Zi Yuan gently shook her head, a trace of helplessness showing on her face: "The secrets and mysteries of the ancient God Sovereigns' secret realm are from far too long ago, and the records passed down are incomplete. Even the ancient literary collections of the Myriad Worlds Pavilion cannot detail the profound mechanisms within. We cultivators know only one core rule: the Return to the Ruins Secret Realm opens once every ten thousand years, repeating in reincarnation without the slightest deviation."
"Over nine thousand nine hundred years have already passed since the last opening of the secret realm, and the next time the secret realm manifests and its great gates swing wide open, less than a hundred years of time remain from today."
Speaking up to this point, Zi Yuan's gaze fell upon Lin Feng, her tone carrying a bit of pity and prudence: "A hundred years of time might seem long, but wanting to gather the nine tokens scattered across the Myriad Worlds Sea, hidden in various perilous locations and in the hands of powerful figures, is no different from plucking the moon from the sky-as difficult as ascending to the heavens. Since ancient times, countless heaven-defying prodigies and supreme overlords have all rushed about for this, only to return empty-handed every single time. The deadline of a hundred years is truly far too short."
Lin Feng's expression was calm and unperturbed, entirely unshocked by this immense difficulty. The path of cultivation was inherently a defiant quest against the heavens, swimming upstream; if opportunities could be had effortlessly, it could not be called a supreme orthodox lineage.
He spoke with steady composure, pursuing the crucial point: "Since the fellow Daoist knows the origin of the tokens, I wonder if you might tell me the whereabouts of the remaining eight