Primordial Era: Starting by overwhelming the Sages, Hongjun was stunned!

On Jin'ao Island.

The sun and moon revolve, and the seasons change.

Three thousand years have passed quietly.

At the foot of the mountain, three thousand figures sat cross-legged on the ground.

Their aura was more than a hundred times stronger than it was three thousand years ago.

Di Jun opened his eyes.

In his eyes, the true fire of the sun burned fiercely.

Although the flames were not as powerful as when it was in the early stages of Quasi-Sainthood, they were purer than they were then.

It is more solid.

He looked down at his hands.

In the palm of his hand, a miniature sun slowly rotated.

That is his origin.

It is the original source that has been gradually rebuilt over three thousand years.

Donghuang Taiyi opened his eyes.

His body was filled with surging demonic energy, though not as strong as before, it carried an unprecedented weight.

Nuwa opened her eyes.

Behind him, the illusory image of the Mountain and River Map slowly swirled.

The phantom, though still faint, was more real than it had been back then.

In Fuxi's hand, the phantom image of the Eight Trigrams spun rapidly.

Of the eight trigrams, five have been restored.

The Old Ancestor of Red Cloud rode a red cloud, tumbling through the void.

The red cloud, though still not large, was as solid as a mountain.

With a wave of his sleeve, Zhen Yuanzi unfurled the illusory image of the Earth Book.

A heavy, mountain-like aura spread out.

The Kunpeng spread its wings, its black feathers blotting out the sky and sun.

Although not as good as before, he already has some of the aura of a demon master.

Jieyin and Zhunti sat side by side.

His body shone with golden light, and within that golden light was a trace of pure compassion.

The twelve ancestral witches sat in a circle.

His blood and qi surged like boiling water, though not as powerful as in his prime, they were more refined.

Lao Tzu and Yuan Shi stood side by side.

The two were surrounded by Daoist energy, their auras as deep and solid as mountains.

Peak of Taiyi Golden Immortal.

Just one step away from regaining the throne.

Lao Tzu opened his eyes and looked towards the mountain peak.

I looked toward that figure in black robes fluttering in the wind.

It's been three thousand years.

The third brother... has been watching them the whole time.

They never left.

Lao Tzu took a deep breath and slowly stood up.

He bowed deeply towards the mountain peak.

Behind him, three thousand figures stood up in unison.

They all bowed.

"Thank you, Master!"

"Thank you, Jie Sect!"

"Thank you... for that glimmer of hope!"

The sound was deafening, echoing over Jin'ao Island.

The mountaintop.

Tongtian stood with his hands behind his back.

Looking at the three thousand bowing figures.

His gaze was calm and unwavering.

Yet, a faint warmth flowed through his heart.

Three thousand years ago, they knelt outside the island, begging him to take them in.

For three thousand years, they have been cultivating themselves silently, never slacking off.

Three thousand years later, they finally... stood up again.

Tongtian slowly spoke:

Get up.

"Three thousand years of arduous cultivation, you have lived up to the expectations of the Jie Sect."

"The Jie Sect will not let you down either."

Three thousand people straightened up in unison.

His gaze was fixed intently on the black-robed figure atop the mountain.

Tongtian continued:

Three thousand years have passed.

"The third sermon is about to begin in Zixiao Palace."

"Those who have practiced the art of severing corpses are about to face their final doom."

"Disciples of the Jie Sect..."

He paused, his gaze hardening.

"Come down the mountain with me."

"Go save them."

The words fell.

Tongtian took a step forward, his black robes fluttering in the wind.

It transformed into a chaotic sword light that pierced through heaven and earth, rushing towards the depths of chaos!

Behind them, three thousand figures took to the air at the same time!

Transforming into three thousand streams of light, they followed closely behind!

On Jin'ao Island.

Purple mist wafted, and the Taoist spirit flowed.

Inside that pitch-black hall.

Kong Xuan sat cross-legged on a futon, his gaze piercing through the palace walls and landing on the three thousand streaks of light that were rushing away.

A slight smile played at the corners of his lips.

"Go."

He whispered, his voice barely audible:

"Go and seize that sliver of hope."

"Go and save those who have nowhere else to turn."

"go......"

