Chapter 167: Picking Soft Persimmons to Squeeze

The torrent of Dao law surged within Zhou Yi's body, and myriad secret techniques roiled in his sea of consciousness like a galaxy unspooling.

In the instant of life and death, the blood pattern on his forehead suddenly flared, condensing his lifelong insight into a radiant Dao seal that he poured into the bronze immortal bell.

The accompanying treasure instantly erupted with nine‑colored divine light, and mysterious sigils rose from the bell's surface, as if the heavens' stars were rearranged.

"Combine!" the young Daoist shouted, shattering three thousand realms, while the Chaos Sea behind him surged into a ring.

The immortal bell, bearing the power of the Great Dao's origin, thundered forward, collapsing layers of space‑time dimensions along the way, carving a bottomless rift of law in the void.

When the two world‑annihilating forces collided, the Honghuang heavens abruptly cracked. The void shattered like crystal, and countless plane projections flickered on and off in the aftershock.

Although Zhou Yi's Dao‑rhythm torrent wielded heavenly momentum, it showed a fissure the moment it touched the core of the Chaos Bell, that innate treasure engraved with the Honghuang origin, now crushing the surrounding laws with absolute pressure.

"In the end, it lacked a bit of timing," Zhou Yi wiped the golden blood from his lip, and fierce battle intent flared in his eyes.

Each half‑step he retreated left a golden lotus of the Great Dao in the void, and the shattered Dao traces reassembled into a brand‑new formation as they dispersed.

Amid the bell's wailing, Taiyi Emperor's cold sneer was within arm's reach: "Such a mere post‑born spirit treasure dares to contend with the Chaos Bell…"

The sudden change arose in an instant.

The Tai Chi yin‑yang fish hovering over Zhou Yi's crown chakra suddenly burst with clear light, the innate Eight Trigrams manifested from the void, freezing the destructive ripple within a hair's breadth.

The celestial onlookers had not yet recovered, yet a white‑jade golden bridge spanned the thirty‑three heavens, and earth, water, fire, and wind beneath the bridge returned to Chaos.

"Taiqing Dao Rhythm!" Taiyi's pupils contracted sharply, and the Chaos Bell emitted a mournful wail under the suppression of the Tai Chi Dao rhythm.

The saints gazed at the figure shrouded in mysterious yellow aura; the young Daoist's robes fluttered, and the golden bridge beneath his feet was slowly pushing the world‑ending divine light in the Chaos back.

A deep ripple surfaced in Zhou Yi's pupils as he silently withdrew the mysterious yellow energy coalesced within his body.

The yin‑yang twin‑fish diagram unfurled in the void, inhaling and exhaling the Chaos origin, while at the spot where the golden bridge spanned, all space‑time laws solidified.

This situation completely overturned Zhou Yi's prediction; the elder seated beyond the thirty‑three heavens now seemed to cast his shadow within the black‑white Tai Chi.

Taiyi's fingertip traced the bronze patterns of the Chaos Bell, and the Honghuang star map on its surface suddenly dimmed: "Taiqing Dao Rhythm?"

The bell's aftershock continued to tear the void, yet when it reached the area covered by the Tai Chi diagram, it dissolved invisibly like melting ice and snow.

He knew his recent killing move could erase a Great Luo Golden Immortal, and had even deliberately activated the celestial star array hidden within the Chaos Bell.

The Tai Chi diagram gifted by Miao Le was supposed to be a fragmented Dao rhythm, yet now it displayed the full power of a Saint.

Taiyi stared at the mysterious yellow primordial qi flowing along the edge of the golden bridge, unmistakably the golden pattern unique to the Eight Scenery Palace; this was no longer a treasure autonomously protecting its master, but the will of the thirty‑three heavens descending.

"A Saint's promise outweighs Mount Buzhou," Zhou Yi suddenly realized, his fingertip touching the innate qi circulating at the yin‑yang boundary.

The maxim "Seeing a treasure is like a meeting" used by the chief disciple of the Great Qing when borrowing a treasure, turned out to conceal this profound meaning.

When the Chaos Bell fully awakened, the saintly thought slumbering within the Tai Chi diagram also revived.

Taiyi's body was surrounded by fluctuating true solar fire, and the illusory shadows of twelve‑grade karmic fire red lotuses flickered faintly beneath his feet.

He sneered, "Seems the Ren Sect is about to break the rule of ten thousand irreversible calamities?" Before the words finished, a thousand‑mile sea of clouds was torn apart by eleven layers of blood‑qi that ripped heaven and earth.

"Even the ragged‑feathered birds of Taiyi Palace have their well‑fed moments," Zhong Li stomped on a crimson‑flame giant dragon, bursting through the void, and his Burning Heaven Halber carved a thousand‑mile fire scar across the clouds.

