Central Yuan Region.
Grand formation.
Tu Shan Jun let out a sinister, eerie laugh, like the shriek of a vicious ghost.
He only wanted to fulfill the promise he had made long ago, even if it was one-sided.
But the tree wished for calm while the wind would not cease.
Still, he had only himself to blame. When Wu Rong died, he had not caused a bloody uproar or slaughtered until heads rolled like tumbling gourds. Others had thought he had endured it, feared it, cowered...
The Ten Clans were restless, the Five Heavens wanted to seize the underworld as well, and the Three Teachings wanted him to be the one to offer up the underworld and complete their respective plans.
To be an idle cloud or a wild crane, one lacked the strength to command Heaven. To become the Hierarch of Heaven, one had to unify the world. And to unify the world, one would inevitably encounter great cultivators who harbored the same ambitions.
Having come this far, he could either continue onward or withdraw and give up everything.
Giving up everything meant living entirely by the looks on others' faces.
If they let him live, he lived. If they did not, he would die in an instant.
There was no second road to choose.
Either become immortal, or die!
He had once clung to a sliver of hope, thinking that once he became a "clay statue" with no threat left in him, the people of the world would let him go.
Now, it seemed he had been catastrophically wrong.
As long as he still existed, even as nothing more than a clay statue, others would rush into the temple, drag out his "golden body," and smash it viciously into pulp.
Even if he revived those within the banner