The light rain fell, accompanied by petals, crystal-clear and radiant. A man in white robes stood there, his demeanor as flawless as jade, save for one imperfection—his head was completely bald, smooth and hairless.
His pupils were extraordinary, shaped like the symbol ” Swastika,” shimmering with brilliance as if celestial flames burned within them. Yet, they carried a profound, soul-piercing power.
Who was this? Even Shi Hao felt a chill, let alone Qi Daolin. This man was terrifying, his divine aura beyond description—transcendent, carrying an immortal essence.
He stood there, holding a flower, exuding peerless grace.
For an ordinary man, a bald head and a flower in hand might have been repulsive, but this man was unparalleled, embodying the boundless divine charm of the Great Dao.
“An ancient monk!” Qi Daolin’s pupils contracted as he sucked in a cold breath, recalling certain legends.
In the Immortal Ancient Era, there had been such practitioners. It was said that the Western Sect of today had drawn from their incomplete teachings, rising to become one of the supreme orthodoxies.
When Shi Hao learned this from Qi Daolin’s divine sense, he shuddered—this was utterly terrifying!
What realm had this ancient monk reached?
That he still lived after such an immeasurable span of time—did that mean he was a true… immortal?
What they witnessed today was too shocking, leaving both Qi Daolin and Shi Hao dumbfounded, a cold dread creeping from head to toe, filling them with awe.
Yet, they felt no oppression. The white-robed ancient monk made no move against them, his gaze serene, exuding only an otherworldly grace.
Before they could recover, another figure emerged from the bronze coffin, radiant as the sun, hovering midair.
Clad in flowing Daoist robes, his thick hair cascaded over his chest and back. His eyes were profound, his body wreathed in primordial mother qi, standing so loftily that one couldn’t help but kneel in reverence.
Upon closer inspection, this man was terrifying.
Within his pupils, scenes unfolded—the sun rising, the moon setting, stars shattering, the universe withering. It was a sight that shook the soul.
He seemed to have traversed the river of time, witnessing the vicissitudes of eras.
In his hand, he held an ancient banner, shrouded in chaotic qi. At a glance, one could tell this artifact could split heaven and earth, its power boundless!
Qi Daolin was petrified, nearly stupefied, utterly overwhelmed.
“Could this be… the Lord of Qingwei Heaven?” he murmured, his voice barely coherent, his mind blank.
Legends spoke of an immortal from the Immortal Ancient Era, invincible and unmatched, who had perished in that age.
This Daoist matched the description—holding an ancient banner that could rend the heavens, manifest chaos, and wield infinite power.
When Shi Hao cautiously inquired and learned the truth, he was stunned. A true immortal, still alive and appearing now?
His hair stood on end, his body icy with fear.
“Rumor has it that the Lord of Qingwei Heaven and the Lord of Dachi Heaven were sworn brothers,” Qi Daolin muttered, still dazed. What he saw defied belief.
Shi Hao knew little of the Immortal Ancient Era, but Qingwei Heaven and Dachi Heaven were familiar names, revered in Daoist traditions.
“Whoosh!”
The bronze coffin erupted again with blinding radiance, golden magma surging as a disheveled young man emerged, his gaze eerie, like a peerless demon immortal descending upon the world.
Qi Daolin didn’t recognize this man, his origins unknown.
The scene was unnerving, yet the only comfort was that these three supreme beings showed no hostility, remaining aloof.
And it didn’t end there. More figures appeared, each with divine grace enough to overlook all living beings, their Dao resonance unimaginable.
Even Qi Daolin, as strong as he was, was dumbfounded, staring up at them in near-stupor.
“Clang!”
After an indeterminate time, the bronze coffin’s lid closed on its own, and no more figures emerged. Yet, a line of terrifying silhouettes now stood in midair.
Counting carefully, there were exactly ten.
Whether the white-robed divine monk, the Lord of Qingwei Heaven, or the others, each exuded an indescribable divine aura. Though they released no pressure, one couldn’t help but feel compelled to kneel.
Shi Hao gritted his teeth, struggling to resist. Qi Daolin, too, despite his formidable cultivation, trembled under the strain, barely holding on.
Both were too proud to submit, even to such supreme beings.
“Aren’t they all… dead? How are they here?” Shi Hao forced out, his voice faint as a mosquito’s hum.
Qi Daolin was equally baffled. “Something’s wrong!”
