Zunti and Jieyin

The Ancestral Witches beside him, Zhurong and Gonggong among them, were all taken aback. This was the first time they had seen their younger sister Houtu take the initiative to greet an outsider, and one who appeared to be a frail immortal cultivator at that.

Xuanqing was also somewhat surprised, but he immediately returned the greeting with a humble and respectful demeanor.

"Greetings, Daoist. This Humble One is Xuanqing, a disciple of the Jade Void Palace."

"So you are a distinguished disciple of Brother Yuanshi." A flicker of understanding passed through Houtu's eyes, and her smile grew even warmer. "I am Houtu. Just now, I saw that you, Daoist Xuanqing, at the Mystic Immortal realm, were not falling behind those Golden Immortals, with astonishing speed. It piqued my curiosity, so I came to greet you. I hope you won't mind."

"Daoist Houtu is too kind. It was merely a stroke of luck." Xuanqing said with a smile.

He could sense that Houtu's goodwill toward him was genuine.

Perhaps it was because his body, an innate spiritual root of merit, naturally resonated with the earth that bore all things.

"Daoist Xuanqing, you carry a reassuring aura." Houtu said softly. "I hope we may meet again by fate in the future."

"Certainly." Xuanqing nodded in agreement.

To forge a favorable connection with the future Empress Houtu—this was an immense stroke of luck.

This brief exchange of words drew sidelong glances from many of the great powers nearby.

For Houtu, one of the Ancestral Witches, to take the initiative to show goodwill—this First Disciple of Yuanshi seemed far more extraordinary than they had imagined.

Dijun and Kunpeng, in particular, wore even darker expressions.

This brat—how had he gotten involved with the Witch Clan as well?

Xuanqing paid no further heed to the varied gazes around him. He nodded kindly at Houtu, then turned and stepped through the gate of the Purple Cloud Palace.

A shift in time and space, and the scene before him opened up.

Inside the palace was a boundless space beyond time and space. Dao Runes evolved on their own in the air, while Earth Water Fire Wind arose and perished in constant flux, profound and extraordinary.

On the high platform ahead, a figure sat cross-legged in stillness—an ancient Daoist with indistinct features, as if he had been there since time immemorial, merged with the entire Chaos.

Hongjun Dao Ancestor!

Xuanqing's heart tightened. So this was the ultimate big shot of the Honghuang world? His presence was indeed extraordinary.

The moment he stepped inside, Hongjun on the platform seemed to sense something, casting a faint glance in his direction.

That single look seemed to pierce through Xuanqing's soul. Xuanqing felt as if he were a man without clothes, seen through completely.

Fortunately, the gaze lingered only for an instant before shifting away, as if it had merely noticed something slightly novel, without drawing much attention.

Xuanqing breathed a quiet sigh of relief and couldn't help but grumble inwardly: "Big shot, give me some face—don't just turn on X-ray vision whenever you feel like it."

He looked around and realized he had indeed arrived quite late.

At the very front of the palace, six purple Prayer Mats were conspicuously arranged.

His master, Yuanshi Tianzun, along with his Senior Grand Uncle Taishang Laojun and Third Martial Uncle Tongtian Cult Leader, were already seated steadily on the first three mats, their eyes closed in meditation.

Behind them, top-tier great powers like Dijun, Taiyi, Nüwa, and Fuxi had each found their own places to sit.

Further back was a dense crowd—Innate Godly Beings from all over the Honghuang, with varying levels of cultivation.

Following the rule of first come, first served, Xuanqing could only find a spot at the very back.

He was about to settle into some corner when a voice rang out in his mind.

"Xuanqing, come stand behind your master."

It was Yuanshi Tianzun!

Joy surged in Xuanqing's heart, and he quickly made his way forward.

Countless eyes instantly fixed on him—some curious, some puzzled, some disdainful. A Mystic Immortal, daring to walk to the very front?

Xuanqing ignored these stares and walked straight to the spot behind Yuanshi Tianzun's Prayer Mat.

Yuanshi Tianzun did not open his eyes, but transmitted his voice calmly: "Sit. This is the Dao Ancestor's Dojo. Listen to the lecture in peace. With your master here, no one dares to touch you."

"Thank you, Master!"

