Yuan Ming Returns, Taiji Dao Technique

"Not good—the clan has suffered a great upheaval!"

Yuan Ming's expression changed abruptly. He immediately rose and hurriedly bowed to Zhenyuan the Great. "Senior, there is an urgent crisis within my clan. Yuan Ming must return at once. I will repay today's kindness in imparting the Dao another day!"

Zhenyuan the Great had sensed something as well. Pinching his fingers to calculate, his expression darkened slightly, yet he said nothing more. He merely nodded. "Go quickly, Daoist friend. If you need anything, come to Longevity Mountain."

Before his words had even faded, Yuan Ming had already transformed into a brilliant streak of rainbow light, tearing through the sky as he sped toward the Central Plains faster than ever before!

The Central Plains lay at the border between the central region of the Primordial World and the west, not impossibly far from Longevity Mountain.

Yuan Ming drove his Golden Immortal power to its utmost limit, pushing the Rainbow Light Divine Art to the extreme. The scenery around him had already blurred into streaming shadows.

Anxiety burned like fire in his heart. After several thousand years of painstaking effort by the Human Race, could it be that...

In less than half a day, the familiar outline of the plains entered his sight.

Yet the former scene of curling cooking smoke and orderly peace had vanished without a trace.

As far as the eye could see, broken walls and shattered ruins stretched across scorched earth for thousands of miles. The once-prosperous cities were reduced to wreckage. The air was thick with blood, demon aura, lingering smoke, and grief.

Yuan Ming's divine sense spread out like a tide, sweeping across the entire Central Plains in an instant.

Scene after scene of misery slammed into his mind!!

Burned villages, collapsed houses, and fields of crops not yet ripe, trampled into nothing.

Countless clansmen's corpses lay scattered everywhere. Survivors huddled in corners of the ruins, their eyes filled with terror and despair.

A foundation built over thousands of years had nearly been reduced to ashes overnight!

"Roar—!"

In the distance, demon clouds billowed as Sha Qi surged into the heavens.

Clearly, the battle between the Demon Race and the Witch Race had not ended.

Rage erupted within Yuan Ming's chest like a volcano dormant for ten thousand years!

But he knew full well that the most urgent matter now was to preserve what strength remained.

"Do not panic, everyone! Yuan Ming has returned!"

His voice rang like a great bell, instantly spreading through the shattered Central Plains and brushing over every frightened soul.

The next moment, Yuan Ming held nothing back. His hands moved through the void, drawing forth the yin and yang energies and evolving a supreme defensive divine ability—

[Taiji Pacifies the World]!

Hum—!

A clear Dao chime rang through heaven and earth. Above Yuan Ming's head, a colossal Taiji Dao Diagram suddenly manifested and began to revolve slowly.

This Taiji Diagram was no phantom. It was woven from the most fundamental laws of yin and yang, its black and white fish-eyes distinct, radiating a supreme intent capable of calming earth, water, fire, and wind, and covering all heavens and worlds.

The divine diagram rapidly expanded, blotting out the sky and covering the sun. Like an invisible, absolute barrier, it enveloped all remaining Human Race settlements, as well as the shelters of kind-hearted spirits and monsters that had aided the Human Race in times of peril.

The Taiji Diagram rotated slowly, its yin and yang energies circulating without end.

Demonic arts and divine abilities striking from outside met the Taiji Diagram like mud oxen sinking into the sea, all of them dissolved, absorbed, and transformed into protective power.

Within the diagram, the raging demonic winds and Sha Qi were instantly soothed. The broken mountains and rivers seemed to receive a trace of comfort, while the fear in the hearts of the surviving clansmen was driven away by an upright and peaceful intent, replaced by the steadiness of having escaped death's door.

Yuan Ming stood at the center of the Taiji Diagram, his robes fluttering as he gazed coldly at the rolling demon clouds.

Yuan Ming stood amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood, the aura around him surging as his eyes reddened like blood.

The killing intent shooting into the sky nearly condensed into substance, yet he forcibly suppressed it within his body, where it churned without rest.

How could he not hate?

Those were clansmen he had watched grow up, compatriots who had crossed thousands of miles with him and built this city with their own hands!

Their blood was still warm, and their screams still echoed in his ears!

Yet reason was like an icy chain, binding the power within him that was on the verge of erupting.

He saw it clearly. At this moment, the Witch Race and Demon Race were at the height of their arrogance, their experts as numerous as clouds.

The Sha Qi of the Twelve Ancestral Witches pierced the heavens, while Di Jun and Taiyi carried the might of the Zhou Tian Star Dou, their momentum flourishing.

If he acted against either the Witch Race or the Demon Race in a moment of rage, no matter which side he attacked, it would be like using an egg to strike a stone. Not only would he be ground to dust in an instant, he would also bring complete, catastrophic ruin upon the surviving clansmen.

This heart-rending hatred, this towering fury—he could only force himself to swallow them, like swallowing red-hot branding iron, scorching his five viscera and six bowels with agony.

He had to bury this bone-deep hatred in the depths of his heart, freezing it beneath the permafrost of reason.

"Strength... I still do not have enough strength!" Yuan Ming clenched his fists, his nails digging deeply into his palms. Blood dripped through his fingers and mingled with the blood of his clansmen on the ground, no longer distinguishable from it.

He turned this helplessness and fury into an ice-cold gaze, sweeping it over the Witch Race and Demon Race figures slaughtering without restraint, branding every detail deep into his soul.

Today's blood would one day be repaid a hundredfold!

Yet Yuan Ming, immersed in immense grief and indignation, failed to notice.

In the distance, upon an inconspicuous Qing Shi, the old man who had been quietly observing the changing situation, as though fused with heaven and earth itself—Grand Pure One Laozi—had a barely perceptible glimmer of delighted surprise flash through his eyes.

That light was not indifference toward the Human Race's misery, but the shock and joy of suddenly finding a fellow traveler's footprints in an endless desert.

The Taiji Great Dao was infinitely profound and mysterious, enough to rank among the top ten of the three thousand Great Daos!

Across the entire Primordial World, apart from Dao Ancestor Hongjun, who rested high above the Nine Heavens and had merged with the Heavenly Dao, only Grand Pure One Laozi had taken this Dao as his foundation and glimpsed the threshold of Primordial Unity.

He had never imagined that among this seemingly weakest Human Race, born merely ten thousand years ago, there would be someone capable of touching upon and wielding the true meaning of the Taiji Dao Technique through his own comprehension!

"Yin and yang rotate, the four symbols give birth... Though it is still somewhat immature, it has already grasped its essence. None but one of great wisdom and great fortune could attain this."

Laozi's gaze fell upon Yuan Ming, carrying a trace of scrutiny and understanding.

"It seems that this Human Race, created by Junior Sister Nuwa through the Dao of Creation, blending her own blood essence with the Nine Heavens Breath Soil, indeed harbors immense secrets and potential that even those in the Sage Realm have yet to fully see."

But at this moment, Yuan Ming's divine ability containing the true intent of Taiji allowed him to see a flash of something more essential—the Dao—something beyond the rise and fall of races.

This unexpected joy was like a stone cast into an ancient, deep well, sending faint ripples through his state of mind that had remained unchanged for ten thousand years.

Perhaps the foundation of his path to sainthood, that faint thread of opportunity guiding him in the unseen, was not illusory after all. Perhaps its destination lay within this newborn Human Race, upon this junior named Yuan Ming.

Laozi nodded slightly and said no more. His figure grew increasingly faint, as though he would merge into heaven and earth the next moment.

Yet his gaze lingered quietly upon the Human Race, and especially upon Yuan Ming, for far longer than before.