Qing Xuan Daoist's words were law. Two streams of Underworld energy merged into their bodies, their yin and yang conjoining to exist in a state between life and death.
Although Black and White Impermanence were currently only minor Golden Immortals, their future would not be confined to the Golden Immortal realm.
Qing Ling would not overtly leave any openings, but Qing Xuan Daoist would consider his true form's interests.
Even if he were to cede the position of Lord of the Earthly Dao in the future, he would not sever his connection with it.
Across the Primordial World, influenced by the shifting celestial currents, many Great Divine Abilities that would later be renowned had quietly emerged. However, they all remained hidden, afraid to reveal themselves.
For the pervasive miasma of tribulation had nothing to do with them. To venture out and inadvertently become entangled in it, dragged into the great tribulation, would be a terrible misfortune.
In the Western lands, hidden within a secret realm atop a snow-capped mountain near the north, a youth rose from a coffin. His expression was stiff, and after a long pause, he murmured, "So, from birth, my final resting place was already prepared."
He looked at a lamp standing before the ancient coffin, its wick burning with a gray flame that never extinguished. Beside the lamp stood a tombstone devoid of any inscription.
The youth then looked around, muttering to himself, "I am, in a sense, a congenital deity, yet I emerge from a living person's tomb. My life and death are intertwined as one. I only hope that my cultivation does not end in a grand dream, all for naught."
As the words fell, the youth rose, stepped out of the ancient coffin, and with a beckoning gesture, the spiritual lamp in his hand transformed into the Spirit Coffin Palace Lantern, while the tombstone was pulled from the ground and became a ruler in his hand, named Qian Kun.
The youth looked at the lamp and said, "You have guarded me since my conception, burning ceaselessly for countless eons, allowing me to take form. From this day forth, my name is Ran Deng."
In the Southern Wilderness, amidst a vast marsh shrouded in mist, a divine beast ascended on clouds, transforming into a divine being clad in white. Gazing at the ethereal mist, like a dream, he mused, "The Great Marsh is filled with mist, a place of illusions and confusion. My name is Bai Ze."
Northeast of Mount Buzhou, within the Ancestral Witch Hall, seven supreme Ancestral Witches were gestated from a blood pool of the heart.
Di Jiang roared with laughter, "My dear sisters, your elder brother has finally waited for you! From this day forward, we have eleven Ancestral Witches, only awaiting the last, whether it be a younger brother or sister."
The six witches all smiled and said, "We greet you, elder brother."
Zhu Rong and Gong Gong, known for their fiery tempers, vied to be the second eldest among them.
Ju Mang chuckled, "These two, one water and one fire, are always bickering. I shall not participate. I will be your fourth brother."
Among the seven newly born Ancestral Witches, a gentle woman smiled and said, "Houtu greets her four elder brothers."
Hearing Houtu's address, Zhu Rong and Gong Gong felt embarrassed to continue their argument and quickly replied, "Fifth sister, you are too kind."
A burly man in black, with a gruff voice, declared, "Brothers and sisters, I am Shebi She. My body is filled with death energy. I hope you do not find me disagreeable."
Beside him, a tattooed middle-aged man heartily slapped his shoulder and laughed, "Whoever dares to find you disagreeable, I, Tian Wu, will tear them to shreds first."
Behind them, two identical youths said in unison, "We are one family, just like Xi Zi and Qiang Liang. No one will be separated from another!"
A playful young girl giggled, "Seventh brother, Xuan Ming likes people as straightforward as you."
The last youth with golden eyes weakly raised his hand and said, "Ru Shou does too!"
Laughter filled the Ancestral Witch Hall, a scene of great festivity.
The great sun in the west was setting, painting the sky with fiery clouds.
As the wind blew and the clouds dispersed, a red-clothed youth stood amidst the nine heavens' fiery glow. He blinked open his drowsy eyes, his face filled with curiosity as he gazed at the world around him.
In the mountains below him, a brush-wielding youth beneath a tree looked up, surprised. He then reopened his book, intending to write.
But a voice suddenly reached his ears, "What are you doing?"
The youth coughed unnaturally, his hand concealing the book. He turned to face the curious red-clothed youth and asked, "Nothing. Who are you? And why have you trespassed into my dwelling?"
The red-clothed youth smiled playfully, "My name is Hong Yun. I took form from innate cloud energy. Seeing only you nearby, I came to take a look. And you, what is your name?"
The youth frowned, "How did you pass through my protective array?"
The red-clothed youth laughed, "I am naturally cloud, where can I not go? You still haven't answered my question, what is your name?"
The youth was astonished for a moment, then realized and casually replied, "Zhen Yuanzi."
"Zhen Yuanzi? A good name, it sounds profound and unfathomable," Hong Yun chattered incessantly. "Are you alone? Don't you find it boring to stay in this courtyard every day?"
Zhen Yuanzi: "..."
"Hey! What are those things on your tree? How do they look so good? Are they fruits? Or perhaps innate spiritual roots! Can you give me one to taste?" Hong Yun eyed the fruits on the tree with a gluttonous gaze.
"No," Zhen Yuanzi said coldly.
"Why not? There are thirty of them here. How about giving me one to taste? I'll show you the winds and clouds of the world, the most beautiful scenery beneath the heavens. What do you say?"
"Not interested," Zhen Yuanzi turned away and said, "Please leave, esteemed guest."
"Ah? Why should I leave? Can't I stay here?" Hong Yun asked with confusion.
"No, because this is my dwelling."
"Then why is it your dwelling? It can be my dwelling too, couldn't it..."
On Mount Sumeru in the west, beside the Eight Treasures Pond, the Bodhi tree spoke to the white lotus for the ten-thousandth time, "I wish to take form."
The white lotus petals stirred slightly, and it replied, "No, wait a bit longer."
Upon hearing this, all the leaves on the Bodhi tree drooped powerlessly.
In various hidden places across heaven and earth, innate deities were born.
They were the last two batches of innate deities in this world.
Another batch would be born after this great tribulation, and after them, no more innate beings would emerge.
Qing Ling paid them no mind and had no way to perceive them. He was solely immersed in his own cultivation.
Without heaven, without earth, without self, only the process of spiritual energy transforming into auspicious clouds, only the exploration of the Dao's principles of wood.
A thousand or ten thousand years were brief and insignificant to the Primordial World, yet within them, countless beings were born and died, and countless destinies were entangled.
The Western demonic path raged with slaughter, the three tribes of the continent waged wars across various regions, and the conflicts and killings between races intensified. Great beings began to make their plans, and those who planned became pawns in even larger schemes.
This was the most prosperous era of the Primordial World, a time of abundant Great Divine Abilities, countless ancestors, fierce battles among chaotic demons, lingering visitors from beyond the heavens, omnipresent innate deities, and a myriad of Great Divine Abilities.
The various major races that had already gained foresight had begun to lay down various contingency plans for the survival of their clans.
Xishan was no different.
Granny Hua Geng had Qing Ling devise a plan against Ke.
Qing Ling suppressed Ke, completely unharmed, within the Luo Sheng Flower, which was planted beneath the Jian Mu.
Should misfortune truly befall them in the future, Ke would be the continuation of the Xishan Snake Clan.
Qing Ling sealed Ke. She would not appear in the Primordial World for a long time, and thus would not be drawn into the tribulation.
Even if Qing Ling were gone, there would still be Ke, a quasi-Great Luo, remaining.
Granny Hua Geng had prepared for any negative outcome, both expected and unexpected.
This was the lesson learned from the demise of countless tribes, the experience gained with the flesh and blood of their ancestors.