Chapter 435: Chapter 260: Celestial Dao Foundation Establishment, So-called Opportunity_3

He just devoted himself wholeheartedly to cultivating the "Xuan Ling Fa Zhong Jing" that led to the destruction of the Mao Clan, hiding like a sewer rat in the sunless Inner Scenic Land of He Mountain Dao, waiting for the moment he could play his role as a pawn.

One day, Mao Yichang had a dispute with the remaining elders in his clan, and in a fit of rage, accidentally killed them.

As a result, the long-dormant Fa Seed suddenly sprouted, greatly advancing his cultivation.

This gave Mao Yichang hope, like a drowning man clutching desperately at a straw.

He either plotted or schemed, taking out several clan members who opposed him, causing the Fa Seed bestowed by the Pimo King to grow ever more vigorous.

From then on, it became unstoppable.

"My fleshly body, my relatives, friends I knew since childhood, elders who treated me like their own... Every human emotion and moral principle I abandon, makes me feel relaxed, as if releasing a burden of ten thousand pounds, a great sense of relief."

In Mao Yichang’s Divine Soul, numerous Daoist Skills and spell scriptures circulated continuously; all these were insights he derived from the blessings conferred by the Pimo King, from the He Mountain legacy.

On the day he wiped out his clan, he sat with a devout heart atop a pile of corpses, studying the "Wu Gou Jing," seeking answers.

Life in this world is too burdensome; the weak are unprotected, bound by poverty, sickness, the woes of life and death.

Rather than strive to transcend barriers like a snake transforming into a Flood Dragon, becoming strong.

Better to let go of everything, worship the spirits, willingly become pigs, dogs, puppets, to be driven and dispatched.

"In my youth, I saw the old dog my family kept. It lounged lazily at the door each day, doing nothing, yet got to eat meat.

While the hawkers and peddlers outside toiled hard for their meals, working diligently.

Between human and dog, who lives more at ease? It’s lamentable that many ordinary people cannot comprehend this principle, unaware that martial arts and cultivation are like moving against the current; not everyone can reach the crest."

A realization surged within Mao Yichang, his Divine Soul expanded, almost filling the cave, sweeping ten feet around.

The heads planted in the field of flesh seemed like chewed fruits being absorbed inside.

As crisp "crunching" sounds echoed, the Withered Revive Wood that grew on the fleshly shell swayed its leaves, scattering a vibrant green.

About Half a Stick of Incense later, Mao Yichang finished cultivating, his Divine Soul suddenly withdrew, transforming into a refined-looking middle-aged man.

His form was lifelike, showing no hint of being a mental transformation, already a deeply cultivated Four Realms Daoist Cultivator.

"Following the Pimo King’s intent, offering this segment of Withered Revive Wood, is certain to earn a reward.

When the time comes, the Mao Family will rise once more, no longer needing to fear Ninghai Zen’s vengeful pursuit."

Mao Yichang was filled with anticipation, even harboring a slight wild ambition, wondering if sincere tribute to the Pimo King, continued devotion, might break through the barrier of life and death, reaching the Ghost Immortal Realm?

Buzz!

A sound like a bell and gong interrupted Mao Yichang’s thoughts.

Like a stone carving, massive as a human head, a very solid "book" leaped out of the void.

"Devotee Mao Yichang, pays respects to Lord Wu Gou!"

Mao Yichang bowed low, tightly pressing to the ground, utmost respect.

Within the Four Reversals Sect, every Dharma Guardian Spirit’s scripture was imbued with spirit, like a living being.

The status revered, comparable to a Saint Child, absolutely not to be slighted.

The sturdy pages flipped open.

One by one, primitive characters appeared clearly.

"The Dao, coming without age, going without history, of high without covering, of low without care, of large without exterior, of small without interior, without substance outside, without person inside, near without self, far without other. Cannot be dissected, cannot be combined, cannot be understood, cannot be contemplated. Only because it is vast and all-encompassing, it becomes the Dao..."

These profound truths, unless gifted, are as cryptic as scripture, incomprehensible to most.

Yet Mao Yichang, aided by the guidance of the "Wu Gou Jing," slowly grasped the meaning.

Like an extraordinary natural talent, it made him immensely obsessed.

His devotion to the Pimo King became even more unshakeable.

The "Wu Gou Jing" only turned one page, each primitive character inside continuously revealed tadpole-like tiny words, like a master’s detailed annotations.

About a quarter-hour passed, abruptly closed, no longer permitting Mao Yichang to view.

Though he was unsatisfied, he felt no anger; instead, he bowed low again:

"Praise to the Pimo King! Praise to Lord Wu Gou, I am eternally grateful!"

On the cover of the "Wu Gou Jing", suddenly two bold "one" characters appeared, as if bushy brows raised.

Subsequently two large "mouth" characters emerged, like opening eye rims.

It gazed down at this Divine Soul, regarding it like a pig or dog, with utter disregard.

Prepare to strike open the void, disappear once more.

In the depths, it seemed as if some Dao sound echoed, faintly discernible, sometimes near, sometimes far.

Like tantalizing bait floating before the eyes, enticing the fish to open its mouth.

The pitch-black "mouth" characters suddenly widened, like two eyes roundly open.

The "Wu Gou Jing" hesitated briefly, rushed out of the dark Puzzle Cave, slowly toward the source of the Dao sound.

...

...

"Master, this place is deserted, so dull."

Bai Qi initially harbored thoughts of wreaking havoc, navigating strategies as he entered the Inner Scenic Land of He Mountain Dao.

Who would have thought after taking a detour, there was nothing around but eerie ghostly qi, piles of white bones.

"Good disciple, do not rush, problems solvable physically are not true troubles.

Fighting power is the lowest form of action.

Of course, if you can win, that’s different."

Chen Xing taught patiently, unlike Chen Yin or Chen Du, he rarely had any battle achievements known.