The Palace of the Immortal Tao Sect was a majestic edifice, carved from stone as ancient as the world itself. Its gigantic columns supported a ceiling where shifting constellations softly glowed, replicas of the starry sky above the Eastern Continent. The atmosphere was imbued with a silent solemnity, interrupted only by the flow of Qi that coursed through the air like an invisible river.
At the far end of the main hall, three imposing thrones were arranged in a semicircle. On the central seat sat Tianzun Yuangshi, an old man with a piercing gaze, his features meticulously maintained despite his advanced age. His long white beard fell gracefully to his chest, and he slowly stroked it, meditative, as his eyes swept the room. Ten elders were gathered before him, discussing in hushed tones, but his attention was drawn to an empty throne on his right.
—"It seems Tianzun Lingbao is absent," he remarked softly, his gaze lingering on the vacant seat.
To his left, Tianzun Daode slouched on his own throne, his posture starkly contrasting with Yuangshi's dignity. Far from the image of a venerable sage, he appeared disheveled, clad in rags that made him look like a mere beggar. Barefoot, he cleaned his yellowed teeth with a jade toothpick, absentmindedly removing remnants of meat he had consumed the previous week.
—"Yeah, she's too disrespectful, that brat. It was an order from the Sect Leader, and she didn't even bother to show up," he grumbled, scratching his head, his unkempt hair accentuating his casual demeanor.
Yuangshi shot him a look of disdain but chose to ignore him.
The other elders exchanged discreet glances. Tianzun Daode, criticizing another's disrespect while presenting himself in such a pitiful state, was an irony too glaring to be pointed out. But all knew that beneath his rough appearance, he was a monster in cultivation. Starting his training at fifty and reaching the rank of Heavenly King was an exploit deemed impossible before his existence.
The heavy silence was suddenly shattered by an overwhelming presence.
A chill ran through the hall as time seemed to slow, and black snow began to fall slowly from the ceiling, each flake swirling in a silent dance before dissolving midway.
A figure appeared at the entrance. The man had long black hair cascading to the floor, and dark armor covered his slender frame. A cape billowed behind him, rippling in an invisible wind. His face, with features of an almost unreal youth, bore a stern expression, and his icy black eyes swept the room with an imperious gaze.
Each step he took left frost on the polished jade floor. When he reached his throne, he no longer walked but floated lightly before sitting in a fluid motion.
In one movement, all rose and bowed deeply.
—"We greet Pangu, the Sect Leader!"
He waved his hand through the air, silently granting them permission to sit.
—"Where is Lingbao?" he asked, his deep voice echoing in the silent hall.
Yuangshi replied without hesitation:
—"You know better than we do, Sect Leader, that she's probably not even on this continent."
Pangu slowly tapped the armrest of his throne.
—"Still exploring… If she were more responsible, her disciple would have caused fewer problems."
He murmured the last phrase to himself, resting his fist against his cheek in a pensive posture.
One of the elders, unable to bear the crushing aura emanating from Pangu, pleaded:
—"Sect Leader… could you retract your aura?"
Pangu raised an eyebrow, an imperceptible smile hovering on his lips.
—"Hm? Yet, I'm doing my best to contain it."
Daode burst into laughter, slapping his armrest with his rough hand.
—"Ha ha! Your Qi is still unsettled, Sect Leader? Have you recently made a breakthrough? At this stage, I doubt the Celestial Dragon could still be your opponent."
Pangu gave him a neutral look.
—"You underestimate him," he said calmly. "That old rival has more than one trick up his sleeve. And I haven't faced him since my youth… hard to gauge his current level."
Yuangshi nodded gravely.
—"Speaking of the Celestial Dragon, his son's talent is clearly superior to his. The Imperial Family is truly…"
—"Monstrous?" added an elder with a bitter smile.
—"I don't think the Cloud Dynasty will sit idly by," another continued.
—"True, the Jade Emperor is known to have a hot temper," admitted an elder, "but I don't believe a war will break out right now."
Pangu closed his eyes for a moment, as if probing something distant.
—"Indeed, the Devourer has begun to move, and the Jade Emperor will not act against the new generation."
A shiver passed among the elders at the mention of that name, and they silently nodded.
Pangu reopened his eyes and resumed in a calm but firm voice:
—"The Eternal Ruins will open in a few days."
A silence fell, as all understood the significance of this declaration.
—"The contest to become the Sect Heir is officially open."
Murmurs began to rise among the elders, each realizing the implications of this announcement. The Eternal Ruins, remnants of a forgotten age, appeared only once every ten thousand years. And their opening always marked a turning point in the history of the sect.
In the days to come, the most talented disciples of the Immortal Tao would engage in a merciless competition, where only the worthiest could hope to rise to the coveted position of Heir.
...
The opening of the Eternal Ruins was a rare event and always marked a major turning point in the world of cultivators. These ruins, remnants of an ancient era that even the most complete archives contained only fragments of what truly happened in the war against the first Devourer, all they knew was that it had ultimately lost but at the cost of many lives of powerful beings.
They thus held infinite opportunities, treasures of immeasurable value, forgotten techniques, and even relics imbued with the essence of the Tao and the Aether used by the gods. Yet, they were equally formidable, for the dangers lurking within had consumed far more lives than they had offered glory.
The Eternal Ruins belonged to no one, though the great sects and ancestral clans strove to claim them for themselves. In reality, any cultivator with the courage and strength to enter could try their luck. Nomads, minor clans, daring mortals—all had the chance to tread these forbidden lands. But it was common knowledge that an individual without support, rigorous training, and solid credentials usually survived no more than thirty minutes before being devoured by creatures, annihilated by deadly traps, or reduced to dust by the natives who ruled these lands.
In this unpredictable chaos, the ancestral clans and the Immortal Clan saw an opportunity to strengthen themselves. They sent their young talents into these ruins, not only to acquire precious resources but also to test their potential, thus filtering the weak from the true prodigies.