With the orthodox Human Teachings holding the center, the Twelve Golden Immortals of the Chan Sect all deployed, and the Buddhas and Venerables of Western Lands Buddhism pouring out in full force to aid them, the three teachings had joined hands, gathering half the Immortal and divine might beneath heaven and earth to crush the Jie Sect that had once enjoyed the homage of ten thousand immortals, enduring layer upon layer of calamity and slaughter, breaking through countless death traps.
Everyone had thought that Xiqi replacing Shang, that destiny returning to Zhou, was already nailed to the board—an irreversible Fixed Number of the Heavenly Dao.
But no one had expected that after breaking through the obstruction of the Jie Sect's ten thousand immortals, after surviving the slaughter all along the path of the Investiture of the Gods, they would, in the end, fail to cross this final heavenly chasm behind Great Shang, guarded by the Phoenix Clan!
Years of planning, the Saint's arrangements, the Heavenly Dao's promise, ten thousand immortals fighting to the death—all of it had flowed east like water, utterly wasted.
Jiang Ziya's body stiffened faintly, exhaustion and bleakness filling his eyes. Only after a long while did he barely suppress his emotions. In a hoarse voice, still clinging to the last shred of illusory Obsession, he tried to steady the situation:
"Junior Martial Brother, why go to such lengths?"
His gaze swept over corpses strewn across the ground and blood staining the wilds, his tone carrying a stubbornness that seemed to comfort himself more than anyone else.
"All under heaven say King Zhou has no Dao, that Great Shang is entangled in harsh governance, and that the common people of the world have long suffered beyond endurance.
"Even if today you rely on the Phoenix Clan's strength