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Zhao Yang and his three companions found a cave to rest and heal. After placing the Dust-Repelling Pearl at the entrance, the dust inside was instantly cleared away. Zhao Yang took out several clean cloths from his pocket and laid them on the ground. The group then lay down, focusing on their recovery.
As night fell, the air turned slightly cool. Countless mosquitoes and venomous snakes passed by the cave entrance but kept their distance. Zhao Yang gazed at the outside scenery and gradually drifted into sleep.
The death of Ghost Path did not affect him much, but he found himself contemplating mortality. He believed that there were still many formidable figures in the cultivation world, just like those in Ghost Path. Not to mention those he already knew from Zhongzhou, such as Shiyunsheng and Yuan Lie, there were also others like the woman he had seen last time, dressed in a Goose Yellow Dress. She appeared to be around his age but possessed extraordinary cultivation. He vaguely suspected that she belonged to the demon race but knew neither her identity nor her name.
There were many extraordinary individuals in the realm of cultivators, and Zhao Yang could not guarantee that he could calmly defeat any enemy he faced. He did not possess the ability to survive every danger unscathed. However, if he had not been present today, it was likely that Nangong Wuxin and the others would have perished.
If it weren't for his unique abilities, which included numerous secret techniques and Divine Power, it would have been difficult for him to navigate the unknown and arduous path of cultivation successfully.
His friends were likely to face peril along the way, as chaos was about to erupt in the cultivation world. At that time, all experts would have to emerge from seclusion. He could not assure himself of invincibility nor could he protect everyone he knew at all times. After all, others did not share his exceptional skills—he possessed unparalleled techniques, the Seventy-Third Transformation that broke rules, the Time Walk that touched upon the realm of time, and a fragment of the Imperial Scripture that rendered him invulnerable. Most importantly, he had a master named Sun Wukong.
Zhao Yang had considered revealing his background to others but felt it was not yet time. He had also thought about teaching his cultivation method to his friends; however, there were certain regulations in the cultivation world. Supreme techniques should not be easily shared, and great secrets should not be casually disclosed; otherwise, it could lead to calamity or divine punishment. Furthermore, everyone had their own path to walk and their own truths to comprehend. He could influence others with his character but would not pass on techniques that could alter destinies—not out of selfishness but because some things simply should not be shared.
People often say that human hearts are the most unpredictable. He trusted his friends but could not impart his methods to them because powerful techniques were not something everyone could learn. Just like a formidable spell or some super spirit beasts could turn against humans, powerful divine arts would attract corresponding tribulations. As Ghost Path suggested, great power comes with a price; gaining one thing often means losing another. Although he hesitated to agree with this notion, he felt compelled to remain cautious.
Zhao Yang pondered death because every ordinary person would eventually face it one day. As a cultivator with high attainment, one could naturally defy natural laws and contend with fate to live for a thousand years. However, compared to immortality, a millennium still felt too brief.
He slowly rose and walked outside the cave entrance, wanting to feel the vast night wind reminiscent of his past life—each lonely night filled with complex emotions that sometimes puzzled those around him.
No one knew what Zhao Yang felt facing boundless loneliness in Ghost Path's dark space or if there was even a hint of sound accompanying him. In endless darkness, only his imagination thrived—much like years ago when he stood atop a building grappling with unpaid rent, unfulfilled love, and an unsustainable life while hesitating between jumping or staying put.
He did not emit Divine Sense nor open his eyes; it was as if he stood on a bright spring day like many ordinary people—perhaps even passing by classmates who were being punished for standing too long or walking through bustling streets filled with countless advertisements—those days when he dared not look up at reality.
His ears were filled with noise; he remembered suffering from auditory hallucinations back then—every night brought forth countless voices whispering in his ears. He repeatedly asked himself what he should do if life became unbearable.
No one answered him; only endless darkness and solitude responded.
In his heart, he questioned heaven about how one might defy fate and change destiny; yet again, all he received was unending darkness and loneliness.
