Chapter Seventy-Three: The Myriad Faces of Mortals, the Unfathomable Heart of the Sage

The audience below watched the mischievous young girl on the stage, her curious gaze darting everywhere. Although they were astonished that someone so young had already reached the late stage of Grand Luo Golden Immortal, they could not help but feel puzzled. No matter how deep the friendship between Hongjun and Chenxing might be, this seemed far too great an honor. Was it truly the case that anyone Chenxing brought could be seated on the dais? This left many in the hall deeply unsettled.

What they did not know was that a millennium ago, after a brief return to Fangzhang Island, Nuwa had chosen to remain there, wishing to serve Chenxing’s parents and refusing to leave again. Fuxi, for his part, sensed an opportunity to break through to the pinnacle of quasi-sainthood and entered seclusion.

It so happened that during a chat between Chenxing and Fatty, the topic of the third sermon and the subsequent treasure distribution was mentioned—overheard by the little girl. She immediately insisted on coming to snatch treasures, causing Chenxing endless headaches. In the end, he could only relent, regretting that he had returned all of Hongjun’s treasures to him; had he kept a few, perhaps things would be different now!

If those in the audience knew this little one was here to compete with them for treasures, who could say what they would feel?

This time, Hongjun’s presence was different from before—a sense of aloofness now surrounded him, as though a deity sat above the heavens, gazing indifferently upon all living things.

Amid the respectful, expectant gazes of the assembly, Hongjun began his final sermon. A myriad of wonders unfolded, countless Dao rhymes swirling and transforming into seven-colored lotus blossoms that floated through the Purple Cloud Palace. The gathering listened, utterly entranced, and soon fell into deep comprehension of the Dao.

Seeing the strange visions before her, Little Chen Mi curiously reached out to grab a floating lotus, but only grasped empty air. Her lips pursed in disappointment. She leaned close to Chenxing’s ear and whispered, “Old Grandpa Hongjun is a cheat—these flowers can’t be caught!”

Chenxing’s mouth twitched as he helplessly patted the little girl’s head, choosing not to reply. Little did she know, though, that Hongjun, while preaching, had heard her words and glanced her way, a faint hint of amusement flickering across his otherwise impassive face.

Three thousand years passed in the blink of an eye; two thousand nine hundred years had already slipped by. On this day, as everyone remained immersed in the sermon, Hongjun suddenly ceased speaking. The audience looked up in astonishment, unsure why he had stopped.

“The nine-thousand-year sermon is complete. In the remaining hundred years, should you have any questions, you may ask,” he announced, closing his eyes.

“Teacher, you once said you would expound the method of achieving sainthood in this sermon. We humbly ask for your guidance,” the elder stood and spoke respectfully.

Hongjun nodded and said calmly, “The Great Dao has three thousand paths; each can lead to the attainment of the Primordial Unity. But in summary, there are three methods to become a saint. First: those of supreme power may break through the fetters of the Heavenly Dao by their own might and thus attain the Primordial Unity. This is the most arduous path—once, even Pangu sought to realize the Dao in this way, but ultimately perished in the attempt.

“Second: the Three Corpses method I have previously taught you. By severing the good, evil, and obsession within oneself, using innate spiritual treasures or golden bodies as vessels, and ultimately uniting the three corpses, one may become a Saint of the Heavenly Dao, with the primordial spirit anchored in the void.

“Third: by accumulating supreme merit. Merit is the gift of Heaven; those who cultivate must gather merit, remain untouched by karma, and with merit’s protection, survive even the great tribulations.”

Hearing Hongjun’s exposition of the three paths to sainthood, the assembly was overjoyed. Yuanshi hurriedly asked, “Teacher, which method produces the most powerful saint?”

“After achieving sainthood, strength is of little consequence. If one must distinguish, the path of force is the strongest. Yet even with Pangu’s foundation, he failed in the end—such is its difficulty.” A trace of regret appeared on Hongjun’s otherwise indifferent face.

“May I ask, Teacher, by which method did you achieve sainthood?” the elder inquired after a moment’s silence.

The crowd, still lamenting their inability to prove the Dao by strength, instantly became alert at this question, their attention fixed upon Hongjun.

“I entrusted my primordial spirit to the Jade Disc of Creation, and by uniting the three corpses, attained the Primordial Unity,” Hongjun replied calmly.

