Immortal music echoed, Dao sounds resounded, auspicious clouds billowed, and divine phenomena unfolded in all directions.
“Did I have such a grand spectacle when I first took human form?” Yuan Yi wondered, watching the three clouds in the midst of their transformation. He recalled vaguely that his own emergence had been accompanied by purple qi flowing for three thousand miles, the omens overwhelmingly vibrant—so purple they were nearly black, just like how ancient novels described the birth of a great demon…
Even Yuan Yi had once thought he was born to be the ultimate villain, destined for a fearsome fate.
But now he knew he had been misled by appearances. He was clearly a good guy at heart! As an innate being, one’s form reflected their heart. Apart from the baleful aura clinging to him, his appearance was flawless—so charming that even female dragons wanted to abduct him.
Wine, women, gambling, and smoke… fraud, trickery, and theft—he only indulged in food and drink. That should still qualify him as a model youth, shouldn’t it?
Even with his ominous aura, Yuan Yi believed he was still a good flood dragon. Surely fate wouldn’t leave him with only one path to destruction. He consoled himself with this thought.
Besides, he mostly ate vegetarian food now. How could a vegetarian dragon be evil? Taking another crunchy bite of a spirit fruit in his hand—delicious—his golden eyes narrowed in contentment.
The spectacle accompanying the transformation didn’t last long. If the disturbance had been too grand, even Yuan Yi wouldn’t have been able to conceal their presence, and it could have drawn unwanted trouble.
Moreover, the transformation of the Sanxiao (Three Xiao Sisters) was distinctly different from Yuan Yi’s. They had chosen to completely transform into innate Dao bodies—in other words, human forms.
Yuan Yi, however, while reshaping his own Dao body, had preserved his original form as a Yin-Yang Flood Dragon. After all, his innate body was already powerful in its own right—unlike these three, who only made one wonder how they might taste…
As the mist rolled, vague figures flickered within, their auras shifting subtly.
When the mist finally dispersed, three figures appeared in its place—the clouds were gone.
Yuan Yi’s eyes brightened for a moment, then he silently cursed the infernal aura that clouded his mind—it was influencing his thoughts. How could he be thinking that these three looked good enough to eat… in every sense?
As innate beings, born of pure essence, they were naturally not going to be ugly upon taking human form.
Their appearances were exquisite, that much was obvious. Especially with the three standing side by side—their similarities only highlighted their individual beauty.
No wonder so many flocked to the Jie Sect as disciples. With the Three Xiao Sisters having such looks and bearing, others in their league likely didn’t fall far behind. Four in the inner sect, four in the outer sect—six female disciples in total. Who wouldn’t want to join?
Though they shared similar features and figures, their temperaments were distinctly different—making it easy to tell them apart at a glance.
Yunxiao, in white robes, had eyebrows like poetry and eyes like paintings—graceful and gentle, with a dignified and poised aura. Her presence seemed soft, but carried an unmistakable edge of quiet strength.
Like water—capable of nourishing all things silently, yet able to level mountains and destroy cities when roused.
Qiongxiao, the second sister in yellow, had a sharper aura than Yunxiao. Unlike her elder sister, who looked approachable but wasn’t necessarily easy to deal with, Qiongxiao looked difficult from the outset—and probably was.
Bixiao, the youngest, dressed in green, had large, sparkling eyes that darted around energetically, giving off a sense of purity and cleverness.
Perhaps because she had been the one chattering nonstop earlier, even as a green cloud she was restless—always drifting around like she had hyperactivity. As a result, Yuan Yi had developed a soft spot for her, convinced those bright eyes held a kind of innocent wisdom.
At that moment, the little one was touching her face, glancing at her two older sisters, then back at herself—maybe trying to spot the differences or similarities.
“Congratulations to the three Dao friends on successfully taking human form. From now on, your paths on the Great Dao will be ever broader,” Yuan Yi stood up and offered his heartfelt congratulations.
Across from him, the three sisters exchanged glances. Yunxiao stepped forward with a gentle smile and offered a deep bow.
“Thank you, Dao Brother, for protecting us during our transformation. We, the Sanxiao Sisters, will always remember your kindness.”
Behind her, Qiongxiao and Bixiao followed suit, bowing with solemn expressions.
Gratitude and repaying kindness—it truly was a virtue. Since they said they’d remember it, Yuan Yi decided to take it seriously. He smiled and nodded in return.
That was exactly what he wanted—the Three Xiao Sisters to remember his favor, so they could lead him to the future sage, Tongtian, and help him gain status and learn the Great Dao. It also meant more security, and if things went south, maybe they could even beg for mercy on his behalf.
After all, the favor he had shown was genuine. Even if it was with the intention of earning gratitude in return, the act of kindness came first—Yuan Yi felt no guilt about it.
