The Three Teachings cemetery stood in solemn silence. The eight Great Dao mantras, "Here the Dao is buried; here the Dao is born," weighed as heavy as lead, as if freezing the very spiritual energy remaining in the Primordial World. In the center of the cemetery, the seedling of the Qingping Sword, untouched by the slaughter, stubbornly unfurled its emerald leaves amidst the ashes of extinction. Shimmering with azure light, it remained the only spark of life in this desolate, silent world. Perched upon the Lotus Platform, Luohou’s youthfully handsome face was as grim as ten thousand years of ice. Between his fingertips, the Finger Bone of the Genesis Primordial Spirit flickered with a ghostly light; the aura of destruction, like a volcano on the verge of eruption, was locked firmly onto the seedling. The Gate of Guixu remained deathly still, and the auditory hallucination of Pangu creating the world had long since dissipated.
On the edge of the canyon island, Yang Jian knelt on one knee. In his arms, the black-clad youth transformed from the Xiaotian Hound clung to a life force so faint it was nearly extinguished, his remaining primordial spirit flickering like a candle in the wind, on the verge of total collapse. Yang Jian’s dim Heavenly Eye reflected the sprout of new green in the center of the cemetery, then dropped to look at his companion, who hung by a thread between life and death. Cold despair and a sliver of fragile hope, born from that seedling, tore frantically at…
Chapter 453