Before Jiepai Pass, heaven and earth fell silent. The wind stopped against broken banners, and cloud shadows hung above the ruined pass.
Even the Chaos Sword Qi that should have surged ceaselessly within the Immortal Slaying Sword Formation was now gripped in midair by an invisible force, its sword light suspended amid the fractured void.
Taishang Laojun sat slumped among shattered stones and tiles, his Daoist robe stained with dust and dried Sage blood clinging to his sleeves.
That single finger of Tongtian's had stripped the foundation of his Sage status from his body. The magical power he had sustained for countless primordial cycles dispersed into the Primordial World, flowing away along the earth veins of mountains and rivers.
He raised his head toward the formation's heart. His face, once as still as an ancient well, had been hollowed out, leaving only bewilderment.
He had lost.
The Mystic Gate had lost as well.
Not far away, Daoist Jieyin was pinned to a barrier in the void, his aura feeble.
The Twelve-Grade Golden Lotus of Merit had fallen to the ninth grade. The ruined lotus throne hung beside him, its Buddha light no longer able to lift it even half an inch.
His gaze settled on the place where Zhunti's Sage body had dissipated, and sorrow sank deeper into his eyes, layer upon layer.
In the past, when they looked down upon all living beings, they had always believed that all beneath the Sages were dust and mud.
Today, that dust and mud had splashed onto their own Daoist robes.
Throughout the Primordial Three Realms, countless mighty beings hidden in grotto-heavens and blessed lands had been spying on this place through mystic mirrors, Dharma eyes, and gossamer strands of Primordial Spirit. Now, all were locked in the grip of that