News of the Dragon Palace's elite Water Army nearly "evaporating" was like a massive boulder thrown beneath the seemingly placid lake of the Primordial Era, stirring undercurrents and ripples far beyond what appeared on the surface.
After their initial shock and speechlessness, the various factions did not truly fall silent. Instead, they adjusted their strategies and arrangements in even more covert and cautious ways.
The Dragon Palace lay low, its hatred buried deep.
The East Sea Dragon Palace fell completely silent. The Dragon Race's ceremonial processions, once frequently patrolling the Four Seas, had nearly vanished, as had the smaller aquatic tribes dependent on the Dragon Race.
They too received strict orders. Their activities were severely restricted, and they were to stay far away from that stretch of sea designated as "Taboos."
Within the Crystal Palace, the former clamor and arrogance had been replaced by an oppressive, deathly silence.
Dragon King Ao Guang seemed to have aged greatly overnight. He spent most of his time alone in the Secret Hall at the deepest part of the Dragon Palace.
He stood silently before an ancient mural depicting Ancestral Dragon soaring through chaos. The Ancestral Dragon in that mural possessed boundless majesty and looked down upon the Primordial Era; he had once been the spiritual pillar of every dragon.
But now, Wanhua's words—"Even if Ancestral Dragon came in person, he would still have to observe proper etiquette"—echoed in Ao Guang's mind like a curse, gnawing away at the last of his pride.
Did he hate them? Of course he hated them to the bone! When had the Dragon Race ever suffered such unbearable humiliation?
A crown prince had been defeated, while a great general and tens of thousands of elite troops had been turned into treasures with a backhanded gesture. Even all the waters of the Four Seas could not wash away such hatred.
Yet beneath that hatred lay a deeper, colder fear. It was an irresistible fear born of the gulf in their very levels of existence and their absolute disparity in strength.
Ao Guang knew well that before a Primordial Chaos Sage, the Dragon Race's accumulated foundation and pride, built over hundreds of millions of years—
were so fragile that they could not withstand a single blow. Any form of revenge at this stage would be no different from courting death.
"Endure! We must endure!"
Ao Guang rasped at the mural, his dragon claws digging deeply into the hard palace wall.
"Gather our strength and wait for the right time... The Primordial Era is vast, and opportunities are endless. There may yet come a day when my Dragon Race restores its former glory!"
He forcibly suppressed all his hatred and humiliation, transforming them into the deepest, most patient hibernation.
The Dragon Palace's resources began to tilt toward a handful of core descendants and secret plans. Ancient secret arts, long sealed away since the era of Ancestral Dragon, were once again brought out for study.
In secret, they licked their wounds and accumulated a power that no one could foresee.
The demon race infiltrated quietly, like rain soaking everything in silence.
Compared to the Dragon Palace's extreme forbearance, the demon race's actions were more subtle and flexible.
Demon Emperor Dijun adopted Bai Ze's suggestion and did not dispatch core members whose identities were too sensitive.
Instead, he mobilized many Rogue Cultivators and small clans of the demon race who had long since blended into every corner of the Primordial Era and were themselves curious about all manner of Dao arts.
These demon emissaries came neither with hostility nor with any explicit mission. Some approached Myriad Dao Academy as wandering Rogue Cultivators, while others came in the guise of sincere seekers of the Dao.
They no longer insisted on infiltrating the core. Instead, they sat in meditation within the outer Enlightenment Zone, exchanging insights on the Dao with the Academy's Registered Disciples.
They bought or traded for talismans and artifacts that the Academy permitted to circulate outside, containing fundamental principles of the Literary Dao—such as Calming Inkstones that could soothe the mind and Spirit-Guiding Paperweights that could gather Literary Qi within a small area.
They carefully observed the Academy disciples' words and actions, felt the effects of Literary Qi and Dao resonance upon the mind, and analyzed the principles behind the creation of those basic Literary Treasures.
These scattered pieces of information were continuously gathered and sent to Bai Ze, who integrated and deduced them with his extraordinary wisdom.
"This path values the 'heart,' 'principle,' and 'Order,' utterly unlike our race's reliance on bloodlines and the devouring of spiritual Opportunity."
Bai Ze reported to Dijun, "In the short term, this Dao is incompatible with our race's domineering arts of conquest and warfare, making it difficult for us to use.
"Yet the power of 'Order' and 'enlightenment' contained within it holds profound potential. If we can decipher it,
"it may compensate for our demon race's shortcomings in governance and uniting hearts and minds. It may also allow us to glimpse a fragment of the Sage's great Dao."
The demon race's strategy toward the Academy gradually shifted from "wariness and exploitation" to "study and analysis," as they sought to draw nourishment from this vastly different Dao Lineage for their own use.
The West made contact, quietly placing its piece.
