Third Preaching, Accepting Disciples

After retrieving the Innate Gourd Vine from Buzhou Mountain, Wu Ming kept to Pangu Hall, rarely venturing out.

In a corner of the hall, the Innate Gourd Vine was carefully planted. Wu Ming nurtured it with the merit accumulated by the Witch Clan, watering the vine with meticulous care, trying to hasten the ripening of its final fruit. The vine was lush and green, yet the blue gourd showed no sign of maturing.

Wu Ming sat cross-legged in meditation, his mind sinking into the Sea of Laws.

Wu Ming was not impatient.

He understood that this would take time—and more merit.

The Twelve Ancestor Witches were not idle either.

Dijiang, Zhujiuyin, and Houtu, the three newly ascended Golden Immortals of the Origin, either secluded themselves to stabilize their realms and comprehend the laws, while the other Ancestor Witches continued to fulfill the Witch Clan's oath, roaming the Primordial Wilderness, cleansing residual Sha Qi, regulating disturbed earth veins, accumulating merit, and tempering their physical bodies.

The entire Witch Clan, following the direction Wu Ming had set, accumulated strength and upheld their oath, presenting a scene of bustling activity.

Time flowed on. For the great powers of the Primordial Wilderness, a thousand or ten thousand years passed in the blink of an eye.

The day of the Third Preaching at Zixiao Palace arrived quietly.

On that day, the gates of Pangu Hall on Buzhou Mountain swung open.

Wu Ming stepped out, and the Twelve Ancestor Witches were already waiting outside.

"Big Brother!"

"Let's go." Wu Ming nodded.

Thirteen figures shot into the sky, tearing through the air as they flew toward Zixiao Palace beyond the Thirty-Three Heavens.

The chaotic currents surged violently, and the ancient gates of Zixiao Palace stood wide open.

Inside the hall, many figures had already gathered.

Wu Ming led the Twelve Ancestor Witches as they descended, drawing many gazes.

Wu Ming's expression remained unchanged as he guided the Ancestor Witches into the hall.

Inside Zixiao Palace, the cushions remained as they were.

On the six front cushions, the Three Pure Ones, Nuwa, Jieyin, and Zhunti sat firmly.

Soon, the Three Thousand Red Dust Guests had mostly arrived.

Hum—

The gates of Zixiao Palace closed silently.

On the high platform, the figure of the Dao Ancestor Hongjun appeared without a sound, as if he had been there since time immemorial.

Dao Rhythm flowed, mysterious and unfathomable.

"We pay our respects to the Dao Ancestor!" Everyone rose together and bowed.

Hongjun's expression was blank, his voice flat yet clearly reaching every ear: "Sit."

Once everyone was seated, Hongjun's calm voice rang out:

"This is the third preaching, and also the last."

"I will now expound for you the Way of Sages."

The Way of Sages!

At these words, everyone in the hall paused in their breathing.

Even the Three Pure Ones and Nuwa, top-tier great powers, showed gravity and anticipation in their eyes.

Ignoring the commotion below, Hongjun began to speak slowly.

"A Sage is one whose Primordial Spirit is entrusted to the Heavenly Dao, a Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal of the Origin, unblemished through countless kalpas, untouched by karma..."

The Sound of the Great Dao filled the air, Heavenly Flowers Falling, Earth Surging Golden Lotuses.

Within Zixiao Palace, laws manifested, profound beyond measure.

The crowd was entranced, immersed in the mystery of the Way of Sages.

Time flowed slowly amid this arcane preaching.

No one knew how long passed—perhaps a thousand years, perhaps ten thousand.

On the high platform, Hongjun's voice came to an abrupt halt.

The Heavenly Flowers faded, the Golden Lotuses dispersed.

The Sound of the Great Dao dissipated, and Zixiao Palace fell silent once more.

Below the platform, the crowd remained immersed in the mystery of the Way of Sages, their expressions varied.

Some furrowed their brows, clearly lost in the clouds, unable to find the door.

Others closed their eyes in concentration, seeming to have gained something, working hard to digest it.

Still more wore blank looks, as if they had never heard such difficult and obscure principles.

The Dao Ancestor Hongjun opened his eyes and calmly swept his gaze across the hall.

After a moment, the crowd gradually broke free from that mysterious Dao realm, one by one coming to their senses.

