In truth, this Dao Flower had already bloomed before, a Dao Fruit obtained atop the Ascension Platform.
But here, it was different. Nourished by the elixir of immortality, it bloomed and withered, fell and flourished, repeating endlessly until finally bearing this fruit!
When the flower fully unfurled for the last time, this creature was born.
It took human form. The moment it opened its eyes, its aura surged through the heavens, divine radiance blazing like wildfire, as if it could scorch the vast firmament and strike down the Nine Heavens.
This phenomenon was astonishing. At that very moment, even the entrance of the Primordial Ancient Mine was swept by terrifying beams of light, their brilliance illuminating the darkness.
The outsiders were stunned—what was happening?
Everyone was taken aback, standing at a distance, watching in disbelief.
At the same time, they sighed. Anyone who had entered the mine during this time must have perished. Whenever the ancient mine acted strangely, it signaled the greatest danger—no one could escape.
“What a pity. A peerless genius who cultivated two strands of immortal energy has withered away, with no hope of return!” The Wang Clan sighed, deeply unwilling.
They also felt they had acted recklessly, losing such a prodigious talent—what a waste! If they could have tamed his will and sent him to serve their young mistress, he would have been a formidable ally.
After what felt like an eternity, Shi Hao finally opened his eyes within the mine. Sensing something, he looked up at the Dao Flower in the void, where a creature sat cross-legged, its gaze piercing like golden lamps or scorching suns, searing his eyes as it stared back.
The feeling was bizarre. He felt it was himself, yet there was an inexplicable barrier between them.
Shi Hao observed it, finding it eerie and sinister. The creature was indistinct, shrouded in chaos, seated atop a petal of his Dao Flower formed from immortal energy—solemn, composed, and silent, appearing even more dignified than him, like an enlightened ancient monk.
Shi Hao was speechless. What was this? What kind of monster had he cultivated?
Activating his Heavenly Eye, he could see clearly—the creature within the mist of chaos resembled him, no larger than a fist, sitting there with an air of sacred majesty.
There seemed to be a connection between them, yet when Shi Hao channeled his bone texts and unleashed his divine sense to control it, he clearly felt resistance.
The flower moved with him, suffused with Dao energy, capable of stirring the heavens and influencing the laws of the world, fighting for him with immense power!
This Dao Flower was extraordinary, beyond ordinary comprehension.
Yet, the creature seated upon it truly felt distant, beyond his control—as if separated by an insurmountable chasm.
Shi Hao frowned. This was something he had cultivated—how could it not obey him?
Upon closer inspection, he noticed faint fragments of time swirling around the creature, shimmering amidst the chaos.
Though indistinct, Shi Hao, with his Heavenly Eye, could perceive it. Moreover, since he had cultivated it, he naturally understood it better.
His confusion deepened. The sensation was too strange—it was as if he were gazing at a past version of himself, both near and far.
Yes, that was it. Shi Hao realized it clearly.
He looked at the creature. Though physically close, time flowed differently around it, fragments cascading like rain—echoes of the past, resonating across the ages.
“He lives in the past?!”
The moment Shi Hao uttered these words, he startled himself, his face paling. What kind of eerie phenomenon was this?
He couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t understand it.
Yet, the feeling persisted—absurd, laughable, unreal.
He had cultivated a monster, one that didn’t belong to the present or the future, as if it existed in the past—yet was so close to him.
He couldn’t control it because they were separated by time, surrounded by fragments of years, swirling like luminous rain.
For a moment, Shi Hao was dazed. What had caused this outcome? He couldn’t see through it, couldn’t grasp it.
Was this the result of over half a month in seclusion? What kind of Dao Fruit was this?!
No matter how he tried, the chaos remained thick with temporal fragments, the aura of time overwhelming. It was too bizarre—he truly couldn’t command the creature.
Yet, he sensed it was crucial to him, that it would be of great use in the future.
Then, he thought of his other two strands of immortal energy. If they too condensed into Dao Flowers, would they bear fruits and nurture different creatures?
Shi Hao pondered, lost in thought. What exactly had happened today?
He clearly remembered—none of the bone texts he had encountered recorded such a phenomenon. Cultivating a Dao Flower was one thing, but for it to truly bear fruit like a plant?
To be precise, the flower hadn’t fallen, yet it bore fruit—an unknown creature.
