As the competition went on, the strangeness on Liu Taixuan’s face grew increasingly noticeable.

According to what he had learned in the last year he and his disciple spent in this region, all those cultivators wearing the robes of the Infinite Dao Sect were actually cultivators of this continent, recruited in the last two years.

So when he saw the forging techniques of the common cultivators of this continent, which were absolute trash in his eyes—even among low-level techniques—he didn’t think much of it, finding it normal.

But when his eyes fell upon the artifact refining methods used by the disciples of the Infinite Dao Sect, a trace of shock couldn’t help but flash through his gaze.

‘This technique… is extremely profound. Even I can learn a few things just by watching!’

The trembling of his hand was slightly visible at that moment, and he quickly hid it inside his sleeve… even if it was a ghostly sleeve, since he was a soul right now.

Perhaps no one else noticed, but Aotian, who had been watching the old man the entire time through his avatars, naturally did.

A small smile inevitably formed on his lips.

In truth, he still wasn’t very satisfied with the level of artifact crafting, pill refinement, or any other art practiced by the sect’s disciples.

The inheritances he synthesized were indeed profound, and to fully master and use them to their peak—not to mention decades— even centuries might not be enough, even for the low-level ones.

But even if they only learned the surface, the quality was there, and entering the Core-Tier sections of the manuals wasn’t necessary to craft items of that tier.

Thus, although in the eyes of everyone else many of his disciples had firmly stepped into the levels of Core-Tier alchemists, refiners, talisman masters, and formation masters, in his view they barely qualified as Founder-Tier in those areas.

At best, they had a superficial understanding of those manuals.

Even Cang Song, who could already create Core-Tier pills back then, had actually never accessed anything beyond the Founder-Tier portion of the alchemy inheritance. Everything he achieved came from a slightly deeper understanding of the manuals available at that time, along with the guidance of his master, Elder Dan Hong.

Still, it was proof of talent to have reached such a level in a little more than a year and a half he had to learn back then, eight months ago.

“Old man, are you shocked by the level of my sect’s disciples?” Aotian suddenly asked, drawing the attention of those in the VIP box, earning even an eye roll from his wife, who knew the two would start arguing again.

But she didn’t stop them, because somehow… she felt the two were oddly compatible, and that they were getting closer as they argued, even if in their own strange way.

If the two knew what she thought, they would definitely deny it with all their might.

Liu Taixuan shot him a glance and then turned back to stare at the arena.

There, a mix of hammering noises from those in Qi Refining—who were incapable of using alchemy cauldrons… which was almost all of them—rang out, except for the few disciples of the Infinite Dao Sect, who forged calmly, swiftly, and precisely in their large artifact refinement cauldrons.

“Well… it’s kind of boring to watch, their levels are too low. But it is indeed quite a proud thing to put a bunch of Golden Cores to compete against Qi Refiners,” although his heart was far from calm, outwardly, the old man sneered, unwilling to give the boy a good expression.

And indeed, the grumpy grandpa hit a good point. In truth, the disciples were quite embarrassed, being Golden Core cultivators and Core-Tier artifact refiners, yet competing against Qi Refiners who hammered as if their lives depended on it.

They felt as if they were adults proudly doing the same test as a child who had barely learned addition and subtraction.

Even if they didn’t want to be arrogant, since the temperament of sect members was very good, their faces still flushed with some shame, feeling they were being far too cruel to those poor cultivators. It was simply too intimidating.

So they could only focus on defeating their own fellow disciples, leaving the rest of the participants as little more than a participatory audience.

“They’ve been cultivating for very little time, and it’s normal that their mastery of this art is so poor and low-level. As for the other participants, well, they’re mostly there to display a bit of talent for our scouts, so they can be analyzed and invited into the sect with greater priority and support when recruitment begins.”

“Besides, it’s excellent publicity to have the sect’s disciples crushing the competitors, which will make more people yearn to enter the sect,” Aotian shrugged and explained calmly, while his thoughtful gaze also fell upon the cultivators who came to participate.

There were some wearing robes of other sects, others wearing common, tattered garments of loose cultivators.

As the ruler of the entire continent and having taken control of all Golden Core sects there, the voice of the Infinite Dao Sect had essentially become synonymous with law. And as law, he decreed that any cultivator could leave their sect and join the Infinite Dao Sect without repercussions.

In fact, the power a cultivator left behind after joining the sect would receive certain benefits for having sent a talented disciple.

But unlike those emissary sects that were ruthless in their methods, Aotian set strict rules—banning extortion and forbidding anyone from forcing others to apply to the sect in pursuit of such benefits.

If it were discovered that a sect or family did that, forget the benefits— they would be lucky if their force and leaders weren’t exterminated afterwards.

Aotian had to rule with an iron fist on this matter; otherwise, cultivators, in their hunger for resources and higher realms, would be merciless. Killing the entire family of a talented person and forcing them to join a power while holding a hostage would be standard procedure for them.

Lost in thought as he watched the competition, his attention was suddenly drawn by a question from the old man.

“Why?”

The question was simple, yet strange.

Turning his gaze to Liu Taixuan, he saw a truly confused expression on the old man’s face, which Aotian couldn’t help but find odd.