He paused, his gaze deep and unfathomable:

"Let this primordial world be different from now on."

The words fell.

He slowly closed his eyes.

His aura was completely contained.

It blends seamlessly with the entire Jin'ao Island.

It seemed to have transformed into an ancient, eternal statue of chaos.

They were suppressed here.

Observe the eternity in silence.

Outside the Purple Cloud Palace.

The chaotic sea surged like a tide.

Three thousand figures rushed in from all directions.

They are the people who have been desperately practicing the art of severing corpses for the past three thousand years.

Some killed the benevolent corpses.

Some killed the evil corpse.

Some had already been dismembered.

And then there are those whose three corpses are about to perish.

Their auras were powerful, with the weakest being at the early stage of Quasi-Saint.

But beneath that brute force lies an undeniable emptiness.

That hole was the gap left by the dismemberment of the corpse.

It is an abyss that can never be filled.

Di Jun, Tai Yi, and the others mingled among the crowd.

They concealed their aura and disguised themselves as ordinary quasi-saints.

Looking at those familiar figures.

Looking at those old friends who once sat with them in the Purple Palace.

My heart was filled with mixed feelings.

Di Jun spoke in a low voice:

"They...they've all come."

Nuwa nodded:

"Yes."

"They've been waiting for three thousand years."

"Wait for the third sermon."

"Wait for the Primordial Chaos Method."

Fuxi took a deep breath:

"But they don't know that."

"That Primordial Chaos Method... is the true dead end."

Ancestor Hongyun's expression was solemn:

"What can we do?"

Zhen Yuanzi said in a deep voice:

"wait."

"Wait for the Daoist Ancestor to preach."

"Wait until they discover the truth."

"wait......"

He paused:

"Wait for the sect leader to make a move."

Everyone fell silent.

They gazed into the depths of chaos.

He looked toward the black-robed sword light that was rushing toward him.

Reaching the heavens.

Their leader, the real person.

The leader of the Jie Sect.

he came.

The gate of Zixiao Palace.

It slowly opens.

A misty purple aura emanated from within the doorway.

Intertwined with the chaotic air currents, it evolved into a vast and illusory realm of heaven and earth.

Inside the palace gates.

A figure in purple robes sat cross-legged on the cloud platform.

Hongjun.

He opened his eyes.

His gaze pierced through the palace gates and landed on the three thousand figures rushing towards him.

It landed on those quasi-saints whose auras were powerful yet utterly empty.

The corners of his mouth rose slightly.

It curved into a very faint arc.

coming.

It's all here.

Three thousand years of arduous cultivation.

Three thousand years of waiting.

Finally... it was time to close the net.

He spoke slowly, his voice like the voice of the Great Dao, resounding throughout the chaos:

"The third sermon..."

"start."

Inside the Purple Cloud Palace.

Purple mist wafted like a tide, and the Daoist aura surged like waves.

Three thousand Quasi-Saints sat cross-legged on futons, their eyes burning as they stared intently at the purple-robed figure on the high platform.

Hongjun.

He sat quietly on the cloud platform, his purple robe hanging down, his face as calm as an ancient well.

But what lies hidden beneath that calm remains unknown to anyone.

Di Jun mingled among the crowd, his aura concealed, making him appear no different from an ordinary Quasi-Saint.

His gaze swept around, landing on those familiar faces.

He had seen those people before.

They were present when the first sermon was given at Zixiao Palace.

They were also present during the second sermon.

This is the third time.

Although it is said that there are three thousand guests at Zixiao Temple, there are more than three thousand people who come to listen to the teachings.

They were the rest.

Yet the hollow aura emanating from them was even stronger than it had been three thousand years ago.

Those who kill the corpse of a good person lack good intentions.

Those who slay evil corpses lack evil thoughts.

Those who sever their obsessions are devoid of them.

Those whose three corpses are about to perish have an incomparably powerful aura, but beneath that power lies a deathly stillness.

Like a walking corpse.

Di Jun felt a chill in his heart.

He recalled that he had done the same thing three thousand years ago.

The emptiness in that instant when the good corpse is severed.

If I hadn't turned back in time, my cultivation would have been scattered, and I would have had to start all over again.

At this moment, I'm probably just like them.

It's just an empty shell.