“Disciples, you may withdraw,” the old Daoist said.
All the disciples bowed and slowly filed out of the grand hall.
When the hall finally emptied, the old Daoist rose and stepped down from the platform.
Despite his frail frame, each step carried immense presence, an aura that commanded awe.
Even in his old age, his body held unfathomable power.
He studied Xu Zimo carefully.
He remembered Mirror Maiden once telling him that after the Middle Ages, the Nine Heavens were divided into the Old Calendar and the New Calendar periods.
The old man’s murky eyes stared off into the distance.
He fell silent for a long time, lost in thought, before continuing:
Xu Zimo froze completely.
In that instant, countless riddles tangled in his mind.
From what he knew, the previous Infernal Lord had perished in the last epoch.
When that epoch collapsed, a new universe, a new cycle of existence, was born.
Yet the demon race had not been fully annihilated.
Some were sealed within the Primordial Demon Caves; others, like Paimon, fell into deep slumber.
He handed Xu Zimo a scroll filled densely with names.
Xu Zimo glanced at it briefly.
Everything, the grand hall, the white jade floor, the entire Chaos Cloud Ravine, looked utterly real.
If this was illusion, it was so seamless that even he could not detect the difference.
The one who created it must have been unimaginably powerful.
As his voice faded, Xu Zimo noticed the world dissolving around him.
The Elder Lord Temple, the two Daoist disciples at the gate, the woodcutter at the mountain’s foot, all fading away bit by bit.
Even the old Daoist’s figure began to vanish.
A thought that had lingered for hundreds of millions of years, like a body sealed in a crystal coffin, once exposed to air, it decayed into nothingness.
When Xu Zimo’s vision cleared again, he found himself standing in the Chaos Cloud Ravine once more.
Behind him lay the Blackwater Lake.
Before him, no Daoist temple, no woodcutter, no Stairs to the Clouds.
Instead, there spread a vast valley of blooming flowers.
The valley was immense, oval-shaped, filled with endless blossoms.
Rare and sacred plants grew everywhere. Spiritflesh Ganoderma, Nether-Dragon Branch, Nirvana Void Grass, Dustless Flower…
Even extinct or legendary herbs were abundant.
Nine-Tailed Dragon Sunflower, Ancient Deep Sweetgrass, Dragonheart Nineleaf Herb, Demonblood Nectar Fruit, Ascension Grass, Seven-Colored Moon Orchid…
Their fragrance spread for miles, filling the air with intoxicating scent.
It was like stepping into a paradise untouched by the mortal world.
Xu Zimo stared blankly at the sight before him.
If not for the paper still in his hand, covered with countless names, he might have thought the earlier scene was a dream.
He quietly tucked the paper away.
The flowers of the valley were in full bloom, radiant and vivid.
Xu Zimo walked deeper into the valley, which stretched vast and wide.
As he entered, he saw what lay within.
A city of flowers.
Blossoms grew everywhere, and houses rose from the earth, woven from vines and petals.
Thorns and blooms entwined around every corner.
People lived here, primitive-looking, dressed in simple garments and wearing flower crowns.
As Xu Zimo stepped in, a crowd surrounded him, singing strange, lilting songs he couldn’t understand.
They danced joyfully, showering him with petals.
After a short while, the crowd parted.
An elderly woman emerged, bowing respectfully before him.
Her voice was old and gentle.