The discussion of the Dao on the Sun Star lasted for a thousand years.
Hong Yun was a man of rare, selfless spirit. He held nothing back, translating the obscure, celestial whispers of Zixiao Palace into a language the Golden Crow brothers could digest. By the time his voice finally faded, the air beneath the Fusang Tree was thick with the residue of enlightenment.
Dijun and Tai Yi exhaled in unison, their auras expanding with a violent, golden brilliance. They had broken through. They were now in the Middle Stage of the Grand Unity Golden Immortal (Daluo) Realm.
Ling Xiao, however, had used the millennium for more than just listening. While the others focused on the words of the Saint, he used the Nine Heavens Breathing Soil within the Chaos Pearl to touch the Law of Earth. Combined with his mastery of Space, Yang, and Fire, his cultivation surged like a solar flare, propelling him into the Late Stage.
Except for the Saint himself, Ling Xiao was now standing at the very peak of the Primordial Era's hierarchy. He was a match for the Sanqing, a peer to the Western Duo.
"But it's not enough," Ling Xiao mused, his eyes tracking the cooling embers of the solar fire. "The Three Corpses method is coming."
He knew the danger. Once the next sermon began, the elite would start "Slaying their Corpses"—a shortcut to the Quasi-Saint realm. It was fast, but it was a tether. To reach the true pinnacle—the Hun Yuan Golden Immortal—there were no shortcuts. One had to master a Law until it became an extension of their very soul.
A Gift of Creation
"Thank you, Fellow Daoist Hong Yun," Dijun said, bowing with genuine respect. "Your guidance has saved us eons of wandering."
"It is a small return for the kindness of the Three Crows," Hong Yun replied, his face lit by a warm, unassuming smile. "The Dao Ancestor will speak again soon. You should come to Zixiao Palace then."
Ling Xiao looked at the "Good Old Man." He wanted to warn him—to tell him that his kindness was a target on his back—but the time wasn't right. The distribution of the Primordial Violet Qi was still thousands of years away.
"Fellow Daoist Hong Yun," Ling Xiao said, his voice deep and resonant. "Thank you for your friendship."
With a final wave, Hong Yun descended from the Sun Star, his silhouette vanishing into the sea of clouds below.
"He is a rare soul," Dijun sighed, watching the horizon. "A much better neighbor than those two vipers from the West."
"Indeed," Tai Yi smirked. "But let's see if he's right about us catching up."
As they prepared to return to their meditation, Ling Xiao blocked their path. "Big Brother, Second Brother. Don't go back just yet. I have something for you."
"Another gourd?" Tai Yi joked.
"Don't be excited," Ling Xiao warned, his expression becoming deathly serious. "And for the sake of the Sun, don't scream."
He flipped his hand. Two fragments of the Jade Disc of Creation appeared, hovering in his palm like jagged shards of frozen heaven. They radiated a Dao rhyme so dense it felt like the weight of the entire world was pressing down on the Fusang Tree.
Silence fell over the Sun Star. Dijun and Tai Yi stared, their breath catching in their throats. Their minds, usually sharp as swords, simply went blank.
"The... Jade Disc?" Dijun whispered, his voice trembling.
"Where did you get these?" Tai Yi demanded, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror. "These are Chaos-grade relics. A single fragment is worth more than every Innate Treasure we've ever seen."
"I was born with them," Ling Xiao lied smoothly. "And I have a third for myself. Take them. In the Grand Unity Realm, you must master the Laws. These will make your path twice as fast."
"We can't take these, Third Brother," Tai Yi said, though his hand twitched. "You should keep them. You are the one leading us."
"I have the Chaos Pearl," Ling Xiao countered, pressing the shards into their hands. "These are more useful to you. The Great Calamity is coming. I need my brothers to be strong enough to stand beside me, not just behind me."
Dijun looked at the shard in his hand, then at Ling Xiao. "We won't let you down. We won't be a burden anymore."
"Remember," Ling Xiao's voice grew cold. "If the world finds out you have these, even a Saint will come to kill you. Hide them. Guard them with your lives."
The World in Chaos
As the three brothers entered a new, frantic era of secluded cultivation, the world below was descending into madness.
The Witch Race was no longer expanding; they were consuming. To the twelve Ancestral Witches, the world was their Father God's house, and the "fur and horn" creatures of the Yao Race were mere pests to be cleared.
The Myriad Races were like scattered sand, fleeing before the iron fist of the Witches. There was no unity, only terror. In every forest and every mountain, the survivors began to pray. They looked toward the horizon, hoping for a leader—a sovereign who could unite the scattered tribes and turn the tide against the Pangu Bloodline.
The stage was being set. The actors were moving. And high above it all, the Sun Star continued to burn in silence.