Chapter 939: Chickens and Dogs Ascend to Heaven

After three bows, Wei Yuan’s surroundings shifted, and suddenly he found himself standing in midair, with endless mountains, rivers, and earth beneath him—countless people toiling on the land, smaller than ants, mere specks invisible to the naked eye, detectable only by spiritual sense.

Before Wei Yuan stood a young cultivator, gazing down upon the world; merely from his back, Wei Yuan instinctively knew this was the Founding Master.

The young cultivator turned around—it was indeed the same face as the Founding Master’s. Wei Yuan understood at once: there had indeed been a lingering spiritual thought left behind by the Founding Master within the statue.

Yet Wei Yuan glanced around curiously and found nothing but emptiness—no palace, no immortal throne, no sacred mountain—nothing befitting the Founding Master’s status.

Though only a lingering spiritual thought remained, the Founding Master’s power at his final moment must have been supreme, capable of dominating the age; even a single spiritual thought could slowly evolve into a miniature paradise. Yet this barren, empty space was utterly unworthy of the Founding Master’s dignity.

The Founding Master’s spiritual thought seemed to sense Wei Yuan’s thoughts; he raised a finger, and before them appeared a quiet little courtyard—just one main hall and two side chambers, with a deep spring in the yard as its only adornment.

“This was where I finally passed away. I still feel a certain nostalgia for it.”

Seeing this small courtyard, Wei Yuan finally understood why Xian Jun Yan Shi and Xian Jun Ting Hai had such a fondness for building little courtyards.

But later, as the Tai Chu Palace grew ever more prosperous and more cultivators joined, the Dao paths multiplied and styles gradually diversified. Take Xuan Yue Zhen Jun, who constantly dreamed of erecting a grand azure hall—bigger and more magnificent the better—completely diverging from the Founding Master’s ways.

Take the current Zao Hua Guan: its main hall’s materials were extravagantly lavish. The Tian Ji Hall had even forged its entire main hall into a magic treasure.

Compared to the Founding Master’s final place of passing, Wei Yuan’s residence in the Immortal City—a single meditation chamber—was larger than this entire courtyard. The courtyard and its surrounding land could fit inside the council hall.

Seeing this, Wei Yuan felt a faint twinge of guilt—but not much.

After all, this was standard in the Immortal City; everyone had such a place, and when idle, they often decorated and tended to them. Cui Yu, Bao Yun, Xiang Xiaoyu, and Xu Henshui all lived in residences radiating divine light.

At this moment, the young cultivator formed from the spiritual thought spoke: “What is cultivation? Some say, if one becomes a ruler, he serves all under heaven. But if one becomes an immortal, heaven and earth serve him—thus, immortals are truly thieves of heaven and earth. One immortal’s ascension drains a region; many immortals’ ascensions turn a world to stillness. Do you agree?”

This question caught Wei Yuan off guard, but after thinking, he said: “Heaven and earth are impartial, yet all sentient beings possess spirit. Impartiality means the Dao operates as it must—fertile soil grows plants, plants grow and naturally deplete the soil; this is the Dao. But the plants are not at fault; one cannot blame them for this.”

Moreover, we ourselves are sentient beings—we must view this from the perspective of sentient beings. More specifically, as humans, we must speak for humanity. Right now, countless mortals still starve and freeze; only one in ten thousand can even begin cultivation. Even after establishing a Foundation, nine out of ten lack sufficient resources, progress slowly, and watch helplessly as their lifespans dwindle, unable to advance further.

In many small places, merely establishing a Foundation is enough to be called a patriarch or ancestor—seemingly absurd, yet truly tragic.

Most mortals in this world have yet to eat well or wear warm clothes; most cultivators are merely drifting, struggling to survive! With so much suffering unseen, why should we worry about heaven and earth? Is the cultivator you speak of not too idle? Has his cultivation not been thorough enough? Why not spend that time developing mathematics, or lowering the Foundation Establishment threshold?”

The young cultivator stared, utterly stunned—he had never expected such an answer.

Wei Yuan, not yet finished, added: “When those immortals summon wind and rain, pluck stars and seize the moon, roam the four seas, and consume rare elixirs, they never gave the world a single benefit. Now that heaven and earth are barren, you expect us ordinary mortals and lowly cultivators to share the burden? If I were heaven and earth, I’d first strike them dead with heavenly tribulation!”

The young cultivator opened his mouth, but for a moment, he had no reply.

Wei Yuan realized he had spoken too much and quickly added: “Of course, I’m not talking about you! You founded this sect and laid the unshakable foundation of Tai Chu Palace—you have great merit! Without you, where would we be today?”

As he spoke, Wei Yuan secretly observed the Founding Master’s expression. If the Founding Master truly grew angry, wouldn’t his hard-won rewards vanish? That could not happen!

Moreover, the more Wei Yuan thought, the more suspicious he became: could the immortal friend the Founding Master mentioned be himself? But upon further reflection, it didn’t seem right—the Founding Master’s past was defined by two words: fierce and decisive. When had he ever been so sentimental?

The young cultivator finally recovered, gazing deeply at Wei Yuan: “In my lifetime, I slew countless beings—I spent my entire life fighting heaven and earth, fighting alien races. My four immortal swords were forged from the souls and bodies of alien races. To them, I was no different from a demon. To heaven and earth, I was no benefactor.”

“That’s not right…” Wei Yuan blurted out, then immediately clamped his mouth shut, realizing his mistake.

The young cultivator smiled faintly: “I am but a spiritual thought—I have no rewards to give you. I merely help you clarify your own Dao heart. Say whatever you wish.”

Wei Yuan froze: “No reward?”

The young cultivator spread his hands: “Look around—what’s left here? Even if I had left something behind back then, thousands of years have passed—my successors long ago retrieved and used it all. How could anything remain?”

Wei Yuan was skeptical: “Then what about the gifts the Founding Master once bestowed?”

“When you first joined, none of you had cultivation base. Enhancing your innate talent cost little. The gifts given every five years were drawn from the sect’s own reserves—just a bit of spiritual energy.”

“So that’s how it was!” Wei Yuan felt no disappointment—he now possessed Qing Ming, and ordinary immortal artifacts meant nothing to him. Hearing there was no reward, he felt no desire, and his demeanor relaxed: “Then I’ll speak plainly.”

The young cultivator smiled slightly: “By all means.”