Time has etched its mark across the Northern Region sky, leaving behind deep and shallow imprints.
Half a year has passed in the blink of an eye.
The red Gobi Desert stretches to the horizon, the once pervasive stench of blood long since buried by layers of sand and wind. The earth itself seems to have forgotten. Only Blood Moon Ridge stubbornly remains, in a different guise.
It is no longer a mountain range, but a vast expanse of scorched earth.
Countless broken walls and ruins pierced the scorched earth, like the decaying ribs of a giant beast, outlining a ferocious silhouette under the cold moonlight. It looked just like a scar on the earth's body, brutally torn open and scorched by flames, unable to heal, exuding a deathly silence.
The wind blows Eternal. Now, the wind no longer carries the wailing of resentful spirits, only the soft, continuous, deep, and grand sound of millions of grains of sand rubbing and rolling against each other, "Rustling, rustling."
It was as if the earth was whispering continuously in the desolate wilderness where no one was listening, repeatedly recounting how, half a year ago, Chaos Thunder poured down like the wrath of the Heavenly God, completely erasing that majestic mountain range and the ancestral home of the fierce race that had stood since Primordial Era, inch by inch, from material to trace.
The story has been worn down by the wind and sand, its details blurred, but the imagery of destruction has become all the more vivid and chilling.
The destruction of the Blood Moon Royal Clan was not an ordinary change of power. It was more like a red-hot iron, branding all restless ambitions with its scorching pain and terror, instantly piercing through racial and territorial barriers.
The calm declaration made by the Eastern Exalt Jade Pool that day, "Which of your clans will be the next to perish?", has proven to be no empty threat. It has transformed into an invisible icy blade, hanging high above the heads of many radical Ancient Races, constantly radiating a bone-chilling cold.
Before they could plot in the dead of night or bare their claws in the daytime, a chill would always run down their spines, forcing them to reconsider whether their skulls and heritage were stronger than those of the Blood Moon King.
Thus, the monstrous waves stirred up by the birth of the Primordial Myriad Races in the Big Dipper were strangely calmed down by a third. At least in broad daylight, in the sight of all eyes, the surging tide temporarily restrained its sharpness.
The ancient city's taverns remain a bustling place where news and desires intertwine. Human and Ancient Races faces mingle, and the boisterous sounds of drinking games seem as familiar as ever.
But if a discerning person listens closely, they will perceive the change in substance beneath the noise.
Those discussions that were rampant just six months ago about how the Ancient Races were inherently noble, how they deserved to reclaim their territory, and how the human race was repeatedly weak and should retreat, have clearly lost some of their self-righteous arrogance and certainty, and gained some indescribable caution and even hesitation.
"Have you heard? That ancient prodigy from Spirit Valley, who was given high hopes from the moment he was born, fought against the successor of the human race's holy land in the Northern Plains the other day. He was defeated in less than three moves, and his Dao heart seemed to have been thwarted."
"Shh! Watch your words! Who do you think you are? An inspector from the Jade Pool Holy Land? The Spirit Valley is a royal family! Their foundation is unfathomable! That prodigy might just be testing the waters!"
"A trial move? A trial that shakes your very essence, causing you to vomit blood and retreat in defeat? I have a recording stone for that."
"Silence!"
The conversation often ends abruptly or takes an abrupt turn here. The drinkers, whether human or Ancient Races of various appearances, all invariably avoid mentioning a certain name or place in their conversations.
The two words, Jade Pool, seemed to carry an invisible sharpness and the chill of winter, enough to cut through the precarious calm and tranquility that the tavern was barely maintaining, allowing real and cruel fear to flow out.
However, high above the sky and beneath the clouds, the true undercurrents never cease to surge.
The exchanges between the various Ancient Races became more frequent than ever before. Hidden divine thoughts, like spider webs woven in the night sky, conveyed conspiracies, compromises, and new schemes in the depths of the shadows.
However, the increasingly complex web always unconsciously and cautiously avoids the blinding red scorched earth of the Northern Region, and also keeps a safe distance from the immortal holy land shrouded in clouds and mist on the edge of the red land.
This is the oldest and most effective form of deterrence.
Kill the chicken to emulate the monkey.
The once infamous and Lifetime Blood Moon Royal Clan was the "chicken" chosen and slaughtered in public in the most thorough and cruel way. The process was swift and decisive, and the result was beyond question.
