Chapter Twenty-Two: The Purple Aura Arrives from the East!

At this moment.

Under the influence of Zhao Xiaobai’s aura of the Heavenly Dao, Wang Ran, who had unexpectedly entered a state of unified mind and spirit, was embarking on his very first experience of enlightenment.

He had participated in previous ceremonies for enlightenment, but each time he left empty-handed, never managing to enter that elusive state. His fate, it seemed, had not yet ripened.

Yet today, just as he was preparing to go through the motions, intending to settle for learning the Seven-Star Dao Technique, he was caught off guard by Zhao Xiaobai’s murderous intent and, quite unexpectedly, slipped into the state of enlightenment!

In other words, Wang Ran was about to forge a Dao technique that belonged to him alone—a life-bound Dao Art!

Outside the stone wall, the disciples looked on, whispering among themselves, while the youngest junior sister clasped her hands in anxiety, worry written all over her face.

The Seven-Star Dao Technique he had previously attained was already more than admirable, so his decision to abandon it made everyone think him absurd. After all, not everyone could be like Zhao Xiaobai, who, even after starting anew, still found room to advance. The opportunity to attain a Seven-Star Dao Technique was rare and precious.

Perhaps next time, not even the chance for a Seven-Star technique would present itself. Thus, most would be overjoyed to realize a Seven-Star Dao Technique, never daring to let it go lightly.

That Zhao Xiaobai could do so was one thing, but for Wang Ran, who had failed at enlightenment several times before, to make the same choice was astonishing.

Some called him reckless, others arrogant beyond measure.

Even Ye Cang sneered, convinced that Wang Ran would fare no better this time than before, and that to forsake a Seven-Star Dao Technique was nothing short of foolishness.

Among them, only Zhao Xiaobai remained calm; he knew Wang Ran well and trusted that he would never act without certainty.

On the surface, Wang Ran seemed unreliable, but in truth, he was meticulous, sharp as a demon in wit, always able to spot details others missed. He was composed in adversity, rarely swayed by emotion.

It was precisely this quality that Zhao Xiaobai so admired. He held fast to the belief that every person has his fate—heaven-ordained.

Some are born kings, with destinies unmatched.

Others are fated to languish in mediocrity.

While others overlooked Wang Ran’s brilliance, Zhao Xiaobai saw it clearly.

He was, without a doubt, the former.

Such born rulers are rare in the world, true paragons of genius.

Curiously, during this same era, two such figures had appeared in the Sole-Myself Sect.

One was Ye Cang. The other, Wang Ran.

The former needed no elaboration: blessed with a millennial sacred body, his enlightenment summoned purple clouds across the sky, and his nine-star foundation shook all of Yun Province. Whether in innate talent or comprehension, he was counted among the very greatest.

Wang Ran, though less gifted in raw talent, possessed a steady mind, a strategist’s acumen, and an air of the hero about him. Even in mere mortal flesh, the makings of a conqueror shone through—his future was limitless.

Though Zhao Xiaobai had chosen the latter of the two, he had faith in his own judgment.

Now, Zhao Xiaobai gazed at the silent high platform, his eyes burning with anticipation.

“Brother Wang, let me see the extent of your potential.”

...

Inside the stone wall.

Wang Ran’s consciousness seemed to sink into a boundless chaos, not a single glimmer of light to be found.

He forced his eyes open.

Darkness!

A darkness as ancient and eternal as the void!

His awareness grew hazy, adrift in the endless black, time slipping by unnoticed, as though he might be forever imprisoned here, never to escape.

Suddenly, within this darkness, faint glimmers began to appear.

Wang Ran strained to see—they were books, endless, innumerable books.

Judging by their titles, each was a Dao technique, from one-star to nine-star, all present.

“Is this… inside the system?”

A tremor ran through Wang Ran’s soul as his mind snapped back into focus.

He realized that this dark space was in fact the state of unified mind and spirit entered during enlightenment. Others, too, sought enlightenment here.

But unlike ordinary people, his space was replete with a staggering abundance of Dao techniques!

He guessed this must be from the system. Somehow, he had entered its inner sanctum.

Dao techniques—countless Dao techniques!

What others yearned for in dreams now lay spread before his eyes in overwhelming profusion.

