"Without a Heavenly Secret Thread, it must be abandoned."
"It suits my intentions, heh, but it does not suit the intentions of those fellow Daoists..."
It too had to be abandoned.
So-called contests of grand trends, contests of cultivation providence, contests of Dharma Combat and Divine Abilities—all of it came down to a single word: contend. To contend was no more than you gaining one move today, while I gained the upper hand tomorrow.
Heavenly Secrets that evolved wholly according to one's own intentions—even if one wished to intervene and guide them, making them continually head toward the future this land was meant to reach—
Would demand far too much effort and labor, while the hope of success was far too slim.
One careless misstep, and the entire board could be overturned.
Under such circumstances, even old monsters would not smugly believe that their schemes could triumph over everyone else's.
"In all things, before worrying about victory, one must first worry about defeat."
The figure within the black wooden coffin suddenly glimpsed a patch of rather fickle Destiny and Heavenly Secrets. After pondering for a moment, it closed its eyes and spoke with profound meaning.
Then, the final strand of Heavenly Secrets and destiny slowly settled into place.
Yet before it could fully take shape, this thread of destiny suddenly became like a fish entering water, plunging headfirst into that boundless Reincarnation. It seemed to form another strand of Heavenly Secrets and destiny together with the vaguely discernible Heaven-Earth Grand Trend.
It was not only the figure in the black wooden coffin that acted thus.
Almost at the same time.
As though by some tacit understanding calculated beforehand, or perhaps thoughts forged over countless years spent together within Reincarnation.
Even if Crow's words concealed calculations, they were merely an open