Shi Hao stood, gazing at the treasure pool and its crystalline liquid. Had this pool caused all this?
He shook his head, certain it wasn’t so. Though the pool contained remnants of an immortal herb, transformed into life-nourishing liquid that could temper body and spirit, it couldn’t truly alter his Dao Fruit. This was merely an external aid.
At most, it could catalyze transformation, but it couldn’t dictate his path—that was his own doing.
“So, this is how my path was meant to be? The first strand of immortal energy was destined to condense into a primordial embryo, manifesting as a creature… one tied to the past?”
Shi Hao was eager to see what would happen if he could one day wield this Dao Fruit.
“Hmm, if the second strand of immortal energy also forms a Dao Flower and bears fruit, would the creature it spawns be tied to the present?”
Shi Hao speculated wildly, his mind restless.
He rose and paced, having been in seclusion for over half a month. He wanted to stretch and survey his surroundings.
But he didn’t venture far—the ancient mine was too perilous. This rare pocket of tranquility, free of terrifying creatures, was ideal for secluded cultivation.
“This is a rare opportunity. There’s still plenty of this treasure liquid left—I should continue my seclusion. If I can manifest a second Dao Flower, I can verify my theories!”
Thus, Shi Hao resumed his cultivation, determined to catch up to those from the Celestial Academy.
He knew the academy offered great opportunities—like the Phoenix Blood Pool for rebirth—any one of which was a priceless treasure in the outside world.
He was already behind. Now that he had encountered this immortal herb pool in the Primordial Ancient Mine, he couldn’t waste it—he had to maximize its benefits.
—
In the cold, dark void, a massive bone ship cut through the silence of the stars.
Gleaming white as if carved from jade, it navigated past the remnants of ancient formations in the region, heading straight for the Primordial Star.
Soon, it landed.
“The Celestial Academy is here again? They just left not long ago—another group has arrived!”
The major factions on the planet were taken aback. None dared underestimate this newly established institution, treating it with reverence.
After all, it was founded by reclusive powerhouses from across the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths—their strength unfathomable.
From the ship descended youths of various races, all in human form, each extraordinary.
Regardless of appearance, their auras were distinct—confidence, transcendence, dominance—marking their exceptional nature.
The men were heroic, their bearing extraordinary.
The women moved like celestial beings, their grace far beyond mortal cultivators.
“The elites of the Celestial Academy—disciples from across the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, the finest of their realms!”
Someone exclaimed, snapping out of their daze.
Instantly, the Primordial Star was abuzz. Every faction, strong or weak, was shocked—this was unprecedented.
These were the future pillars of the world, destined to reign supreme. Why had they gathered here?
This was no training ground—the Primordial Ancient Mine devoured all. Even the strongest might not emerge alive.
Survival here depended on luck, not strength or talent!
“Elders, may we ask your purpose here?”
Someone cautiously addressed the last two to disembark—two elderly men, seemingly ordinary, but undoubtedly peerless experts tasked with guarding these geniuses.
“Some juniors from the academy wish to train here,” one replied succinctly.
The crowd was stunned. Were they all planning to enter the mine? That was suicide!
“Elder, was this person truly here? Did he enter the mine and never return?”
At this moment, Cao Yusheng stepped forward, holding up a portrait of Shi Hao.
Many frowned, while the Wang Clan tensed—another inquiry about that youth. They weren’t worried; as an immortal family, they feared no reprisal.
One of them nodded, recounting the events.
“So, he’s truly dead?” The Dragon Maiden sighed, shaking her head.
“Ha! You fools from the Three Thousand Provinces still cling to hope? Someone like him couldn’t possibly survive—long turned to dust.”
“Your so-called ‘Desolate,’ your so-called genius of the Three Thousand Provinces, was only fit to strut there. Here in the Nine Heavens, he was nothing—already fallen.”
Mockery came from the shadows, clearly from a prodigy of another ancient realm. “At best, he could stir trouble in the lower realms!”
By “lower realms,” he meant the Ten Earths beneath the Nine Heavens.
“Was that your doing?” The Moon Rabbit, her silver hair glowing, glared with ruby-like eyes, furious. “If you’re so strong, who among you dares enter the mine? I guarantee you’ll meet Desolate—and he’ll beat you so badly even your mother won’t recognize you!”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage