Passing through that self-parting chaotic mist, the scene before him transformed again. The mist flowing with seven-colored radiance slowly closed behind him, completely isolating the outside world's noise and prying eyes. What appeared before Tang Xiaoqi was not the imagined magnificent interior of the Transmission Hall, but an even more ancient, more solemn space.
This seemed to be a front courtyard before the Transmission Hall's main hall—not particularly spacious. The ground was paved with a strange stone material dark as the cosmic background. Walking on it produced no footstep sounds, only a heavy sensation as if treading on the river of time. At the courtyard's end stood that main hall gate of the Transmission Hall, tens of thousands of zhang high, emitting an intent of governing all laws and evolving the universe.
The gate remained tightly closed. Its material was consistent with the palace body—neither gold nor jade, presenting a chaotic color. Its surface was smooth as a mirror, reflecting the faint starlight flowing in the courtyard, yet engraved with no complex Dao patterns—only the ultimate simplicity of returning to original truth.
However, what attracted Xiao Qi's gaze, and those who had arrived before him, was not that simple yet magnificent gate, but a stone stele standing before it.
That stele was about three zhang high, entirely gray-white, rough in texture, as if a piece of stubborn stone casually chopped from chaos, appearing jarringly out of place with the surrounding refined and mysterious environment. On the stele, without any ornate decoration, were only three characters written in wild, cursive strokes like iron strokes and silver hooks, as if directly branded by supreme Dao principles.
The writing was not any language current in this world, but when gaze touched it, one's soul depths would resonate with understanding, naturally comprehending its meaning—
[How to Prove the Dao?]
Four characters, simple, direct, yet heavier than ten thousand jun! Like a great bell, fiercely striking everyone's Dao heart present!
Merely gazing at these four characters, one felt one's cultivated Dao, the path traveled, even the meaning of existence, were all laid bare, accepting the ruthless interrogation from this stele—no, from the Transmission Hall itself, and even that supreme "Great Dao" in the unseen!
An invisible pressure, far more condensed and directly pointing to the source than the plaza outside, spread from that stone stele as its center, enveloping the entire front courtyard. Under this pressure, even Ao Qin's vast dragon might, Mu Xue's extreme ice heart, Ling Jueyi's pure sword intent, all seemed insignificant, as if returning to the ignorance and awe of initially seeking the Dao.
Mu Xue, Ao Qin, Mysterious Turtle Elder, Ling Jueyi, palace-robed woman, Master Hui Ming, black-robed cultivator, bronze-skinned burly man and others who had arrived earlier were all scattered around the stone stele, no one easily approaching that tightly closed main gate. Everyone's expressions were incomparably grave. They had clearly all tried and knew this stele was the final, most crucial threshold to entering the Transmission Hall's main hall.
This was not a test of power, but the ultimate questioning of the "Dao's" original heart!
"How to prove the Dao..." Ao Qin murmured to himself, golden light flashing in his dragon eyes, clearly experiencing intense internal deliberation. Was his Dao the imperial way of ruling the Four Seas and glorifying the Dragon Clan? Or the way of individual transcendence and freedom? Or something else?
Ling Jueyi held his sword, brows locked tight as rivers. His entire life was devoted only to the sword—the sword was his Dao. But the words "proving the Dao" forced him to consider: what did he prove with the sword? The "truth" of cutting through illusion? The "attachment" of protecting some belief? Or simply the "extreme" of pursuing power?
The palace-robed woman's fingers calculated, trying to use deduction techniques to find the "standard answer," but discovered that heavenly secrets here were a chaos, any clever methods ineffective. Master Hui Ming chanted Buddhist prayers with a solemn countenance—Buddhism emphasized understanding the mind and seeing one's nature, saving oneself and others, yet this question of "proving the Dao" still pointed directly at Buddhism's core. The black-robed cultivator's surrounding black mist churned, his aura fluctuating. The bronze-skinned burly man scratched his head with a troubled face—he walked the path of power's extreme, one force breaking ten thousand laws, but this "proving the Dao" didn't seem answerable by brute strength.
Mu Xue stood quietly in place, ice-blue eyes gazing at the stele. Her aura grew increasingly ethereal and clear, like an ice mirror reflecting her own Dao heart. Did her Ice Heart Transparent Dao prove the eternal unchanging "stillness" and "truth"?
Xiao Qi felt that soul-reaching questioning power and couldn't help but feel his mind shaken. He slowly walked to the stone stele, keeping some distance from the others, his calm gaze falling on the four ancient characters "How to Prove the Dao."
Proving the Dao...
What was his Dao?
Was it protecting the Clear Void Observatory, protecting senior brothers and sisters, protecting the world's beauty? This was his original intention, the source of his power.
Was it purifying demonic qi, cleansing filth, returning the world to clarity? This was his responsibility, his weapon against darkness.
But was this the entirety of his Dao?
Guarding—if what is guarded will eventually perish, what is the meaning of guarding? Purification—if worldly filth exists eternally, what is the end of purification?
He thought of Azure Mountain Villa's destruction, of his father Xu Zhan's sacrifice, of his master's expectations, of the hundred states of living beings he had seen along this journey, of the origin tracing of all laws comprehended in the Scripture Pavilion, of the true meaning of returning to origin from the Chaos Pill Fire...
His Dao was not a static fortress, nor a single sharp blade.
Guarding was not about stubbornly holding position, but maintaining that "truth" worth cherishing amid change. Purification was not about annihilation, but guiding all things back to their proper, harmonious "order."
His Dao was dynamic, growing. With a "guardian's" heart, he performed "purification's" work, pursuing a more authentic, more harmonious "existence" state for all things in heaven and earth. It was recognizing that destruction and chaos were also part of the Great Dao, yet still choosing to embrace and maintain that weak but eternal "life" and "goodness."
Proving the Dao was not about proving something to the outside world, but proving to one's own heart why one acts, where one's Dao leads.
The Dao he proved was the vow of "this body guards all living beings, this heart purifies the universe." It was an original intention unchanged through ten thousand tribulations. It was opening order within chaos, igniting hope within destruction... the righteous path of the human realm!
With this thought, everything became clear!
In the front courtyard, that heavy pressure seemed to lose its effect on him. He felt his Dao heart had never been so crystal-clear and determined as at this moment.
He no longer hesitated. Under the gazes of others who were contemplating, struggling, or attempting to communicate, he slowly raised his right hand. His fingertip did not condense powerful spiritual power, nor did it trigger any phenomena. It only carried his entire Dao thought, entire understanding, entire emotion, like the most devout student, gently pointing toward that gray-white rough stone stele.
Just as his fingertip was about to touch the stele, that stone that seemed like stubborn stone suddenly erupted with a warm and vast chaos light!