The vast void was shrouded in darkness, thick mist surging like turbulent waves. Amidst the shifting haze, clusters of celestial clouds flickered into view. Suspended at the source of this radiance was a grand palace, floating majestically within the cosmos.
Above the palace, nine blazing suns hung in the sky, arranged in a fan-shaped formation, casting divine light across the void.
Beneath these Nine Suns, a black throne stood atop the highest platform. Upon it sat a towering figure—a being of immense presence.
He wore a suit of dark battle armor, his physique massive and imposing. Upon his head was a divine crown, shaped like the head of a Qilin, his features sharp and austere.
His long white hair draped past his shoulders, swaying in the air as he rested one hand against his face, his posture languid. A deep exhale escaped his lips, as if he were a slumbering dragon in quiet contemplation.
Suddenly, from the depths of the void, a thunderous bolt streaked forth, crashing onto the palace's floor. As the light dissipated, a winged man emerged from within the storm.
Dressed in a dark cyan daoist robe, the man had sinister features, his long hair loosely draped, giving him the appearance of a vengeful ghost.
Yet before the seated figure, this winged man appeared dwarfed, as if standing before a divine mountain—his presence completely overshadowed.
"My Lord," the winged man spoke, his voice carrying a heavy weight. "It seems there is the power of an Immortal interfering within this universe."
His words were laced with unease, a clear indication of his fear of Immortals.
The seated figure slowly opened his eyes. His golden pupils flickered with divine light, radiating an overwhelming pressure.
"An Immortal? How absurd." His voice was deep and resonant. "There is only one Immortal in this grand world, and he does not interfere in the conflicts within these realms."
He gazed deep into the universe, and within his golden pupils, a reflection of the Heavenly Spirit World emerged.
"This world has betrayed the Immortals before. Their disdain for this realm will not fade so easily."
Hearing this, the winged man furrowed his brows. "Then you mean… someone is merely borrowing the name of an Immortal?"
The seated figure—Ye Tianji—smirked.
"Whether it is the Heavenly Dao or an Immortal, both wield power with dominance. They wouldn't resort to such petty tricks."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing through the fabric of space.
"But this works to our advantage. Let them test the depths of the Heavenly Spirit World for us."
His voice grew cold.
"Our task is to hunt down the remnants of the Dragon Clan."
The winged man hesitated before pressing further, "But within the Heavenly Spirit World, there lies the Heaven Dao Golden Core. Should we not seize it while we have the chance?"
Ye Tianji did not respond. Instead, he closed his eyes once more.
Silence fell over the grand hall, with only the nine suns above continuing to burn fiercely, illuminating the void with endless radiance.
Suddenly, the winged man sensed something and whipped his head around.
From the depths of the dark void, a pair of colossal eyes emerged—gazing directly upon them.
These eyes were like the eyes of the cosmos itself. In their presence, even star clusters seemed insignificant.
A voice, ancient and profound, echoed through the void.
"The descendants of the Dragon Clan are indeed within the Heavenly Spirit World. He will fight for the Mandate of Heaven."
The voice was none other than He Qingsong, but his tone carried an unparalleled authority, as though a supreme god pronouncing the laws of the world.
Ye Tianji opened his eyes once more, his expression filled with amusement.
"So it's you."
A faint chuckle escaped his lips.
"I didn't expect you to still be chasing after him."
The colossal eyes narrowed.
"Ye Tianji, we can work together."
The voice was calm, yet carried a looming weight.
"The descendant of the Dragon Clan may be hidden among the subordinates of the Sword Master of the Dao. If that is the case, you won't be able to avoid him."
He Qingsong's voice turned sharp.
"Even the Annihilation God Emperor suffered a loss at his hands. You should not underestimate him."
Ye Tianji's gaze remained unwavering, studying the eyes before him in silence.
Once again, the void fell into an eerie stillness.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"Unless you tell me exactly who the descendant of the Dragon Clan is, I will not place my trust in you so easily."
The colossal eyes narrowed even further.
But before He Qingsong could speak, Ye Tianji smirked.
"There is another way, however."
His golden pupils glowed with a ruthless glint.
"Hand over the Heaven Dao Golden Core to me."
He Qingsong's eyes turned cold instantly.
A tense silence filled the void once more.
From his throne, Ye Tianji slowly closed his eyes again, as if completely unbothered.
Beside him, the winged man smirked, his gaze mocking as he watched the silent standoff.
Time dragged on.
Finally, He Qingsong's voice resounded.
"Not now. But when the Heaven Dao Golden Core manifests, I will not stop you. I will allow you to take it."
Ye Tianji let out a boisterous laugh.
