Primordial Era: The Three Senior Brothers of the Taiqing Clan

After a long and drawn-out war, from the first invasion of the Demon God Realm to now, everyone thought it would be a war of annihilation that would last until the very end. But then the Heavenly Dao Will of the other side took the initiative to propose to merge into the fray.

The gray-robed old man looked at the restless faces, his cloudy eyes devoid of any emotion: "Chen Qing, the Lord of the Primordial World, has defeated our Demon Lord. The victory is assured."

The Demon God Realm submitted to the Primordial World and accepted the jurisdiction and constraints of the Primordial Heavenly Dao.

I hereby swear that from this day forward, no cultivator from the Demon God Realm will ever step outside the Demon God Realm without the permission of the Primordial Realm.

He paused, his hoarse voice standing out clearly against the leaden sky: "There is only one condition: the Primordial World must open a passage from the Demon God Realm to the Primordial World itself, allowing beings from both realms to travel between them. This is the right that those who submit deserve."

Chen Qing stood in the void, the light of the axe in his hand slowly receding.

After the battle, the form of the Heaven-Opening Axe gradually dissipated, and the three treasures—the Taiji Diagram, the Pangu Banner, and the Chaos Bell—separated and returned to his hands and body.

His body was utterly exhausted, every muscle trembling, but at that moment his attention was completely drawn to the words of the gray-robed old man.

Merge?

His gaze unconsciously passed over the gray-robed old man and looked toward the pile of debris from the chaotic stone wall in the distance.

The man in black robes knelt there, the wound on his chest no longer bleeding, but the shattered black lightning patterns still showed no signs of healing.

He had his head down, so his expression was obscured, but his back was slightly hunched, like a wild beast whose spine had been broken.

Then the man in black robes raised his head.

His gaze pierced through the vast emptiness and landed precisely on Chen Qing.

There was nothing in those dark eyes—no hatred, no anger, no relief, no pain. But in that empty gaze, Chen Qing caught something extremely subtle.

The black-robed man blinked his left eyelid very, very lightly twice.

The first strike, then a half-breath pause, the second strike.

That wasn't a natural blinking frequency. The rhythm, the deliberate pauses, seemed to be conveying some kind of subtle signal.

Chen Qing's heart tightened suddenly. He quickly shifted his gaze from the black-robed man's face back to the gray-robed old man, his expression remaining unchanged.

The gray-robed old man seemed completely oblivious to the subtle interaction. He remained standing in the void, his cloudy eyes half-open, gazing at Chen Qing, awaiting a reply.

The oppressive force was even stronger than before, rising slowly like a tide, silently pressing down on every inch of Chen Qing's senses.

Just as Chen Qing was about to speak, he caught a glimpse of movement in another direction.

Lao Tzu's Tai Chi diagram had returned to its original state when it was returned to Chen Qing, and it was now slowly rotating in Lao Tzu's palm.

The black and white light flickered slightly as it rotated, and a faint, extremely subtle light seemed to flash across Lao Tzu's calm, still eyes.

Chen Qing didn't know if Laozi had also noticed the black-robed man's wink, but Laozi did something extremely unusual at that moment—

He gently tilted the Tai Chi diagram in his palm slightly towards Chen Qing.

The angle was so small that probably only Yuanshi Tianzun and Nuwa among everyone present could have noticed it.

As the Tai Chi diagram rotated, the black and white light emitted from it enveloped Chen Qing's figure for a moment. Within that light flowed a faint, almost imperceptible message that only Chen Qing, who possessed the foundation of Pangu's Dao, could receive.

The message contained only two words: Be careful.

Chen Qing's back tensed slightly for a moment. He quickly composed himself, maintaining the tired yet earnest expression on his face, and nodded slightly to the gray-robed elder: "The Primordial World has always embraced all realms. If the Demon God Realm truly submits, I naturally have no reason to refuse."

However, such a momentous matter concerns countless lives in both realms, and requires consultation with the Dao Ancestor and deliberation by all the Sages before it can be carried out.

His words were perfectly worded; he neither agreed on the spot nor directly refused, thus delegating the decision-making power to a higher level.

The old man in the gray robe frowned slightly. His already deeply wrinkled face was almost completely squeezed together by that frown.

"The Primordial Dao Ancestor?" The gray-robed elder's voice held a hint of something ambiguous. "I am naturally willing to discuss this with the Dao Ancestor. However, the Dao Ancestor is now in harmony with the Heavenly Dao and may find it difficult to extricate himself for the time being. As one of the leaders of the Primordial World, young friend Chen Qing, you can decide this matter."

