How Could Anyone Who Dominated the Primordial Wilderness Be Good? The Three Pure Ones' High Appraisal of Qingyuan!

Within Taiqing Palace, Qingyuan sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion.

The cushion was very old, so old that its original color could no longer be discerned. Only a soft sheen, polished by the years, remained.

The light within the palace was faint, as faint as a thin mist, shrouding the entire hall in an almost imperceptible stillness.

That aura silently seeped into him, slowing even the circulation of his Devouring Great Dao, as though the entire Great Dao had sunk into some profound slumber within it.

Grand Pure Laozi sat opposite him.

He was very old.

So old that his age could not be discerned, so old that he seemed to have sat here since heaven and earth first opened.

No Auspicious Clouds supported him, no divine light protected his body. Wearing only a drab gray Daoist robe, he sat cross-legged on an ordinary stone platform, his figure thin and small, his face withered. At first glance, he looked no different from an ordinary old cultivator in the mountains.

Yet a focused look would reveal something indescribable hidden within that figure.

Something weightier than mountains and rivers, deeper than the stars, more primordial than the Great Dao.

His gaze rested on Qingyuan, neither imposing nor scrutinizing nor unfathomable. Like a clear mountain spring, it silently reflected everything.

Qingyuan recounted the Twelve Ancestor Witches' request once more.

They wished to invite the Three Pure Ones to visit the Witch Clan, discuss the Dao, and complete the Nine Revolutions Profound Primordial Art. Each of the Twelve Ancestor Witches was willing to offer one drop of ancestral witch blood essence.

He spoke evenly, laying out the causes and consequences in clear order, recounting everything from the Twelve Ancestor Witches' warm hospitality and earnest words to their descriptions of the beauty of the Witch