The patterns of Dao laws surfaced for an instant, and everyone could not help widening their eyes.
At this moment, Black Calamity no longer needed to say anything. They stared with all their might, desperately trying to seize every sight before them, memorizing each pattern and absorbing it, making it their own.
Without question, this was difficult.
What kind of beings were the Twelve Ancestral Witches?
If they were still alive, they were not existences the current them were even qualified to behold.
Forget a single complete pattern—even one stroke within it would take a Golden Core cultivator ages to comprehend. Even immortals would need a long time to fully digest it.
Black Calamity aside.
The first to lose control was undoubtedly her fellow sect senior brother, Su Mingjie.
He was looking at the heart of the ancient tree, at the majestic patterns running through its entire trunk. Frantically trying to memorize them, his talent might have been decent, but his mind was not strong enough. He was instantly drawn in by those highest-order patterns, sinking so deeply into them that he could not pull himself free.
In mere moments, he began coughing blood. His seven orifices split open, and even his primordial spirit was dimming.
This was the consequence of overestimating oneself. Forget a mere Golden Core cultivator—even Immortal Realm experts, even Tribulation Transcendent True Immortals, would likely not dare gaze so directly upon the patterns on the main trunk.
Yet he noticed none of it. He only continued memorizing them madly, wanting to obtain this scripture that was enough to suppress the world.
His mind was brimming with excitement. Without question, once he mastered it, his standing in the Supreme Yin Palace—no, his standing throughout the Nine Provinces—would change. He could leap above Black Calamity, no longer be