Above the high platform, the Dao Ancestor Hongjun swept his gaze across the hall below.

He looked toward the three figures at the very front of the cushions.

"Taiqing, Yuanshi, Tongtian."

"You three are incarnations of Pangu's Primordial Spirit, bearing the merit of creation, with deep blessings and fateful ties to my Mystic Gate."

"Are you willing to take me as your master?"

As these words fell, many great beings in the hall felt their hearts leap.

Take Hongjun as their master?

This was an immense Opportunity!

Taiqing, Yuanshi, and Tongtian exchanged glances, then without any hesitation, they immediately prostrated themselves and performed the disciple's rites.

"Disciple Taiqing, Yuanshi, Tongtian, pay respects to Master!"

Their voices rang out loud and clear, brimming with excitement.

"Good."

Hongjun nodded slightly, acknowledging them.

He then turned his gaze to Nuwa, who stood to the side.

"Nuwa."

"In the future, you shall have great fortune and great Opportunity. Are you willing to become my personal disciple?"

Nuwa was startled for a moment, then quickly recovered and bowed in salute.

"Disciple Nuwa pays respects to Master!"

Her voice was crisp, carrying joy.

Hongjun looked at the four kneeling before him and raised a hand, waving it.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Four strands of Hongmeng Purple Qi shot through the air, as if imbued with sentience, instantly sinking into the brows of the Three Pure Ones and Nuwa.

"This is the Hongmeng Purple Qi."

Hongjun explained.

"It contains the laws of heaven and earth and is the foundation for Attaining Sainthood. Today, I bestow it upon you."

"Thank you, Master!" The Three Pure Ones and Nuwa bowed again.

The foundation for sainthood!

These four words exploded like thunderclaps within Zixiao Palace!

Everyone's eyes turned red!

Envy!

Jealousy!

Hatred!

Why?

Why did they get to receive this foundation for sainthood?

Especially those great beings who considered themselves no weaker than the Three Pure Ones or Nuwa—their hearts churned like raging seas.

Just then, an unexpected change occurred.

"Waaah... Master, have mercy!"

"I beg you, Master, take pity on us!"

At that moment, the change struck!

Daoist Zhunti, who was beside them, suddenly rose from his cushion, knelt before Hongjun, and burst into loud wails.

"Master, have mercy! I beg you to pity the West!"

"My fellow disciple and I have come from that barren Western land, traveling countless millions of li, only to seek the true transmission of the Great Dao!"

"But alas, the West has suffered calamity—its spiritual veins destroyed, its resources scarce. Our cultivation has been so difficult!"

"I beg you, Master, take pity and accept us as disciples, leaving a thread of hope for the West!"

The two of them played off each other, weeping and wailing to the heavens, their words so sincere that any who heard would grieve and any who saw would shed tears.

The great beings in Zixiao Palace were stunned.

Was this allowed?

Could you really pull a move like this?

The sheer nerve... was unmatched!

Even the Three Pure Ones and Nuwa couldn't help but glance sideways.

The corners of Yuanshi's mouth twitched, a flicker of disdain surfacing.

Tongtian raised an eyebrow slightly, as if he found the scene somewhat amusing.

Taiqing remained with eyes closed, unmoving as a mountain.

Wu Ming watched this classic tableau, his heart utterly undisturbed.

Behind him, Zhurong curled his lip and muttered to Gonggong at his side, "These two shameless ones—what a performance!"

Gonggong snorted. "Really know how to play the poor card!"

On the high platform, Hongjun looked down at the two weeping below. His expression did not change, but a trace of helplessness flickered in his eyes.

The Dao-Demon Conflict, Luohu's self-detonation, had destroyed the Western Spirit Vein.

This matter was indeed tied to him—he owed the West a karmic debt.

"Sigh..."

Hongjun let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

"Very well."

"Jieyin, Zhunti."

"Though you two share no formal master-disciple bond with me, your sincerity is commendable, and you are also fated with the Mystic Gate."

"I shall accept you as Nominal Disciples."

As he spoke, Hongjun raised his hand once more.

Two more streams of Hongmeng Purple Qi flew out, entering Jieyin and Zhunti's bodies.

"The Teacher is merciful! The Teacher is merciful!"

Overwhelmed with joy, Jieyin and Zhunti hurriedly kowtowed in gratitude.