Chapter Forty-One: The Faith of All Beings

When everyone had returned to the Palace of Purple Firmament, Hongjun finally opened his eyes. Gazing calmly at the assembly, he spoke: “Pangu split heaven and earth, giving rise to all things in the Great Desolation. I obtained the artifact of creation, followed the tides of heaven, and became a sage. Here, I established the Palace of Purple Firmament, expounded the Dao, and spread its teachings. Now, with my merit complete, my cultivation has advanced greatly. Contemplating the myriad living beings, mere pawns before the Grand Dao, I sense a vast benevolence, and yet, a vast lack of it. The momentum of the Dao is such that, of fifty parts, one remains missing. Though my powers are great, I cannot make it whole. After much deliberation, I have resolved to merge myself with the Dao, to show compassion for all living things, to extend the benevolence of heaven and earth, and to mend what the world lacks.”

Unite with the Dao?

All were stunned, then quickly reacted, bowing deeply: “Master, please reconsider!”

Hongjun paid them no heed and continued, “Once I become one with the Dao, I shall guide only the great destiny of heaven. When the Dao prospers, sages arise in accordance with it. The sage is imperishable through countless calamities, untouched by cause and effect. The sage acts without action, thus never fails nor suffers loss. Excess, extravagance, and arrogance must be discarded—remember this well!”

“Master...” Countless faces betrayed grief and sorrow, though their true thoughts remained a mystery.

Li Tian and the Three Pure Ones, however, remained expressionless. Each held their own pride and would not feign emotion. In truth, they felt not reluctance at Hongjun’s merging with the Dao, but a faint excitement. After all, who wishes to have someone looming over them forever? Naturally, they would never expose their true thoughts—such would not be pride, but folly.

“In future, Hongjun will be the Dao of Heaven, and the Dao of Heaven will not be Hongjun. Remember: unless a great calamity befalls heaven and earth, Hongjun shall not reappear. Henceforth, you must look to your own paths.” His tone was both a warning and a reminder.

Exchanging glances, the assembly bowed as one: “Master, your mercy is boundless.”

Hongjun nodded lightly, and with a wave of his hand, the group was transported outside the Palace of Purple Firmament.

“Was this our last time seeing Master?” Outside the palace, Nuwa glanced back, her thoughts complex.

“Perhaps.” Li Tian could not hide a hint of a smile at his lips.

To say this was the last time seeing Hongjun was impossible. Yet the Hongjun who would emerge in the future would no longer be the Hongjun of old.

“Unite with the Dao!”

As they traversed the chaos, Hongjun’s majestic voice echoed from afar, as if pervading all heaven and earth.

They turned to look back and saw the entire Palace of Purple Firmament enveloped by golden light. The group lingered for a long moment before dispersing in different directions.

Upon returning to the Heavenly Court, everyone went into seclusion to cultivate, and Li Tian was no exception. He needed time to comprehend the Primordial Purple Qi and to see if he could sever the Kind Corpse.

In the blink of an eye, ten thousand years passed. Li Tian emerged from seclusion, disappointed, though it was not unexpected. Severing a corpse was no simple feat. The Three Pure Ones had cultivated bitterly for countless years, and by the time they became sages, had only severed two corpses each—how could he expect better?

Though reluctant to admit it, Li Tian knew his talent did not compare to the Three Pure Ones.

As for the Primordial Purple Qi, there was even less to be said.

“Where is Empress Wa?”

Exiting the Palace of Miro, Li Tian asked the guard stationed outside the gate.

He was preparing to do one more thing to gain merit.

To preside over the Heavenly Marriage!

After so much time nurturing their relationship, Nuwa would likely not refuse. Moreover, the three sermons had ended, and it would not be long before Nuwa created humans and achieved sagehood. If he did not act now, and the “cooked duck” flew away, he would have nowhere to cry.

...

In the territory of the Wu Tribe.

After countless years, the Wu Tribe convened a grand assembly once again. The ancestor-witches and great witches from across the land hurried to the Hall of Pangu.

At the last assembly ten thousand years ago, the twelve ancestor-witches, faced with the problem of overpopulation, divided the tribe into countless smaller clans, each led by an ancestor-witch, a great witch, or other outstanding individuals.

However, this led inevitably to losses among the people. The clans led by ancestor-witches and great witches fared well enough, but the lower clans suffered. Ninety-nine percent of the accomplished cultivators in the Great Desolation had already pledged themselves to the Heavenly Court, yet the few who remained still represented a significant number—and most bore deep-seated grudges against the Wu Tribe, ever eager to seize any chance to inflict harm. With the Wu Tribe now scattered, their enemies’ wishes were fulfilled.

In the Hall of Pangu, the twelve ancestor-witches sat in places of honor, while dozens of great witches stood below, locked in heated debate.

Some proposed a thorough purge, to exterminate all beings above the Golden Immortal rank. Of course, this was fanciful—Golden Immortals were not fools; if they truly wished to hide, the Wu Tribe might never find them.

Most of the great witches advocated for regrouping, merging the tribe once more into several dozen large clans, ensuring each had a great witch to oversee it. But this would mean facing the same problem as ten thousand years ago: with so many people gathered together, the daily consumption of food would be enormous. They could hardly go out in search of food, traveling tens of millions of miles each time.

The great witches argued endlessly, while the ancestor-witches, seated above, knitted their brows, equally unable to find a solution.

Just as all were at their wits' end, a sorrowful figure quietly entered the Hall of Pangu.

Noticing someone’s arrival, the great witches ceased their debates and turned to look.

Wait, isn’t that the statue outside the Hall of Pangu?

Why was it moving?

Most of the great witches had been created only within the last several ten thousand years and had no idea who this sorrowful man was. They had seen his figure occasionally and thought nothing of it.

“What brings you here?” Jumang, sitting at the head, frowned.

The man was none other than Jieyin. Jumang had not killed him back then, but brought him back to the Hall of Pangu. The ancestor-witches, seeing he was sensible, spared his life and dispatched him to guard the hall’s entrance.

Jieyin had been obedient ever since, never once attempting to escape. Over time, the twelve ancestor-witches relaxed their vigilance and even forgot about him.

For all these years, he had sat outside the Hall of Pangu, unmoving and silent for millennia, so much so that many newly born witches mistook him for a statue.

“Jieyin pays respects to the ancestor-witches and great witches.”

Jieyin bowed deeply to the assembly, his posture humble—after all, strictly speaking, he was nothing more than a prisoner of the Wu Tribe.

“What business do you have?” Di Jiang, seated at the center, frowned and looked at Jieyin.

“I beg the ancestor-witches to allow me to spread the Teachings of All Life within the lands of the Wu Tribe,” Jieyin replied with another deep bow.

For tens of thousands of years, he had observed everything in the Great Desolation and reflected on himself. The Teachings of All Life was the fruit of his countless years of deduction and refinement, and he was confident the Wu Tribe would agree.