Behind him, ten ancestral witch avatars lifted the heavens; Gong Gong, wielding Yu Qiang's heavy halber, pointed it at the Demon Race army and said, "Who says it's only a Human Race matter? When Pangu Hall sensed the Chaos Bell's disturbance, I was lacking a warm‑up opponent."

Di Hong spread his four wings, covering half the sky, and the spatial laws enveloped the entire battlefield: "Taiyi, your bell has awakened the Twelve Capital Heavenly Demon formation."

As they spoke, a terrifying pressure emanated from the direction of Mount Buzhou, and a faint giant‑axe silhouette could be seen cleaving the Chaos.

Above the heavens, the twelve ancestral witches were surrounded by chaotic gale winds. Gong Gong, treading on Yu Qiang's black water, sneered, "The Demon Race's ragged‑feathered birds, why not hurry back to the Fusang tree nest?" The roar shook the sea of clouds, and the wooden vines coiled in Ju Mang's hand snapped three celestial mountains in response.

Taiyi's bell emitted a clear resonant tone, and Taiyi's three‑legged crow wings spread for a thousand li: "Even you, scattered remnants unable to muster the Twelve Capital Heavenly formation, dare to speak of ruling heaven and earth?" As he spoke, true solar fire condensed into nine fire phoenixes, scorching the earth‑bound soil wall into a blazing red.

Suddenly the heavens split with a crimson‑gold fissure; Di Cun, holding the River Map and Luo Script, stepped out on a sun‑chariot, and the celestial star array instantly enveloped the battlefield.

Ru Shou's palm transformed the geng‑metal qi into a million weapons, but they all melted away upon touching the starlight.

Yu Qiang's ice and Zhong Li's flames intertwined into a yin‑yang fish diagram, yet it was fixed in midair by the Eight Trigrams pattern derived from the Luo Script.

"The ten‑million‑year pact is not yet fulfilled; do you all intend to defy the Dao Ancestor's decree?" Di Hong's twin pupils emitted void‑piercing divine light, and the shadows of the Six Realms of Reincarnation appeared behind him.

On the ground, the giant of the Kuafu tribe had shattered a branch of Mount Buzhou, and the poisonous miasma ridden by the Nine Phoenix tribe was corroding the Demon Race's barrier.

From the clouds came the clear light of the Elder Lord sweeping his dust, and the Tai Chi diagram slowly unfolded the yin‑yang boundary.

Fuxi's zither tones drifted from the Fire‑Cloud Cave, and the remnants of the Five‑Colored Stone that mended the heavens flickered on and off beyond Tushita Heaven.

The Wu Clan's blood flag and the Demon Race's war drums gradually subsided under the Saint's imposing pressure.

The cease‑fire between the Wu and Demon races had not yet expired, yet the supreme pressure of Hongyuan Dao Ancestor still shrouded heaven and earth, and despite the Sea of Blood hatred, neither side dared to violate the Heavenly Dao's decree.

As the sky‑filled murderous aura gradually faded, both sides finally withdrew their forces back to camp, and this Honghuang‑stirring clash ended with a strong start and a weak finish.

Before departing, Taiyi's eyes flashed with cold steel as he swept toward Zhou Yi, while the Chaos Bell in his sleeve trembled and buzzed.

Had the Taiqing Saint's Tai Chi diagram not hung above the Human Race's heads, it would now have caused this ant‑like body to fall dead on the spot.

But the innate treasure is ultimately not something the Human Race can retain for long; when the time is ripe, a day of reckoning will come.

When the Demon Race's three‑legged crow carriage vanished into the sea of clouds, Zhou Yi solemnly lifted the Tai Chi diagram that circulated the yin and yang qi, bowed, and presented it to Grand Master Miao Le: "This time it is entirely thanks to your treasured protection that the Human Race can avoid devastation."

Miao Le smiled as he slipped the diagram back into his sleeve, his gaze bearing a hint of admiration: "Even with the Tai Chi diagram in hand, you can maneuver calmly under Taiyi's pressure; it shows your cultivation has advanced extraordinarily."

The two walked to the Human Race's ancestral land, where tens of thousands of people sat in a circle, contemplating the Dao.

Miao Le looked at his own avatar spreading Dao rhythm on the lecture platform and sighed lightly: "Though the Demon Race retreats, the undercurrent remains."

Zhou Yi, however, pointed to the looming calamity clouds deep in the heavens: "The fate of the Wu and Demon races was sealed long ago; the three great wars will decide survival. Right now the urgent task is to let the Human Race firmly establish its foundation before the Great Calamity."

In the hall of the Twelve Ancestral Witches, Di Hong caressed the broken Witch‑slaying Sword and sneered, "The Demon Race does know how to pick soft persimmons to squeeze."