On Huaying Peak, Celestial Master Zhao Tianlai casually created a Leichi Sacred Land guarded by strict restrictions, laying out the origins and
branches of lightning arts under heaven with crystal clarity, itemizing them layer by layer. He supplemented his explanation with spells, talismans, and even Word Becomes Law. Scroll after scroll of golden sacred proclamations hung in the air, making everything vivid and plainly visible.
For everyone present, this opportunity truly counted as "hearing the Dao." All of them felt they had benefited immensely. Yet since it was the Celestial Master's teaching, no matter how gifted they were in cultivation, most believed they had only understood seventy or eighty percent, or perhaps fifty or sixty percent. Daoist Immortal Wei's disciple, Lin Feijing, for instance, found it extraordinarily rewarding. He grasped the marrow of it, drunk as if intoxicated.
Qing Qiu Fox Lord, who possessed the highest realm among them, was thoroughly startled. What the Celestial Master had spoken of went far beyond lightning arts—it was nearly the Dao itself.
The two people attending the lecture who were comparatively unusual were different. Chai Wu, a little girl barely ten years old, only felt that she now had even more questions.
Meanwhile, Immortal Wei, Luopo Mountain's gatekeeper, felt as though clouds had parted and the sun had broken through. Worthy indeed of the Dragon Tiger Mountain Celestial Master. When he spoke of Daoist arts, he was truly formidable. Even someone with poor aptitude like this poor Daoist could understand everything clearly. So many difficult questions that had accumulated over years of reading Daoist texts, questions that he had pondered endlessly without finding answers to, had finally been solved as easily as a knife splitting bamboo.
Once the lesson ended, Zhao Tianlai performed a Daoist salute and stepped out of the thatched cottage.