End of the Purple Cloud Palace Lecture, Seats Settled

In the Purple Cloud Palace, after speaking those five words, Ancestor Hongjun paid no further attention to anything else.

He merely withdrew his gaze and continued his lecture, as if nothing had happened.

Within the great hall, the three thousand cultivators exchanged glances. They naturally understood the meaning of the five words "The Law is not transmitted to the six ears."

When a sage lectures, not everyone is qualified to listen.

Those with fate may come of their own accord; those without fate cannot force it.

The one who had attempted to eavesdrop had surely already paid the price by now.

No one dared to speak, no one dared to discuss it.

After a moment, Hongjun's voice rang out again, continuing the discourse on the path of the Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal.

That voice remained calm, still plain, still imbued with infinite Dao resonance.

As if that brief interlude was not worth a single shred of his attention.

The three thousand cultivators soon immersed themselves once more in that supreme Great Dao.

But Xuande did not forget.

He sat cross-legged among the crowd, eyes lowered, yet turbulent emotions churned within his heart.

The Law is not transmitted to the six ears.

He knew what this phrase signified in the legends of later ages.

The Six-eared Macaque, relying on his innate divine ability, had tried to eavesdrop on a sage's lecture, only to have his path severed by a single word from the sage.

Greedily seeking fate, he instead became fate's outcast.

Xuande silently warned himself.

Though he was a transmigrator, though he possessed memories of later ages and used them to gain an early advantage, He had never forgotten that this was the Primordial Wilderness, a world with the Heavenly Dao and sages.

Only by becoming a sage could one have sufficient say.

Without sagehood, one was ultimately still an ant.

After that, Xuande took a deep breath, gathered his mind, and continued listening to Hongjun's lecture.

On the high platform, Hongjun's voice remained calm.

The path of the Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal lay in leaping beyond the Three Realms and not being bound by the Five Elements.

It lay in comprehending the mysteries of time and space, in merging one's own Dao with the Heavenly Dao...

Within the Purple Cloud Palace, the three thousand cultivators were enraptured.

And Hongjun's lecture continued.

Hongjun's voice echoed through the Purple Cloud Palace.

He spoke of the final part of the Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal path.

How to merge one's own Dao with the Heavenly Dao, how to maintain one's true self within that merging, how to seek transcendence while preserving that true self.

That voice was calm as water, yet every word seemed to pierce directly into the depths of the Primordial Spirit.

Xuande sat cross-legged among the crowd, eyes slightly closed, his mind immersed in that supreme Great Dao.

As he listened to Hongjun explain how to merge one's own Dao with Heaven and Earth, flashes of enlightenment continuously arose within him.

Those confusions he had encountered in his cultivation, Those mysteries he had faintly sensed but could never grasp, Were all resolved one by one through Hongjun's exposition.

After an unknown span of time, Hongjun's voice suddenly stopped.

That calm, stream-like voice came to an abrupt halt.

In the Purple Cloud Palace, there was utter silence.

Xuande slowly opened his eyes, feeling his mind clear and transparent as never before.

He looked around; most of the three thousand cultivators were still immersed in enlightenment.

Some wore smiles, some had furrowed brows, some were in tears.

Clearly, this lecture had brought immense gains to everyone.

On the high platform, Ancestor Hongjun's figure remained seated, his gaze calmly sweeping across the hall.

No one knew how much time had passed.

After a moment, Hongjun spoke.

"This lecture has now lasted two thousand nine hundred years."

His voice was not loud, yet it reached every ear with perfect clarity.

The three thousand cultivators all awoke from their enlightenment; some were dazed, some shocked, some still yearning for more.

Two thousand nine hundred years is not long for a Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal, yet immersed in a sage's sermon, it felt like but an instant.

"The path of the Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal has been fully expounded."

Hongjun continued, "Remain seated in meditation and comprehension. When all have awakened, I shall speak further."

With that, he fell silent, sitting quietly upon the high platform.

Within the Purple Cloud Palace, silence descended once more.

The cultivators who had already awakened dared not speak or move, sitting quietly to digest the gains of these two thousand nine hundred years.

Those still lost in enlightenment continued to meditate, faint traces of Dao rhythm swirling around them.

Xuande did not resume his comprehension. Instead, he silently reflected on all he had heard and understood over the two thousand nine hundred years.

From Heavenly Immortal to Zenith Heaven, he had listened with utmost seriousness to every realm Hongjun expounded.

Those foundational teachings, seemingly simple, granted him a brand-new understanding of his own cultivation path.

This single sermon surpassed a million years of his own bitter cultivation.

He raised his eyes to the six cushions ahead.

Laozi, Jieyin, Zhunti, Yuanshi, Tongtian, and Nuwa sat upright upon them, Dao rhythm flowing around their bodies, clearly still immersed in enlightenment.

Especially Jieyin and Zhunti.

Their auras had grown more condensed than before the sermon, showing signs of aligning with the Great Dao of the West.

Xuande felt happy for them in his heart.

After who knew how long, the last cultivator in the Purple Cloud Palace finally awoke from enlightenment.

He was a weathered old rogue cultivator, his cultivation merely at the early stage of Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal.

The moment he opened his eyes, tears streamed down his aged face. He prostrated himself, heavily kowtowing toward Hongjun on the high platform.

"Thank you, Dao Ancestor! Thank you, Dao Ancestor!"

He choked up, unable to speak further, only kowtowing repeatedly.

No one laughed at him.

Among the three thousand cultivators present, who had not walked detours or suffered hardships?

Hearing the Dao Ancestor's sermon today was enough to save them millions of years of wrong turns.

This grace was worth a bow.

Hongjun said nothing, only nodding slightly.

When the old cultivator calmed down and sat properly again, Hongjun spoke once more.

"This sermon ends here."

The three thousand cultivators' hearts tightened, knowing the Dao Ancestor was about to announce something important.

Hongjun's gaze swept slowly across the hall, finally settling on the six cushions.

"The next sermon will be in three thousand years."

He said, "At that time, I will expound the path of the Quasi-Saint."

The path of the Quasi-Saint!

A faint stir rippled through the hall.

Quasi-Saint—every Zenith Heaven Golden Immortal present understood it should be a realm beyond their own.

To hear this path was a tremendous stroke of fortune.

But Hongjun's next words sank many hearts.

"The seats of the Purple Cloud Palace," Hongjun's voice remained calm, "are now fixed and cannot be changed."

At these words, the hall fell into dead silence.

Seats fixed, unchangeable.

Those six cushions.

The cultivators who had not realized the importance of those six cushions before...

Now they finally understood.

Those were... those were the seats for future sermons!

At the next sermon, and the one after that, the people on those six cushions would forever sit at the front, closest to the Dao Ancestor!

And they could only stand behind, sit behind, forever unable to draw near!

Some regretted, some resented, some had complex expressions flickering in their eyes.

But no one dared to speak.

Because it was decreed by the Dao Ancestor.

After saying this, Hongjun said no more.

His figure slowly faded, like a wisp of green smoke, dissolving atop the high platform.

Only a faint remark lingered, echoing through the Purple Cloud Palace—

"Three thousand years hence, those with fate may come again."

Within the Purple Cloud Palace, silence reigned.

After a moment, someone rose and silently walked outward.

It was the scattered cultivators.

They understood that those six Cushions were henceforth beyond their reach.

Yet they held no resentment; to have come and heard the Dao was already a supreme fortune, an inexhaustible boon.

As for the path of the Quasi-Saint... in three thousand years, they would surely return.

One led, and others followed.

The three thousand cultivators rose one after another and filed out of the Purple Cloud Palace.