Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four: The Chaotic Dao Pattern

Under the strike of the Ancestor of Ice, the last glimmer of Qingxu's vitality was shattered. Yet, at that very moment, an outcome entirely unexpected by everyone—including Qingxu himself—unfolded. The Ren-Gui Rosy Cloud Veil, a post-celestial spirit treasure gifted by the Taoist White Dragon, seemed to awaken some mysterious power upon being stained with Qingxu's essence blood. In an instant, it enveloped the primordial spirit of the Ancestor of Ice and bore Qingxu away, tearing through the void. Even the Quasi-Sages, who had been quick to react, could not trace the slightest clue of their whereabouts.

Unable to track Qingxu and the Ancestor of Ice, the group of Quasi-Sages turned their attention to the Heart of Ice, or more precisely, the God-Slaying Spear within it. Their gathering here was solely due to the innate spirit treasure, the God-Slaying Spear. Now that the obstacle was removed, a Quasi-Sage immediately unleashed a burst of magic power to push aside the Heart of Ice, intending to bring the weapon into the world. To their surprise, there was no sign of the spear; instead, the Heart of Ice shattered into pieces under the impact of the magical force, scattering across the ground. The attacking Quasi-Sage was left stunned. As the Heart of Ice crumbled, he felt a massive karmic backlash descend upon him, instantly negating the merit he had painstakingly accumulated over thousands of eons, and even leaving him with a significant deficit.

"No God-Slaying Spear? Could the intelligence have been false?" Seeing no trace of the expected weapon, Di Jun realized he and the others had been played. His face turned ashen, cold as ice, and terrifying killing intent radiated from his body.

"The truth or falsehood was determined long ago. If it truly possessed the God-Slaying Spear, why would no Primordial Saint have intervened? It is simply that we were too obsessed, unable to see the truth, or perhaps we saw it but refused to admit it," sighed the refined and dignified Taoist Fuxi.

Hearing Fuxi's words, the others felt as if struck by lightning, instantly sobered.

As Fuxi said, the God-Slaying Spear was no ordinary item. It was not merely an innate spirit treasure, but a supreme relic with offensive capabilities rivaling those of innate cardinal treasures. Such a treasure would have caused even the Primordial Saints to clash violently. Among the six saints of the prehistoric world, only the Taiji Diagram of the Supreme Taoist and the Pangu Banner of the Primordial Heavenly Lord could slightly surpass the God-Slaying Spear; the others' strongest treasures paled in comparison. How could they, mere Quasi-Sages, have been permitted to interfere?

Those involved are often blinded, while onlookers see clearly!

While the logic was sound, how many in this world could truly remain detached? Before arriving, Fuxi had already suspected the news was false. He had even sought Nuwa's help to divine the heavens, confirming that a Saint had obscured the secrets, which only strengthened his suspicions. Yet, even so, he had come—ultimately, he too had harbored a glimmer of hope.

Whatever the others thought, Patriarch Styx had truly suffered. This time, he had tried to steal a chicken only to lose his rice; greed had brought endless disaster. He had not caught a glimpse of the God-Slaying Spear, and his own companion treasures, the Yuantu and Abi swords, had been severely damaged. This could be endured, as they would recover in a century or so, but the loss of his grand plan to refine the Nether Blood Sea into a clone was a tragedy. He had waited since the dawn of creation, and just as the timing, location, and circumstances were perfect, he had encountered Qingxu and suffered this terrible misfortune.

***

At the very moment of Qingxu’s despair, the sudden transformation of the Ren-Gui Rosy Cloud Veil had saved his life. This was entirely beyond his imagination. He had never held this post-celestial spirit treasure in high regard, considering it far inferior to his Central Yellow Flag, the Profound Yellow Bowl, the Jade Void Palace Lamp, or the Yin-Yang Robe.

The Ancestor of Ice was at the peak of the Quasi-Sage realm. Even though he was reduced to a primordial demonic spirit and was in a weakened state, a camel, even when dead, is larger than a horse. Even other peak Quasi-Sages would have found it difficult to capture him alive. Yet, this treasure he had overlooked had subdued the Ancestor in one fell swoop, leaving him no chance to resist. Furthermore, it treated the restrictive barriers of a peak Quasi-Sage as if they were nothing, effortlessly shattering the void to escape beneath the eyes of over twenty Quasi-Sages. How extraordinary was that?

"Ah?" Qingxu, looking around in alarm, suddenly noticed a purple-black shadow behind him. It was none other than the primordial demonic spirit of the Ancestor of Ice. The Ancestor was wrapped in gray, misty incantations and symbols, unable to move, his eyes wide with rage, teeth gritted, his expression one of disbelief and shock.

"Ancestor of Ice?" Despite seeing that the Ancestor was restrained and posed no threat, Qingxu could not suppress the fear in his heart. He retreated several steps to put distance between them, as if that would make him feel secure—though, in truth, at the Ancestor's level of cultivation, distance mattered little.