The effect, beyond the expectations of all observers, was surprisingly good enough to calm even the most arrogant minds. The scorched earth scent that permeated the wind taught living beings the meaning of awe more effectively than any ancient covenant or bloody battle.
Chaotic energy surged, like mist rising from the dust of ancient history, never dissipating, rising and falling, transforming the depths of Qingwei Blessed Land into an isolated island beyond time.
It enveloped the ancient, chaotic altar, immersing it in the Eternal primordial state.
Time loses its measure here; only the rhythm of the Great Dao flows continuously like a deep sea current, emitting an ancient sound that is faint yet reaches the very source of the soul, as if some colossal god spanning eras slumbers here, breathing in and out chaos.
At the center of the platform, Li Qingshan, dressed in black, stood silently like an ancient rock.
He closed his eyes, his face expressionless, like a statue that had existed since the beginning of time.
However, this extreme stillness only serves to highlight the cataclysmic storm brewing within.
Beneath his entire body, five-colored Divine Radiance surged and flowed like living things, each flash tearing apart the surrounding chaos; between his hair strands, fine chaotic electric sparks appeared and disappeared, crackling softly, emanating an aura of destruction that Void tremble.
To the outside world, the golden age is being painted with blood and war, creating a picture that is both the most tragic and the most magnificent.
The prodigies of the Primordial Myriad Races broke through their Divine Source one after another, carrying with them the arrogance and terrifying power accumulated deep within their bloodlines, and stepped into this bustling mortal world.
They looked down on the so-called "Golden Generation" of humanity, regarding them as the last pitiful Mars of a dying race.
However, the outcome of the three-move defeat of the genius of the Northern Plains Spirit Valley and the Holy Son of the Human Race did not unfold as the Primordial Myriad Races had predicted.
In the Southern Ridge, the descendant of the Demon Emperor Hall roared, shattering mountains and rivers, and clashed with the Ancient Emperor Bloodline who emerged from the Primordial Lake. The battle destroyed a hundred-mile-long ancient mountain range, ultimately ending in a draw, leaving behind a scene of devastation and shock.
Outside the Central Continent 'Qishi Mansion, the Silver Moon Clan's princess, as aloof as the moon, lightly raised her wrist, defeating seven renowned human holy sons in succession. Her jade feet trampled over the defeated glory, leaving behind words as sharp as ice. "Human prodigies? Nothing more than that."
In the Eastern Wasteland and Western Desert, war raged everywhere, geniuses wept blood, Ancient Races rose to fame, and a human prodigy, dormant for many years, suddenly erupted, slaying enemies in the nameless wasteland.
This is an era where reputation is built on the bones of rivals, where new stars roar into the sky every day, and old legends fall into obscurity.
Chaos, turmoil, glory, and death intertwine to form the cacophony of this era.
However, all this commotion, once it reached the depths of Qingwei Blessed Land and touched the boundary of the chaotic mist, vanished instantly like boiling water splashed on snow, turning into insignificant, blurry noises that couldn't even stir a ripple in the depths of Li Qingshan's Dao heart.
His entire being had long since sunk into the deepest part of his own universe, into the abyss of what is called the "Great Dao".
In the game "Chinese Immortal Three," the " Severing the Dao " realm, with its nine Heaven Rank, is already perfectly perfect.
Upon introspection, the Bitter Sea transformed into a boundless golden ocean, its surging waves accompanied by the resounding sounds of the Dao; the Life Spring no longer spewed forth ordinary essence, but rather strands of Heaven-Opening chaos, as if the world had been created; the five Dao Palace boomed, within which divine phantoms sat cross-legged chanting scriptures, expounding the profound principles of the Five Elements;
His limbs stretched to the heavens and the earth, like the Four Extremes pillars of heaven supporting the universe within his body; the nine vertebrae of his Dragon Transformation spine trembled, each tremor like True Dragon raising its head and roaring, wanting to break free of its shackles and ascend to the nine heavens; on the Immortal Platform, his primordial spirit, with a solemn and dignified appearance, sat cross-legged atop the three layers of radiant, spotless, and immaculate heavenly ladder, overlooking the divine kingdom around him.
That invisible barrier separating King and Saint, a barrier strong enough to trap and kill countless geniuses throughout the ages, was no longer perceived by him as an impregnable fortress, but as a thin veil as delicate as a cicada's wing and as transparent as glass.
He could even clearly "hear" the sound of the tides coming from the other side of the barrier. It was a grand resonance of laws belonging to the realm of the Holy Path, a hymn of heaven and earth when the level of life undergoes an essential leap, full of the dual temptation of Fortune and destruction.
