Dao Ji Preaches the Dao

Time continued to race by, and in the unceasing torrent of the River of Time, heroic figures constantly emerged. Some broke their halberds and sank into the sand, while others still tempered themselves and pressed on.

The chaotic state of the world was bitter suffering for mortal beings, but for many Cultivators, it was a rare opportunity—only, opportunities that had to be fought over often hid an abyss symbolizing death behind them.

Another million-plus years passed.

Gu An, already 11,560,000 years old, was guiding a seventh-generation disciple in cultivation.

That was right. Wushi had already produced a seventh generation. Since disciples had been allowed to take disciples of their own, Gu An had not restricted the later grand-disciples too much in accepting apprentices. He had only one requirement: they could take only one person. Once that disciple achieved success, they could discuss a second.

Though Wushi did not struggle with the secular world, that towering Myriad Worlds Gate stood upright, representing the pride of all its disciples. Without Gu An needing to give orders, they were also extremely strict when accepting disciples. Ordinary geniuses simply could not enter their discerning eyes; if they were to take someone in, it had to be someone with the aptitude to contend for first place among their peers.

Duan Li was extremely excited. He had never imagined that while practicing in the forest today, he would catch the eye of the founding master of Wushi, who even wanted to guide him. His whole person was so exhilarated he could hardly bear it, even feeling a wave of dizziness. He did not hear much of what Gu An said clearly; his mind was like a bowl of paste.

Gu An was very helpless. How could this boy get excited so easily? He had not even