By the edge of the Eight Treasures Merit Pool, there was a deathly silence.
Everyone's gaze fell on those two figures.
Jieyin and Zhunti still maintained their posture of looking up at the Heavenly Dao, but the aura around them seemed to have been drained of all life, leaving only withering ruin and dead stillness.
They had poured in everything, even misappropriating the boundless merit of their disciple guarding the Underworld.
In the end, they had still fallen short at the final hurdle.
For the first time, a ripple appeared in Saint Taiqing's actionless eyes. He sighed softly, and though that sigh was very light, it landed clearly in everyone's heart.
Even Venerable Lord Yuanshi, who had always found them displeasing, merely kept a cold face at this moment and did not speak to mock them.
He certainly looked down on the way these two would stop at nothing to attain the Dao, but he still had to admit it.
The firmness of these two men's Dao heart, the strength of their perseverance—looking across the entire Primordial Wilderness, no one could surpass them.
Even so, they had still ended up like this.
Nuwa's elegant brows drew together slightly, and in those cold phoenix eyes, a rare trace of regret appeared.
A pity.
A lament.
Even Haotian, who had always been calculating his own interests, looked at these two now and could not help feeling somewhat like the fox grieving the death of the hare.
Miserable.
Truly miserable.
They had spent countless Kalpas scheming, staking the Destiny of the entire West.
They had even torn off the face of saints completely, staging one fine show after another before all living beings of the Three Realms.
But in the end, after a lifetime of busyness and calculation, they still had not managed