The direct trigger of the Investiture Cataclysm was Haotian's poor performance.
How could the Heavenly Dao grant much Merit for cleaning up his mess?
Xuanyuan pondered for a moment, then seemed to ask casually,
"Fellow Daoist, who will be the one destined for the Canonization of the Gods?"
Moyuan gently shook his head and said with a smile, "Forget me—even Saints cannot divine it.
"The one destined for the Canonization of the Gods, their origins and the timing of their appearance, are all unknown.
"The Dao Ancestor left instructions that, when the time came, they would go to a Saint's Daoist arena to take a master."
Shennong said with some concern, "Now that the Human Race is the Protagonist of Heaven and Earth, this calamity is surely unavoidable. One misstep, and countless lives will again be devastated."
Moyuan picked up the wine jug, refilled the cups, and reassured him,
"Fellow Daoist Shennong, there is no need to worry too much. The disciples of my Literary Sect have already taken on more than a hundred righteous divine positions.
"With just over two hundred divine positions remaining, the scale of the Investiture Cataclysm should not be too great."
Shennong sighed. "Let us hope your words prove true, Fellow Daoist."
Inside the Cave Abode, the three raised their cups once more.
In the original Investiture Cataclysm, if not for forcing the Saints themselves to enter the fray—especially when Tongtian Sect Master led the Jie Sect in an all-in gamble with the Ten Thousand Immortals Array—
Setting aside the Zhuxian Formation and Ten Thousand Immortals Array, where Saints clashed, the remaining scale might not even have matched the Battle of Zhuolu.
After the feast, Moyuan rose to his feet, lightly swept his sleeve robe, and cupped his hands to bid Shennong and Xuanyuan farewell.