This wasn’t some sort of underhanded scheme. Yuan Yi wasn’t good at those, nor did he dare to play tricks when it involved matters connected to a future Saint.
At this stage, building a good relationship with the Three Xiao Sisters was nothing but beneficial to him.
As for the future? He’d cross that bridge when he got to it.
In the Investiture of the Gods, the three sisters didn’t meet a good end, but that was only because they got dragged into disaster due to Zhao Gongming.
Right now, they hadn’t even met Zhao Gongming, let alone acknowledged him as their elder brother. Perhaps their fate would be different because of this—but that wasn’t something Yuan Yi needed to worry about.
“Let’s not talk too much right now. We should leave this place quickly. If anyone tracks us down from the disturbance earlier, it’ll only cause unnecessary trouble.”
The Three Xiao Sisters had no objections to this. They immediately set off again, continuing to flee westward across the vast wilderness of the prehistoric world.
With weak strength and no backing, living in the Honghuang (Great Desolation) meant living in constant fear—always preparing to run or in the middle of running. It was a miserable existence.
Yuan Yi couldn’t help but sigh. This Honghuang was a tough place to survive in. There were just too many powerful beings towering above him. That constant sense of being powerless—it was deeply frustrating.
But he understood: there were some things he couldn’t avoid just by hiding.
Isn’t the whole point of living… to keep living? At least he still had something to look forward to in the future.
Yuan Yi couldn’t bring himself to lie flat and be a salted fish (slang for someone giving up on ambition). In fact, he often had thoughts like a gambler, wanting to go all-in for one big bet—probably a side effect of his baleful aura. In his past life, maybe… possibly… he wasn’t a gambler. Probably.
More than ten thousand years passed before they finally saw the coastline of the Honghuang mainland. The day they would step ashore was now in sight.
Just the thought that it had taken nearly twenty thousand years just to walk across the Eastern Sea made Yuan Yi feel complicated.
The Honghuang was simply too vast—utterly inconvenient.
Another thing—time here was basically worthless.
He didn’t even know how long it would take to reach Kunlun Mountain from here. One yuanhui (about 129,600 years)? Or ten yuanhui?
At this point, Yuan Yi wasn’t even sure he’d make it there at all.
Throughout the journey, Yuan Yi simply followed behind. He wasn’t the one deciding the route.
That was because he firmly believed the Three Xiao Sisters had a much higher chance of “accidentally” running into Tongtian (the future Saint) than he did. He was just tagging along to share in their fortune. If it were left to him, he might end up leading them astray—and wandering for ten more yuanhui.
Speaking of fortune, Yuan Yi had come to one conclusion: it wasn’t that he lacked good fortune and therefore couldn’t find spirit treasures or roots—it was that the Honghuang was just plain broke right now.
There were no innate spiritual treasures or roots lying around for anyone to pick up.
Maybe, after the Three Tribes and the ancient gods had looted everything, there simply wasn’t anything left for the likes of them.
His generation of innate beings had been born with decent timing—not too late, not too flawed—but also not early or outstanding enough to claim any real spoils. They could only hope that some elder powerhouse would eventually drop some “gold coins” from their fingers, letting some scraps fall through the cracks.
That said, Yuan Yi was relatively lucky—he was born with a trace of baleful Yin-Yang qi, which he had refined into a powerful magical combat ability.
In a fight where the cultivation levels were equal, the Three Xiao Sisters would not be his match.
But the slow pace of cultivation advancement was still frustrating. He had no idea what the best path for cultivation was. He could still accumulate magic power—just at an agonizingly slow rate.
When it came to comprehending the Great Dao, Yuan Yi was reminded of the moment he first flipped open a higher mathematics textbook—he could see the words, but he couldn’t understand a thing.
The Dao does not deceive. If you genuinely don’t get it, you just won’t. Self-study efficiency was abysmally low—so low it was maddening.
Yuan Yi even began to suspect that his cultivation realm had completely stagnated, without the slightest progress.
Of course, while his cultivation hadn’t increased much, his actual strength had improved—because his understanding and application of his current level had become far more refined.
He toyed idly with the strands of innate Yin-Yang energy swirling around his fingertips, staring blankly up at the sky.
Qiongxiao and Bixiao were sitting at a distance. Bixiao, as usual, was chattering away, pulling Qiongxiao into a conversation about who-knows-what.
After spending so much time together on the road, the three had become quite familiar with each other—their bond was far from shallow.
But Yuan Yi always maintained a certain distance. He didn’t want to be driven by the impulse of his baleful aura.
As the saying went, dragons were naturally… well, that way. But Yuan Yi wasn’t a dragon—he was a jiao (flood dragon).
Then again, jiao weren’t exactly paragons of virtue either.