“How so why? To have more disciples, to strengthen the sect, to polish talents. What other reason would there be to recruit disciples?” he spoke with a strange expression, for it was quite obvious.

“I know what recruiting disciples is for, foolish boy.” Liu Taixuan rolled his eyes at him. “What I’m asking is why do this now? What is the goal? Why hold such an event? Building cities, putting in so much effort for something as trivial as recruiting disciples? What is your sect intending with such a movement in these times?” the old man asked, genuinely perplexed.

This time, both Aotian and Rihai looked confused at the man, then exchanged glances, seeing doubt in each other’s eyes.

Rihai turned to her great-grandfather and asked with a bad premonition.

“Great-grandfather, what is happening?” she asked seriously.

Hearing the question, the old man was startled.

“Your father didn’t tell you?” he probed, and seeing her confused face, he already had his answer.

“Tell me what? Great-grandfather, what is happening?” she asked, her heart tightening.

Seeing that the couple truly seemed unaware, the old man hesitated. But thinking that perhaps it would be better to prepare them for what was to come—and that it was close—he decided to speak.

Maybe then they could better enjoy their last days.

“Makes sense… you were very young, and your father must have hesitated, waiting to tell you when you were older. Well, this may be hard to hear, but… this world is dying,” he spoke plainly, ripping the band-aid off at once.

Aotian and Rihai widened their eyes and looked at each other again.

A single thought passed through their minds at the same time.

‘The warning from the will of the world!’

“How long do we have left?” Aotian stood up, unable to remain calm.

As a reincarnator coming directly from Earth, the trope of the world ending was already cliché. He just didn’t expect to actually encounter it in the world he fell into, which made him want to curse and cry.

But now wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum. He had to better understand the situation and probably, like the protagonist in the stories, solve the problem.

The old man sighed, seeing Aotian act normally toward him for the first time, but unfortunately because of a sad topic.

“I don’t know. When I died two thousand years ago, no one could calculate it perfectly. But currently, it shouldn’t go beyond a thousand years at most… and at the minimum, perhaps around three hundred years, if nothing happens to accelerate it… but I fear it may be even shorter this time.”

Liu Taixuan shook his head at them, and a trace of melancholy passed through his eyes.

“Those bastards ambushed my grandson and forced him to swear upon his soul to obey them. Even if he forcibly broke the oath in the end, if they ordered him not to self-detonate, his own soul and energy would fight against him to prevent it.”

“Mainly considering the fact that he was sending my granddaughter through the rift—he wouldn’t self-detonate until the last minute to ensure her safety. But by then, it would already be too late to destroy his own body…”

“Thus, those cowards with 99% certainty are in possession of his corpse. And now they only need a Silent Cadaver Orchid to seize the Dao rhymes in my grandson’s roots.”

The old man explained with a sigh, but also with a powerful flame of rage in his chest, which he struggled to keep in check.

Aotian felt his heart race upon hearing that.

‘Could they have already obtained one? Is that why the will of the world is sending constant warnings?’

“Old man, what is the point of seizing Dao rhymes, and why would that accelerate the destruction of the world?” Aotian asked urgently, clenching his fists inside his sleeves.

But at this moment, the old man narrowed his eyes and shook his head at him.

He refused to speak, for doing so would expose his granddaughter to danger in a den of wolves whose motives he did not know.

It was already far too strange for a force like this to be unaware of such news.

Basically, in the central continent, every peak power knew about it. Even sects with many high-level Void Refiners eventually learned of the matter.

And a sect like the Infinite Dao Sect, which could assign two guards at the 7th level of Void Refinement to its young master, at the very least meant their peak power was even greater. Thus, they should know.

Yet there they were, creating competitions, cities, dominating the continent, and conducting large-scale recruitment—something completely nonsensical.

One must understand that in the last tens of thousands of years, the closer the world came to its end, the more desperate the mentality of peak cultivators became, and all of them began an insane pursuit of a higher realm.

Low-level cultivators were never informed, since a chaotic world wasn’t suitable for these rulers to cultivate and search for opportunities. They needed subordinates with goals, not hopeless people who might act crazily or simply do nothing at all.

But as the world approached its end and fewer than ten thousand years remained, for the first time… the Lingxi world likely entered the most “peaceful” period in its history.

High-level powers no longer caused destruction, nor were they interested in devouring territories or eliminating enemies.

All high-level cultivators simply began enjoying their last days, doing what they wanted, and although they never stopped seeking a method, many were already resigned to their fate.

The sects operated normally, recruited, planted herbs, explored the world… except that without the peak of the power pyramid having any goal, it was a neutral, gray, and dispirited administration.

Sometimes, certain events would reignite a bit of hope in these rulers, but each time that hope died, the despair grew.

Two thousand years ago, Liu Taixuan had already witnessed such a reality, and now, with only a few hundred years left, perhaps the only ones who regained their spirits were those who killed his grandson and saw a glimpse of salvation.

That’s why he could not trust the Infinite Dao Sect, for his great-granddaughter was still there, and in a desperate world, love, kindness, family… everything could be crushed for the sake of living even one more second.

If they truly didn’t know about the relationship between the Dao Rhyme and the Silent Cadaver Orchid…

…he would rather they die without ever knowing.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep