novelraw Chapter 543 - 449: Awakening
Chapter 543 - 449: Awakening
The river of time flows gently, carrying the dust of eternity, and washing out traces of the Dao above the Nine Heavens.
A wisp of Primordial Purple Qi descends from the void, like a jade-colored ribbon piercing through heaven and earth, the misty glow spreads over the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, resonating with the Great Dao, leaving everything silent.
The first to sanctify by the Purple Qi was the eldest disciple under the Dao Ancestor, the Cyan Wood Daoist.
He sat cross-legged at the pinnacle of the Nine Heavens Star River, surrounded by three thousand runes, with the Primordial Purple Qi entwining him, drilling into his brow like a homing swallow.
In an instant, golden light surged from the Cyan Wood Daoist’s body, breaking through the clouds, with an endless Dao Shadow appearing behind him.
That Dao Shadow held a Daoist Sword, cleaving through illusions, chanting the true words: "Dao produces One, One produces Two, Two produces Three, Three produces all things..."
As the words fell, thousands of congratulatory sounds rang out between heaven and earth, and endless golden light descended from above the Nine Heavens, gathering into a Golden Bridge extending from the firmament to the feet of the Cyan Wood Daoist.
The Cyan Wood Daoist slowly rose, stars born and dying in his eyes, and with a raise of his hand, the star river rolled backward, the sun and moon sank and floated, his saintly pressure covering the sky:
"I, Cyan Wood, verify the saintly position today!"
Following this, a second saintly aura rose from the southern continent.
The Fire Virtue Daoist sat at the core of the volcanic lava, integrating the Primordial Purple Qi into the innate fire seed, and in an instant, the innate divine flame burned through the Four Seas and Eight Wastelands, yet not harming a single life.
The flames around the Fire Virtue Daoist transformed into billions of Vermilion Birds, their cries echoing throughout the cosmos.
He opened his eyes, filled with a flame that could scorch everything yet control all, and as he slowly rose, the lava flowed backward, the volcanoes calmed, his voice like a booming bell, imposing:
"The path of fire, burns through illusions, yet breeds vitality, sanctifies today."
Over the next thousands of years, three more saintly auras rose consecutively, with three other disciples of Chen Sheng receiving the blessing of the Primordial Purple Qi, verifying their Dao and becoming saints.
Each time a saint emerged, the music of the Great Dao resounded through heaven and earth, golden light cascading like a waterfall, the Dao Rhyme of the saints enveloping the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, making countless cultivators bow and worship.
The five saints stood shoulder to shoulder above the Nine Heavens, their Dao Rhyme interweaving, forming an unassailable barrier, gazing indifferently at all beings without joy or compassion.
The glory of the five saints sanctifying starkly contrasted with the dreariness of the three thousand guests in the Yujing Palace back then.
Time is the most heartless sculptor, and the most perilous tribulation; those Great Divine Power Users who once shook regions have long perished for the most part.
Some were turned to ashes in repeated slaughter tribulations, some fell in the Longevity Dao Tribulation, their essence and form utterly destroyed...
On the Ancestral Mountain, within a floating immortal island, several white-haired Great Divine Power Users sat around a stone table.
When the fifth saintly aura rose, an old man dressed in a green shirt and carrying a long sword sighed slowly, his voice full of fatigue and helplessness:
"Another one... The nine-thousand-year slaughter tribulation is coming, saints are impervious to myriad tribulations, yet we must struggle to survive in the ocean of tribulations, how unfair."
As his words fell, another old man holding a tortoise shell shook his head, its surface densely covered in cracks, revealing an ominous sign:
"The Great Dao is just, yet heartless. Saints are as enduring as heaven and earth, coexisting with the Dao, while we, though possessing great divine techniques, cannot transcend and escape the cycle of tribulations."
The group remained silent, their aura heavy, though they were overlords, they appeared so small before time and tribulation.
Every time a saint emerges, they lament, their sighs filled with envy and jealousy, as well as powerlessness over their own fate.
They race against tribulations, every nine thousand years, a slaughter tribulation descends, each more perilous than the last.
