Everyone fell silent. The “new world” born from the Great Collapse was bound to develop along an entirely new trajectory. Faced with the unfamiliar script in the scriptures, no matter how much effort they put in, for future generations, it could only be a source of helpless sighs!

“...Words are merely tools of thought. The truly powerful Dao lineage can only be comprehended in spirit, not conveyed in words. Since the written language may be completely different, then let us turn ‘scripture’ into ‘painting’ instead.”

The middle-aged Daoist at the head of the group pondered for a long time before finally making a decision that would influence countless eras and epochs to come:

“No matter if it’s the next world, or the one after that... or however many worlds there may be, as long as they are still human, as long as they possess enough talent, as long as they can see the scripture paintings we leave behind, then... they will be able to learn the essence within. — In this way, no matter what great catastrophe occurs, our Dao lineage will never be severed!!”

The rumbling voice was deafening, echoing through heaven and earth.

“Boom!”

As soon as he finished speaking, the middle-aged Daoist suddenly bit his index finger, pointed forward, and with a thunderous boom, golden light burst forth in the void, sending out ripples in all directions.

Moments later, a massive, multicolored scroll appeared solemnly and majestically in the void. At the center of the scroll, a gigantic “Dao Sovereign” was depicted so vividly it seemed to come alive.

His gaze pierced through the scroll, his colossal divine body spanning the great void, one hand pointing to the sky, the other touching the earth, exuding an inexplicable aura of vastness, connecting heaven and earth, eternal and indestructible.

Atop the mountain, the middle-aged Daoist nodded in satisfaction. His expression had been wan for a long time, as if this painting had drained much of his vitality and spirit.

“Go. From now on, no matter how many epochs or eras pass, whoever obtains this scroll will be my disciple! ...”

The Daoist struck out with a heavy punch, and the scroll before him instantly shot backward with a bang, drifting and tumbling, shaking the air for dozens of yards before suddenly bursting with a dazzling blood-red light, rolling itself up, and transforming into a stream of light that vanished into the boundless cosmos...

One scroll, two scrolls, three scrolls...

More and more people followed suit. Behind the Daoist, thousands upon thousands of scripture paintings slowly rose from the darkness, each bearing countless “Dao Sovereigns,” “Heavenly Lords,” “Immortal Monarchs,” “Star Emperors”... as well as the painstaking efforts and dreams of countless mighty figures of this era, flying into the depths of space...

As the streams of light ascended, one figure after another let go of all attachments, suddenly soaring upward, charging with smiles and unwavering resolve into the depths of the battlefield in the sky...

...

“Amitabha!...”

In one corner of space, as if a giant curtain was slowly drawn back, it revealed behind it an endless land of Buddhas and disciples. A pure, white Buddha gazed down at the countless “oceans of scripture” rising and flying away, chanting the Buddha’s name loudly, his eyes filled with boundless compassion.

The Buddha pointed a finger, sending out ripples, and instantly eight scripture paintings appeared, each depicting a Buddha. The eight scrolls rolled up together and likewise merged into the tide of scripture paintings, turning into meteors and vanishing without a trace.

“My Buddha attained enlightenment through these eight methods. Whether one can achieve liberation depends on karmic fate. — Alas, sentient beings are blinded by obstacles and fog, and in the end, cannot pierce the truth of this world!”

The Buddha shook his head and turned to leave. The endless Buddha-land behind him slowly closed, leaving only a faint echo lingering in the void:

“Medicine cannot save the dead; the Buddha only delivers those with karmic affinity...”

Boom!

Long after, with a world-shaking roar, the world collapsed. This was the destruction of one epoch, and the beginning of another...

Chapter One Henry Clark

Jin’an City, Pingchuan County.

The The Clark Family clan was a prestigious family in Pingchuan County for a hundred years, wielding great power. Their ancestors had produced three highly distinguished martial scholars.

...

“A strong wind reveals sturdy grass, fierce fire refines true gold. Without enduring bitter frost, how can one’s fragrance spread...”

Early in the morning, in the woodshed at the southeast corner of the The Clark Residence, the window was open. A thinly dressed young boy pressed his lips together, diligently practicing calligraphy on a sheet of poor-quality straw paper.

His expression was focused. Though the cold wind struck his body, he seemed not to notice at all.

This boy was about fourteen or fifteen years old. Though young, he possessed a maturity rare among his peers. Judging by his clothes and living conditions, it was clear his circumstances were difficult.

“Whether I can pass the county exam and make a name for myself depends on the imperial examination six months from now... Eight years—this clan, I can’t stand it for even another moment.”

After a long while, Henry Clark put down his brush, memories flooding his mind.

Henry Clark was originally a young master of the The Clark Family clan, living a life of enviable wealth and privilege. However, after a sudden misfortune took both his parents, the seven-year-old Henry Clark became utterly alone, and his status in the clan plummeted.

Those who should have been his closest kin became the ones who oppressed him the most.

First, his uncles and aunts coveted his family’s property. Then he was driven out of his home and relegated to this remote woodshed.

Over the past eight years, not only did the clan members suppress him, even the servants dared to point fingers and make sarcastic remarks in front of him.

Henry Clark had seen the warmth and coldness of human relationships, and the fickleness of the world.

Despite his difficult situation, Henry Clark never gave up hope. He always told himself that everything in life was a test to temper himself.