Covering the Sky: Simultaneous transmigration, but both clones are women.

On the platform, Ye Chen caught a glimpse of the group of figures that had suddenly appeared below the mountain gate.

There were seven or eight people, men and women, all dressed in Taoist robes, their auras deep and unfathomable.

They were all cultivators from the Four Extremes Secret Realm!

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

All eyes below the platform turned to him, some scrutinizing, some shocked, some confused, and some with an indescribable fervor.

That look in their eyes was like that of a pack of wolves who had been starving for half a month suddenly spotting a piece of fresh, tender meat.

Ye Chen subconsciously took half a step back, his back bumping against a cold stone pillar.

Master Qingxu stood at the very front; the old Taoist priest had completely lost the carefree and jovial demeanor he had on the plane.

He held a whisk in his hand, his Taoist robe was neat, his beard and hair were perfectly styled, and his cloudy old eyes gleamed with a sharp light. His whole body was surrounded by a faint glow, exuding a suffocating majesty.

"My disciple."

Master Qingxu's voice was not loud, but it clearly reached the ears of everyone present.

"What...did you just do on the platform?"

Ye Chen opened his mouth, about to speak.

Her exquisite mind had already begun to work ahead of him, its ripples spreading and capturing the thoughts of those below the mountain gate.

The voice of Master Qingxu was ancient and profound, tinged with a trembling disbelief:

That golden light just now was the Daoist aura recorded in ancient texts when the patriarch was transmitting the Dao... It hasn't appeared in the world for a thousand years... This child...

Standing behind Master Qingxu was an old woman, her back hunched, leaning on a black cane, her cloudy old eyes filled with shock:

The mark on the Ascension Steps has been awakened... How could a mere child from the Bitter Sea Realm be...?

Another white-haired old Taoist priest stroked his beard, his fingers trembling slightly.

That aura just now... it was the legacy mark left by the patriarch... and this child was able to awaken it...

Hearing these heartfelt words, Ye Chen felt a sudden sense of clarity.

It turned out to be the case.

When he was deducing the Lingbao Scripture on the platform, he inadvertently triggered the Daoist rhythm accumulated in this pure land over thousands of years. The ancient marks imprinted on the stone platform were awakened, golden light soared into the sky, and the Daoist sound boomed.

They blew out all those old monsters who had been in seclusion for many years.

Ye Chen took a deep breath and suppressed his chaotic thoughts.

He raised his head, his gaze passing over the aged faces below the mountain gate, a slight smile playing on his lips, revealing a perfectly measured composure.

"Disciple Ye Chen greets all senior uncles and masters."

The sound wasn't loud, but it reached the ears of everyone present clearly.

"Just now on the platform, I had a sudden enlightenment and listened to the patriarch's sermon. I was so engrossed in the sermon that I disturbed everyone's meditation. Please forgive me."

The elders below the mountain gate suddenly became more rapid in their breathing.

The old woman's hand, which was holding a cane, tightened slightly, her knuckles turning white.

The white-haired old Taoist priest's hand, which was stroking his beard, froze in mid-air, his lips moving slightly, as if to confirm that he hadn't misheard.

Master Qingxu's expression changed repeatedly, finally culminating in a long sigh.

"The Patriarch preached the scriptures..."

He muttered to himself, his voice carrying an indescribable emotion, "For a thousand years... Our Lingbao Sect has been passed down in this pure land for a thousand years, and no one has ever been able to awaken the Daoist spirit of our patriarch, let alone hear him preach..."

He raised his head, his cloudy old eyes staring straight at Ye Chen.

"Disciple, what did the Patriarch say?"

Ye Chen took a deep breath.

Then he spoke.

"Lingbao Tianzun, the Four Swords of Zhuxian, are neither copper, nor iron, nor steel; they were once hidden beneath Mount Sumeru..."

The voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like it was falling from the heavens, and every word carried an indescribable rhythm.

The ancient patterns on the platform lit up again.

Gentle and lingering, like the first rays of sunlight in the morning shining through the thin mist onto the bluestone steps, warm but not dazzling.

In the center of the platform, the ancient characters lit up one by one, flowing, intertwining, and condensing on the stone surface, eventually transforming into halos of light that slowly spread outwards.

Ye Chen's chanting echoed on the platform, each word like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples that resonated with the ancient inscriptions.

"Without reversing yin and yang to refine it, how can one lack the tempering of water and fire to hone its sharpness?"

"Slaying immortals brings profit, killing immortals brings death, trapping immortals brings red light everywhere..."

Below the platform, there was complete silence.

Master Qingxu's eyes suddenly lit up.

In those cloudy old eyes, a sharp light surged like a tide, and deep within the pupils were reflected the ancient characters flowing on the altar.

His hands were trembling, and the whisk slipped from his palm, falling to the ground with a crisp "thud," but he was completely unaware.

The old woman's hand, which had been holding onto her cane, finally loosened, and the cane slammed onto the bluestone ground with a loud thud.

Her hunched body leaned slightly forward, her cloudy old eyes were filled with tears, her lips trembled, and she murmured to herself but could not make a sound.

The white-haired old Taoist priest closed his eyes, his ears twitching slightly, as if listening to some distant and sacred sound.

......

Ye Chen's chanting grew louder and louder.

The ancient characters rose from the altar, transforming into golden halos that surrounded him, as if responding to his chanting.

He felt like a small boat adrift on a boundless sea.

The sea was calm, the sun was warm, and the sea breeze was blowing, making the whole world look golden.

Those ancient scriptures flowed through Ye Chen's mind, each sentence like a mark etched deep into his soul, clear and profound.

But he knew in his heart that he had only recited the Wheel Sea Chapter of the Lingbao Sutra.

As for the more profound chapters such as the Dao Palace, the Four Extremes, the Dragon Transformation, and the Sendai, although he has already deduced them, he cannot reveal them all at this moment.

Firstly, the timing was wrong; secondly, things that are too easily obtained are often not properly cherished...

Ye Chen's lips curled up slightly, and the chanting suddenly stopped.

It was like a stirring symphony suddenly stopping at its climax, leaving only the lingering echoes and the howling of the mountain wind.

The ancient patterns on the platform slowly dimmed, and the golden halos gradually dissipated, disappearing back into the void.

The entire sanctuary returned to its former tranquility, with only the branches and leaves of the ancient pines rustling in the wind, as if sighing for the sages who had been asleep for thousands of years.

A profound silence fell at the foot of the mountain gate.

Master Qingxu stood there in a daze, not even picking up his whisk that had fallen to the ground. His cloudy old eyes stared straight at Ye Chen on the platform, his lips moving slightly.

The old woman's hand, which was holding a cane, was still trembling. Tears glistened in her cloudy old eyes, and the wrinkles on her face seemed to have been smoothed out by something, leaving only a solemn expression that was almost devout.

The white-haired old Taoist opened his eyes, exhaled a long breath, which condensed in the air and turned into a white mist that slowly rose.

Ye Chen stood on the platform, his hands hanging down.

His face was somewhat pale, and a fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead. His breathing was also more rapid than usual, indicating that chanting scriptures had taken a toll on his mental energy far beyond what he had anticipated.

But he still maintained a calm and composed demeanor, with even a faint smile on his lips.

"This disciple's cultivation is low, and this is all I have heard for the time being."

"The following scriptures are too complex and profound for my dull mind to memorize in their entirety. I will organize them later and then pass them on to my teachers and fellow disciples!"