Spirit Vulture Mountain, Yuanjue Cave.
Daoist Randeng sat cross-legged in the center of the cave, his face shifting between livid and purplish hues. He looked horrifying.
His Daoist robe was soaked with sweat, and a faint, rancid stench wafted from his body.
The poison of the Nine Nether Soul Devouring Saliva was even more vicious than he had imagined.
He had tried every method he could think of, even at the cost of his own essence. Yet he could only barely suppress the spread of the poison, unable to eradicate it completely.
"Damn it! Who was it?"
Randeng was filled with frustration and fury.
He was certain that someone had set him up.
From that strange divine thunder, to the Immortal Trapping Formation in the East Sea, and then to this poisonous Innate Spiritual Root—
Each step had led to the next. It was clearly a trap laid out in advance.
The goal was to poison him and severely damage his cultivation.
"Tongtian! It must have been you!"
After turning it over in his mind, Randeng still suspected Sect Master Tongtian the most.
Only a Saint could possess such means—to drive a Quasi-Saint like him into such a wretched state without ever showing himself.
"Tongtian, you bastard! Once I've cured this poison, I'll make your Interception Sect pay!"
Randeng swore to himself.
But the question was, how could he cure it?
The Nine Nether Soul Devouring Saliva was a rare poison of the Primordial Era. Ordinary spirit pills and elixirs were useless against it.
He would have to find the legendary Innate Spiritual Root, the Yellow Middle Plum, or go to Grand Supreme Elder Laozi and beg for a Nine-Turn Golden Elixir.
The Yellow Middle Plum had vanished without a trace.
Go beg Grand Supreme Elder Laozi?
Randeng couldn't bring himself to do that.
Besides, he wasn't even sure he could make it to Tushita Palace in his current condition.
Just as Randeng was at his wit's end, close to despair—
A mild voice suddenly sounded outside his cave.
"This Daoist is Shen Zhaochi. I request an audience with Daoist Randeng."
Shen Zhaochi?
Randeng frowned.
The name was unfamiliar.
Was there anyone like that in the Primordial Era?
He was poisoned and didn't want to see anyone.
"This Daoist is in seclusion and will receive no guests. Please leave."
Randeng's voice sounded weak.
"Heh."
The voice outside the cave gave a soft laugh.
"Are you suffering from the poison of the Nine Nether Soul Devouring Saliva? It's an exceptionally potent toxin. Without the right antidote, I'm afraid your ten thousand years of cultivation will be ruined."
Randeng was shocked.
The other man had identified the poison at a glance!
And from the sound of it, he might even know how to cure it.
"Who are you? How do you know I've been poisoned?"
Randeng asked warily.
"Who I am doesn't matter," the voice outside replied unhurriedly. "What matters is that I can cure your poison."
"If you don't believe me, would you let me come inside? You'll see for yourself whether I'm friend or foe."
Randeng hesitated.
His condition really was dire.
If the man truly had an antidote, he was a lifeline.
But if he was an enemy, wouldn't letting him in now be like inviting a wolf into the house?
"Fine!"
Randeng steeled himself.
"I'll try anything at this point!"
He had no better options.
"Please come in."
He lifted the restrictions around the cave.
The stone doors slowly opened.
A young Daoist in a purple-gold robe walked in. His face was blurred, his features impossible to make out.
A vast, unfamiliar aura radiated from him.
It wasn't the Immortal Dao, the Devil Dao, or the Buddhist Dao.
It was something else... an aura of godhood.
Randeng's pupils contracted.
He sensed a tremendous threat from the young Daoist.
The other man's cultivation seemed to be only at the Heavenly Immortal level.
Yet the very nature of that aura made even a Quasi-Saint like him uneasy.
"Y-you... who are you?"
Randeng asked, forcing himself to speak.
"This Daoist is Shen Zhaochi, Lord of the Primordial Godhood."
Shen Zhaochi spoke calmly.
Naturally, he hadn't come in person.
Instead, he had used the vast Power of Faith provided by the Great Qin world and the Warhammer world to condense a Divine Power Incarnation.
Although this incarnation possessed only Heavenly Immortal-level magical power, its very essence was formed from the laws of godhood.
It was impervious to all laws and immune to all poisons.
"Primordial Godhood?"
Randeng had never heard of this path.
"Don't be alarmed, fellow Daoist. I haven't come to make an enemy of you."
Shen Zhaochi walked up to Randeng and raised a finger, a thread of purple-gold divine power curling around its tip.
He gently pressed it against the black wound on the back of Randeng's hand.
A wisp of smoke rose.
Randeng felt a cool, refreshing sensation spread from the wound.
The poison, which had clung to him like a bone-deep parasite, melted away like snow the instant it touched that thread of purple-gold divine power.
In a few moments, the blackness on the back of his hand had faded completely, leaving his skin its normal color.
The poison in his body had also been purged without a trace.
"H-how is this possible?"
Feeling his magical power circulate freely once more, Randeng was stunned.
The rare poison of the Primordial Era that had tormented him for days and left him helpless had been cured with a single touch?
What kind of ability was this?
Even a Saint might not be capable of more!
"Fellow Daoist, do you believe in my sincerity now?"
Shen Zhaochi withdrew his finger and smiled.
Randeng stared at him, his expression complicated.
Shock and confusion filled his eyes, but wariness more than anything else.
This Shen Zhaochi had appeared out of nowhere. He was far too mysterious, far too powerful.
"Thank you for saving my life, fellow Daoist."
Randeng stood and bowed to Shen Zhaochi with his hands clasped.
"Your divine abilities are extraordinary. I admire you."
"However, I've never met you before. Why did you help me? What do you want?"
Randeng didn't believe the other man had come to play the good Samaritan for no reason.
He had to be after something.
"Heh. Talking to a clever man really does save time."
Shen Zhaochi smiled.
"I saved you because I want to make a deal with you."
"What deal?"
"It's simple." Shen Zhaochi's gaze grew profound. "I want you to do something for me."
"During the upcoming Great Tribulation of Investiture of the Gods, send every one of the Twelve Golden Immortals of the Sect of Explanation onto the Investiture of the Gods!"
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