Still, Yuan Yi’s reason hadn’t yet collapsed. He wanted to maintain good relations with the Three Xiao Sisters, but deep down, he wasn’t keen on forming overly close bonds with anyone. Too troublesome. He was still young—he didn’t want to bury himself in the grave of jiao-life so soon.
The path of Yin and Yang was vast and profound. How could one obsess over just a single, narrow part?
Yuan Yi constantly suppressed the chaotic impulses surging from deep within his origin. It was a torment—both physical and mental—but also a kind of tempering.
He found that it made him feel stronger. The innate baleful qi within his origin was like another version of himself—constantly fighting with him, acting as a whetstone that sharpened his essence.
It wasn’t just his imagination. His Dao body and primordial spirit truly were growing stronger by the day.
“I have wrestled with myself for so long, and I am still myself.” It seemed he had found his own path.
Yuan Yi took out three spiritual fruits. He kept the biggest one for himself and tossed the other two toward the sisters.
They didn’t like fruit that much—giving them the biggest would just be wasteful. Frugality was a virtue.
“Yuan Yi, wanna trade?” Bixiao, wrapped in green robes, came bouncing over with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes.
Yuan Yi glanced at her from the corner of his eye, then took a big bite out of his fruit.
“Here, trade.”
Though these spirit fruits weren’t born from innate spiritual roots, they still contained pure spiritual energy from Heaven and Earth.
They didn’t do much for their cultivation, but the taste was truly excellent. Yuan Yi especially enjoyed them for that—satisfying his appetite and helping him suppress certain… negative urges.
Bixiao looked at the fruit in Yuan Yi’s hand—now bearing his teeth marks—and huffed, taking a dramatic bite from her own, cheeks puffed out as she mumbled:
“Fine, let’s trade.”
“……”
Yuan Yi turned his head away. Fairy, huh? More like a menace. Now the fruit had saliva on it. Who’d want to eat that? Gross!
“That was my fruit—I picked it! And Big Sis told me to give the biggest one to you. Yet every time, you give me the smallest!” Bixiao pouted, glaring at him as he pretended not to hear.
“You’re the smallest, so of course you get the smallest. Besides, you don’t even like them,” Yuan Yi replied without turning his head.
“Says who?”
“I say so. Besides, suffering a little is a blessing—it builds good karma. By the way, is Yunxiao back yet?”
After his nonsense response, Yuan Yi quickly changed the subject.
Of course, he knew Bixiao’s temperament—she was just bored and had come over to stir up trouble. This wasn’t about a fruit.
Yunxiao had gone ahead to scout the road and had been gone for some time.
Just as they were speaking, a streak of rainbow light split the sky.
As it approached, the light dispersed to reveal a gentle woman in white—Yunxiao had returned.
She also brought back a piece of news that piqued Yuan Yi’s interest: not far from them, a powerful being was currently expounding the Dao.
To be called a “powerful being” in this world likely meant an ancient, innate god—someone who had at least reached the Da Luo level.
Who could it be? Was it one of the legendary figures?
Regardless of whether it was the one he hoped for or not, there was no reason not to go. If he continued this slow path of self-study, those with similar talent would soon leave him far behind.
The Three Xiao Sisters were all of the same mind—they wanted to go listen. That sense of blindness and fear about the path ahead of the Dao was wearing on them all.
“Brother Yuan, what do you think?” Yunxiao turned to Yuan Yi, seeking his opinion.
“Excellent,” Yuan Yi responded solemnly, without hesitation.
It just sounded more refined—more in line with the image of a cultivator on the path of the Dao.
Too bad beauty lies in distance. When you’re too familiar with someone, those lofty words just come off as pretentious—especially when everyone knows Yuan Yi is as casual and irreverent as they come.
Sure enough, the youngest sister rolled her eyes and even mimicked him with a grin: “Excellent~”
Yuan Yi’s eye twitched. He wanted to hit someone. Yunxiao, can you please control your sister? She’s about to evolve into a shrimp with all this bouncing around.
Yunxiao gave Bixiao a glare but ultimately just shook her head.
What Yuan Yi didn’t realize was that in Yunxiao’s eyes, he was the restless one—and her sister had simply picked it up from him.
A few days later, the four of them arrived at the foot of a mountain.
At the mountain’s peak sat a Daoist, cross-legged and expounding the principles of the Great Dao. His words were mysterious and profound, wondrous beyond description.
Below the mountain, countless beings listened in rapture, completely immersed and unable to pull themselves away.
The sermon had already been going on for some time.
Yuan Yi glanced at Yunxiao. This woman was truly loyal—resisting the temptation to listen longer just to come back and bring them along.
If she had stayed and listened for a few more days, she might’ve saved herself tens of thousands of years of bitter cultivation. What a rare opportunity.
Yuan Yi looked across the crowd at the foot of the mountain, then turned his gaze to the Daoist sitting atop it.
Who could this person be?
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