「The Past.」
The Daoist Palace lay across the expanse of Years, enduring myriad ages in the gloom and manifesting its eternal existence within Chaos.
Within the Daoist Palace, the flames of the Eight Trigrams Furnace still burned brightly. Two Children meticulously fanned a gentle breeze. The wind fed the flames, which gradually grew stronger. The faint red glow illuminated the immediate surroundings and cast a faint blush on Lu Jianxue's delicate face.
She rested her chin in her hands, staring blankly at the great furnace standing amidst the fire. Her gaze was fixed on the Dao and principles quietly burning within the flames, and she seemed lost in a daze.
This was Lu Jianxue's seventy-fourth year in Douluo Palace.
She glanced to the side and asked with curiosity,
"Grandpa Li, I think I understand now. The firewood is Dao and its principles. What it burns into is fire, but it's not truly fire. It's more like the concepts of scorching heat and blazing intensity made tangible."
