing a strong sense of destruction.

But Chen Qing noticed that the edges of those thunder patterns had dimmed in several places, like the oil about to burn out in a candle in its twilight years.

The man in black robes was also looking at him. Those eyes, which were originally as dark as an abyss, now held something different.

It was an emotion that Chen Qing couldn't quite understand—it wasn't like hatred, nor was it like anger.

Chen Qing suddenly recalled what Hongjun Daozu had told him after that battle three years ago. Daozu said that Pangu's way was the way of creating heaven and earth, but before the creation of heaven and earth, there was an axe. That axe could cut through chaos, separate the clear from the turbid, and determine yin and yang, but it could also destroy heaven and earth and return to annihilation.

Chen Qing had asked the Daoist Ancestor where the axe was.

The Dao Ancestor did not answer, but simply pointed his whisk at the slowly rotating Pangu Dao Foundation within his body.

At that moment, Chen Qing understood.

He took a deep breath and stored the Purple Lightning Hammer into his body. This action made the black-robed man opposite him frown slightly, but he did not take the opportunity to launch a surprise attack.

Chen Qing turned around, his gaze passing over the seven towering, mountain-like figures of saints behind him, and landing on Laozi and Yuanshi Tianzun.

"Master," Chen Qing's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached the ears of every sage, "Uncle-Master, please lend me the Pangu Banner and the Taiji Diagram."

These words caused a slight commotion on the battlefield. Many of the disciples fighting against the cultivators from the Demon God Realm on the distant front lines subconsciously turned to look in Chen Qing's direction, their eyes filled with astonishment and doubt.

The Pangu Banner, the Taiji Diagram, and the Chaos Bell—what it would mean if these three creation treasures were gathered together is something that anyone familiar with the ancient history of the primordial era would know perfectly well.

Laozi did not hesitate. He took out the ancient Tai Chi diagram from his sleeve, and with a gentle push, the black and white scroll flew towards Chen Qing like a streak of light.

Yuanshi Tianzun paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Chen Qing's face for a while. His all-seeing eyes seemed to see something that only a saint could perceive. Then he nodded, and the Pangu Banner slipped from his hand, transforming into a streak of azure light that followed closely behind.

Chen Qing stretched out his hands. The Taiji Diagram fell into his left hand, the Pangu Banner into his right, and the Chaos Bell, in the very center of the Pangu Dao Foundation within his body, trembled slightly, as if a beast that had been dormant for many years had finally smelled the scent of its own kind.

The instant the three treasures came into contact with Pangu's Dao Foundation, Chen Qing felt a faint hum emanating from every bone in his body.

It was a resonance, a call from the same source. The three treasures were originally fragments of the same axe, and now, under the guidance of Pangu's Dao Foundation, they seemed to be reconnected by an invisible thread.

Chen Qing's body radiated a dazzling golden light, more radiant than the sun and more vast than the stars.

His figure blurred in the light, and three different outlines overlapped, merged, and returned to their original positions within his body—the yin and yang of the Tai Chi diagram, the vastness of the Pangu Banner, and the weight of the Chaos Bell. The three auras intertwined and entangled within his body, eventually converging into a whole.

That axe.

It was an extremely ancient giant axe, its blade displaying a color between bluish-gray and golden yellow, as if it had solidified from the first ray of light in the world at the beginning of chaos.

The axe blade was undecorated, smooth as a mirror, yet it reflected the entire battlefield: every face, the trajectory of every spell, and even the silently flowing chaotic energy. All of these were clearly reflected on the blade.

A single axe reflects the entire world.

Chen Qing gripped the handle of the axe, which was rough and warm, as if it were made from rock that had grown directly from the depths of the earth.

He felt his consciousness become extremely clear in that instant, a clarity he had never experienced before. It was as if everything in the world was clearly visible in his perception. His breathing was in sync with the pulse of chaos, and his heartbeat was in harmony with the movement of the stars.

He took a step forward.

With just one step, the black-robed man opposite him reacted.

The black giant's body swelled again, and the lightning patterns around it began to writhe like living things. Black light surged from each pattern, condensing into a thick shield in front of him.

Countless pained and distorted faces appeared on the shield, as if the barrier was a personification of the wails of billions of living beings.

Chen Qing raised the axe.

The movements were slow and unhurried, like a farmer raising a hoe in the field, or a mother raising scissors under the lamplight.

There were no fancy techniques, no flowing Daoist energy, no runes, and even the golden light that usually surrounded Chen Qing retreated in front of this axe.

The axe blade traced an arc in the air before cleaving downwards.

That axe flash was simple to the point of being crude. It had no changes, no twists, like a boulder rolling down a mountain, like a waterfall cascading down a cliff, following the shortest path, with the greatest force, cleaving towards that black shield wall.

The moment the axe light touched the shield wall, the barrier formed from billions of wailing cries emitted an extremely faint groan, like the last tremor of a string before it snaps.

Then those distorted faces disappeared one by one, like morning mist being evaporated by sunlight, silently and cleanly.

The axe light pierced through the shield wall and continued forward.

The ripples in the black-robed man's eyes became clear at this final moment.

