The Heavenly Dao is the Chess Player

When Zhou Ming heard this, he merely let out a soft chuckle.

The laugh was not loud, yet it carried clearly into the ears of everyone present, and it made Hongjun's urgent urging come to an abrupt stop.

Zhou Ming looked at that Divine Sense growing ever more illusory and slowly shook his head.

"Enough, Hongjun."

"Stop saying such nonsense."

Zhou Ming stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the smile on his face very faint.

"This wisp of your Divine Sense waited here for me not so I could go save your True Body."

Standing behind Zhou Ming, Haotian and Yaochi were both filled with confusion when they heard this.

Not to save his True Body?

Then why had the Dao Ancestor taken on such a posture?

Hongjun's illusory figure suddenly froze.

Zhou Ming looked at him as if he were watching a clumsy actor.

"You know better than anyone that from the moment you failed, your True Body... could no longer be saved."

When those words fell, the Lingxiao Treasure Hall sank into dead silence.

Hongjun's phantom did not open his mouth to refute him, nor did he continue shouting anything like "hurry to Purple Firmament Palace." The emotion that had just been so frantic he had lost all composure was withdrawn cleanly in an instant.

Zhou Ming looked at him, the corner of his mouth tugging.

As expected.

That impassioned plea for help just now had been nothing more than a test.

A test of how much he understood about the Heavenly Dao, a test of whether he would be swept up by that urgency and make an impulsive judgment.

Hongjun was Hongjun.

Even if only a wisp of Divine Sense remained, even if his True Body was already finished, even if the great momentum had