Last tribulation, nearly a hundred Great Powers fell among the three thousand guests, and this time, who knows how many will survive.
...
Time turns, a hundred thousand springs and autumns have passed.
The aura between heaven and earth gradually becomes oppressive, the originally clear sky begins to darken, the earth trembles, rivers flow backward, stars stray from their paths.
An unstoppable force of destruction permeates heaven and earth—the end of an era has arrived.
Across the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, the figures of the five saints appear simultaneously.
The Dao Rhyme surrounds their bodies, their eyes cold as ice, without hesitation, they begin to destroy heaven and earth with a raise of their hands.
The Cyan Wood Daoist swung a sword, endless forests turning to ashes, mountains collapsing, all beings annihilated.
The Fire Virtue Daoist wielded the innate divine flame, the ground becoming scorched earth, rivers evaporating, all things coming to naught.
...
Wherever they passed, everything was destroyed, including the so-called saintly traditions and the disciples of the saints.
Those cultivators who once revered the saints were now powerless before the destructive force of the saints, instantly turning to dust.
On Kunlun Immortal Island, the green-shirted elder with a long sword hovered in mid-air, watching it all, his gaze tranquil without waves, neither anger nor fear.
He watched as the five saints destroyed everything with neither joy nor sorrow, watching those beings who once depended on the saints being ruthlessly obliterated, he slowly spoke, his voice echoing throughout heaven and earth:
"The immeasurable tribulation has arrived, heralding the great destruction of the era, utterly impartial... Is this what it means to be a saint?"
As his words fell, a mocking smile curled at his lips:
"Though impervious to myriad tribulations, enduring as heaven and earth, yet losing one’s true self, becoming a puppet, what meaning does such longevity have?"
"Though impervious to myriad tribulations, it is not what I seek!"
The elder shouted aloud, his aura surging, condensing his lifelong cultivation into the long sword, the sword bursting forth with brilliant light, striking towards the nearest saint.
The sword light cut through the firmament, but as it touched the saintly Dao Rhyme, it shattered with a boom.
The elder’s body shook, blood spraying from his mouth, his form began to dissipate, but he was unconcerned, a relieved smile on his face, his voice still loud:
"My Great Dao lies in my true self, even in death, I have no regrets!"
As his words fell, his form entirely turned to ash, fading away in heaven and earth.
...
At the same time, within the realm of mind, in a chaotic space, Chen Sheng sat cross-legged, a heart door that suppresses the universe floating before him.
He wore a Daoist Robe, without any pressure around him, yet seemed to merge with the entire realm of mind.
The aura of the five saints’ destruction of heaven and earth, the will of the green-shirted elder’s courageous demise, all clearly transmitted into his perception.
In his eyes, the original indifference gradually faded, revealing some complex emotions.
Chen Sheng slowly raised his hand, gently touching the heart door, carefully perceiving the state of heaven and earth, sensing his connection with the Great Dao, a flicker of post-tribulation survival gratitude crossing his mind:
"I almost lived a muddled life merged with the Dao."
The severity of Dao transformation had long been recorded in the ancient texts of the Antarctic Immortal Mansion. Previously, Chen Sheng was the epitome of Dao transformation—he was the Dao, yet the Dao was not him.
At that time, he merged with the Dao, losing himself, like a puppet without a soul, only operating along the trajectory of the rules of heaven and earth, ultimately perishing with heaven and earth in the epoch’s destruction.
Such loss of self, merging with the Dao was merely an illusion, even if there was a next life, gaining more profound insight was difficult.
Fortunately, Chen Sheng had plans in place.
First, he spread the Dao teachings from the Yujing Palace, disseminating the Dao tradition in this realm, becoming the Dao Ancestor of the realm, using the cultivation of all beings as an anchor, drawing his own essence.
Secondly, he apportioned five saintly positions, using the Primordial Purple Qi as a guide, allowing disciples to verify Dao, seeking reduction and voiding, leaving himself a thread of life.
These two major plans, like two lifelines, allowed him at the end of the epoch to finally break free from certain bindings.