Shouyang Mountain, Eight Sceneries Palace.
Laozi Laojun sat atop the Cattail Mat, the Dust Whisk in his hand frozen in midair, not falling for a long, long time.
He did not speak.
Yet the entire Eight Sceneries Palace was so quiet it was almost frightening.
Grand Master Xuan Du stood below, cold sweat already beading on his forehead.
He had followed Laozi Laojun for many years, and had never once seen his Master show such a reaction.
Laozi practiced nonaction.
Laozi was indifferent.
Even when the Demon Race had slaughtered the Human Race back then, even when the Wu and Demon races had shattered heaven and earth, even when Qin Mu had stirred up one earth-shaking disaster after another in the Primordial Wilderness, Laozi Laojun had at most only furrowed his brow.
But now was different.
Those eyes, which on ordinary days never revealed the slightest ripple, were staring fixedly in the direction of Kunlun Mountain.
Grand Master Xuan Du endured and endured, but in the end, he still spoke.
"Master, is... is that really Second Martial Uncle?"
The moment the question left his mouth, Grand Master Xuan Du himself felt it was absurd.
Second Martial Uncle, Primordial Heavenly Venerate, was already dead.
And it had not been an ordinary fall.
He had been judged by the Heavenly Dao, stripped of his Saint Position, nailed to death by Qin Mu's spear, and finally erased completely from karma and fate.
The entire Primordial Wilderness had seen it.
Could he still be revived?
If he really could be revived, then what had the Heavenly Dao's judgment become?
And what had the rules of the Primordial Wilderness become?
Laozi Laojun did not answer at once.
His gaze pierced through layer upon layer of the Void and fell upon Yuxu Palace on Kunlun Mountain.