Covering the Sky: I Prove the Great Dao Through the Gate of Immortality

Read "Covering the Sky: I Prove the Great Dao Through the Gate of Eternal Life" and enjoy your reading time.

In the void, the last vestiges of the battle finally dissipated completely. Those masked venerables who had been blasted away by Little One's punches and kicks had vanished without a trace, as if they had never existed. The runes at the edge of the battlefield gradually dimmed, the chaotic mist slowly closed in, and the entire primordial land fell into an unprecedented stillness. It wasn't deathly silence, but a solemn tranquility after a storm, a return to peace for all things. Everyone knew that this moment had finally arrived.

The figure of the Sage of Wisdom emerged from the open tower gate. This time, he didn't stand inside the gate, but stepped out of the pillar of light, standing in the void. His form remained ethereal, shrouded in a hazy, chaotic mist, obscuring his face, yet the aura of suppressing eternity was even more intense than before. Behind him, countless stars lit up one after another, as if awakened from their slumber, transforming the entire primordial land's sky into a vast sea of ​​stars. Starlight cascaded down like a waterfall, making his ethereal figure appear like a god who had created the world.

The whispers in the crowd ceased abruptly. Those who had been discussing, marveling, and exchanging pleasantries all fell silent, raising their heads in unison to gaze at the figure standing in the center of the starry sky. It was a reverence that came from the depths of their souls; no words or actions were needed, just his mere presence was enough to make everyone bow their heads.

The Sage's gaze slowly swept over the dense, dark crowd. Wherever his gaze fell, those usually high and mighty rulers of powerful forces, ancient kingdom monarchs, and overlords of ancient sacred mountains all felt an invisible pressure. This pressure wasn't mere force or overwhelming power; it was an absolute difference in their level, like ants gazing at the heavens, like dust facing the stars. No one dared meet his eyes, no one dared utter a sound, and even their breathing was deliberately softened.

"The three-day period has ended." The Sage spoke, his voice not loud, yet like a pronouncement of the heavens, descending from the nine heavens and falling into everyone's ears and hearts. "The Blood-Moving Realm is the strongest in the world; this is settled today."

There was no triumph, no pride, not even any emotion in that voice, only an almost eternal calm. It was as if he were not speaking of a momentous event that would shake the world, but of an unchangeable fact that had been predetermined since the beginning of time.

Everyone was waiting, waiting for that name to be uttered from Zhisheng's lips. Although everyone already knew the answer, and although the three-day battle had proven the child's strength, when this moment truly arrived, everyone's heart still pounded. It was a tension of witnessing history, an excitement of witnessing the birth of a myth, a knowing yet still breathless anticipation.

The Sage's gaze fell upon the entrance to the Tower of Immortality. There, a small figure leaned against the doorframe, clutching a pottery jar, seemingly dozing. His hair was still messy, his face was still dusty, and a ring of white milk stains clung to the corner of his mouth. He was clearly unaware of how solemn or grand this moment was; he simply felt that he had waited too long, was a little bored, and a little sleepy.

"Little one." Zhisheng called out his name, his voice unusually warm.

The little boy jumped, nearly dropping the ceramic jar he was carrying. He quickly hugged it tighter, looked up, and stared blankly at the Sage in the void, his dark eyes filled with confusion. "Uncle Trial Tower, did you call me?"

"Come forward."

The little guy let out an "Oh," hugged the pottery jar, and took a few short steps, walking from the tower gate into the void. He walked casually, as if strolling along the Spirit Lake in Stone Village, unhurried and unhurried, even yawning once more. He walked up to the Sage of Wisdom, looked up at the towering, ethereal figure, and his toothless grin returned to his face.

"Uncle Trial Tower, isn't it time to give out the rewards? I've been waiting for so long, I've almost finished all the beast milk."