Alarm bells rang in Chen Qing's mind. This gray-robed old man deliberately emphasized that the Dao Ancestor could not escape, and placed the decision-making power on his shoulders alone, clearly forcing him to make a statement on the spot.

Just as he was about to politely decline again, the old man in the gray robe suddenly raised his hand.

That hand was withered and thin, its five fingers like five dry twigs, and the veins on its wrist were bulging. He raised his hand not to point at Chen Qing, but at the black-robed man in the distance.

"Since you are hesitant," the gray-robed elder's voice suddenly turned icy, "then let me make the decision for you."

His five fingers gently clenched. The black-robed man in the distance trembled violently, as if he had been lifted up from the ground by an invisible hand.

The black lightning patterns that had not yet healed shattered again under that grasp, and dark red blood seeped from the cracks, dripping down his limbs onto the ground.

The man in the black robe let out a very low groan, as if he was trying his best to restrain something, but he still did not struggle or resist, but simply let the force lift him up from the ground and suspend him in mid-air.

"The Demon Lord has been defeated, and he is unwilling to fulfill his duties, failing to exert his full strength. His dereliction of duty deserves punishment." The gray-robed elder's tone was as calm as if he were discussing everyday matters. "Since that's the case, I will reseal him in the abyss of the Demon God Realm, and we will discuss the matter again after he has reflected on his actions for ten thousand years."

Before he finished speaking, his fingers clenched again. The black-robed man's figure was as if gripped by a giant hand, and he was violently dragged into the leaden gray sky. The speed was as fast as lightning, so fast that Chen Qing didn't even have time to react.

Just before being dragged into the sky, the man in black turned his head again.

This time, his gaze was clearer and more urgent than before. His dark eyes locked onto Chen Qing at the last moment, and his lips moved slightly. Although no sound came out, Chen Qing understood the shape of his mouth.

Those were two words, two extremely short words.

Don't believe it.

Then the figure in black robes completely disappeared into the leaden gray sky.

The sky then slowly closed, like a giant serpent closing its jaws and swallowing everything whole.

The old man in the gray robe lowered his hand, and the kind and earnest expression from before reappeared on his aged face.

He turned to Chen Qing and bowed slightly: "The Demon God Realm's loyalty is evident to Heaven and Earth. As for the Demon Lord's dereliction of duty, I have already carried out the Heavenly Punishment on his behalf; there's no need for you to trouble yourself, young friend Chen Qing. Now—"

His cloudy eyes stared straight at Chen Qing: "Regarding the merger, young friend, are you now willing to give me an answer?"

Although the leaden-gray sky had mostly closed in, the remaining oppressive force still weighed heavily on the battlefield.

The gray-robed old man appeared exceptionally tall at this moment, like an ancient deity perched on the edge of chaos, thin and withered, yet unshakeable. His gaze was calm and resolute, as if everything was under his control.

Chen Qing stood there, his hands hanging at his sides. The Taiji Diagram had been returned, the Pangu Banner had been returned, and the Chaos Bell lay quietly deep within his dantian. The Pangu Dao Foundation was still slowly rotating, gradually dissolving the fatigue left from the previous battle. His heart was in turmoil, but his face remained calm.

The Tai Chi diagram in his hand tilted slightly again, and a message entered his senses once more: Stay calm.

He saw a faint point of light reflected on the ancient mirror in the palm of the Primordial Celestial Venerable, deep within the leaden-gray sky. The point of light was rapidly approaching, its aura ancient and boundless, faintly containing the power of the Heavenly Dao.

He also saw Nuwa silently take half a step back, and in her hand was an ancient blue stone, the last piece of material left over from mending the sky. Once crushed, it could activate the thirty-six layers of defensive formations that she had already set up in various places along the border of the primordial world.

Jieyin and Zhunti stood side by side. Although their faces remained compassionate and peaceful, the golden light around them was silently gathering, changing from diffuse to condensing, like a net about to close.

The Master of Heaven stood closest to Chen Qing. He wasn't looking at the gray-robed elder, but at Chen Qing. His gaze was calm and resolute, as if silently saying: No matter what you decide, I'm on your side.

Chen Qing took in all of this, then took a deep breath.

He took a deep breath, drawing even the thin air in the chaos into his lungs. The cool sensation spread throughout his chest, making his mind even clearer.

He raised his hand, clasped his hands in a respectful but not servile gesture towards the gray-robed elder: "What you just said concerns the well-being of billions of beings in both realms, and I dare not be hasty. Please allow me to consider it carefully; I will give you a clear answer within ten days."

