Chapter 76: Do You Think I’m Xiong Ba?

Boom!!

The heavens collapsed and the earth split as if pressed downward by an invisible hand. With that single motion, at least thirty thousand Golden Ants were crushed—including the Ant Queen who’d stepped into harmony with the Dao. Everything seemed trivial before the unassuming “Master Xue.”

Harmony with the Dao—this was undeniably its power!

The surviving Emperor of Chu and Zhao Zheng stared in shock at Zuo Meng’s display of divine might.

“Why didn’t you act sooner? You could’ve saved more lives,” blurted one survivor, his close friend among those lost to the golden tide.

Zuo Meng flicked a glance at the man, not bothering to reply. He’d met countless such people before—those who believed others owed them aid. To him, it was laughable. No one owed anyone kindness. Those who failed to grasp this weren’t worth his breath.

The Formation stabilized with a hum. Zuo Meng stepped through first and vanished.

The questioning Transformation God expert scowled, snorted, then followed into the teleportation array. Survival outweighed pride.

“Far stronger than imagined… unfathomable.”

“He’s surely achieved harmony with the Dao. Your Majesty must endure longer.”

After others left, the National Master and Zhao Zheng bowed to the Emperor of Chu before entering. The Emperor closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and moved toward the array. As he crossed the threshold, he spotted an odd black stone amidst the ruins Zuo Meng had crushed.

What’s this?

He summoned the stone to his palm. The gesture enraged the remaining ants, driving them to frenzy against the Formation—but the Emperor had already disappeared with his prize.

…

Zhi Mo finally entered the sect as an official Outer Sect Disciple of Tai Chu Immortal Gate.

After six centuries, the sect had evolved from Zuo Meng’s rough beginnings into stratified ranks: Outer, Inner, Core, and True Disciples. Newcomers joined the Outer Sect. Zhi Mo was assigned to Xian Zhu Peak’s Outer Sect—where his sister Zhi Xin’er served as Peak Master.

“Connections rule everywhere,” the little beggar muttered darkly.

No one knew how this little beggar passed the sect’s trials—likely through higher-ups bending rules with a word.

“Hu Gou’er, quit being a lazy fish! Let’s aim for Inner Sect in three years, Core in five, Headmaster’s True Disciple in ten!”

Though young, Zhi Mo understood much. The beggar was his first real friend in years, deserving encouragement.

“Heh.” Hu Gou’er’s lip twitched in mock laughter.

These privileged brats didn’t get it. Did they think effort alone sufficed? Hadn’t they seen the white-bearded Outer Sect elder at the gate? Without connections, you’d grind till death without advancement—unless born prodigies. Neither he nor Zhi Mo qualified.

“Effort breeds hope!” Zhi Mo preached.

“You’re eight. The entry age is ten. They let you cheat—this sect’s hopeless.” Knowing Zhi Mo’s true age made Hu Gou’er resign further to lazing through sect life. Inner Sect? Impossible.

Stuck like the gate’s ancient disciple, he’d idle without cultivation gains.

“When do we get entry rewards? Heard there’s a top-tier cultivation manual.” Hu Gou’er lounged on the blue stone, leg cocked.

Thanks to Zhi Mo’s connections, no one assigned them chores—who’d risk angering a Peak Master’s brother?

As the two lazed, shocking news erupted from Great Chu’s capital:

“…Prime Minister Han Feng perished… new foes—Golden Ants—in northern wastes… truce and alliance with demon tribe…”

The realm erupted. The demon tribe truce drew fiercest opposition—too many had lost kin to demons, bodies unrecovered. Yet dissent faded when National Master Zhang He displayed a slain alien in the capital.

The Golden Ants’ savage forms ignited universal dread, stifling hatred. Remnant objectors couldn’t sway the tide.

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Zuo Meng observed from his blessed land’s depths.

He sensed shifting mortal fortunes—hidden schemes reaped prematurely. A distant cousin’s descendant, never acknowledged, fell to ordinary status. Others lost their influence too, while Zhi Xin’er’s fortune thickened.

“Using Zhi Xin’er against me?”

Zuo Meng’s gaze turned colder. He couldn’t fathom past-life characters meditating centuries only to squabble over women, wealth, or petty face-slapping theatrics. Such trivialities faded for him; his perspective neared the Dao’s impartiality.

“And little Zhi Mo?”

These siblings became pawns against him, the ruthless Dao.

Did they take me for Xiong Ba?

The odd thought flickered and died. He watched laws shift—the final upheaval approached.

After this, the dream would end.

Awakening would surprise many. Before the dream, his real-world self remained mortal—trapped somewhere.