"This won't do. I need to get out of here, fast. If Hongjun turns around and decides to fight me, I'll be in trouble!"
Watching Hongjun clean up the battlefield, Shi Chen didn't even bother collecting any magic treasures. He gathered the merit floating in the sky and hurriedly fled.
He needed to go back and make more plans—to gather some merit and then become a saint.
But before that, perhaps he could find a place to establish his sect?
The Three Immortal Islands in the East Sea would do nicely, especially Penglai Immortal Island. Wasn't there supposed to be a Twelve-Grade World-Purifying White Lotus there?
I'm so poor. I've only got one Chaos Spiritual Treasure!
Sorrowfully looting the battlefield—that was exactly how Hongjun felt right now.
Old Ancestor Yang Mei hadn't had many magic treasures. All he'd left behind was the willow whip that had been part of his true form, which was probably equivalent to a high-grade Innate Spiritual Treasure. But his Law of Space was fully intact. Yin-Yang Ancestor, on the other hand, had left behind quite a few good things: the Taiji Diagram and all sorts of Innate Spiritual Treasures.
Among the several ancestors of the Primordial World, everyone except Shi Chen was practically rolling in wealth.
That guy's own companion treasure had even been turned into a reward and given to him by the system.
Qiankun Ancestor hadn't died, so there was no need to loot his belongings. But Luohu had left behind plenty, too. He'd transformed into the Supreme Heavenly Demon, naturally leaving all his magic treasures behind. As for the Demon Race's foundations... sorry, Hongjun had sorrowfully collected them all.
After all, these magic treasures would come in handy when he opened the Purple Cloud Palace to the public in the future.
At that moment, not one of the cultivators in the distance dared to come over and loot the battlefield. Even Zhunti didn't come running over to say, "This treasure is destined for me." Unless he wanted to see whose karmic affinity was stronger—his or Hongjun's.
After cleaning up the battlefield, Hongjun didn't go to check on the motionless Qiankun Ancestor first.
He went to the fading Yang Mei. Seeing the look of regret on Yang Mei's face, he couldn't help asking:
"Daoist Yang Mei, why did you stop me from taking the Four Swords of Zhu Xian?"
"Alas, Daoist Hongjun... There's no point hiding anything now."
Yang Mei said:
"Hongjun, I knew long ago you weren't a good person. You've been scheming against us all along, haven't you? You wanted to use us to fight Luohu, who'd grown stronger after provoking the War of the Three Tribes, and then reap the rewards yourself...
"Still, even though I knew you were plotting something, I never expected Heaven to be so against me. I thought I could force you to join us in attacking Luohu while he was still at a disadvantage, but Luohu turned out to be more terrifying than I imagined..."
He said all that, but Yang Mei was still extremely uneasy. They'd known each other for dozens of eras, and Hongjun had never once shown any sign of scheming against the three of them.
Even if he knew Hongjun wasn't a good person, he had no evidence to prove that everything had been Hongjun's plot.
Of course, having no evidence didn't stop him from believing Hongjun had schemed against him.
After all, in a hundred Primordial World novels, Hongjun was the cunning old schemer in ninety-nine of them.
Anyway, he was convinced Hongjun was a sly old bastard. Having no evidence only proved how brilliantly Hongjun had covered his tracks!
"Uh..."
Looking at Yang Mei, who was stubbornly saving face and refusing to admit he'd been wrong, Hongjun didn't know what to say.
He'd thought Yang Mei was a decent transmigrator with a good head on his shoulders. But whenever he came across Hongjun, he seemed to lose his wits.
So Hongjun could only offer the transmigrator one parting wish:
"I hope you enjoy yourself in the Chaos Void, Daoist Yang Mei. If you achieve Primordial Unity someday, you can visit the Chaos Purple Cloud Palace for a chat. Also, let me tell you this: I never schemed against any of you. Your fates were set, but all things have a sliver of hope. Heaven's way leaves one in fifty to escape—that is, the forty-nine paths are complete, but one remains unaccounted for. Daoist Qiankun is a perfect example. If you hadn't stopped us from taking the Four Swords of Zhu Xian, all of you would've had a chance to escape your fate. I warned you long ago, but you simply wouldn't believe me."
After speaking, Hongjun turned and walked toward Qiankun Ancestor, leaving Yang Mei to fade away.
Yang Mei's phantom remained where it was, slowly disappearing.
A trace of regret appeared in his eyes.
If he could do it all over again, he definitely wouldn't choose that approach... Perhaps he should've trusted Hongjun. Or perhaps he never should've made an enemy of Luohu and should've joined forces with him instead.
But it was too late for regrets now.
His consciousness had completely returned to the Chaos Void. If he entered the Primordial World again, it would be the moment of his death.
So he could never return to the Primordial World again.
And he might never know that within the Jade Disk of Creation, there was also an outcome where Yang Mei joined forces with Luohu.
But Yang Mei's fate remained unchanged. To put it in terms of fate, a person might have countless ways to die, but in the end, death was their destiny.
The only way Yang Mei could've survived in the Primordial World was to trust Hongjun and the other Daoists. That had been his one sliver of hope.
Yang Mei wasn't dead, because his mastery of space was enough to protect him in any situation.
So he'd been driven out, never to return.
Although the Heavenly Dao of the Primordial World was formless and incorporeal, it was still tyrannical beyond measure. The Heavenly Dao of the Primordial Continent would never allow an existence that refused to submit to its constraints.
Unless it was... Hongjun.
After all, that guy was the Great Dao. What could anyone do about him? Faced with the Great Dao, even the Heavenly Dao could only yield.
After the last Dao-Devil War, Demon Ancestor Luohu had been defeated and transformed into the Supreme Heavenly Demon, becoming an obstacle to cultivators. Yin-Yang Ancestor had died in battle, Qiankun Ancestor had been gravely wounded, and Old Ancestor Shi Chen had emerged unscathed but gained little. Great Immortal Yang Mei had fled into the Chaos Void, and Wangshu had become the moon.
This battle had already strayed from its original course of fate. Among the remaining Chaos Demon Gods, there were two and a half more besides Hongjun.
One was Shi Chen, another was Qiankun, and Wangshu had only her consciousness left, so she counted as half.
Hardly anyone in the Primordial World knew about this.
Jade Capital Mountain, Hongjun's cultivation abode.
"Daoist Hongjun, Luohu has been dealt with. Why are the Dragon Race and Phoenix Race still fighting like this?"
Nine eras had passed. Qiankun Ancestor had recovered from his injuries, and the Dragon-Han Tribulation had entered its final stage.
(It was an era—129,600 years—not a kalpa.)
Qiankun Ancestor was very confused. Hadn't Luohu been the one stirring up conflict among the three races? Why were the Dragon Race and Phoenix Race still fighting after Luohu had died?
Malevolent energy from the tribulation permeated the Primordial Continent.
Actually, Hongjun had said before that even without Luohu secretly stirring things up, the Innate Three Races would still have fought endlessly. And besides, Ancestral Dragon was a transmigrator with ambitions of his own. He had no shortage of ambition.
The Dragon Race was born proud and arrogant, looking down on all other races.
Even though Ancestral Dragon's orders had confined them to the Four Seas, the tribulation was already nearing its end. It was a wonder they hadn't beaten each other to a pulp. How much sense could the Dragon Sons and Grandsons possibly have?
The Phoenix Race wasn't one to be pushed around, either. And with the Qilin Clan involved, the two races joined forces against the Dragon Race. The three races kept each other in check, and for a time, the fighting was utterly chaotic.
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