The old man in the gray robe narrowed his eyes slightly, and the deep wrinkles on his face appeared as he squinted, layer upon layer, like mountains.

He stared at Chen Qing for a long time, so long that the air on the battlefield almost solidified.

Then he laughed.

The smile was faint, so faint that it could be missed if one wasn't paying attention. But Chen Qing could see it clearly: there was a very subtle and cold sharpness in that smile, like a short blade hidden in cotton wool, its sharpness unseen.

"Ten days," the gray-robed elder slowly repeated the two words, his voice still dry and hoarse, yet imbued with a chilling composure. "Very well. I will wait for you for ten days. After ten days, if the Primordial World still refuses to accept the Demon God Realm—"

He paused, and his cloudy eyes suddenly became clear for a moment, a clarity that surged with darkness like an endless abyss.

"Then I'll have to come and get it myself."

Before he finished speaking, his figure vanished into the void like a wisp of smoke.

The leaden gray sky then completely closed in, fading from the sky to reveal the long-lost, clear, chaotic starry sky behind it.

The army of the Demon God Realm retreated after the sky completely dissipated, and the entire chaotic borderland seemed to have just woken up from a great dream.

The battlefield was silent.

In the distance, wounded disciples groaned softly, fragments of shattered magical artifacts drifted slowly down from the void, and embers of unburned magic flickered in the chaotic air currents.

The air after the battle was filled with a scent that was a mixture of blood, Daoist energy, and chaotic energy. It was hard to tell whether it smelled good or bad; all that was known was that the smell was as heavy as a soaked cloth covering everyone's mouth and nose.

Chen Qing lowered his hands and finally felt the soreness in his arms surge up like a tide.

His vision blurred slightly, and the void beneath his feet seemed to sway gently.

The lingering power of that heaven-opening axe still resonated deep within his bones, each vibration carrying a stinging pain—the price he paid for forcibly fusing three supreme treasures.

But he did not fall down.

He stood there, looking in the direction where the gray-robed old man had disappeared. The black-robed man's last two words, uttered in his mouth, were like a red-hot iron nail, firmly embedded deep in his consciousness.

Don't believe it.

Those two words, along with the last urgent, almost pleading look in the eyes of the Demon Lord who had fought his way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood and had slaughtered countless lives, intertwined in Chen Qing's heart into an unbreakable knot.

He recalled the words the Dao Ancestor had spoken three years ago. The Dao Ancestor had said that behind the Demon God Realm, there existed something even more ancient and dangerous than the Demon Lord.

That being has never truly made a move, and even the Demon Lord himself may not know its true nature.

It seems that the being the Dao Ancestor spoke of has finally revealed itself.

Chen Qing slowly turned around and looked at the seven sages behind him. Laozi's gaze was calm as water, Yuanshi Tianzun's gaze was deep as an abyss, Tongtian Jiaozhu's eyes burned with fierce fighting spirit, and Nuwa's brows were furrowed with worry. Jieyin and Zhunti exchanged a glance, and both shook their heads slightly, the meaning of which was self-evident.

Meanwhile, on the distant front lines, the layers upon layers of ancient cultivators were still immersed in the ecstasy of victory in the battle they had just fought. Many were still cheering, embracing, and patting their companions on the shoulder, saying excited words.

They had no idea what had happened in that brief exchange, nor what unfathomable trap lay behind the "merger" proposed by the kind old man, nor what awaited them ten days from now.

Chen Qing withdrew his gaze and looked at the gray line that stretched across the chaos in the distance.

The gray line remained in the same position, neither moving forward nor backward.

The sliver of light that it made three days ago as it approached the direction of the primordial wilderness now seems more like a test, a marker, a boundary marker erected on the border.

"Back to Penglai," Chen Qing said, his voice slightly hoarse.

The seven sages remained silent. The Tongtian Sect Leader stepped forward and patted Chen Qing's shoulder. The force was light, but it carried a warm breath that flowed into Chen Qing's body, dispelling some of the chill in his limbs and bones.

The cheers on the battlefield continued, and the final victor of the war between the two worlds was being shouted out by countless people.

But standing amidst the surging cheers, gazing at the vast, chaotic sky, only one thought echoed repeatedly in Chen Qing's mind—

Did the Demon Lord's final lip movements, those two words "Don't believe," mean he shouldn't believe the gray-robed old man's combined words, or... something else?

Chen Qing turned around and followed the seven sages as they flew towards Penglai Immortal Island.