Before Ming Xin's proclamation of the Dao, imbued with supreme Dao resonance, had even faded, the first group of figures had already torn through the void.
Filled with excitement and urgency, they appeared atop Mount Sumeru, at the very front of Ming Xin's Dao-preaching altar.
At their head were the two figures with the deepest ties to Ming Xin.
Saint Jieyin and Saint Zhunti!
Behind them followed Maitreya, Medicine Master, Dizang, and the other core disciples of the Western Teachings, every face filled with irrepressible excitement and pilgrimage-like devotion.
Yet when Jieyin and Zhunti's gazes truly fell upon the center of the altar, upon the figure seated amid the Three Thousand Great Dao Buddha Manifestations—
Ming Xin, whose aura was as profound as an abyss, utterly unlike the disciple they remembered yet carrying a trace of familiar warmth—
the two Sages, who had endured countless tribulations and whose hearts had long become as firm as stone, could no longer suppress the turmoil within them.
Saint Zhunti strode forward, his lips trembling faintly. Those eyes, usually glinting with wisdom and calculation,
had actually reddened slightly. Looking at Ming Xin, he said "good" three times in succession, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible choke:
"Good! Good! Good! Ming Xin... my beloved disciple!"
He drew a deep breath, as though trying to suppress the surging emotions in his heart, but he ultimately could not contain them:
"You... you have always been this master's—no, Jieyin and my—greatest pride in this lifetime!"
Though Saint Jieyin said nothing, unprecedented gratification and excitement appeared on his usually sorrowful face as he nodded heavily.
Everything was understood without words. Looking at Ming Xin, they seemed to see the seed of Prosperity of the West finally grow into a giant tree that held up the heavens, and to