The moment the words fell.
The Red-Haired Ghost Saint sitting cross-legged atop the azure platform revealed an inscrutable expression.
His gaze toward the Heavenly Lord gained a measure of scrutiny.
Silence and stillness arrived together.
Shou He, standing not far beneath the tree, said nothing, as though his mind had wandered beyond the heavens.
Ordinarily, he would not have asked too much either.
He had always felt that the affairs of great figures were far removed from himself. Yet now, it seemed that whether great or small, everyone lived beneath the same sun. There was nothing new under it.
However, the Heavenly Lord's proposal stirred thoughts in Shou He's heart.
He too felt that his strength was insufficient.
To reach the Third Step in ten months—what cultivators called sainthood—he feared even he lacked such confidence.
Unless he could turn those ten months into ten years, or twenty, perhaps then he could ascend to the Third Step.
After absorbing the demon blood, if he could also imprint a divine form and forcibly raise his realm by one level, he could reach the peak.
Only with such strength could he truly step over the threshold of crossing the great river of struggle.
Then, no matter what sudden situation arose, he would be able to handle it.
Yet Shou He did not understand why the old immortal had not agreed at once.
Of course Tu Shan Jun could not simply agree.
The heart of a Divine Lord was known to every passerby.
In order to rekindle the divine path, he could even stake his life on it.
Every decision the Divine Lord made was surely meant to ensure that matter came to pass.
Once one became entangled in such immense karma, there would be no peaceful end.
Many mortals swept into the tide