Due to Wei Li's blind trust and favoritism, his stance was no longer neutral. Consequently, those who desired a "fair" competition were forced to retreat in disappointment. He also ordered the entire sect to keep the matter of the "immortal artifact" and Liu Jiang Fusheng's bonding a secret, claiming that the previous night's anomaly was merely the maturation of a thousand-year treasure.
While a thousand-year treasure was rare, it was nothing compared to an "immortal artifact."
Unexpectedly, Daoist Zhi Yang found the sect leader to be surprisingly reliable this time, showing none of his usual habit of resolving issues with temper tantrums. It seemed he truly held his disciple, Fusheng, in high regard and had placed deep expectations on him.
This offered a slight reprieve to his previously heavy heart. He understood that with his own capabilities, it would be difficult to protect the conspicuous Fusheng. However, with the sect leader's protection, things would be different.
The others were not foolish; they understood the sect leader's attitude. Some overt greed and predatory intentions were suppressed, destined to be pursued in secret.
Rumble!
A sky-splitting roar echoed from the east. Wei Li's hair, from tail to scalp, stood on end. He turned his head in surprise, only to see purple lightning writhing within the clouds above Mount Wumei.
A lightning tribulation?
How could there be another lightning tribulation?
Those in the hall who were still unwilling moments ago were now both astonished and delighted. They transformed into ravenous wolves, their emerald eyes fixed on the sky.
Last time, it was the emergence of an "immortal artifact" from Mount Jiutun. This time, it was on Daoist Zhi Yang's mountain. What had caused this lightning tribulation?
Could it be another "immortal artifact," or had some rare treasure erupted from the spiritual land?
Although they knew that other immortal cultivation sects would mock them for being brain-dead from cultivation, recent events had continuously shattered their perceptions and challenged their worldviews. Therefore, even if the legendary "Netherworld," which had disappeared for millennia, were to reappear, they would likely accept it with their jaws dropped.
"Go and see!"
Several streaks of brilliant light descended upon Mount Wumei. Daoist Zhi Yang had a premonition. He rushed to the front of the dwelling where Liu Jiang Fusheng was in seclusion, only to see that the area directly above it was the epicenter of flashing lightning and rolling thunder. He gasped.
The others also followed, arriving to see the main hall doors wide open, and a figure stepping out.
It was none other than Liu Jiang Fusheng. He faced the sky directly, his blue and white disciple robes fluttering in the wind. His dark, soft, fine black hair cascaded down his fair neck. Behind him, a spiritualized Frosty Immortal Sword, ten zhang wide, floated in the air. The wind churned the airflow, and it drew down the purple lightning.
A dazzling white light burned away all the turbid mist. Ethereal clouds coiled in the sky, and spiritual energy rained down like light. Beams of light transformed into pure white energy, infusing into Liu Jiang Fusheng's body.
He felt the emptiness within him being slowly filled, and the memories that had been suppressed seemed to loosen momentarily. Several scenes flashed rapidly through his mind.
A heartwarming scene of a woman laughing and kissing a child…
A scene of a stern man whipping a crying child with doctrines, then tenderly applying medicine and coaxing him…
A scene of a young girl and a boy playing and chasing each other…
Scene after scene, chaotic and brief, without continuity, fleeting, yet warm and comforting.
Were these fragments of his past memories?
Before he could savor them further or ponder them deeply, the scene suddenly changed—
The sky was dim, and cold rain fell. Mist and dampness obscured imposing, towering buildings, while crimson continuously spread across the ground.
A youth in a pitch-black robe carried a bloody, headless corpse. He walked alone on a dark path, his steps faltering and unsteady, like a drunkard's. His slender shadow trailed behind him, like a venomous snake spitting its tongue in the darkness.
Then… he tilted his head up, and a smiling face turned towards him—
Liu Jiang Fusheng's pupils constricted abruptly. All the memory fragments shattered and exploded instantly.
The surging spiritual energy poured entirely into his Heaven Spiritual Root, and a flawless, white lotus of pure glass bloomed.
Foundation establishment was complete.