Mount Luofu.
A burning figure stood tall against the sky, incinerating the Xuan clouds and illuminating more than half the Ghost Domain. The cultivators below came and went, tiny as ants.
Most of the time, that towering figure had kept his gaze fixed upon the outside world. Yet this time, he turned his head. Eyes as vast as mountains, surging with boundless dharma power and bright as the Greater Yang, stared unblinkingly at the palace atop Mount Luofu—and at the old man walking out of it.
The old man wore a long robe, his brows tightly furrowed.
A sickly pallor still lingered on his face. Behind his head shone a Circular Light condensed from illusory colors, rippling endlessly outward like water.
The next moment, the towering figure spoke in a thunderous voice:
"Lingming, your injuries have not fully recovered."
"Why have you come out of seclusion now?"
Only then did the old man seem to awaken from a dream. He raised his head to meet those mountain-sized eyes and smiled. "They cannot recover any further. This is my limit for now."
"So severe?"
At those words, the dharma power storm that never ceased within True Lord Zhifa Chiyuan's eyes immediately howled. "Emperor Cang cultivates the Dharma Body. How could he possess such methods?"
"That is not quite fair to say." The old man shook his head. "Though he cultivates the Dharma Body, he later became the first Son of Heaven of the Dao Court. Even if he cannot change the foundation of his Dharma Body, it would be normal for him to gain a few more mysterious abilities. My injuries resonate faintly with those [Heavenly Rules and Earthly Principles], which is why they have become so difficult to contain."
"Let us discuss serious matters instead."
As he spoke, a hint