From start to finish, these ten beings never glanced at them, instead gazing in one direction as if piercing through earth and void to behold the future.
Then, with a hum, chaotic qi surged as the ten figures shot into the sky.
“Go!”
Qi Daolin sensed something, grabbing Shi Hao and following in an instant, reaching the surface.
“Boom!”
The ten figures shattered inch by inch in the heavens, transforming into ten beams of light, so radiant they illuminated past, present, and future, shaking the world.
“What’s happening?” Shi Hao gasped, his heart trembling.
“They’re not alive,” Qi Daolin said, staring at the sky.
They weren’t flesh and blood but pure light, dazzling and overwhelming. Even the Lord of Qingwei Heaven’s banner wasn’t real—just a coalescence of light merging with him.
“What the hell… is this the past repeating, or are they real?” Qi Daolin gnashed his teeth, furious at how close he’d come to humiliation.
Finally, the ten beams of light streaked toward the same direction, vanishing at the horizon.
“That direction is…” Qi Daolin paled, his agitation even greater than when the figures had appeared.
“What is it, Master?” Shi Hao asked.
“That’s the vast uninhabited region!” Qi Daolin said gravely, taking a deep breath, his temples throbbing.
What would happen now? No one could say.
“Are they still alive?” Shi Hao asked in shock.
“Impossible!” Qi Daolin shook his head. Those figures had no life, no will.
The two stood silently, gazing into the distance. What upheaval was coming? Why had this happened?
“We may have accelerated something. Who knows if it’s good or bad? Perhaps something will happen in the coming days. They say the Three-World Bronze Coffin holds great karma—it seems true!” Qi Daolin sighed, frowning deeply.
Later, they returned underground, staring at the coffin in silence.
“There must be more inside. It can’t just be those ten lights,” Shi Hao said after a long while.
“There is. At least one more didn’t emerge,” Qi Daolin agreed.
They hesitated to act rashly.
Suddenly, a flickering light appeared in the distant darkness, approaching.
“That’s it!” Shi Hao exclaimed, recognizing the mysterious flame.
It was only the size of a fist, composed of pure symbols, not resembling divine fire but exuding an ancient, Dao-infused aura.
Qi Daolin studied it intently, his brows furrowed. Even he couldn’t decipher its nature.
“Is it Chaos Flame?” Shi Hao whispered.
“No,” Qi Daolin said. He’d never seen Chaos Flame, but ancient texts described it differently.
“Immortal fire?”
The notorious, widely-read Qi Daolin was stumped. The more he looked, the more sinister it seemed, defying comprehension.
“Could the formation of Fire Province be linked to it?” Shi Hao ventured.
Qi Daolin’s heart stirred. Fire Province was vast, spanning millions of miles. Could a single flame underground cause an entire region to inexplicably combust?
“Try communicating with it using the Immortal Ancient sacrificial language I taught you. See if it will follow you.”
Shi Hao obeyed, but the flame remained unmoved, hovering calmly in the air.
After two hours of fruitless effort, Shi Hao’s throat was parched. Frustrated, he nearly reached out to grab it.
“Master, it’s not working. You try—use the Eight-Nine Heavenly Art to capture it, then pass it to me,” Shi Hao urged.
Qi Daolin observed the flame for a moment before nodding. It was peculiar enough to warrant investigation.
But the moment he moved, the flame reacted instantly, streaking toward him with blinding speed.
The world lit up, its radiance ten thousand times brighter, nearly blinding. Qi Daolin panicked—this flame was terrifyingly powerful, capable of incinerating even a supreme expert!
He tried to flee with Shi Hao, but the flame was already between them, targeting only him.
Relieved it wasn’t attacking Shi Hao, Qi Daolin shot skyward, escaping the underground.
The flame dimmed, returning to its gentle state, hovering near Shi Hao.
“That old man ran fast—he abandoned me!” Shi Hao grumbled.
The flame shifted, elongating into a small tree, about half a meter tall, entirely composed of symbols.
Shi Hao’s eyes widened—it looked just like the Willow Deity!
In the next instant, the flame transformed again, becoming streaks of lightning woven through the air.
“Is it mimicking the Lightning Emperor’s technique?” His heart raced.
Then it changed once more, taking the form of a bird that dived and morphed into a fish, circling him in the void.
“A Kunpeng!” Shi Hao’s expression darkened. Could this flame sense the supreme techniques he’d learned? Was it mimicking them or trying to communicate?
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