A chilling grin spread across his lips.
"Good. Then let's see how this plays out."
Another thirty years passed.
At one thousand nine hundred and forty-three years old, Gu An was playing chess with Nine-Finger Divine Lord. With one hand, he held a copy of The Adventures of Green Hero, while the other casually pinched a chess piece, his eyes still fixated on the book.
Nine-Finger Divine Lord, facing an almost dead-end situation on the board, glanced up at Gu An and complained, "You're being far too perfunctory while playing against me."
Gu An replied indifferently, "Come on, you were the one who insisted on playing with me."
By now, Xuan Tianyi had already become a Nirvana Realm grand cultivator, but with the increasing number of high-level cultivators within Tai Xuan Sect, his reputation had faded into obscurity. He rarely returned, spending most of his time traveling the world. Every now and then, he would send books to Gu An, ensuring that Gu An had access to the latest editions before they were even released to the public.
The volume in Gu An's hand was particularly fascinating—the protagonist and his fated woman shared a blood feud. The woman chased him across the seas, seeking vengeance. However, before their conflict could be resolved, they were both ambushed by a powerful demon. Poisoned and temporarily stripped of their cultivation, they drifted to a deserted island, where they found themselves entangled in a web of love and hatred. The book had no other major characters, yet the protagonist's struggle with the island's monsters made for a gripping tale.
Nine-Finger Divine Lord sighed, setting aside his chess piece. "Jue Luo Sword Master holds eight volumes of the Heavenly Dao Discourse, lacking only the final one. He waits within the Free Sword City he created, declaring that if he loses, he will surrender all eight volumes. And yet, despite this, the ninth volume remains nowhere to be found."
As he spoke of Jue Luo Sword Master, admiration filled Nine-Finger Divine Lord's face.
Compared to Jue Luo Sword Master, his cultivation level was as distant as heaven and earth. He deeply revered him, not only because of his immense power but also because they had once played chess together. This small encounter had left a lasting impression, making him pay close attention to any news regarding Jue Luo Sword Master.
Gu An casually asked, "What? Are you interested in the True Immortal inheritance? You could always challenge him. Who knows, you might win."
Nine-Finger Divine Lord's eyes widened, immediately rejecting the notion. "Win? Impossible. I'm only at the Wandering Immortal Realm, while he stands at the Ninth Heaven of the Immortal Dao. Even if I cultivated for ten million years, I wouldn't reach his level."
Gu An, seeing that Nine-Finger Divine Lord had completely lost interest in chess and was now shifting the topic, couldn't help but sneer. "Ten million years? You think you can live that long?"
Nine-Finger Divine Lord was utterly infuriated. He slammed his hand on the table, abruptly stood up, and stormed off with a flick of his sleeve.
Gu An smirked, muttering under his breath, "Hmph, terrible sportsmanship."
Standing up, he walked out of the Dao Hall. Along the way, disciples and cultivators bowed respectfully upon seeing him.
He made his way toward the valley entrance.
At that moment, a woman was pacing back and forth near the entrance—hesitant, yet unable to leave.
This woman was none other than Ye Lan's disciple, Ye Qingxue.
At nearly a thousand years old, she had already reached the Divine Transformation Realm. Two thousand years ago, a cultivator of her level would have been able to roam the continent freely, but within Tai Xuan Sect, she wasn't even considered outstanding. Some newly recruited disciples with supreme talent had already surpassed her status.
Ye Qingxue was dressed in a flowing yellow robe, standing far away. The moment she spotted Gu An's figure, her expression lit up with joy.
Yet just as she was about to step forward, she hesitated.
She remembered how, as a child, she had been rude to Gu An. She had harbored resentment, believing that her master, Ye Lan, was powerful enough that she shouldn't have to curry favor with anyone—least of all Gu An.
But after learning that Gu An was the legendary Sword Master of the Dao, she had realized how ridiculous her past self had been.
Because of this, she had never dared to face him again.
Ever since her master's passing, she had hidden any connection to Gu An, never speaking of it to anyone.
Aside from the Elders' Hall, no one knew that she had any ties to Gu An.
Now, as she saw Gu An walking directly toward her, her heart pounded wildly.
Could it be that he had foreseen her arrival and came to receive her?
It seemed highly possible—after all, he was the Sword Master of the Dao.
But at the same time, she feared that she was simply overthinking it.
After all, their relationship wasn't that close.
Gu An had far too many acquaintances and connections over the years—why would he care about someone as insignificant as her?
Ye Qingxue stood frozen, too nervous to move forward, yet unable to turn away.
She found herself trapped in a state of complete indecision.