In this degenerate age, every ordinary cultivator within the Immortal Platform Realm ascends a small step with trepidation, as if walking on thin ice.
One must mobilize all one's life's accumulation, exhaust all resources in the world, set up multiple layers of protective formations, and be prepared to risk death at all costs before daring to gamble on that slim chance of transcendence.
A small obstacle can trap one for a hundred years, drain one's life force, and ultimately lead to one's demise and return to dust. Throughout history, the bones of those who perish there could be enough to build another tower reaching to the heavens.
But Li Qingshan's feelings were completely different.
Obstacles? Bottlenecks? Stagnation? Barriers?
These words that troubled all spirits seemed to have been completely erased from his Daoist texts.
The speed of cultivation? It has long since transcended the realm of the ordinary.
Others cultivate themselves by trekking along streams, accumulating small steps to reach a thousand miles.
His cultivation, far from slowing down in the slightest despite the advancement in his realm, continued unabated. As he sat atop the mountain, his will guided rivers and mountains to their doom. It was an exponential expansion, a dimensional leap. It was as if stars were falling toward a gravitational singularity, their speed growing increasingly terrifying, their momentum increasingly violent.
With each exhale, a tangible auspicious mist and haze emanated from his mouth and nose, coiling like a small dragon; with each inhale, the chaotic energy within a hundred miles collapsed violently, emitting a rumbling sound like muffled thunder.
The sound of a heartbeat, deep and resonant, gradually synchronized with the pulse of the Dao Platform and even the deeper earth. Each beat drew out visible ripples from the surrounding Daoist energy.
They devour the essence of heaven and earth, chew on the laws of the Great Dao, and transform them into resources to reach the pinnacle.
The chaotic energy, like an ancient and unending tidal wave, surged and roared deep within the Qingwei Blessed Land, tightly enveloping the Chaotic Dao Platform.
Here, there is no sunrise or sunset, only the most primal energy roaring, colliding, annihilating, and being reborn, constructing a realm belonging to "Tao 07".
Its own absolute domain.
At the center of the platform, Li Qingshan stood motionless.
The black robe absorbed all light, making him seem like a pure "empty" point in the chaos.
Only when the five-colored Divine Radiance, like the aurora borealis at dawn, suddenly tears through the body and reveals itself, and when the chaotic electric sparks wandering in the hair crackle and cleave the Void, can one be astonished to discover the earth-shattering power hidden beneath that still body.
Half a year was nothing more than a shallow dive into the boundless sea of Dao for him. Yet, in this "shallow dive," the foundation of the world was completely reconstructed in his understanding.
With each natural increase in his cultivation, especially after he completely absorbed and refined the vast Dao Fruit and civilizational weight of the "Sage Emperor Wenren Heaven-Opening foundation of the world" in the late Ming Dynasty, his essential existence underwent a leap.
This six months of quiet meditation was not merely passive waiting.
Once again, the three " Other Selves " are brought together.
In the Zhu Xian World, a young man in white robes, pure as snow, comprehends the sword atop Qingyun. His sword heart is clear and untainted by worldly dust. The defining characteristic of his Dao Fruit is "Severing"—severing emotions, severing illusions, severing all fog and pretense. Wherever his sword points, only the most naked and coldest truth remains. This is the "Sword of Breaking Barriers."
In the Battle Through the Heavens World, the imperial prince who merged with ten thousand flames to reach the pinnacle wielded the power to burn the heavens. The characteristic of his Dao Fruit is "burning," burning away rules and shackles, declaring his will to be the only one with absolute heat and domineering intensity. This is the "Domineering Fire."
In the world of Mortal Cultivation, the green-robed cultivator who meticulously planned his way to immortality and eventually condensed an immortal Golden Elixir struggled forward on the long path to immortality.
Its Dao Fruit's defining characteristic is "life." The enduring vitality of a wood-type spiritual root evolves into endless possibilities, resilient and inexhaustible, finding a way to survive even in dire circumstances, embodying ultimate strength within ultimate gentleness. This is the "seed of inexhaustibility."
Adding to this the Dao Fruit of the late Ming Dynasty, who had already integrated with the world, the "reform" and "establishment" brought about a powerful and orderly civilization that brought about change and prosperity.
Four kinds of Daoist charm, four kinds of special qualities, like four roaring torrents of starlight, fiercely rushed into his true "Dao Sea".
