The silence in Zixiao Palace was absolute, a void of sound that pressed against the eardrums of the gathered immortals. Every eye—from the icy pupils of Yuanshi to the narrow, calculating slits of the Western Duo—was fixed on the two Golden Crows.
The mockery in the room was palpable. Most of the experts were gloating internally. Is this bird truly so dense? they wondered. Does he think his solar fire has made him the Saint's equal?
Hongjun's brow twitched. Deep within the Saint's mind, a flicker of genuine irritation flared. This creature, he thought, his Divine Thought cold and sharp. Had he not been clear? He had presented the only viable paths to the throne of heaven, and this Golden Crow was asking about the one he had explicitly declared a dead end.
Was his hearing failing, or was he intentionally trying to dismantle the dignity of the sermon?
If Di Jun and Tai Yi weren't essential "People of Destiny" for the coming Lich tribulation, Hongjun might have simply erased them from existence to save his eyes the strain. But he needed them. He needed his Path of the Three Corpses to become the world's standard, anchoring his legacy into the very fabric of the coming era.
Under the weight of a thousand expectant gazes, Hongjun offered a smile that was as thin as winter ice.
"The Dao has no priority," the Saint said, his voice echoing with an ambiguous, shimmering resonance. "Strength is not found in the path, but in the self. Therefore, the three methods do not differ in their ultimate peak. It all depends on the cultivator."
It was a diplomat's answer—safe, elusive, and utterly unhelpful.
"Thank you for the answer, Saint," Di Jun replied. He sat back down, his expression the picture of obedience.
But beneath that mask, Di Jun's mind was racing. He's lying, he realized with a jolt of clarity. Third Brother was right.
Ling Xiao had told them that the Path of Laws was the only one that didn't involve surrendering one's soul to the Heavenly Dao. Hongjun claimed it was "broken," yet Ling Xiao was on the verge of proving it true. At that moment, the Saint's prestige began to crumble in their hearts. He wasn't a teacher; he was a gatekeeper.
The two brothers shared a look. They wanted to leave. The air in the palace felt stale, filled with the desperate, grasping ambition of people who didn't realize they were being measured for cages.
Hongjun continued the lecture, detailing the intricacies of Slaying the Three Corpses. He watched as the Three Pure Ones and the Western Duo fell into deep contemplation, their fingers twitching as they mentally mapped out the slaughter of their Good, Evil, and Self.
The Saint remained seated with his eyes closed, his aura radiating a silent command: Stay. I am not done.
Finally, he opened his eyes. The light within them was no longer the soft glow of a teacher, but the hard, cold brilliance of an emperor.
"Since the Dragon-Han Tribulation, the Great Desolation has been a land of chaos," Hongjun spoke, his voice vibrating through the marrow of the immortals. "The order of heaven and earth must be determined. It is my intention to select those with destiny to establish the Heavenly Court, to manage the universe, and to stabilize the primordial order."
The palace erupted. "Establishing the Heavenly Court" and "Overseeing the World"—these were the words of ultimate power. To hold such a position was to be second only to the Saint.
Nuwa's heart skipped a beat. She already had the support of Bai Ze and the others; with the Saint's decree, she could unify the Myriad Tribes in a single afternoon. Kunpeng's scalp tingled with greed; he saw himself on the throne, finally receiving the respect his strength deserved. Even the Three Pure Ones looked moved—this was the ultimate "Orthodox" title.
Hongjun's gaze swept across the room, lingering "accidentally" on the two Golden Crows.
He was at his wit's end. These two were too passive, too content to rot on their star. He needed to give them a shove into the spotlight. He waited for them to stand, to beg for the honor.
But they sat like stones. They remembered Ling Xiao's "Third Don't": Do not accept.
Hongjun feigned a search, his gaze passing over the desperate, pleading faces of Kunpeng and the East King Duke, before landing—with a theatrical sense of "coincidence"—on the brothers.
"Di Jun. Tai Yi," Hongjun's voice boomed. "You are Sun Star Gods, born with the sovereign fate of rulers. Are you willing to establish the Heavenly Court and oversee the world for me?"
The experts below nearly lost their minds. Envy, sharp and acidic, flooded the room. Why them? Kunpeng's face turned a bruised shade of purple. The Three Pure Ones looked as if they had swallowed bitter gall.
The opportunity of ten thousand lifetimes had been dropped into the Crows' laps.
Di Jun and Tai Yi snapped out of their daze. They felt the weight of the "Gift." If this had been the old version of them, they would have been kneeling in tears of gratitude. But they had been "enlightened" by the Third Crow. They saw the "Heavenly Court" not as a throne, but as a target—a massive, golden bullseye that would put them in the direct path of the Twelve Ancestral Witches.
Under the burning, jealous gazes of the world's elite, the two brothers rose. They cupped their hands in a deep bow.
"Reporting to the Saint," Di Jun said, his voice echoing clearly through the hall. "Our magic power is meager, and our hearts are lazy. We are unfit for such a heavy responsibility. We humbly ask the Saint... to withdraw the decree."