Thus, no one could deduce their true nature, trace their origins, or dare plot against them in secret. The moment anyone conceived the slightest thought of scheming against a Saint, the Heavenly Dao would immediately sense it, and every trace would become irrefutable evidence. The Saint could then see through the causes and consequences in an instant.
Yet now, Su Yang had actually dragged their hidden primordial spirits out of the void!
This meant that Saintly positions were no longer immortal, and the Great Dao was not eternal either. For the first time, death truly hung above their heads.
What terrified them even more was that overwhelming might, pressing down until their souls felt ready to split, was vast as an abyss and solemn as judgment, allowing not the slightest defiance. The slightest carelessness would mean the destruction of both body and spirit.
And their painstaking cultivation over ten thousand years had been stripped away by a single thought from Su Yang—cultivation scattered, their Dao foundations tarnished, and their lifelong efforts reduced in an instant to smoke and bubbles. Their chests felt as though a piece had been gouged out, leaving behind a bitter emptiness and bone-piercing chill.
Su Yang stood with his hands behind his back, his voice like cold spring water striking stone. "I have cut away ten thousand years of your cultivation as punishment. If you offend me again, do not blame me for personally annihilating your primordial spirits."
At that moment, the five Saints before him finally understood to their very bones: how could he be an ordinary cultivator? He was clearly the master of heavenly punishment, holding life and death in his hands.
Though they had been wary of him before, they had ultimately retained a measure of Pride. Only now did they understand that