"Second Brother, what about you?" Dijun's voice was sharp with concern.
Tai Yi spread his hands, a reckless grin flashing across his face. "I have the Chaos Bell. My defense is absolute. Even if the heavens fall, I can ring my way out of it. Go. Get your treasure."
It was a desperate gamble. Every powerhouse gathered at the base of the mountain—Laozi, Yuanshi, the Western Sages—held a cultivation realm higher than their own. A direct fight was suicide. They had to be shadows. They had to be thieves.
"Act when I strike," Dijun said, his voice dropping to a low, golden hum. "And we leave together."
As they crept forward through the undergrowth of the World Mountain, the seven-colored divine light finally receded. The Innate Gourd Vine had matured.
From the ten-thousand-zhang vine, seven gourds swayed in the celestial wind. They were more than treasures; they were concentrated fragments of the Dao, whispering a siren song to the gathered masters.
"Mister, come and play..."
The temptation was a physical weight.
"The golden gourd is mine!" one voice roared. "I prefer the green!" another countered. "That red one beckons me," a third cried. "It has poor conduct; I must take it back and discipline it!"
In an instant, the mountainside erupted. More than ten streams of divine light tore through the firmament, clashing with the force of colliding stars.
The Three Pure Ones moved with a terrifying, silent synchronization. They were the apex. Yuanshi stood at the center, his expression one of cold, aristocratic disdain. "Innate Spirit Treasures belong to those with Fate! You do not understand the workings of Heaven. Withdraw, before the Dao corrects you!"
"Exactly!" Zhunti chimed in from the sidelines, his eyes darting between the gourds. He had already carved the world in his mind: the Pure Ones take three, Nuwa takes one, he and Jieyin take three. The "rabble" were merely noise to be silenced.
"Nonsense!" a fiery-tempered deity bellowed, swinging a mountain-sized mace. "I feel destined for all seven!"
The battle descended into a dark, chaotic frenzy.
"Now!" Dijun hissed.
The Golden Crow brothers transformed into twin rainbows of solar fire, streaking toward the vine. But the eyes of the elite were everywhere.
"Audacious!" A wave of magic power rolled down like an avalanche. "Which insignificant wretches dare steal under our noses?"
"We are the Sun Star Gods!" Dijun shouted, igniting his Golden Crow Divine Flames. He knew concealment was dead; he would face them with the fire of the sun.
"Sun Star Gods?" Zhunti sneered, his laughter cold. "Pathetically weak. Come back in a million years, little birds."
"DONG!"
Tai Yi didn't argue. He struck the Chaos Bell, and the resonance suppressed the very air of Mount Buzhou, forcing the elite to momentarily shield their ears. The fight had truly begun.
The Law of the Void
Meanwhile, on the Sun Star, Ling Xiao opened his eyes.
The solar fire around him didn't just burn; it seemed to fold. He looked at his hand, and for a fleeting second, it appeared to be in two places at once.
"Space Law..."
A thrill of pure excitement raced through him.
In the jingles of his past life's lore, it was said: Time is revered, Space is king. To grasp even a superficial understanding of Space was to become a ghost in the machine of the universe.
He had intended to focus only on Yang and Fire, but the Chaos Pearl had whispered the secrets of the void to him. Now, distance was no longer a barrier; it was a suggestion.
[Ding! Choice Triggered: The Battle of Mount Buzhou.]
[Option 1: Support your brothers. Seize the Gourd. Reward: Yellow Core Plum (10th Innate Spiritual Root).]
[Option 2: Continue lying low. Reward: Origin of the Heaven-Burning Purple Fire.]
Ling Xiao's eyes sharpened. "Yellow Core Plum?"
One fruit could create a Daluo. A whole tree was a foundation for an empire. The System was practically begging him to go.
"Option One," Ling Xiao whispered.
He rose, his Sun, Moon, and Stars Robe billowing as he stepped forward. He didn't fly. He simply stepped into the space in front of him and vanished from the Sun Star.
Mount Buzhou
The battlefield was thinning. Only the heaviest hitters remained: The Pure Ones, the Western Duo, Nuwa, Fuxi, and the battered but defiant Golden Crows.
The elites had stopped fighting each other long enough to establish a hierarchy.
"Three Pure Ones, Nuwa," Zhunti said, his voice dripping with syrupy authority. "Let us clear out the riff-raff. Each of us takes a gourd. Simple."
"I only want the golden one," Nuwa said, her voice cool as a mountain spring.
"My West is barren," Zhunti continued, ignoring her dismissive tone. "We should rightfully take three. The Pure Ones can have the rest."
Tongtian let out a sharp, mocking bark. "You Westerners are truly impolite. What merit do you have to claim three?"
"We are the Orthodox Lineage of Pangu," Yuanshi interjected, his gaze fixing on the Western Duo like a predator. "We deserve four. Yielding two to you is a charity."
As they argued over the division of the divine spoils, the "riff-raff"—including Dijun and Tai Yi—were pushed to the edges.
"Enough," Jieyin said, his face a mask of sorrow. He looked toward the Golden Crows. "Irrelevant parties, withdraw. Do not force us to act."
But before he could strike, a ripple appeared in the air between the gourds and the gods. A man stepped out of the vacuum, his presence as calm and overwhelming as the deep void.