The Sage didn't answer his question, but slowly raised a hand. That hand passed through the chaotic mist and starlight, landing on the little boy's head. The hand was large, large enough to cover the little boy's entire head. Yet the hand was very light, as light as a feather, landing on his head without any sense of pressure, only a reassuring warmth.

"The Blood Refining Realm is unparalleled, little one." The voice of the Sage of Wisdom rang out once more, this time, each word seeming to leave an indelible mark on the void. "Selected from among the billions of beings in the Eight Domains. Unmatched in the three-day battle. Well-deserved, truly deserving of the title."

The sound echoed in the void, reverberated in everyone's ears, and reverberated in every corner of the starting point. The leaders of those forces, the prodigies, and the rogue cultivators all remained silent, gazing up at the small figure whose head was covered by a giant hand. Their hearts were filled with mixed emotions: admiration, jealousy, resentment, and relief, but no one dared utter a single word of dissent. For in those three days, that child had used his fists to tell everyone—he was the number one in the world. Not self-proclaimed, not through connections, not through luck, but through sheer strength, earned punch by punch.

The little boy felt uncomfortable with his head being pressed down by the large hand. He twisted his body, but the hand didn't budge. He had no choice but to stand obediently, tilting his head back, listening to the Sage speak. He didn't quite understand the meaning of those words—"billions of living beings in the eight regions," "selected," "well-deserved"—he only knew that the Trial Tower uncle was praising him and giving him a reward. This made him very happy.

"Thank you, Uncle Trial Tower," he said in his childish voice, then added, "And what about the reward? A magical immortal technique? I've made my choice: the Six Paths Reincarnation Technique."

The Sage withdrew his hand, and the massive hand vanished from the void as if it had never existed. His voice rang out again, still calm, but with a barely perceptible hint of amusement. "Agreed."

As the words fell, a pillar of light appeared in the void. The pillar of light shot from the depths of the starry sea, piercing through the chaotic mist, and landed before the little one. Within the pillar of light, an ancient animal hide slowly emerged, runes flowing across its surface, six black holes rising and falling within, emanating a chilling aura. It was the complete inheritance of the Six Paths of Reincarnation Heavenly Art, the most core and supreme divine art of the Supreme Hall, a supreme method capable of even tempting a Celestial King. At this moment, it floated quietly before the little one, waiting for him to take it.

The little boy's eyes lit up as he looked at the rolled-up animal skin. He reached out to grab it, but his arms were too short to reach it. He stood on tiptoe, but still couldn't reach it. He got anxious, hugged the pottery jar to his chest, and jumped up to grab it, but the beam of light seemed to have eyes; no matter how high he jumped, the beam of light rose the same height, always leaving him just a little bit short.

"Uncle of the Trial Tower!" the little one cried out anxiously, turning back to shout at Zhisheng. "You did that on purpose!"

The Sage of Wisdom did not respond, but the twinkling stars in the void seemed to tremble slightly, as if they were laughing.

The little boy glared at Zhisheng with a pout, then took a deep breath, pushed off with his legs, and launched himself into the air. This time, he used all his strength; the force of 120,000 jin propelled him high into the sky, so fast that even his afterimage was barely visible. He finally grabbed the rolled-up animal hide and landed steadily on the ground. Holding the hide, he proudly waved it at Zhisheng, his little face full of pride that said, "I did it!"

"Hmph, what haven't I seen? You think you can stump me with such a petty trick?"

Zhisheng ignored him and turned to the crowd still looking up. His voice rang out again, this time more solemn and more resonant, as if announcing the beginning of a new era.

"The House of Origin is now fully open. All cultivators at the Blood Transformation Realm are welcome to enter, challenge themselves, and seek opportunities. Any living being from the Eight Domains, regardless of status, race, or sect, may enter. The rules remain the same: those who believe, enter; those who doubt, leave."

As the voice faded, a long-suppressed cheer finally erupted from the crowd. The rogue cultivators, the disciples of small sects, the lowly cultivators without background or resources—their eyes blazed with fervent light. They didn't care about being the best in the world, nor about any immortal techniques; what they cared about was that the door had finally opened for them. From now on, they too had the opportunity, the hope, and the chance to change their destiny through their own efforts.

