Across the Great Desolation, the sound of the eighty-one tolls acted like a call to arms.
On Mount Sumeru, the Western Duo—Jieyin and Zhunti—were practically radiating joy. Since siphoning the luck of the West to reach Perfection, they had hit a ceiling. The path forward was obscured by the fog of the heavens, a fog that only the Dao Ancestor could clear.
"Let's go, Senior Brother!" Zhunti urged, his smile wide and hungry. "We were late last time and nearly lost our seats. This time, we take the lead. We let the world see the majesty of the West!"
Jieyin nodded, his usually bitter face softening with ambition. "Indeed. We shall be the first to arrive, a testament to our path."
They stepped into the Void, their figures vanishing in a flash of golden light.
Elsewhere, the story was the same.
On Mount Buzhou, Nuwa had reached Perfection, her aura refined and serpentine, while Fuxi trailed slightly behind in the Late Stage. In the North Sea, the "Demon Master" Kunpeng had finally shaken off the terror of the Witches, his cultivation peaking just as the bells began to ring. Styx, the Queen Mother of the West, and the East King Duke—all the "Old Names" of the world—surged toward the sky.
On the Taiyin Star, the lunar chill deepened as Xi He and Chang Xi emerged from the Guanghan Palace. Their ten thousand years of seclusion had paid off, bringing them to the Late Stage.
"Sister, hurry!" Chang Xi called out, her silver robes fluttering like moonlight.
Xi He nodded, but before she took flight, she couldn't help but cast a lingering, suspicious glance toward the Sun Star. Still nothing? she wondered. Is the Dao of the Ancestor truly so beneath them? Or are they simply arrogant beyond measure?
She gritted her teeth. She didn't believe it—once she heard the Dao of the Quasi-Saint, she would close the gap. She would prove that the Moon was not meant to stay in the Sun's shadow.
The Pangu Temple.
The Twelve Ancestral Witches stood in the heart of their ancestral land, feeling the ripples of the Three Pure Ones' breakthrough.
"Those cockroaches actually reached Perfection?" Qiang Liang snarled, the air around him popping with indignant static. "Even after we broke their spirits? I'm still a hair's breadth away myself!"
"It's the Luck," Candle Nine Nethers mused, his eyes narrowing. "Since we suppressed them, our own cultivation has moved like a flood. Their loss was our gain."
"Should we ambush them on the way?" Zhurong asked, his fists wreathed in flame. "Catch them between the heavens and the earth?"
"No," Di Jiang said, his voice calm and terrifyingly steady. "It's too late for a clumsy strike. Besides... it doesn't matter."
He smiled, and an aura erupted from him that silenced the room. It was ethereal, vast, and carried a weight that transcended the Grand Unity realm. It was the scent of the coming storm.
"Brother... you've reached it?" Xuan Ming whispered in awe.
"Almost," Di Jiang replied. "One final push and the Quasi-Saint realm is mine. While the 'Great Powers' are busy playing student in Zixiao Palace, we will move. We will expand. We will seize every mountain, every river, and every vein of spiritual ore. By the time they return, we will be the undisputed masters of the earth. If they want to challenge us then, let them—they will find twelve Quasi-Saints waiting for them."
The Witches cheered, their bloodlust ignited. Only Hou Tu remained quiet.
"Brother," she said softly. "I want to go. I want to hear the sermon."
The cheering stopped.
"Sister, why?" Di Jiang's face hardened. "You said yourself the Dao of the Spirit is useless to us."
"Perhaps," Hou Tu admitted. "But to defeat the enemy, we must know the enemy's heart. I want to see the limits of their new power. I will not be in danger—none would dare strike in the Ancestor's house."
Di Jiang sighed, knowing her stubbornness. "Fine. Go. But come to the borders of the East for us to meet you the moment it ends."
The Sun Star.
The thousand-year discussion had finally wound down. Under the shade of the Fusang tree, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of refined Dao.
"My thanks to you both," Di Jun said, bowing slightly toward Hong Yun and Zhenyuanzi. "This discussion has clarified many doubts."
"Think nothing of it," Hong Yun laughed, his red robes brilliant against the solar fire. He looked toward the sky, where the purple light of Zixiao Palace was becoming more prominent. "The bells have rung, friends. The sermon is here. Three Crows... shall we travel together? It would be a grand sight to see the Sun and the Red Clouds pierce the Nine Heavens as one."
Di Jun and Tai Yi didn't answer immediately. Instead, they turned their heads in unison, their gazes landing on Ling Xiao.
They were waiting for the word.