On the Sun Star, the flames danced with a rhythmic pulse, mirroring the trio of golden auras at its core.
Three thousand years of solar silence had finally borne fruit. Dijun and Taiyi had shattered their bottlenecks, stepping firmly into the Grand Unity Golden Immortal (Daluo) Realm.
Dijun, as the eldest, had expected to lead the pack. He was surprised to find Taiyi matching his stride, but he was utterly stunned by Ling Xiao. His third brother didn't just match them; he had surged ahead into the Middle Stage.
With the Chaos Pearl and the Jade Disc fragment, Ling Xiao's comprehension of the Laws of Yang and Fire was like a fish returning to the sea. He didn't just understand the heat; he commanded it.
"Third Brother," Dijun said one day, his golden armor shimmering as he paced restlessly. "We are Daluo masters now. The Honghuang is vast, and surely we've earned the right to see it? Even cultivation needs a breath of fresh air."
Taiyi nodded, his hand resting on the Chaos Bell. Since their transformation, the farthest they had traveled was the Moon. They were Star Gods, yet they felt like caged birds.
Ling Xiao looked at their eager faces and offered a helpless smile. "Eldest Brother, Second Brother... the world has changed. In the current Honghuang, a Daluo is merely the starting line for the truly powerful."
He knew the timeline. The guests from Zixiao Palace—the Three Pure Ones, Nuwa, and the rest—were returning. They weren't just Daluo; they were Daluo with a Saint's map. The gap was wider than his brothers realized.
"Is it truly that terrifying?" Taiyi asked, though he didn't doubt the 'foresight' Ling Xiao had consistently displayed.
"Terrifying or not, we can't hide forever," Dijun argued, his heroic spirit flaring. "We aren't looking for trouble, but we won't run from it either. Experience is the fastest way to grow!"
Ling Xiao hesitated. Dijun was right about one thing: the world was in a "vacuum period." The Zixiao guests were likely in seclusion, digesting their gains. It was a rare window of relative safety.
He was about to nod when the System's cold chime resonated.
[Choice Triggered: The Dawn of the Lich Era.]
[Option 1: Leave the Sun Star. Establish your reputation. Reward: A strand of Primordial Violet Qi.]
[Option 2: Stay steady. Continue to lie low. Reward: The Ling Xiao Treasure Hall.]
Ling Xiao sat back down as if he'd been struck. The Ling Xiao Treasure Hall?
He ignored the Violet Qi and dove into the description of the hall. It wasn't just a palace; it was an Acquired Exotic Treasure that grew with its master. It possessed a unique Domain—any intruder would find their realm suppressed, their flight stripped away, forced to walk like mortals before the master's throne.
"I'm staying," Ling Xiao said, his decision instant. "A treasure named after me? I can't pass that up."
"Third Brother? What happened?" Dijun asked, confused by the sudden shift in his brother's energy.
"Homesick already?" Taiyi teased, his sharp wit cutting through the solar heat. "Why not just refine the whole Sun Star and carry it in your pocket?"
"I've just had an epiphany," Ling Xiao lied smoothly, masking his excitement. "I need to enter secluded cultivation immediately to stabilize my insights. You two go ahead."
Dijun sighed, though he looked impressed. "Monstrous talent... very well. Stay home and cultivate. Taiyi and I will see what the world has to offer."
"Don't go too far," Ling Xiao warned, his expression grave. "Avoid the danger zones, and come back within a thousand years."
"Don't worry," Dijun laughed, already turning toward the horizon. "If we find anything good, we'll bring you back a souvenir!"
The Pangu Temple
While Ling Xiao stayed behind to refine the massive, misty silhouette of the Treasure Hall, a thousand years swept across the Great Desolation.
The Zixiao guests began to trickle back to their immortal caves. Among them was Houtu, the only Ancestral Witch who had attended. She returned to the Pangu Temple, the ancestral heart of the Witch Clan.
The Twelve Ancestral Witches gathered, their massive, rugged forms filling the hall with a suffocating pressure.
"So, little sister," Dijiang, the eldest, boomed with a hearty laugh. "What did the Saint teach you? Is he truly as great as the stories say?"
Houtu looked at her brothers—Dijiang, Zhu Rong, Gong Gong—all of them towering pillars of physical might. She sighed, her expression one of weary honesty.
"I gained... nothing."
The temple fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted into thunderous laughter.
"Haha! I told you!" Dijiang slapped his knee, the sound like a mountain collapsing. "We are the Orthodox Lineage of Pangu! Our Father God's legacy is written in our blood and bone. Why would we need the words of a stranger? Thousands of years wasted!"
Houtu didn't argue. She felt the same. The Dao of the Spirit was a foreign language to those born of the Earth's essence.
But as the laughter died down, the Witches began to look outward. The vacuum was ending. The world was filling with newly empowered gods, and the Witches were ready to claim their inheritance.