Finally, his opportunity arrived, coming to this world where he could cultivate. He cherished it deeply, having calculated nearly every step. From the moment he laid eyes on Sun Wukong, he realized how tired he was of a life filled with mediocrity and loneliness.
Zhao Yang stepped out of the cave and gazed at the night sky, where the stars twinkled. He looked on, finding the night beautiful despite the bloodshed and the joys and sorrows of life. It was far better than his previous life, where he called out to the heavens in vain and found no response from the earth.
Pointing at the endless night sky, Zhao Yang spoke with a mix of sorrow and indignation, "No one can dictate my fate, not even the heavens!"
At that moment, the leaders of various sects outside Heavenly Mechanism Mountain opened their eyes. In their hazy vision, they saw a giant towering like a mountain, reaching for the stars. His magnificent figure stood upon the earth, atop Heavenly Mechanism Mountain, radiating light like a deity.
"Whose Primordial Spirit is this? It's so immense!" The Overlord Saint's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Could it be that Central Sovereign's Primordial Spirit has emerged to intimidate us?" Sidu Yuanzheng said in shock, his voice trembling slightly.
The abbot of Xuanfo Temple opened his eyes wide and looked into the distant void. Through layers of mountains, he caught sight of the true form of the Primordial Spirit. At that moment, even he felt a shiver run through him. He couldn't comprehend how a single person's Primordial Spirit could be so powerful; it was simply unheard of, let alone seen. And that Primordial Spirit belonged to one of his disciples from Xuanfo Temple.
When the existence behind Xuanfo Temple had brought him back to Xuanfo Temple, it had mentioned that he was special. All along, he had indeed shown exceptional qualities, but he never expected this young man to be so extraordinary as he approached the Divine Transformation Stage.
Zhao Yang looked up at the stars, feeling as if they were within reach, just a step away from the heavens. He shook his head and yawned; feeling drowsy, he decided to return to the cave to sleep.
As he turned around, the Primordial Spirit shrank down to a tiny form and returned to its original state. Stepping lightly on the dew, it entered the cave.
Song Baliang and Nangong Wuxin were still meditating and healing themselves. Dao Yun swirled around them like mist, with rays of light bursting forth from above their heads. Scholar Xiu lay on a blanket fast asleep.
Then Zhao Yang turned his head and nearly gasped in shock when he saw himself.
At that moment, his own self lay there peacefully asleep without making a sound. Looking down again, Zhao Yang realized that what he saw was merely an illusion.
"Am I dead?" Zhao Yang panicked; how could he die without reason? But soon he calmed down because within his Divine Sense, he felt his physical body still breathing. He could clearly sense his powerful vitality—steady breaths and abundant life force—like a dormant dragon ready to awaken at any moment.
Zhao Yang reached out his hand, intending to rub his somewhat weary face, when suddenly a flash of white light swept through his mind, and he vanished.
When his physical body opened its eyes, Zhao Yang was astonished to find that he had returned. The sensation he had just experienced reminded him of a term: Primordial Spirit separation.
Indeed, only through Primordial Spirit separation could one feel such a way—his body felt ethereal, and he could see himself.
However, he had read through One Hundred Thousand Volumes of Books and had never encountered an example like his own; it was unusual to achieve Primordial Spirit separation before reaching the Divine Transformation Stage.
“Could it be a dream?” Zhao Yang began to doubt his extraordinary experience.
His current cultivation was merely at Core Formation Stage Level Eight, far from Transcendence, so Primordial Spirit separation should not have occurred. He attempted to make his Primordial Spirit fly out again, but after trying for a long time, he still did not know how to do it. Zhao Yang's Divine Sense was incredibly powerful now, enhanced by Enlightenment; it could not possibly be an illusion. If what had just happened was not a dream, then he was certain it was indeed the Primordial Spirit. However, he could not understand why he had generated the Primordial Spirit ahead of time. He also did not know that just moments ago, countless experts were peering into Heavenly Mechanism Mountain, revealing expressions of suspicion.
