Hearing Laozi's words, Yuanshi's expression did not change, but a trace of displeasure flickered faintly in his eyes:
You broke through, but we didn't. You started a battle so rashly without discussing it with us first?
And then if we lose, the Three Pure Ones will lose face together?
Out of respect for his eldest brother, however, Yuanshi chose silence and did not speak those words aloud.
Tongtian's fighting spirit surged. He was not overly concerned with victory or defeat in a direct contest of Dao arts; he merely released his sword intent and gathered his momentum, ready to strike.
Opposite them, Bei Ming stood proudly alone.
The Chaos Bell appeared. Its body was ancient and unadorned; though not a single bell sound had rung, space-time had already frozen.
The Qiankun Cauldron hovered at his side, swallowing and exhaling Eternal Manifestations.
He held the Destruction Scepter in his right hand. The staff was dark and shadowy, its Laws of Destruction trembling.
In his left hand, he held the Zhu Shen Gourd. Its mouth opened slightly, revealing undisguised, invisible killing intent.
Facing the fully prepared Three Pure Ones, Bei Ming appeared utterly relaxed.
"Three senior brothers, come at me together. It will save us from fighting during the Investiture of the Gods War. I hope that when the time comes, you will listen when I speak."
The battles between disciples were secondary.
What truly determined the overall situation had always been the Saints.
Bei Ming had long made arrangements. On Nüwa's side, they only awaited the right moment.
Once Yuanshi was blocked by the Zhuxian Sword Formation, she would coordinate her attack and make Yuanshi owe karmic debt.
As for Bei Ming himself, what he needed to do was cease hostilities—to possess the strength to make all the Saints calm down