Meanwhile, the Rogue Cultivator named Huiming, who had passed the Three Heart Inquiry Trials, displayed diligence in study and gentleness toward others after entering the Academy's Outer Academy. Before long, he had become familiar with several disciples.
He showed particular interest in the Confucian Dao's discussions of "mental nature," "compassion," and "wisdom."
He often debated the Dao with others in the Hall of Discussing the Dao. His views were usually novel, carrying a contemplative quality distinct from the Eastern Mystic Gate.
Xuanjizi continued to observe him. After confirming that he showed no malicious behavior, and that the light of his soul seemed to be growing purer under the nourishment of the Academy's Wenhua—
he relaxed slightly. Even so, he cautioned the disciples who had befriended Huiming that they could discuss the Dao with him, but must maintain proper boundaries regarding the Academy's core formations, secretly transmitted divine abilities, and the like.
This Huiming was a man with ties to the West whom Daoist Zhunti had secretly guided here.
Zhunti had not ordered him to cause destruction. Rather, he hoped Huiming could truly integrate into the Academy and personally experience the essence of the Confucian Dao.
If possible, he even hoped to use this opportunity to establish a faint and subtle connection with Sage Wanhua. This move had been placed deeply, with an eye toward the distant future.
The Academy developed, its Wenhua contained within.
The undercurrents outside did not greatly affect the Academy's vigorous development. With a relatively stable environment, Wanhua began teaching deeper methods of the Confucian Dao.
In the Hall of Understanding Principles, he systematically explained for the first time how to construct a Literary Palace.
A Literary Palace was the foundational Dao ground of a Confucian cultivator. It was not a real building, but something constructed within one's already opened Sea of Consciousness, with one's own Literary Heart as its core.
Using one's understanding of principles as bricks and one's will and Literary Qi as binding mortar, it formed a palace of principles.
"The form of a Literary Palace differs from person to person." Wanhua's voice echoed through the hall as he manifested all kinds of visions. "It may be an academy, its shelves filled with books; or a grass-thatched cottage, returning to simplicity;
"or a grand city, its bastions heavily fortified; or a pastoral garden, brimming with life... Its form is not fixed, but its essence lies solely in 'understanding principles,' 'fortifying the heart,' and 'bearing the Dao.'"
He guided the disciples in visualizing the rudimentary form of their own Literary Palaces and in using Literary Qi and principle runes to build them.
Xuanjizi envisioned a Platform of Seeking standing atop the summit of a raging storm, displaying his unwavering heart in the pursuit of truth.
Elder Teng, meanwhile, constructed a vibrant Garden of Benevolent Heart connected to all things; Yun Xi's Literary Palace resembled a warm, sturdy Guardian Bastion.
Constructing a Literary Palace was a long and meticulous process, requiring a deep accumulation of Literary Qi and profound understanding of one's own principles.
Once a Literary Palace initially took shape, not only would the Sea of Consciousness become more stable, but one's capacity to bear and deduce principles would be greatly strengthened.
It would also become the foundation for wielding more powerful divine abilities in the future, and even for bearing the "intent" one established for oneself.
At the same time, more practical divine abilities of the Confucian Dao were added to the curriculum.
For example, the further application of Each Word a Pearl was no longer limited to manifesting a single character. It could be combined into short phrases to produce stronger temporary effects;
the domain-control techniques of Subtle Words, Profound Meaning; the many transformations of Splendid Tapestry; and so on.
Within the Academy's Scripture Repository, cultivation notes and divine ability concepts independently summarized and deduced by the disciples also began to appear. Though most were still quite rudimentary,
they heralded the constant enrichment and growth of the Confucian Dao system in the hands of these pioneers.
Wanhua presided over the center. He occasionally lectured on the Dao, but more often allowed the disciples to explore freely and let their wisdom collide.
He watched Xuanjizi gradually develop the bearing of a leader, and watched Elder Teng's benevolent heart nourish the Academy's plants and trees.
He watched Yun Xi's desire to protect inspire her fellow disciples, and watched the newly initiated disciples thrive beneath the bathing light of Wenhua.
He knew that true inheritance did not lie in how many earth-shaking divine abilities he taught.
It lay in whether these disciples could combine the Seeds of Principle he had sown with their own traits and nurture vibrant Dao Fruits that belonged to them alone.
Beyond the Academy, the undercurrents still surged. The Dragon Palace's hatred, the demon race's investigation, and the West's schemes had never ceased.
But within the Academy, Wenhua was contained within, and the Dao Lineage was passed on like a flame. With steady, unwavering steps, it was opening a unique haven amid the chaos of the Primordial Era.
It accumulated the foundation needed to face even greater storms ahead. The mountain rain was coming, and the winds filled the tower—but this tower was growing ever sturdier upon its own foundations.
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