They could not see whose Primordial Spirit it was because they were too far away. But they could clearly sense that in the direction of Heavenly Mechanism Mountain stood a Primordial Spirit taller than the mountain itself, towering between heaven and earth, gazing down upon the universe.
They all thought of a truly invincible figure: Central Sovereign.
Meanwhile, in the imperial city, within a resplendent palace, Central Sovereign's gaze pierced towards Dueling Palace. Through the vast sky, he saw endless heavenly mechanisms.
The galaxy was vast and magnificent.
Not far from him, on a stone wall shrouded in mist, there was only one character—Emperor.
“Emperor?” Central Sovereign murmured to himself. At just over a hundred years old, he was already the pinnacle of existence in the world. He possessed extraordinary intelligence; any technique he learned would be mastered instantly. Under the suppression of the Great Dao, he cultivated the ancestral methods passed down through generations of royalty to Great Perfection. Thus, as a Heavenly Genius, he decided to study and deduce the Spirit Writing Technique—observing celestial phenomena and predicting fortunes; anything that affected his rule would be eradicated.
However, faced with the character "Emperor," he felt somewhat perplexed. Did it refer to him? Yet he clearly knew that the presence resembling the might of a Primordial Spirit within Heavenly Mechanism Mountain just moments ago was not released by him and could not have been released by Twelve Divine Generals either.
“Could it be released by Old God General? That so-called invincible battle Divine General is about to ascend?” Central Sovereign recalled that among the Twelve Divine Generals was an extremely old figure—the oldest among them—who had lived for nearly a thousand years and had been in seclusion for many years. He would not appear until the moment of national destruction and possessed cultivation that defied heaven itself.
Only he possessed the strength to have such a vast Primordial Spirit, but upon reflection, it seemed unlikely, as a Primordial Spirit could not be so immense.
The Central Sovereign looked again at the prophecy on the Heavenly Mechanism Wall—Emperor. Could it be that the Emperor Star had appeared, posing a threat to overthrow the royal family's millennia-long rule? Aside from this explanation, there was no better one. He had originally intended to eradicate the excessively prosperous Cultivation Sects on the Zhongzhou Continent, and all the outstanding disciples of these sects were gathered on Heavenly Mechanism Mountain. At this moment, an anomaly had emerged, further solidifying his resolve.
For a long time, the Ten Thousand Methods Conference had served as a deterrent and suppression against the major sects of the world. The Central Sovereign understood why the Founding Father had spared these sects instead of exterminating them entirely; it was because he feared that ancient existences might still linger among them. If angered, and if their founding ancestors truly ascended to immortality as rumored, they would surely bring ruin to Zhongzhou if they descended to the mortal realm. Thus, the Ten Thousand Methods Conference came into being.
Now, many years had passed, and with the suppression of the heavenly Dao, his cultivation had reached its peak; no one could rival him. He did not believe that any so-called major sects still harbored untouchable existences in this world. Therefore, his purpose in convening the Ten Thousand Methods Conference was merely to assess the strength of each sect; it was not as rumored that he intended to annihilate the Orthodoxy of the Cultivation world.
However, no one knew that what everyone feared most had indeed come to pass. The Central Sovereign decided to eradicate all Orthodoxy within Zhongzhou's Cultivation realm, ensuring that the genius disciple with such a massive Primordial Spirit would perish in Heavenly Mechanism Mountain.
The Central Sovereign had no choice but to take risks; he was a clever man and would not be foolish enough to confront an entire Cultivation realm's expert alone. Closing his eyes, he recited a mental mantra, attempting to deduce some usable information. Suddenly, his expression changed; he looked pale.
Not far away, the Heavenly Mechanism Wall began to crack inch by inch.
The Central Sovereign quickly halted his calculations and fell silent for a moment before saying, "It seems this is indeed fate."
Thus, he made a certain decision in his heart.
"Go summon Mo God General and send someone to find the leader of Heavenly Mechanism Sect."
Outside the palace, two rows of black-clad figures who had been kneeling on the ground received the imperial decree and suddenly vanished into the night.
Among them, the weakest were cultivators at the Nascent Soul Stage.
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