Chapter Twenty-seven: Hongjun Ascends to Sainthood

Since the end of the first great calamity of the Longhan era and his battle with the Demon Ancestor Luohu, Patriarch Hongjun sensed that the moment of attaining the Dao was drawing near. Three thousand years passed over Mount Yujing in the span of a heartbeat, leaving the mountain unchanged. Within their own abodes, the Supreme Elder and Primordial Heavenly Lord remained in seclusion, while a pair of golden boy and jade maiden attendants stepped out into the open.

“I really don’t understand what our two elder brothers are thinking—never leaving the house, always cultivating, just look at them and then look at you,” the jade maiden said to the golden boy.

“Isn’t it because I want to keep you company?” the golden boy replied, but his voice grew faint as the jade maiden raised her hand as if to strike him.

Suddenly, immortal radiance glimmered from the Patriarch’s cave-dwelling, beams of seven-colored light painting the sky. An awe-inspiring presence radiated forth, commanding reverence across the entire wilderness.

The Three Pure Ones strove with all their might to resist this overwhelming force, unwilling to submit, but their cultivation was far inferior. This was a pressure born not of magical power, but of sheer will and virtue; despite their resistance, the Three Pure Ones were compelled to bow to the ground.

The Twelve Ancestral Witches, Emperor Jun, Taiyi, and other mighty beings all paid obeisance as well.

“I, Hongjun the Patriarch, have attained the Dao. A thousand years hence, I shall teach in the Zixiao Palace beyond the heavens. All fated ones may come.” The ethereal voice faded swiftly into nothingness.

The prehistoric world erupted with speculation, none knowing the true identity of Patriarch Hongjun, and soon countless beings surged toward the outer heavens.

Tongtian, still on his way back to Kunlun Mountain, heard the proclamation of Dao-attainment. At once, he, the Supreme Elder, and the Primordial Heavenly Lord gathered their pure energies above to fend off the force, but failed.

Tongtian was puzzled—wasn’t there still five hundred years before the Dao was achieved? Why had it happened ahead of his calculation?

It turned out that Tongtian’s preaching in Kunlun had accelerated the progress of the Heavenly Dao, and as the Wheel of the Dao advanced, so too did its representative’s power—thanks entirely to Tongtian.

Tongtian slapped the black ox, and Daoist Duobao followed closely as they soared toward the outer heavens.

Beyond the world, in the realm where stars revolve, the outer heavens are swept by countless deadly gales; a single touch from these winds would reduce even a soul to ashes.

Tongtian understood the perils, but for the sake of his great cause and his own survival, he pressed on. The higher they climbed, the thinner the spiritual energy became, until the black ox and Daoist Duobao could endure no longer. Tongtian tucked them into his sleeve for protection.

In his previous life, seeing the Earth Immortal Zhenyuan in Journey to the West employ the mystical “universe within a sleeve” had left a deep impression, and to appear more like a true sage, Tongtian had mastered this art himself, though not to Zhenyuan’s fearsome degree.

The ninefold celestial gales roared forth. Tongtian strained to shield himself with his power, but as the Zixiao Palace drew within a few dozen paces, his strength began to falter. What now?

On Mount Yujing, Patriarch Hongjun emerged from his cave.

At the entrance, the Supreme Elder, Primordial Heavenly Lord, and the two attendants bowed deeply. “Congratulations, Master, on attaining the Dao and fulfilling your heart’s desire. May your years be unending.”

Hongjun’s gaze swept over them, his eyes full of the vicissitudes of ages. With a single gesture, he drew all four into his sleeve and flew toward the outer heavens to establish the Zixiao Palace.

He hovered above Buzhou Mountain, in the vast emptiness of the outer heavens, and smiled knowingly. Whether in terms of fortune or the spiritual essence of the mountains and rivers, this was the perfect place to teach the Way.

From afar, a voice drifted through the void:

“In the era of chaos, the Great Dao arises,
From the primordial world, Pangu springs forth.
One willow branch spreads across the land,
A slender thread of hope for all living things.”

It was the vanished Willow Immortal.

The Willow Immortal approached and spoke to Hongjun: “Fellow Daoist, if you wish to establish your Daoist court here, you must first contend with me.”

Before Hongjun could gauge the newcomer’s cultivation, his temper flared. Was he not already a Hunyuan Daluo Golden Immortal—how could he be treated so lightly?

The two instantly engaged in battle. A diagram and a banner appeared on Hongjun, surging with the forces of life and death, while the banner, when waved, summoned the primal energy of chaos.

