Chapter 22: The Patriarch of the Way

As soon as Hongjun finished speaking, the assembled masters of Zixiao Palace involuntarily turned their heads toward Tongtian. In fact, it wasn’t just the outsiders; even Tongtian’s two elder brothers, Laozi and Yuanshi, looked at him with slight surprise—more precisely, they gazed at the Immortal-Slaying Sword Formation in his hands.

According to the saints, this Immortal-Slaying Sword Formation could only be broken by the Four Sages. Does that mean that even if someone attains sainthood in a one-on-one duel in the future, they would be powerless against Tongtian?

Thinking this, Yuanshi felt a strange emotion welling up in his heart, but it was quickly replaced by joy. The Three Purities were family; how could he not be pleased that his brother possessed such a powerful formation?

Laozi also smiled faintly. When he acquired the Taiji Diagram, his expression remained neutral; now, seeing Tongtian’s smile upon receiving the Immortal-Slaying Formation, the bond among the Three Purities was evident.

Then Hongjun’s gaze shifted to Nuwa, seated on the fourth meditation cushion. He spoke slowly, “Nuwa, you bear great destiny and shall have a saintly seat. Are you willing to become my disciple, my final disciple?”

Upon hearing this, Nuwa was overjoyed and immediately accepted his mentorship.

Hongjun nodded approvingly and presented her with two treasures along with a wave of primordial purple energy. “These are the supreme innate spirit treasures—the Red Embroidered Ball and the Map of Mountains, Rivers, and Nations. One for offense, one for defense, with boundless utility. Moreover, the Red Embroidered Ball holds a hidden destiny; when the time is ripe, you will understand.”

Though Nuwa felt a tinge of disappointment that these were not innate supreme treasures, Hongjun’s words stirred her curiosity about the Red Embroidered Ball.

If a saint described it as a destiny, it must hold immense potential. Even without an innate supreme treasure, it was not a loss.

Besides, Nuwa’s nature was one of detachment from worldly contention, and with her brothers protecting her, she needed no supreme treasure. So she happily accepted the gifts.

While Nuwa rejoiced, those below were displeased.

The saint had just declared her as his final disciple—“final” meaning no more disciples would be accepted!

For those aspiring to sainthood, this was a thunderclap from a clear sky.

In fact, after accepting Nuwa, Hongjun fell silent.

The crowd below grew restless, but no one dared to speak. Only Jieyin and Zhunti, also seated on meditation mats, could no longer contain themselves. The others had all received saintly seats—why not them?

As Jieyin pondered how to voice his plea, Zhunti suddenly knelt, tears streaming as he cried out, “Saint, may I respectfully report: both my senior and I hail from the Western lands, which are barren and far less fertile than the Eastern lands. Even the living beings there are fewer. We humbly beseech you to have mercy on the West and grant us the opportunity for sainthood!”

Jieyin was momentarily stunned, then sighed inwardly and knelt alongside him.

Above, Hongjun’s indifferent gaze flickered with a complex emotion upon hearing the Western duo’s plea.

Seeing this, Bai Jing thought, “Jieyin and Zhunti’s supplication offers Hongjun the perfect chance to repay karmic debts. If he grants them sainthood, the karmic consequences of the Western lands’ destruction are resolved.”

The assembled masters below, unaware of Hongjun’s karmic debts, saw only the humiliation of Jieyin and Zhunti kneeling and weeping. Many showed disdain; even Houtu, typically kind-hearted, suppressed a smile.

Unexpectedly, the usually impassive Hongjun sighed and said with resignation, “Very well. Though you two possess neither great destiny nor great merit, you harbor a sincere desire to restore the West. Considering your hardships in cultivation, I shall accept you as registered disciples.”

Jieyin and Zhunti were overjoyed beyond measure. They had thought receiving a single saintly seat would suffice, yet Hongjun granted them two—and accepted them as registered disciples.

Being a registered disciple of a saint was still being a disciple. With this status and the bestowed primordial purple energy, no one in the vast wilds dared covet them. This effectively guaranteed their future sainthood.

Overcome with gratitude, they knelt and thanked Hongjun profusely.

The crowd below was stunned. Could this really work? Did the saint fall for this?

In truth, Hongjun did not wish to accept them, especially after witnessing their tearful pleas, which embarrassed him. His tone of resignation was genuine.

But because he had destroyed the Western lands through Luo Hou’s self-explosion during the clash between Dao and Demon, he owed karmic debts to the West. Without granting these two sainthood, he could not repay it.

Furthermore, since the Heavenly Dao decreed a saint would arise in the West, he could not defy it. Jieyin and Zhunti were the only powerful ones left in the West capable of assuming sainthood.

With this in mind, Hongjun shook his head and bestowed two waves of primordial purple energy, along with two treasures: the twelfth-grade merit golden lotus and the empowered divine pestle, for their protection.

Receiving these treasures, their faces lit with joy. Their sudden change of expression left the other masters dumbfounded.

Jieyin and Zhunti ignored the gazes from below. They were already content with the primordial purple energy and the supreme innate treasures. What did it matter if others looked at them twice?

Seeing the lofty masters on the meditation mats all granted saintly seats, the crowd below finally understood the significance of the cushions. Sitting on one meant receiving primordial purple energy and thus a saintly seat. Once seating was fixed, the saintly seats were fixed.

Realizing this, many powerful beings cast strange looks toward Kunpeng and Hongyun.

To Kunpeng, those looks were blatant mockery.

After all, others had either not sought to contest the cushions from the start or had failed to claim them. Only he and Hongyun had actually sat upon them.

Hongyun, the fool, had yielded his seat, while Kunpeng was forcibly removed.

This filled Kunpeng with the utmost resentment toward Hongyun and the Western duo.

“Saint, aside from your disciples, will none of us receive primordial purple energy?” Emperor Jun asked unwillingly.

Hongjun pondered for a moment before sighing, “Very well. I have seven waves of purple energy in my possession. Six have been granted to my disciples. This final wave I bestow as a token of gratitude to Zixiao Palace’s teachings. Those with affinity shall receive it.”

Emperor Jun was ecstatic. “Thank you, Saint, for your mercy.”

“The saint imparts the Way to the world, enlightens all beings, and is teacher to the great wilds, ancestor of myriad paths, hence called the Dao Ancestor!” As Emperor Jun finished speaking, a gaunt Daoist in the rear, with cultivation barely at the early Great Dao Golden Immortal stage, suddenly spoke up.

Hongjun’s eyes snapped open, fixing on the Daoist.