A surge of warmth welled up in Xuanqing's heart. He respectfully performed a bow, then sat cross-legged behind Yuanshi Tianzun.

This position, though not among the six Prayer Mats, was far more forward than the vast majority of seats behind, right next to the future Heavenly Dao Sages.

At this, the surrounding gazes grew even more complicated.

Especially those of Dijun and Kunpeng.

Kunpeng's eyes were venomous, fixed on Xuanqing, as if he wished he could rush up and Devour him Alive.

Dijun's expression, meanwhile, turned grave.

His thoughts raced: "Yuanshi values this child so much? In front of all the great powers of the Honghuang, he lets him sit behind him."

A Mystic Immortal—what was it about him that made Kunpeng covet him so, and Yuanshi protect him so?

Dijun began to reassess his deal with Kunpeng. To offend a disciple so highly regarded by Yuanshi Tianzun, all for an uncertain position as Demon Master—was this transaction really worth it?

He felt as if he had fallen into a pit.

Just then, several more powerful auras entered the Purple Cloud Palace.

Among them was a man in an apricot-yellow Taoist Robe, with a kind face. Above his head, within a cloud of auspicious energy, the faint outline of an Innate Spiritual Root—the Ginseng Fruit Tree—could be seen. It was Zhenyuanzi of Wuzhuang Temple on Longevity Mountain.

Beside him stood a plump, ruddy-faced Daoist with a genial smile, looking utterly harmless—the number one good-natured soul of the Honghuang, Hongyun Daoist.

On the other side, a flash of blood-red light streaked past, and Patriarch Styx's figure appeared. Killing intent coiled around him; wherever he passed, other living beings hastily gave way. He swept the hall with a cold glance, then found a remote corner and sat down alone.

The Twelve Ancestral Mages swaggered in. Scorning the prayer mats, they simply found an empty spot on the floor and sat cross-legged, forming their own separate domain.

As time passed, more and more great powers gathered in the Purple Cloud Palace, gradually filling the count of three thousand.

Just as the palace gates were about to close, two figures stumbled and staggered inside.

One of them wore a face of bitter misery, as if all the sorrow in the world had gathered upon it. The other, though also bearing a troubled expression, had a glint of shrewd calculation deep in his eyes.

Their robes were tattered, their auras faint—they looked like two beggars fleeing a disaster.

These were none other than Jieyin and Zunti, who had journeyed all the way from the barren lands of the distant West.

Back when Luo Hou had self-destructed, he had destroyed the Western Spiritual Veins, leaving these two brothers as the poorest top-tier powers in the Honghuang. Their purpose in coming to the Purple Cloud Palace was to change their fate and revitalize the West.

The moment they entered the hall, their gazes locked onto the six prayer mats at the very front.

They understood at once—these prayer mats were an immense stroke of fortune!

Zunti's eyes darted around. He pulled Jieyin along and hurried over to the Three Pure Ones.

He bowed deeply to the Three Pure Ones, forcing a smile onto his face that was uglier than crying. "Three elder brothers, we two have come from the West. That place has thin spiritual energy and no treasures at all. We have endured great hardship on our journey seeking the Great Dao—truly, our suffering is beyond words."

Taishang Laojun kept his eyes shut, as if he hadn't heard a thing, dwelling in a state of non-action.

Tongtian Cult Leader glanced at them, a hint of disdain curling at the corner of his mouth, but he said nothing. Though he preached teaching without discrimination, he couldn't muster any liking for those who came straight to beg for favors by playing up their misery.

Seeing this, Zunti steeled himself, ready to put on a stronger act.

But Yuanshi Tianzun, seated in the middle, didn't even bother to lift his eyelids. His lips moved slightly, and he spat out a single icy word.

"Scram!"

Both their faces turned deathly pale. Faint snickers rippled through the surroundings.

The brothers Dijun and Taiyi watched with schadenfreude, while the Twelve Ancestral Mages burst into unrestrained laughter.

Jieyin and Zunti were left speechless by that single word, their old faces flushing the color of pig liver. They knew there was no chance of getting anything from the Three Pure Ones.

But they did not give up.

Zunti's gaze slowly shifted to the three people sitting on the prayer mats beside them.