He stood there, his massive, mountain-like black body appearing so frail and fragile before the axe's flash. He did not retreat, did not dodge, and did not even raise his hands to block.

He simply stood there, watching the light descend upon him, and the layer of ice that had been frozen in his eyes for millennia finally melted away completely at that moment.

Chen Qing saw that look in his eyes.

There was a sense of relief and ease in his eyes, like the weariness of finally being able to put down a boulder that had been carried for thousands of years, or like someone who had trekked through darkness for countless years finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

Those eyes seemed to say, "It's finally here."

The axe flash stopped abruptly three inches from the black-robed man's forehead.

Everyone on the battlefield held their breath. The axe's light hovered in the void, its blade only three inches from the black-robed man's forehead. Within those three inches, the wisps of hair on the black-robed man's forehead were gently stirred by the afterglow, revealing a pair of incredibly calm eyes beneath.

Chen Qing's hands were trembling slightly. His knuckles were white from the force, and the weight of the axe almost crushed his arm at that moment.

He saw the man in black robes move his lips slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he didn't utter a single word.

"...Why?" Chen Qing heard his own voice, hoarse and low.

The man in black robes did not answer. He stood before the suspended axe blade, the relief in his eyes gradually fading, settling back into a bottomless darkness.

He gently closed his eyes, then opened them again, and uttered a sentence so softly it was almost swallowed up by the chaotic currents of air.

"That's enough."

At that moment, Chen Qing's axe blade suddenly shifted, changing from a downward slash to a horizontal sweep.

The golden light streaked across a broad arc, striking the black-robed man squarely in the chest and sending his massive body flying.

The black giant tumbled several times in the void before crashing into a chaotic stone wall billions of miles away, shattering the thousand-foot-tall chaotic boulder into pieces.

The black-robed figure landed on the ground, most of the black lightning patterns on his chest shattered, revealing his grayish-white true form underneath.

He struggled to sit up, but halfway through, he spat out a mouthful of dark red blood. The blood fell onto the chaotic ground and turned into wisps of green smoke that dissipated.

He didn't move again.

The battlefield was silent for a moment, then a deafening cheer erupted from the prehistoric side.

Disciples of the three religions, heavenly soldiers of the Heavenly Court, and independent cultivators from all sides—everyone's face was filled with ecstatic joy. Countless people raised their weapons and roared to the sky, finally finding an outlet for the fear and anxiety that had been suppressed for three years.

But the cheers didn't last long.

The sky above the border of chaos suddenly darkened. The darkness did not approach from afar, but rather seeped directly from the void, like a drop of ink falling into clear water, rapidly spreading, expanding, and covering everything.

Within a few breaths, the entire chaos turned into a heavy leaden gray, and an unprecedented pressure slowly descended from that leaden gray, as heavy as an upside-down mountain.

Everyone fell silent at that moment.

Even the seven saints raised their heads, their expressions solemn as they gazed at the leaden-gray sky.

Lao Tzu paused slightly in the whisk in his hand, and a layer of fine cracks appeared on the surface of the ancient mirror in the palm of the Primordial Celestial Venerable.

The four swords of the Tongtian Sect Master emitted a low hum in unison, as if they were instinctively on guard when they sensed some higher being.

In the leaden gray sky, a figure slowly coalesced into shape.

Gray robe.

He was an old man, thin and withered, wearing an old and plain gray robe without any patterns or embellishments.

His face was extremely old, with every wrinkle so deep that you could see his bone, like a rock that had been repeatedly sculpted by wind and sand over millions of years.

His eyes were half-open, half-closed, as murky as mud after rain, but beneath that murky surface, a faint, deep light shone through.

His figure appeared in the void in the center of the battlefield, and all the chaotic air currents within dozens of feet around him stopped flowing the moment he appeared, as if time had broken down there.

That oppressive aura was invisible and intangible, yet it made everyone present feel a sinking feeling in their hearts, from the lowest-ranking rogue cultivators to the seven saints, without exception.

The old man in the gray robe raised his hand and gently beckoned in the direction behind him.

On the battlefield at the edge of that chaotic border, the cultivators from the Demon God Realm who were still putting up a stubborn resistance suddenly stopped moving. Then, as if receiving a unified command, they withdrew and retreated, forming a neat square formation behind the old man.

The entire process was quiet and efficient, with no one making any unnecessary noise.

It is the will of Heaven of the Demon God Realm.

The old man in the gray robe spoke. His voice was dry and hoarse, like the sound of two pebbles rubbing against each other, yet it carried an undeniable authority.

"The battle between the Primordial World and the Demon God Realm has already been decided."

He spoke slowly, each word seeming to drift in from an extremely distant era.

His gaze fell on Chen Qing, then swept over the faces of the seven sages in turn, and finally settled on Lao Tzu.

"According to the ancient rules of the Demon God Realm, the defeated side is either completely wiped out or chooses to submit and be absorbed into the victor's side."

As the embodiment of the Heavenly Dao's will in the Demon God Realm, I, on behalf of all living beings in the Demon God Realm, now make a request to the Primordial World—"

"The Demon God Realm is willing to be merged into the Primordial World."

These words caused another stir on the front lines of the Primordial World.

Many disciples looked at each other, their eyes filled with disbelief.