Time flowed on, and three thousand years passed in the blink of an eye.
The tides of the Prehistoric Universe changed faster than the stars in the sky.
The title "Saint of the Dharma-Ending Age" rolled like thunder across Kunlun Mountain's snow, swept over the vast waves of the East Sea, and even reached the side of the imperial throne in Xianyang Palace.
Once, whenever the beings of the Three Realms spoke of the Daoist Saint, they were filled with reverence and praise, calling him one who "governed through non-action, winning the hearts of all spirits."
But now, the wind had changed.
Three thousand years were enough to kill idealists. Now, only the living had the right to speak...
In the Nine Provinces, a scholar in Confucian robes set down his teacup in a human teahouse and shook his head. "Zhuangzi? He merely had the fortune to obtain Hongmeng Purple Qi. He still has a long way to go before becoming a Saint of the Heavenly Dao!"
Beside him, an Old Daoist selling talismans nodded deeply and stroked his beard. "Even the Three Pure Ones, back then, listened to the Dao in Purple Heaven Palace and endured countless calamities before attaining the Dao and taking their places."
"Empress Nuwa molded humans from clay and refined stones to mend the heavens. Her merit was immeasurable."
"Eastern Emperor Taiyi possessed unparalleled combat strength. He seized a sliver of Tianji before he could become a Saint."
In the corner, a brawny Witch Clan man with a face full of flesh slammed the table, his voice booming. "Well said! A Saint's position has never been piled up with the wishes of all spirits! It has to be fought for!"
These words were repeated again and again, in different ways by different people, throughout every