The East Sea, Zifu Island.
The moment East King Duke sensed the Three Immortals Island manifesting, he wasted no time. He immediately rallied every powerful expert within Zifu Island's reach, leading a grand procession toward the shifting tides where the islands lay hidden.
An Opportunity of this magnitude was a heavy burden for one man to carry; he knew that solo efforts would yield nothing. Only by uniting a force to seize the islands first could they earn the right to divide the spoils and plot their future.
The cultivators he recruited shared his pragmatism. They could feel the ripples in the world's essence as countless other mighty figures tore through the void toward this location. They understood that without a collective front, they would not only lose their chance at the Opportunity but would likely leave their lives behind in the freezing depths.
Against the true titans of the world, their individual strength offered no shield and no hope of retaliation.
In what seemed like a mere heartbeat, several hundred years slipped away.
East King Duke and his assembled host finally halted before the Three Immortals Island. From this vantage point, the islands rose like Kunlun itself transplanted into the waves, anchored firmly amidst the boundless, churning sea.
Between the main islands, entire worlds drifted like bubbles, each one a localized reality born from the jagged shards of the primordial Chaos.
Gazing upon the islands, East King Duke's eyes betrayed a flickering heat of greed and fervor. The star-like glimmers dancing across the terrain were not stars at all, but the intoxicating radiance of Innate Spirit Treasures.
Yet, a barrier stood in their way. Three Innate Grand Formations swirled around the islands, acting as absolute walls that severed the interior from the world, denying all entry.
The destiny of the Three Immortals Island had not yet reached its zenith; the hour of their true emergence was still to come.
As they stood watch, the sky began to fracture with streaks of divine light and the air hummed with spatial tremors. One by one, other hidden experts navigated the path through the mists, arriving in rapid succession.
East King Duke's jaw tightened. The competition had arrived, and they had moved with a swiftness that defied his calculations.
"Styx..."
A blood-colored cloud suddenly drifted over the horizon, dragging a thick, malevolent aura in its wake. An elderly man with a face like a carved nightmare sat cross-legged upon a lotus platform of gore, drifting forward with eerie silence.
The lotus platform dissolved and reformed into countless crimson blossoms that swirled around him in a protective dance. Upon his back, he bore a pair of twin swords that bled a soaring, suffocating Evil Qi into the atmosphere.
"Haha, Fellow Daoist Styx. Welcome to my East Sea."
East King Duke stepped forward, forcing a welcoming smile while casting a long shadow of implication. His words were a pointed reminder.
This is my home. This is my domain.
Styx saw through the posturing instantly. He let out a rasping, wicked laugh that grated like bone on stone. "Fellow Daoist East King Duke, spare me your petty schemes. You lack the stomach to swallow these three islands alone."
His gaze swept dismissively over the "experts" gathered behind the Duke. To Styx, they were nothing more than a rabble of motes—not even worth the effort of a proper slaughter—yet the Duke dared to use them as a backdrop for his arrogance.
East King Duke's smile faltered into something strained. Displeasure flashed behind his eyes, but he kept his temper on a short leash. He had no desire to provoke a man like Styx, whose reputation for slaughter was even more terrifying than that of the North Sea's Kunpeng.
"Fellow Daoist Styx, why not join our ranks? We could form a pact."
He extended the olive branch, hoping to pull Styx into his circle. With a monster like that on his side, he might actually have the leverage to hold one of the islands.
He had already abandoned the delusion of claiming all three.
"No interest. I walk the path alone." Styx's refusal was instantaneous and cold. As a Quasi-Saint and the master of the Yuantu and Abi swords, his confidence was absolute.
The moment the formations shattered, he intended to cut a path through anyone in his way. That was the only satisfaction he required.
Why would he tether himself to East King Duke and a collection of dead weight?
East King Duke's complexion soured. Before he could speak, a strain of immortal music drifted through the air, sounding like a melody plucked from the highest heavens.
A procession of female immortals descended, cutting through the night on clouds of auspicious light while riding upon the backs of divine birds.
"Fellow Daoist Queen Mother of the West!" East King Duke's face brightened with genuine relief as he hurried to greet her.
"Fellow Daoist." The Queen Mother of the West acknowledged him with a graceful nod. Her presence was a study in elegance and nobility, possessing a profound stillness that suggested she would remain unmoved even if the sky were to splinter and fall.
"Fellow Daoist, since we serve as the heads of the male and female immortals respectively, it is only right that we unite. Together, we can seize the initiative when the islands open."
