"Child, once you enter the Heaven Mending Pavilion, you must work hard and not let your people's hopes for you go to waste!" "The Ancient Pure Land is no ordinary place. It once produced a saint. Don't be mischievous here anymore; listen to your masters and cultivate diligently."
The elders of the great tribes gave their children endless instructions, teaching them again and again to cultivate divine abilities through hard work. Only then would they have a chance to protect their tribes in the future.
The eyes of the three thousand children were red. Each stood beside an elder from their tribe, listening to his teachings and wiping away tears again and again. They were about to part, and no one knew when they would meet again. Perhaps many of the old men would already be dead by then.
"Take care, Elder!"
They were all outstanding youths selected from their tribes. Because of their talent, most were not the elders' own descendants, but they were still reluctant to part. The elders had led them tens of thousands of miles across the Great Wilderness to reach this place, giving them a chance to change the course of their lives.
Little One stood among the crowd. He missed home too, but there was no elder from his tribe here, only his older brother. So he could only pretend to wipe away tears, grabbing an old man he didn't know and wailing.
Whose child was this? The old man wondered. He didn't remember the boy being one of his people, but there was no time to worry about that. All the children were crying now; perhaps the boy had grabbed the wrong person.
"Don't cry, child. Just focus on cultivating," the old man comforted him.
"Thank you, Grandpa. I understand!" Little One saw