Baize remained persistent, his voice echoing with a deep, gravitas-laden weight.
The moment he had laid eyes on Ling Xiao, his innate intuition—the same sense that allowed him to know every spirit and beast in the Great Desolation—told him that this Golden Crow was the pivot point of destiny. He couldn't see Ling Xiao's fate; it was a void wrapped in solar fire, and that mystery alone was enough to convince him.
Ling Xiao fell into a long silence. He wasn't weighing Baize's words; he was reading the System's latest prompt.
[Choice Triggered: The Intersection of Two Races.]
[Option 1: Agree to Baize. Integrate the Myriad Races. Reward: Pangu's Legacy Technique—The Nine Revolutions Profound Art.]
[Option 2: Reject Baize. Remain cautious and withdrawn. Reward: Clone Technique—One Qi Transforms into Three Pure Ones.]
Ling Xiao didn't blink. "Option Two."
The Nine Revolutions Profound Art was the pinnacle of physical cultivation, but it was designed for the spiritless Wu Clan. For a Golden Crow born with a powerful Primordial Spirit, it was a detour, not a destination. But the One Qi Transforms into Three Pure Ones? That was the signature move of Laozi, a technique that could manifest three clones with combat power equal to the original. That was a tool for survival.
"Fellow Daoist Ling Xiao," Baize pressed, misinterpreting the silence as hesitation. "If you agree, I, Baize, will pledge my spirit and my luck to your cause. You know my reputation—I am a creature of Great Auspiciousness."
Ling Xiao looked at the wise beast and offered a thin, polite smile. "Fellow Daoist Baize, my clan has no interest in the throne of the Myriad Races. You are looking for a sovereign; we are looking for the Dao. You should seek someone more... hungry."
Baize's brow furrowed. "In my heart, there is no one else. If you refuse, I am truly lost."
"Is that so?" Ling Xiao's eyes twinkled with a knowing light. "I heard there are others. Fellow Daoist Kunpeng of the North Sea, for instance. Has he already sent you packing?"
The question was a trap. Ling Xiao fixed his gaze on Ji Meng, the less subtle of the two visitors. Under the weight of that golden stare, Ji Meng felt a strange, cold compulsion wash over him.
"Not exactly," Ji Meng blurted out before Baize could stop him. "We split up—"
"Ji Meng!" Baize snapped, glaring at his teammate.
The silence that followed was sharp. Ling Xiao's smile deepened. "I see. A backup plan. Then the conversation ends here. Please, return to your path."
Baize sighed, the weight of the failure sagging his shoulders. He cast one more resentful look at Ji Meng, then turned back to Ling Xiao. "You truly believe there is no one else?"
"I didn't say that," Ling Xiao said, his tone softening into a cryptic hint. "If you find us unsuitable, perhaps you should look toward the shadow of the World Mountain."
"Mount Buzhou?" Baize looked confused. "There are many experts there, but—"
"I have said enough," Ling Xiao interrupted, waving a hand. "Go now."
Reshaping an Emperor
As the two Great Demons vanished into the distance, Dijun turned to Ling Xiao, his golden pupils troubled. "Third Brother... I don't understand. Why refuse such an opportunity? Integrating the Myriad Races would bring us endless Luck. We would be the masters of the world."
Taiyi nodded, though he was more confused than eager. "Third Brother always has a reason, but this... it seems like we're throwing away a crown."
Ling Xiao looked at Dijun. He saw the "Natural Emperor" destiny swirling in his brother's eyes—a dangerous, intoxicating fire. He needed to quench it before it led them to the pyre.
"Two Elder Brothers," Ling Xiao began, his voice grave. "You see a crown. I see a noose. You think of 'Supremacy,' but you forget the day the sky turned gold and the golden flowers fell."
He stepped closer, his aura expanding to encompass them. "The era of the 'Worldly Ruler' is dead. Hongjun has become a Saint. In his eyes, and in the eyes of those who follow his path, a 'Dominator of the Honghuang' is nothing more than a slightly larger ant."
"The Wu Clan is fierce, yes. The Twelve Ancestral Witches are terrors. But even they are ants before a Saint. If we spend our lives vying for a throne, we are wasting our potential on an illusion. What does it matter if you rule the world today, if a Saint can erase your existence with a thought tomorrow?"
"Diligently cultivating, mastering the Laws, and becoming an existence like Hongjun—that is the only real path. Only powerful cultivation is truth. Everything else is just dust in the solar wind."
Dijun and Taiyi stood frozen. The image of Hongjun's absolute, soul-crushing majesty that day at the sermon flashed through their minds. Compared to that level of existence, leading a rabble of demons against a group of physical titans felt... small. Petty.
The imperial fire in Dijun's eyes didn't vanish, but it cooled, tempered by a new, colder ambition.
"Third Brother," Dijun said softly, his voice full of a sudden, heavy clarity. "We understand now."