Wang Ran instinctively opened one book and began to read in detail. After an unknown span, he gently laid it down and picked up the next.

So it went, again and again, volume after volume.

Here, time lost all meaning—perhaps a year, perhaps a decade.

When finally he had finished them all, his hair was white as snow, his face marked by the years.

Turning around, he saw that all the Dao techniques had vanished without a trace.

He tried to recall, only to find nothing remained—everything felt flat and tasteless, as if he had chewed wax.

And yet, it seemed as if he remembered everything, but could not put it into words.

He closed his eyes, quietly savoring the experience.

The three thousand worlds, the endless Dao techniques—woven together, each compensating for the other’s flaws. In this moment, they ignited an unimaginable spark.

Wang Ran had comprehended!

He snapped his eyes open. Golden light shot forth; the wrinkles on his face vanished, his hair darkened, and he regained his youthful form.

The gold radiance was so intense it pierced the endless darkness, lifting Wang Ran ever higher, higher!

All at once, dazzling brightness filled his sight. Looking around, he found himself standing atop the clouds, on the very peak of the sky.

And before him stood an immense golden gate, towering and without equal.

There are four steps to enlightenment: drawing in the Heavenly Qi, sensing opportunity, opening the Spirit Gate, and forging the Dao foundation!

Now, Wang Ran had reached the final threshold—opening the Spirit Gate!

...

In truth, his physical body remained within the Sole-Myself Sect; the figure atop the sky was his soul.

Now, as long as he broke open the Spirit Gate, he could immediately establish his foundation!

Everyone must pass through this step—even the lowest outer disciple, though their one-star foundation’s Spirit Gate might reach only half a meter in height.

But Wang Ran’s Spirit Gate was limitless, stretching beyond sight. Not even Zhao Xiaobai or Ye Cang had ever possessed such a formidable Spirit Gate!

This was—a ten-star foundation!

Wang Ran understood well: by fusing all the Dao techniques of the myriad realms, the life-bound technique he had formed defied the very will of heaven, making his Spirit Gate unparalleled through all ages.

Yet his heart held not the slightest fear.

For this was his Dao!

...

Meanwhile, outside.

The disciples of the Sole-Myself Sect had been waiting seven full hours.

Some were growing impatient; Ye Cang’s face was expressionless, Tony Mu had fallen asleep, Zhao Xiaobai sat leisurely sipping tea.

Master Feng Yazi, being highly cultivated, remained patient enough; as for the youngest junior sister, she’d resorted to lying on the ground, boredly counting ants.

“What’s taking Wang Ran so long?”

“They say enlightenment takes time, but isn’t this a bit much?”

“Indeed, it’s been almost two days. Will he ever finish?”

“I’ll wait one more hour. If nothing happens, I’m leaving.”

Complaints began to spread, but recalling how Wang Ran had previously summoned a seven-star azure aura, all were curious to see how many stars he might achieve this time.

For cultivators, a hundred years are but the blink of an eye—a few hours’ wait was nothing.

Just as conversation drifted among the crowd, the sea of clouds above suddenly began to roil. Wisps of azure energy seeped forth, growing denser and stronger, until they surged like ocean waves, cold and furious, their momentum shaking the heavens.

Every disciple stared upward in shock; Zhao Xiaobai set down his teacup, eyes growing solemn, Ye Cang’s pupils constricted, Feng Yazi sprang to his feet, and the youngest junior sister looked up in wonder.

The force of this azure aura swept away all that had come before; eyes widened in disbelief.

“Heavens, how can there be so much azure energy?”

“It’s nearly on par with Zhao Xiaobai! Could he be about to form an eight-star foundation?”

“This is terrifying!”

But as they spoke, yet another change occurred in the sky. What happened next would remain etched in their memories forever—their expressions were now those of utter terror.

For the first time, Ye Cang lost his composure and leapt to his feet. Zhao Xiaobai’s folding fan fell from his hand with a snap. Yao Jianjia’s eyes gleamed with astonishment. Even Feng Yazi’s breath quickened.

For they saw, at the farthest edge of the sky, following the surge of azure energy, a boundless tide of purple energy was thundering forward, vast beyond measure, accompanied by the power of lightning!