The leaders of those forces wore even more complex expressions. They knew that from this day forward, the格局 (geju, a concept encompassing the overall structure, power, and overall situation) of the Eight Domains would be completely altered. The appearance of this tower would disrupt the existing balance of power, providing a path for those lower-level cultivators who previously had no chance to rise, and posing unprecedented challenges to those once-powerful forces. But they were powerless, for this was the will of that being, inviolable and unchangeable. Their only option was to either conform to this trend or be swept away by it.

The little boy, clutching the animal hide and the pottery jar, stood in the void, watching the cheering crowd below. His missing-toothed grin returned to his face. He didn't know what being "Number One Under Heaven" meant, how precious immortal techniques were, or how many lives the opening of this tower would change. He only knew that Uncle Li had said he would be Number One Under Heaven, and he had become Number One Under Heaven. Uncle Li had said he would suppress all enemies, and he had suppressed all enemies. Uncle Li's words were never wrong.

He turned around and waved to Zhisheng. "Uncle Trial Tower, I'm going back. Uncle Li is still waiting for me."

Zhisheng nodded, and the ethereal figure slowly merged into the void, like the receding tide, like starlight dissipating. But his voice still echoed in the void, lingering for a long time.

"The Blood-Moving Realm is the best in the world, little one. From this day forward, in all eight domains, within the Blood-Moving Realm, no one can surpass him. This name and title will be forever recorded in history."

The little one was guided into the Tower of Eternal Life by a pillar of light, and his tiny figure disappeared into the light. In the void, the cheers continued, the discussions continued, and the admiring gazes continued to follow. Meanwhile, the child who was still drinking milk was now lying on his soft bed, clutching his animal skin and pottery jar, covered with a fragrant blanket, and began to dream sweetly.

He dreamt he became a great hero, standing high in the heavens, overlooking all realms. He dreamt Uncle Li was smiling at him, the Willow God was nodding to him, and everyone in Stone Village was cheering for him. He dreamt he had endless beast milk to drink, countless five-colored sparrows to chase, and an endless supply of little red birds to pinch. He dreamt he truly became the greatest in the world.

And that dream is gradually becoming a reality. From this day forward, he is the number one cultivator in the Blood Refining Realm. No one in the Eight Domains can rival him. Unprecedented and unparalleled. His name will forever be etched on the monument of cultivation history in the Eight Domains, enduring as long as heaven and earth, shining as brightly as the sun and moon.

Those who once scorned him, those who once doubted him, those who once sought to defeat him—from this day forward, they can only gaze upon his retreating figure, spending the rest of their lives in regret and remorse. For once, an opportunity lay before them—to challenge him, to defeat him, to take his place. But they missed it. Not because they weren't strong enough, but because they weren't brave enough. When the opportunity presented itself, they chose to retreat, to observe, to place their hopes on others. But that child chose to move forward. One step, two steps, three steps, until he stood at the highest point, overlooking the world.

That's the difference. It's not just a difference in strength, but a difference in mentality. That child, from beginning to end, was never afraid. His only fear was not having enough animal milk. But they were afraid of too many things. They were afraid of losing, afraid of losing face, afraid of being laughed at. So they lost, lost completely, and lost wholeheartedly.

In the void, starlight flowed silently. The open tower door gleamed softly under the starlight, as if illuminating the path for that small figure. And within that pillar of light, the small figure, clutching a pottery jar and animal hide, lay on a soft bed inside the Tower of Eternal Life Trials, covered with a fragrant blanket, contentedly drinking animal milk and dreaming of becoming the greatest in the world.

He is Little One. He is the Little Tyrant of Beast Milk. He is the number one in the Blood Refining Realm. In the Eight Domains, no one can rival him.

Well deserved. Absolutely deserving.