Prophecy

Thump.

Thump!

The giant cocoon pulsed powerfully.

Austere spiritual vitality swirled around it.

Just as it was about to rise, the formation formed by eight pillars of light concealed it, keeping the radiance shining only within this place.

Reflected in the blue-black iron surface of the Soul Banner, the giant cocoon was also dyed with a layer of pale cyan, like immortal silk rendered in ink wash.

It was as though rings of stars revolved around it.

Inside the giant cocoon, Xu Sanniang sat cross-legged with her eyes closed, a sword laid across her before her, while a three-winged butterfly danced lightly upon her shoulder.

The golden core hanging above her sea of Dharma, lofty as a full moon, seemed to turn illusory in an instant. Within it sat a miniature Sanniang in meditation, though she was not as solid as usual.

"False Nascent Soul." Within the banner, Tu Shan Jun could not help but marvel.

With powerful spiritual roots and vast resources to support them, cultivators with Dao bodies stepping into the peak of the first step was as easy as eating and drinking.

Moreover, this was the pressure a great realm ought to have.

Geniuses could emerge within a few years or a dozen years, reaching the summit of the first step.

No wonder great sects set the standard for prodigies at entering the Nascent Soul realm before the age of fifty.

Even such a requirement was considered generous.

With the spiritual energy density, opportunities, resources, and inheritances of a great realm, those unable to fight for a place in a short period would only gradually fall behind.

No wonder that brat from the Myriad Dharma Sect had worn such resentment on his face after being exiled to the Star Luo Sea back then. It was practically written