The Queen Mother's phoenix-like eyes drifted toward the islands' silhouette. She spoke softly, "Is there truly a need? It is perhaps better if each follows the flow of their own Opportunity."
Her voice was gentle, yet it possessed a crystalline firmness that brooked no argument.
East King Duke opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. He turned away, silently cursing her perceived stupidity.
The density of the crowd continued to swell. The powerhouses of the Honghuang world were gravitating toward the islands like moths to a flame, their collective auras beginning to cluster like a sea of brilliant, competing stars.
Then came the Sanqing. The arrival of Laozi, Yuanshi, and Tongtian brought with it a crushing, oceanic pressure. They made no effort to hide their strength, projecting their intent like a declaration of absolute sovereignty.
They bypassed the crowds entirely, moving directly to the edge of the Innate Grand Formations. They began to dissect the ancient barriers with a scholarly focus, acting as if the hundreds of gathered experts simply did not exist.
No one spoke a word of dissent. Even East King Duke kept his distance, his bravado vanishing. The Sanqing were not just powerful; they were the Disciples of the Dao Ancestor—Saints in waiting.
Shortly after their arrival, the Yao Race appeared, led by Nuwa.
Their combined presence was vast and shimmering, a collective aura that, surprisingly, stood its ground against the heavy pressure radiating from the Sanqing.
As the newcomers settled, the eyes of Styx, East King Duke, and several others narrowed. Their gaze fixed upon a black-robed elder standing among the Yao experts, and a tangible killing intent began to thicken the air.
"The Primordial Violet Qi is here..."
Styx pulled back into the shadows, his presence becoming a mere whisper in the dark. He looked past the sea of living beings, his eyes locked onto the back of Kunpeng.
In his estimation, no treasure within the Three Immortals Island could outweigh the value of that violet qi.
Compared to the path of a Saint, all other opportunities were merely passing clouds. The experts waited in a heavy, expectant silence. Finally, the surface of the sea began to groan. Giant waves erupted, churning into monstrous billows that reached for the sky.
The islands themselves began to shudder.
"Is the seal breaking?" one expert cried out, his voice a mix of frantic hope and terror.
"Wait... the Ancestral Witches?! They are here too!?"
In the distance, several colossal figures emerged from the horizon, their heads seemingly brushing the clouds as they waded through the deep.
They were of such impossible scale that the East Sea, known for its bottomless depths, barely reached their waists.
Ten-thousand-foot waves were kicked up by their stride, while the essence of the surrounding world rushed toward them in a violent, swirling vortex.
They moved like the deities of the world's creation, sweeping aside the lingering Chaos of the atmosphere with every step.
Leading the way were Candle Nine Nethers, Gonggong, Qiang Liang, Ju Mang, Xi Zi, and Houtu—six of the Twelve Ancestral Witches.
Houtu, however, had chosen not to take her titanic form. She stood instead upon Qiang Liang's massive shoulder, clearly uncomfortable with such a gaudy display of power.
The others had no such reservations; they were here to intimidate.
The Yao Race experts watched their approach, their expressions twisting with disgust.
"Why must these wretched Witches thrust themselves into every affair?"
"Haha! It seems everyone is here. Since a grand Opportunity has appeared, we thought we'd come and snatch a few Magic Treasures to play with," Qiang Liang bellowed, his voice booming like a physical strike of thunder.
The gathered crowd gave him no response.
Disdain was etched onto the faces of the Daoist experts.
If you do not belong to the circle, do not force your way in.
Do you brutes even possess the soul-force to wield a Magic Treasure?
"Hehe... pathetic creatures, coming all this way just to find a grave." Yuanshi stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked the six Witches in the eye, his gaze sharp with cold, undisguised killing intent.
"Sanqing, has it been too long since your last beating? Do you crave another?" Gonggong countered with a sneer. As the Ancestral Witch of Water standing in the heart of the East Sea, his confidence was a fortress.
"How interesting. It seems you have truly grown tired of living." Yuanshi shook his head with a light chuckle, as if genuinely amused by their lack of self-awareness.
Just as he moved to summon the Pangu Banner to strike a decisive blow, Laozi's hand moved, silently signaling him to stop.
"Do not waste your energy yet. Something far more entertaining is arriving."
High above the Void Realm, three golden figures began a slow, majestic descent. The Three Crows of the Sun Star had finally made their entrance.
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