Purple Cloud Palace Discussion

Those seated above were Nüwa, Hongyun, and Kunpeng.

Just then, Kunpeng felt a bit stiff from sitting cross-legged for so long. He shifted slightly, stretching his limbs, preparing to find a more comfortable position.

And in that instant!

Jieyin, who had worn a constant expression of suffering, suddenly flashed a sharp gleam in his eyes. He moved with incredible speed, and before Kunpeng could react, he plopped down onto the seat!

His movements were fluid and decisive, without a hint of hesitation.

Kunpeng was stunned on the spot.

He had only wanted to change his posture—how had his seat vanished?

"You!" Kunpeng snapped back to reality, fury erupting. He pointed a finger at Jieyin. "How dare you! You stole my seat!"

Jieyin sat firmly in place, his face reverting to that compassionate, pitying expression. He pressed his palms together.

"Daoist, your words are mistaken. This seat has no master; it belongs to whoever has the affinity. I saw you rise and leave, assuming you had given it up, so I sat down. How is that stealing?"

He spoke with utter righteousness, shaking Kunpeng with rage.

"You're full of shit! When did I ever say I was giving it up? I was just—"

"Daoist, this is the Dao Ancestor's Dojo. How can you speak such filth?" Jieyin cut him off, his face full of pained reproach. "We have both come seeking the Dao. Why quarrel over a prayer mat and lose face?"

"You... you shameless bastard!" Kunpeng's Demonic Qi roiled as he nearly lashed out on the spot.

But he glanced at Hongjun Dao Ancestor, motionless on the high platform, and then at Zunti, who was watching him like a hawk. He swallowed his anger.

Starting a fight on the Dao Ancestor's turf was suicide.

Besides, he had already been taught a lesson by Yuanshi. Causing more trouble now would only bring worse consequences.

Kunpeng could only grit his teeth and bear it. He shot Jieyin a venomous glare and silently retreated to the side.

And just like that, a storm was defused by Jieyin's almost shameless tactics.

Xuanqing watched from behind, utterly dumbfounded.

"Damn. That move was textbook—a perfect blend of entitlement and moral blackmail. Kunpeng, that old unlucky bastard, must have checked the wrong almanac today. He's been eating losses back to back."

With Kunpeng dealt with, Zunti's target was clear.

He looked at the remaining two prayer mats.

One was Nüwa, a woman. No matter how thick his skin, he couldn't bring himself to snatch a seat from a female cultivator.

That left only one.

The kindly-faced, gentle-looking Hongyun Daoist.

The moment Zunti's gaze landed on Hongyun, Zhenyuanzi, standing beside him, felt a chill run down his spine. His hairs stood on end.

He quickly sent a telepathic message to his friend: "Hongyun, be careful of this man! Don't talk to him!"

Too late.

Zunti had already strode over, closing the distance in a few quick steps. Then, with a "thump," he dropped to his knees.

That kneeling startled Hongyun badly and left everyone around dumbfounded.

"Daoist, what is the meaning of this? Please, rise!" Hongyun, kind by nature, moved to help him up.

"If you do not agree, I will kneel here forever!" Zunti wailed, tears and snot streaming down his face as his acting hit full throttle.

He sobbed and pleaded: "Brother! You have no idea of the suffering in the Western Lands! Our spiritual veins are destroyed, living beings are in ruin. My senior brother and I traveled billions of miles, enduring countless hardships to reach the Purple Cloud Palace and seek the Dao, all to revive the West and save all beings!"

"We only ask for a place to hear the Dao, a seat closer to the Dao Ancestor, so that in the future we may better serve the countless beings of the West!"

"Brother, your compassion is renowned across the Honghuang. Please grant our wish! Grant the wish of those billions of Western beings!"

With that, he began kowtowing to Hongyun, thumping his head against the ground.

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The performance was heartfelt, moving, and utterly convincing.

Hongyun had never seen anything like it. He was at a complete loss.

He was a soft-hearted man who couldn't bear to see others suffer. Now that Zunti had placed the fate of the entire Western realm on his shoulders, the prayer mat beneath him suddenly felt scorching hot.

