Chapter 71: The Thoughts of the Burning Lamp

At last, Li Tian’s gaze turned to Kunpeng and Jieyin, both of whom had been anxiously awaiting his verdict.

“Kunpeng, Jieyin,” he called.

“Heavenly Emperor,” the two responded at once, hastening to bow deeply before looking up at Li Tian with hopeful eyes.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Li Tian decided to grant them titles of lords. After all, both had once listened to the Dao in the Purple Cloud Palace and possessed formidable origins; it would not do to slight them.

“I name Kunpeng as Lord Kunpeng and Jieyin as Lord Jieyin!”

Upon hearing this, Kunpeng and Jieyin immediately bowed low. “Thank you, Heavenly Emperor,” they intoned.

Yet, in his heart, Kunpeng could not help but feel a pang of regret. Countless years ago, when the Heavenly Court was first established, Li Tian had invited him to join, but he had refused.

“With my strength and foundation, if I had entered the Heavenly Court then, wouldn’t I at least have been granted a king’s title?” Kunpeng murmured inwardly, filled with remorse. Why, why did it always turn out this way?

...

The news that the Wu Tribe had submitted to the Heavenly Court spread at lightning speed, stunning countless mighty beings. Those lawless members of the Wu Tribe had actually chosen to serve under another’s hand?

At the same time, awe of the Heavenly Court deepened across the land, for the Wu Tribe’s surrender signified that the Heavenly Court was now, in truth, the undisputed ruler of the vast prehistoric world.

On Penglai Island, Randeng, deputy leader of the Sect of Severance, received the news and could not help but feel a tangle of emotions. Owing to the butterfly effect caused by Li Tian, Randeng had not become a disciple of Yuanshi, but instead, by chance, had arrived at Penglai Island.

In truth, Randeng’s initial intention had been to seek refuge in the Heavenly Court. Yet, as he was preparing to set out, he heard by coincidence that Tongtian was recruiting disciples.

After a fierce inner struggle, he abandoned the thought of joining the Heavenly Court and instead entered Tongtian’s tutelage. After all, he knew the Heavenly Court was overflowing with talent; even if he joined, he would likely remain unappreciated. It seemed wiser to join the Sect of Severance, for as one of the three thousand guests of the Purple Cloud Palace, he was sure Tongtian would not overlook him.

Indeed, events played out as Randeng had hoped. After joining the Sect of Severance, Tongtian treated him with courtesy, and, just as Yuanshi had once done in the original history of the world, appointed him as deputy leader.

This brought Randeng much pride and satisfaction, glad that he had not thrown in his lot with the Heavenly Court.

However, as time passed within the Sect of Severance, Randeng discovered his treatment was not as favorable as he had imagined. Though a deputy leader in name, the title was hollow; even his words carried less weight than those of Tongtian’s personal disciple, Duobao.

By seniority, Randeng could be considered Tongtian’s peer, yet here he was, acting as his disciple—a shameless act that drew the silent scorn of many within the sect.

The Sect of Severance prided itself on teaching without discrimination, so it was full of unruly characters. Such people did not bother to hide their contempt; whenever they saw Randeng, they looked down their noses as if to say, “I have no respect for you,” which left Randeng quietly seething.

Still, intent on currying favor with Tongtian, he was unwilling to leave a bad impression, and so endured it all.

This weakness only deepened the disciples’ disdain, and even Tongtian’s opinion of Randeng worsened.

...

One day, the great bell of Biyou Palace tolled, signaling the start of another of Tongtian’s lectures. Countless disciples of the Sect of Severance hastened to the palace at the sound.

Because the sect accepted all comers, its numbers had swelled rapidly—now numbering in the tens of thousands—far more than Penglai Island could accommodate. Thus, aside from Tongtian’s direct disciples and a select few like Randeng, most lived on other islands scattered across the Eastern Sea. At the bell’s call, countless disciples abandoned their tasks and rode the clouds toward Biyou Palace.

For a time, the skies above the Eastern Sea filled with immortals riding the clouds—a grand spectacle of myriad immortals paying homage.

“Greetings, Master,” Randeng said respectfully, bowing to Tongtian, who sat at the head of the hall.

Tongtian nodded slightly, then turned his face away, no longer looking at him. This casual gesture, so familiar, left Randeng feeling slighted, suspecting that Tongtian looked down on him. Indeed, Tongtian’s attitude had always been cool toward his obsequiousness and never engaged him in conversation—Randeng began to bear a grudge.

Yet, in truth, Tongtian was not cold out of disdain, but simply did not know how to interact with Randeng. Both were among the three thousand guests of the Purple Cloud Palace, students of Hongjun; thus, Tongtian did not wish to treat Randeng as a disciple.

But Randeng, eager to ingratiate himself, insisted on acting the disciple, hoping to flatter Tongtian—only to achieve the opposite effect.

...

As more and more disciples arrived, Tongtian nodded in satisfaction. The sight of Biyou Palace’s bell summoning myriad immortals filled him with pride.

When all had assembled and taken their seats, Tongtian nodded and began his lecture as usual, occasionally offering guidance to some disciples.

In the blink of an eye, more than ten days passed, and the lecture drew to a close.

This time, however, Tongtian did not immediately dismiss the gathering. Instead, he swept his gaze over the assembly and announced, “Now that the Heavenly Court has unified the prehistoric world, it is a matter for great celebration. The master of the Heavenly Court is my senior brother; its empress, my junior sister. By rights, our sect should send a congratulatory gift. Who among you would be willing to deliver it?”

At this, the disciples exchanged glances, but none volunteered—for none wished to be sent on an errand.

Seeing this, Tongtian felt a twinge of disappointment, but said nothing. He glanced over the assembly, his eyes settling on Duobao, but just as he was about to speak, Randeng stepped forward and cupped his hands. “I am willing to go to the Heavenly Court.”

He intended to use this opportunity to observe the situation at the Heavenly Court, and then decide whether to leave the Sect of Severance and join them.

Tongtian, unaware of Randeng’s true intentions, was pleased by his initiative and nodded approvingly.

Duobao, too, breathed a sigh of relief, and his opinion of Randeng improved.

“In that case, I shall trouble you with this task,” Tongtian said with a smile.

“I will not fail you,” Randeng replied at once, bowing deeply.

Tongtian nodded, then produced the gift he had prepared for the Heavenly Court. “This is a piece of divine iron I came upon by chance—its hardness rivals that of an innate spiritual treasure, though I myself am not skilled at forging. It is fitting that it be presented to the Heavenly Court. With the Cauldron of Creation, I trust it may be refined into a fine innate treasure.”

Randeng accepted the divine iron, surprised by its tremendous weight. Of course, he dared not harbor any thoughts of keeping it for himself.

After all, this was Tongtian’s gift to the Heavenly Court—should he dare to covet it, he would offend both the Sect of Severance and the Heavenly Court, two mighty powers. Such folly would be tantamount to courting death.

...