Now, even if he abandons the heaven-defying power to travel through the heavens and manipulate the flow of time through the Stone Gate, simply following the established path in the Shrouding the Heavens World and becoming an emperor within two hundred years has been downgraded from a "grand goal" to a "mediocre baseline" for him.
Even this bottom line seems overly conservative.
What he sought was not the vaguely defined " Great Emperor " recorded in historical annals and jade slips.
He wants to shatter that invisible threshold in one step and stand directly in the realm of " Heavenly Emperor "!
This thought, like a bolt of cold lightning, cleaved through the fog of the Daoist mind, bringing not a surge of passion, but an absolute calm that froze the soul, and the chilling "doubt" that followed.
His gaze seemed to pierce through the celestial barrier of the Jade Pool, penetrate the Big Dipper constellation, and project directly onto that ancient historical scroll woven from mythological blood and time.
The names in the scroll shine with boundless brilliance and command eternal power:
The Longevity Heavenly Venerable, the Annihilation Heavenly Venerable, and the Carefree Heavenly Venerate Venerable of Freedom—the supreme beings of the Mythological Era.
Fighting Saint Emperor, Blood Phoenix Ancient Emperor, and Myriad Dragon Emperor—emperors from the Primordial Era.
The Void Emperor, the Emperor Hengyu, the Queen Mother of the West, the Great Emperor Wushi —the glory of the Desolate Antiquity race.
They are legends, monuments, and ancient stars that make countless cultivators of later generations feel insignificant when they look up to them.
However, from Li Qingshan's elevated "perspective" at this moment, most of these supreme figures who once dominated Lifetime and caused all paths to mourn, their ultimate achievements may not be worthy of the full weight of the word "proving the Dao".
They are more like "those who Union with the Dao ".
By relying on the " Heavenly Heart Imprint," a cosmic authority, one temporarily merges with all paths and ascends to the summit. As long as the seal remains, the imperial throne remains.
If the imperial mark is lost, the emperor's authority will decline.
"A borrowed crown, no matter how securely it is worn, is ultimately not one's own."
Li Qingshan murmured to himself.
This is not transcendence; this is Union with the Dao.
The moment this thought arose, a strange change occurred!
"Boom!!"
Around the Chaos Dao Platform, the originally rhythmic surging chaotic energy suddenly became turbulent, as if it were being wildly stirred up by an invisible giant hand.
The Void cracked with countless fine black marks, and crackling arcs of destructive electricity sprang up out of thin air, lashing and thrashing wildly, as if the world itself was terrified and enraged by this "outrageous" thought! The rules of the Great Dao were rejecting it, trembling, as if some unseen taboo had been touched.
Denying the Ancient Emperor? Questioning the Great Emperor?
If even the slightest trace of its aura were to leak out, not only the Big Dipper, but the entire universe would be engulfed in a world-destroying storm of condemnation and annihilation! This would shake the very foundation of ancient cultivation history and utterly desecrate the glorious path forged by countless sages with their lives!
However, in the center of the Daotai (official residence).
Li Qingshan's eyelashes didn't even tremble.
The raging anomalies surrounding him failed to penetrate within three feet. All the chaos, repulsion, and trembling melted away the moment they touched that invisible force field, like ice and snow meeting the sun. His Dao heart had become as immovable as Mount Buzhou, unshakable even by countless eons.
"Noisy."
Without moving his lips, a cold ripple of divine thought spread out, instantly calming all the turbulent chaos and electric arcs.
He has his own "reason," which is unbreakable and enough to cleave through the fog of ages past.
" Body as the Seed," the Daoist voice boomed in his heart, each syllable triggering a resonance within his inner universe, "the essence lies in oneself as the root, not in external things"—these eight characters.
"Being able to unite with the Heavenly Heart Imprint but not to relinquish it, being able to borrow from but not to separate from its source of Dao Fruit, thus possesses the fatal flaw of 'dependence'."
What should a true Great Emperor, one who " Body as the Seed," be like?
Li Qingshan heart shone brightly like the sun. "With the mark, I am the Emperor, my power overwhelming the universe; without the mark, I am still the Emperor, the Great Dao reigning supreme!"
"My body is the source of the Dao! My thoughts are the law! Why should I need external crowning? Why should I fear the changing of marks?"
"Where I am is the Imperial Domain! Where I go is the Heavenly Dao!"
So, in the vast expanse of ancient history and the boundless sea of stars, does such a thing truly exist?
have!
Several names, carrying the weight and brilliance spanning an era, crashed into his heart.