"Daoist, you... please get up first. Let's talk this over."

"If you don't agree, I won't rise!" Zunti was adamant.

Zhenyuanzi stomped his foot in frustration, sending another telepathic message: "Hongyun, don't believe him! This is moral blackmail! If you give in, the Karma will be enormous!"

But Hongyun's heart was too soft.

He looked at Zunti kneeling and begging, then at the strange gazes from the crowd. He felt as if he were sitting on a bed of nails.

Finally, he let out a long sigh.

"Ah, forget it, forget it. Daoist, your concern for all beings is admirable. I yield this seat to you."

With that, Hongyun stood up and vacated the prayer mat.

"Thank you, brother, for your generosity! Your great kindness will never be forgotten by the billions of Western beings!" Zunti, overjoyed, scrambled to his feet and plopped down onto the seat, afraid Hongyun might change his mind.

Thus, the six Prayer Mats of the Purple Cloud Palace were settled.

The Three Pure Ones, Nüwa, Jieyin, and Zunti each claimed one.

Hongyun was pulled aside by Zhenyuanzi, his face still dazed. Kunpeng, however, looked at him as if he were a fool, then turned his gaze to Jieyin and Zunti.

Today's humiliation, he would remember!

As the farce ended, there was still a moment before the sermon began.

Yuanshi Tianzun's voice suddenly rang out in Xuanqing's mind.

"Xuanqing, what do you think of what just happened?"

Xuanqing's heart stirred, knowing that his master was testing him. He did not answer immediately but organized his thoughts.

After a moment, Xuanqing respectfully transmitted his reply: "Reporting to Master, this disciple believes that the ownership of these six Prayer Mats, though seeming coincidental, was in fact long destined."

"Oh?" Yuanshi Tianzun's voice carried a hint of interest. "Explain."

"Master, Senior Grand Uncle, and Third Martial Uncle are the true lineage of Pangu, bearing the merit of opening the heavens. From birth, they have the mission to suppress the fate of the Honghuang and enlighten all beings. The first three seats belong to none other than the three of you—this is the mandate of heaven."

Yuanshi Tianzun said nothing, clearly acknowledging this.

"Daoist Nüwa, in the future, will be tied to a great merit in the Honghuang. Her heart is compassionate, with the virtue of creating all things. She too is an irreplaceable candidate for a saint seat."

"As for the two Daoists from the Western Lands..." Xuanqing paused. "Though their foundation is shallow and their origins slightly inferior, they harbor the grand vow to ferry all suffering beings across. This resolve, this sense of responsibility, is enough to make up for their lack of background."

Xuanqing continued: "This disciple ventures to guess that the first threshold for the saint seat may not be cultivation or background, but four words—'a heart for all beings.'"

As these four words left his mouth, Yuanshi Tianzun fell silent for a long time.

"In contrast, Daoist Hongyun's nature is overly kind and indecisive, unfit for great responsibility; Daoist Kunpeng is narrow-minded and selfish. If people with such natures were to ascend to the saint seat and wield supreme authority, it would not be a blessing for the entire Honghuang, but a disaster."

"Thus, this disciple believes that when the Heavenly Dao chooses a saint, it first observes the heart, then examines ability. Today's struggle over the Prayer Mats was merely a small test of everyone's nature by the Heavenly Dao."

Having said this, Xuanqing waited quietly.

After a long while, Yuanshi Tianzun's voice sounded again, carrying a hint of approval.

"Good."

Just one word, but for Xuanqing, it was enough.

At that moment, the entire Purple Cloud Palace fell into utter stillness.

An indescribable, ineffable vast aura spread from the figure on the high platform.

It was as if the entire chaos, the entire Honghuang, was bowing to him in that instant.

The Three Thousand Guests of the Red Dust—whether the Three Pure Ones, the Ancestral Witches, Dijun and Taiyi, or Jieyin and Zunti—all instantly ceased their thoughts, their expressions solemn as they gazed at the high platform.

On the high platform, the blurry figure gradually became clear.

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