"Boy, I truly did not expect this! You possess a treasure with Chaos Dao patterns. Losing this time is no shame, but it seems this is not your treasure. Tell me, who is its master?" The Ancestor of Ice suppressed his seething rage and asked in as calm a tone as he could muster.

"You guessed right; this treasure was a gift from someone else. But what are these 'Chaos Dao patterns' you speak of?" Qingxu asked, confused. In this life and his previous one, he had never heard the term.

"Chaos Dao patterns? Chaos Dao patterns? Sigh!" Upon hearing Qingxu’s question, the Ancestor of Ice seemed to fall into a distant memory, his face flickering with envy, jealousy, and resentment, before he finally sighed.

Just as Qingxu thought the Ancestor would not speak, a deep voice reached his ears, seemingly from the far horizon, filled with a sense of ancient desolation: "Chaos Dao patterns are a mysterious existence. I do not know the specifics, only that during the primordial Chaos period, among the three thousand Chaos Demon Gods, only two succeeded in cultivating them. Since time immemorial, including the True King Pangu, there have been only three. Few know their profound secrets."

What?

Qingxu doubted his own ears. The Ancestor’s words were like a thunderbolt, stirring a monstrous storm in his heart.

Only two of the three thousand Chaos Demon Gods had mastered these patterns, and even with Pangu, there were only three. How precious and rare was that?

"Who were those two Demon Gods? And what power do these Chaos Dao patterns possess?" Qingxu asked impatiently, his curiosity piqued to the point that he forgot his own predicament.

"The Chaos Saint Dragon King and the Creation Longevity Heavenly King. As for their power, that is beyond my speculation. However, it is said they can connect to the Great Dao of Chaos and govern all worlds. Their power is supreme; even the three thousand Demon Gods of old could not resist them. If I still possessed my Demon God body, I might have been able to withstand a blow, but now, as only a primordial demonic spirit..." The Ancestor did not continue, and Qingxu lost interest in asking further. It was clear the Ancestor knew little more. At that moment, Qingxu thought of the Taoist White Dragon.

The Ren-Gui Rosy Cloud Veil was a gift from the Taoist White Dragon. Now, with such events unfolding, Qingxu felt intuitively that he had fallen into a grand conspiracy. He felt that his every step these past few days had been calculated, and he couldn't help but feel a chill.

"Who exactly is the master of this treasure?" the Ancestor of Ice asked again.

"The Taoist White Dragon!" With a secret sigh, Qingxu recounted how he had arrived at the North Sea, met the Taoist White Dragon, taken advantage of a situation, and been captured to serve as a laborer. Naturally, he was not foolish enough to mention the White Dragon’s own scheme of spreading false rumors to use others as blades.

"Self-proclaimed Taoist White Dragon? White Dragon? Could he be a remnant of the Chaos Saint Dragon King? But that shouldn't be! The Chaos Saint Dragon King fell under the axe of the True King Pangu, splitting into two—the Ancestral Dragon and the Murky Dragon. The Ancestral Dragon has perished, his body and spirit destroyed, and the Murky Dragon is imprisoned by 'Him' under the Eye of the East Sea. Could it be the Creation Longevity Heavenly King?" The Ancestor of Ice muttered to himself, calculating.

"The Ancestral Dragon and the Murky Dragon were formed from the Chaos Saint Dragon King? And who is 'Him'? And this Creation Longevity Heavenly King... I've never heard of him. He must be someone extraordinary!" In Qingxu’s mind, the only powerful Demon Gods were the likes of Hongjun, Luohou, and the Great Immortal Yangmei. But seeing the Ancestor’s demeanor, he realized those figures might not have been the absolute pinnacle among the three thousand Demon Gods of the ancient era!

Seeing the Ancestor of Ice lost in his own obsession, Qingxu stopped paying him any mind. Although he was filled with confusion, he had no leads. He wanted to pry more from the Ancestor, but the man seemed senile, muttering to himself and ignoring the outside world. Qingxu had to suppress his curiosity about ancient secrets and focus on his current plight.

Trapped within the Ren-Gui Rosy Cloud Veil, he tried to break free but failed. He could only think to himself: "Observe the changes, meet force with force, and let the water flow where it may."

Regardless, Qingxu could not erase the image of the Taoist White Dragon from his mind. Linking the past events together, he was almost certain he had been manipulated, and that the White Dragon’s target might have been the Ancestor of Ice all along. He was merely a pawn. But why save him?

"I don't have much value, do I?" As Qingxu pondered, he suddenly thought of the spirit treasures he carried and was struck with alarm. Could it be that the Taoist White Dragon had saved him simply to secure those treasures? The more he thought, the more it felt true. He was filled with fear and anger, but he was helpless. He was the fish on the chopping block, and even if he wanted to perish together with his captor, he lacked the power. It would be a foolish, futile act.

Suppressing his fear and anger, Qingxu forced himself to calm down. There were no strategies left, but even in the face of extreme danger, he would never give up the struggle.