The gates of the Purple Sky Palace stood open, as though they had long known Haotian would come.
Haotian knelt in the center of the great hall, his forehead pressed against the cold Floor Tiles. Humiliation and frustration surged over him like a tide.
Last time, he had begged for resources. This time, he was begging for a solution.
What about next time?
What would he beg for next time?
When would he no longer need to beg anyone?
Anger churned within Haotian—anger toward himself.
He hated his own incompetence. He hated that he could not support the Heavenly Court. He hated that whenever trouble arose, all he could do was beg others for help.
But he had no other path. The Dao Ancestor was his only support.
After being struck by cruel reality time and again, Haotian had finally recognized that he was merely a chess piece in the Dao Ancestor's hand. He had no choice but to bow his head before him.
"Master."
The grievances Haotian had suppressed for tens of thousands of years finally surged forth in full.
Hongjun sat upright upon the Cloud Bed, Rule Chains coiled around him, their links shimmering with a faint golden light.
"Rise and speak."
Haotian got to his feet and stood in the hall with his hands hanging at his sides.
Hongjun waited for a moment. Seeing that Haotian did not speak, he took the initiative to ask.
"How is the Heavenly Court?"
The grievance in Haotian's heart surged up like floodwaters bursting through a dam.
"Master, this disciple is incompetent... No one is willing to join the Heavenly Court."
After saying that, he lowered his head even further, his voice thick with barely concealed sobs.
"All Spirits of the Prehistoric World do not trust me, nor do they trust