Learning that even the Dao Patriarch had used the Three Corpses method, the assembly’s spirits soared, their determination to seek innate treasures in the wilderness only strengthened.

“Isn’t it the case that no one has ever succeeded in proving the Dao by force?” Tongtian persisted.

“There is one,” Hongjun replied with a single word, then fell silent.

Tongtian’s eyes lit up. “Who achieved the Great Dao, Teacher? Please enlighten us!” The anticipation in the hall was palpable.

Hongjun glanced at Chenxing, who could only shrug as if to say, “As you please.”

Those who knew Chenxing, such as the Three Pure Ones, were thunderstruck. They had assumed that Hongjun’s courtesy toward Chenxing was due to his help during the ferocious beast calamity and that, though Chenxing’s cultivation was higher than theirs, he was only at the quasi-saint level. Never had they imagined they were in the presence of a living saint.

The Three Pure Ones, in particular, were filled with regret—they had once had an excellent opportunity to befriend a Primordial Saint outside the Purple Cloud Palace, only to squander it through their pride.

Only Zhenyuanzi felt fortunate that he had never offended Chenxing and resolved inwardly to cultivate a strong relationship with him and his companions.

As for others unfamiliar with Chenxing, many now regretted never befriending Fatty, missing the chance to connect with a saint—one who had proved the Dao by force, no less! For a moment, silence reigned; one could hear a pin drop.

Observing the scheming expressions of those before him, Hongjun sneered inwardly: These people still dream of transcendence? Becoming mere puppet saints under the Heavenly Dao would be their utmost destiny.

Hongjun’s gaze shifted to Zhenyuanzi, the only one in the crowd whose expression remained unchanged. After a moment's thought, he looked at the slightly pale-faced elder, shook his head, and made a decision.

“You need not speculate further. The one who achieved the position of the Great Dao was not Daoist Chenxing,” Hongjun stated coolly.

A collective sigh of relief swept through the assembly—it made sense, after all; the man before them hardly seemed like a saint. Their gazes toward Chenxing changed, the former awe dissipating. Some, like the demon emperors Dijun and Taiyi, now looked at him with open disdain, their pride as demon sovereigns swelling.

Chenxing paid these changes no mind, still smiling as he played with his little sister, her laughter crisp and sweet.

“Though it was not Daoist Chenxing, it was Daoist Nuwa, who accompanied him last time—and who is also his Dao companion,” Hongjun continued indifferently.

Many in the hall froze, then shot resentful looks at Hongjun, inwardly cursing: Old man, what are you playing at? Are you trying to drive us mad?

No one was more embarrassed than Dijun and Taiyi, who had just looked down on Chenxing; now, how were they to extricate themselves from this awkwardness?

At this moment, many in the crowd gazed at Chenxing with newfound admiration: What a remarkable figure! To secure a Great Dao Saint as his Dao companion at the very dawn of sainthood—this was not merely the pinnacle of existence, but an act of utter audacity.

Just as the crowd was struck dumb, the little girl delivered the final blow.

“Is Grandpa Hongjun praising Sister Nuwa? Why doesn’t he praise Sister Xiaoyao too? She’s my favorite,” Little Chen Mi whispered to Chenxing.

None present lacked great power, and all heard the child’s words. Their gazes toward Chenxing shifted once more—they no longer saw him as merely above the Heavenly Dao; this was someone beyond comprehension! Even Hongjun could not compare to this.

To have a Great Dao Saint as a companion was already the height of envy, but this man had another. Many bowed their heads in silence, questioning the very meaning of their own lives.

After a long pause, Tongtian finally mustered the courage to ask, “Teacher, how did Daoist Nuwa achieve the Primordial Unity? Did you not say even Pangu failed to succeed?”

Hearing Pangu’s name mentioned, Little Chen Mi opened her mouth to speak, but Chenxing, quick as lightning, covered her mouth before she could utter a word.

Casting a curious glance at the siblings, Hongjun explained, “Daoist Nuwa, by a stroke of fate, obtained the Chaos Pearl—a supreme treasure of chaos. This pearl, complete unto itself, allowed her to open a small world within, a clever shortcut to sainthood.”

“Is there another such treasure in the wilderness?” Yuanshi could not help but ask.

Hongjun shook his head and replied coolly, “The pearl was born of chaos, unique and without equal. Daoist Nuwa’s opportunity is spent; this path to sainthood cannot be repeated.”

A collective sigh of lament swept through the hall below.