No sooner had their attacks swept forth than the Willow Immortal produced a willow branch; the diagram and banner vanished without a trace.

Hongjun was startled. No matter how he tried, he could not retrieve them. When he brought out the Immortal-Slaying Sword Array, it too was seized before he could use it.

At this, Hongjun admitted defeat.

“I concede, fellow Daoist. Might I know your name?” he asked with a wry laugh.

“I am the Willow Immortal. I attained the Dao three thousand years before you.” With that, the figure vanished, leaving only the diagram and banner behind. Hongjun sighed softly.

He then used the Immortal-Slaying Sword to carve open a space, summoning primordial turbid and clear energies to stabilize it.

Immersed in the formation of heaven and earth, Hongjun forgot entirely his earlier defeat, lost in the joy of creation. A simple and solemn Daoist temple took shape; with a wave of his hand, the words “Zixiao Palace” appeared above the entrance.

Ascending to the main seat, he released the Supreme Elder and the others, instructing: “Taishang and Yuanshi shall sit to my lower left. Haotian and Yaochi will await outside the temple, welcoming those with the proper fate and bringing them in to hear my teaching.”

Having just elevated his power, Hongjun had yet to stabilize his realm before being drawn into a fierce battle with the Willow Immortal, leaving his spirit somewhat unsettled. He vanished from before their eyes.

The Supreme Elder sat quietly upon his meditation mat, unmoving, while the Primordial Heavenly Lord gazed out at the two thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight mats behind, wondering whether Tongtian’s place was among them.

Haotian and Yaochi—the golden boy and jade maiden—stood at the temple gate, gazing out at the mighty celestial gales, uncertain whether any fated ones would arrive to seek the Dao.

At this moment, Tongtian deeply regretted his haste. Why had he not waited a few centuries longer? To risk his very life for this—was it truly worth it?

Tongtian then felt something at his waist; looking down, he saw a willow branch coiling around him, shielding him from the deadly winds.

“It has been some time, little friend Tongtian,” came a voice from the branch.

“Thank you, Great Immortal. What brings you here?” Recognizing the willow branch, Tongtian was overjoyed.

“I am no longer bound by the Heavenly Dao. I have attained the Way,” the willow branch replied gleefully.

“Ah!” Only then did Tongtian understand why the Willow Immortal lingered in the outer heavens—he had reached the level of Hunyuan Daluo Golden Immortal and was now beyond the jurisdiction of the Heavenly Dao. As for why he was here, he had just bested Hongjun, the spokesman of the Dao, in a duel, hence his delight.

“I have come to listen to the teaching,” Tongtian answered honestly.

“I know. Hongjun possesses a treasure prepared for you; that diagram you have will soon find its use.” With that, the willow branch gave Tongtian a gentle push, sending him flying toward the Zixiao Palace.

“Thank you, Great Immortal!” Tongtian called out, sending his gratitude echoing through the world as he flew.

Haotian and Yaochi did not see the willow branch; all they saw was a young Daoist soaring in from the outer heavens, their eyes sparkling with admiration.

Gazing upon the simple yet dignified Daoist temple, Tongtian’s heart swelled: At last, he had arrived.

Haotian stepped forward. “If you wish to inquire after the Dao, please follow me inside.”

Was this the future Jade Emperor of Heaven? There was no trace of an overlord’s bearing—just a bright, innocent boy. “Thank you for your guidance,” Tongtian replied. Regardless of whether his disciples would one day ascend the Investiture of the Gods, he felt it fitting to pay his respects to the one who would rule all three realms.

Haotian flushed with embarrassment, but his face radiated joy. Yaochi seized Tongtian’s hand, exclaiming, “Big brother, let me take you inside!”

Without waiting for Tongtian’s reply, she tugged him along, and Haotian, not to be outdone, became even more eager to compete for Tongtian’s attention.

Finding himself in such a scene, with the two future sovereigns of Heaven vying to lead him, Tongtian could not help but chuckle.

Inside the temple, countless meditation mats filled the hall, and at the head sat two figures. At the sight of their backs, Tongtian’s eyes reddened, and though he tried to call out, tears slipped unbidden down his cheeks.

The Supreme Elder and the Primordial Heavenly Lord, hearing footsteps, knew someone had arrived to seek the Dao. They turned their heads, their eyes fixing upon Tongtian, and murmured, “Little Lingbao, are you well?”