Meng Chuan stood with his hands behind his back, a figure apart from the rest. After the Little Stone Emperor asked his question, everyone turned to look at Meng Chuan.
Of the living Seven Kings, only the Little Stone Emperor was as inscrutable as Meng Chuan.
Xiao Chen, Stone Crow, and the others were easy to read. Only Meng Chuan remained shrouded in mystery.
Now the Seven Kings awaited Meng Chuan's answer, eager to hear his understanding of the Dao.
Even if they could not see through him, they could gauge his level by his understanding of the Dao.
The Little Stone Emperor stared straight at Meng Chuan, waiting for his reply.
Meng Chuan met his gaze and said evenly,
"What is the Dao? What does it mean to be the Dao? That is a good question."
"And have you not already seen the answer with your own eyes?"
As Meng Chuan finished speaking, the Little Stone Emperor seemed to glimpse something in his eyes. Shock swept across his face, wiping away his cold expression.
He had indeed seen it with his own eyes.
The Dao was the man before him!
Words, communion of spirit, debates on the Dao—none were as direct or as powerful as that single glance.
He had come face-to-face with the Dao.
The Little Stone Emperor understood. His first judgment of Meng Chuan had been wrong. He had underestimated this man.
The realm he had pursued all his life, the realm he had been willing to lie dead for billions of years to reach, had appeared before him just like that.
But the Little Stone Emperor still did not know that even his revised judgment was wrong. He was still underestimating the man before him.
His imagination simply did not reach far enough.
For a moment,