He Daoran's long cry tore through the clamor at the village entrance like a thunderclap out of a clear sky.
His voice carried eighty years of anguish, a lifetime of searching, and the wild joy of finally having his wish fulfilled, instantly drawing everyone's attention.
Countless phone cameras swung toward the purple-robed Daoist, who was weeping openly before the crowd.
"Holy shit! What's wrong with that old Daoist? Is he possessed?"
"Film it, film it! Is this some new kind of performance art?"
"Don't talk nonsense! Look at him crying. How could that be an act? He looks like he's lost his soul!"
The livestreamers grew even more excited, their cameras trained relentlessly on He Daoran's face. Their titles instantly changed to-"Shocking! A celestial master from Dragon-Tiger Mountain breaks down at the village entrance! What magic does Chen Family Village hold?"
Zhang Jinling and the other Daoists following close behind also entered the village.
The next second.
More than twenty Daoists froze in place, as though a paralysis spell had been cast on them all at once.
In just three seconds, their expressions shifted dramatically from confusion to shock, then to horror.
Spiritual energy!
The spiritual energy of heaven and earth, which existed only in the deepest recesses of ancient texts, described countless times by their patriarchs but never truly felt by any of them, was turning into tangible streams of warmth, surging from the bluestone slabs beneath their feet into every part of their bodies!
Their parched meridians were finally blessed with rain!
"Th-this..." A young Daoist's lips trembled. He was too excited to form a complete sentence.
"It's real... The patriarchs didn't lie to us... It's real!" Another middle-aged Daoist's knees gave way, and he dropped straight to the ground.
Ignoring the support of their sect leader, Zhang