The demonic generals were astonished, unsure of what kind of immortal they were facing. Their eyes narrowed, and in an instant, they transformed into two ferocious beasts—one spewing raging flames toward the villagers, the other charging straight at the old Taoist, its massive body like a mountain, its force like thunder.
The old Taoist waved his left hand, and a hundred-meter-high wall of ice shot up from the ground, colliding with the flames. The roar of the impact shook the valley. The heat burned the air, and cracks appeared on the surface of the ice wall, sending shards and smoke flying. The old Taoist stepped back slightly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his hand gestures flowing with the incantations, the runes around him flickering to protect the ice wall from complete destruction.
The beast lunging at him struck with the force of a landslide, its massive claws smashing through the air. The old Taoist let out a low shout, and stones from the ground leapt into the air, forming ten rune-engraved swords to counter the attack. Claws and swords collided midair, sending sparks and waves of light scattering. The recoil from the strikes forced the old Taoist to stagger, yet he maintained his stance, concentrating every ounce of power.
But the beasts were not easy prey. Their enormous bodies carried tremendous momentum, and each strike tested the limits of the old Taoist's control. The flame-spewing beast adjusted its trajectory constantly, forcing him to dodge and counter with precision. Cracks appeared in the ice wall, shards flying in all directions, yet the Taoist's hands never wavered, the runes on his swords spinning and striking with relentless accuracy.
The beasts pressed on, relentless and furious. Each strike shook the air and the ground, forcing the old Taoist backward. His sleeves were singed by flames, and each palm strike sent vibrations up his arms. His eyes were focused, his every movement a battle of calculation and power, as the ferocious creatures tried to overpower him.
Finally, after a flurry of strikes and magical counterattacks, the beasts began to falter. Their movements slowed, and their bodies bore deep gashes. The flames sputtered and died, and with a final motion, the old Taoist crushed the remaining resistance, reducing them to ashes.
Wuchensi crouched near the ashes outside the small temple, watching everything unfold. His small fists clenched tightly, his heart pounding, the flow of power brushing against his consciousness. Yet as fragments of memory flickered through his mind, a sharp pain pierced his head. A vague figure appeared in his recollection, and in an instant, Wuchensi collapsed into unconsciousness.
Amidst the ashes, the shattered village lay silent. Wuchensi remained unconscious, feeling no passage of time, only a throbbing pain in his head as if the very breath of the world were shaking. Ling Yunchuan knelt nearby, brow furrowed, his gaze steady and resolute, bearing the weight of his grief while contemplating the path ahead. Yuan Qingshan lowered his head, fingers gripping his clothes, his voice trembling: "Why… why did this happen? I… I don't understand…"
Nie YunZhuang broke the silence first, his eyes ablaze with fiery anger: "Why do you immortals always wait until disaster strikes to appear? If my parents had been protected earlier, they wouldn't have died! What are the gods in the heavens doing? Allowing the demon clan to slaughter the spiritual people—what kind of Heavenly Dao is this?!"
Every word he spoke cut through the air like a blade, filled with rage, grief, and defiance. Though Wuchensi was still unconscious, he could sense Nie YunZhuang's emotional surge—a fury and unwillingness that, in some inexplicable way, infused his young heart with strength.
Ling Yunchuan placed a steady hand on Nie YunZhuang's shoulder, his voice calm yet firm: "Calm yourself, YunZhuang… We have lost our parents, yes, but now what matters most is understanding why this happened. Only by seeing clearly can we find the right path forward." His unwavering gaze, like a mountain, slightly tempered Nie YunZhuang's anger, though the pain in his heart remained.
Yuan Qingshan timidly asked, "Since we were children, we've never seen the demon clan… Why are they attacking now? What is it about Daoyuan Mountain that makes them risk coming here?" His gentle voice betrayed a hint of fear and helplessness, revealing the confusion in his heart.
Ling Xu Daoist approached slowly, his expression serene and solemn, eyes fixed on the three children: "The demon clan covets something on Daoyuan Mountain. Their appearance was not beyond my expectations. As for your parents… I deeply regret not protecting them in time. Yet, since fate allowed you to survive, you still have the chance to cultivate, to protect yourselves, and to safeguard this land."
Nie YunZhuang bit his lip tightly, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes—anger not fully gone, grief deepened, yet in Ling Xu Daoist's words, a faint thread of comfort emerged. Ling Yunchuan nodded, and Yuan Qingshan quietly drew a breath, his inner confusion and fear gradually calming.
At this moment, Wuchensi slowly opened his eyes, the dim light reflecting in them, clear and curious. He tried to sit up, whispering, "Are you… all right?" Ling Yunchuan nodded gently, Yuan Qingshan offered a soft smile, and Nie YunZhuang remained silent for a moment, pain and helplessness flashing across his face.
Ling Yunchuan spoke softly: "Wuchensi, you woke up at just the right time. In the past few days, we have successfully become disciples. Ling Xu Daoist has agreed to accept us. You should also go and apprentice under him; he will teach you the basic mind techniques."
Wuchensi took tentative steps toward Ling Xu Daoist, palms slightly sweaty, eyes filled with both anticipation and nervousness. The Daoist stood in the center of the temple, his white hair frosted with age, long white eyebrows, and eyes deep and serene. He softly intoned the initial mind technique: "Diligent practice is the key to truly understanding its meaning."
Wuchensi listened intently, feeling subtle spiritual energy flowing into his body with each syllable. Every breath seemed to connect him with the world itself, his body and mind gradually merging with the current of spiritual power. Ling Yunchuan, Yuan Qingshan, and Nie YunZhuang also concentrated nearby, their hearts tense yet hopeful, drawing courage from each other through exchanged glances.
Ling Xu Daoist then looked at the four of them and said slowly, "I have other matters to attend to; in a few days, I will return to see you." With that, he lightly rose into the air, his robes fluttering in the wind, flying toward a distant immortal mountain, leaving behind the quiet temple and a warm glow.
Several days later, Ling Xu Daoist arrived at another celestial mountain, shrouded in mist. There, he encountered a figure of imposing presence and profound aura. Their eyes met, the atmosphere tense and heavy.
Ling Xu Daoist asked softly, "Have they been seen?"
The mysterious elder nodded slowly, expression unreadable: "Yes, they have."
Ling Xu Daoist murmured under his breath, "Tianlan… Cause and effect, the cycles of destiny… this calamity truly cannot be avoided…"
The clouds and mist seemed to freeze around them, the unresolved mysteries gradually unfolding, planting the seeds for the storms yet to come.