Jiang Qingyi returned to the National Preceptor’s Residence.

The moment she stepped into the courtyard, Jiang Qingyi saw two brocade boxes placed atop the stone table.

“Someone come here,” Jiang Qingyi called toward the doorway.

“National Preceptor.”

Very quickly, a maid came out, respectful to the point of stiffness, and bowed to Jiang Qingyi.

“Who delivered these two gift boxes?” Jiang Qingyi asked.

“Reporting to the National Preceptor.”

The maid answered.

“These two gift boxes were sent on behalf of Consort Xue of the Hall of Congealed Snow and Consort Mu of the Hall of Holding Wine.”

“The two consorts also asked this maid to pass along a message. They said they have seen what the National Preceptor has done for His Majesty, and these two items are meant as compensation to the National Preceptor.”

“They also said that in the future, they can refine that pill as well, and there will be no need to trouble the National Preceptor.”

Hearing the maid’s report, Jiang Qingyi’s brows drew together. In the end, she waved her hand. “I understand. You may go.”

“Yes, National Preceptor.”

After the maid withdrew, Jiang Qingyi opened the gift boxes sent by Consort Xue and Consort Mu.

What Bai Ruxue sent was a ten-thousand-year sea spirit ganoderma, exceptionally effective at replenishing qi and blood.

What Qin Siyao sent was a bottle of ten-thousand-year Hundred-Flowers Brew, its /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ effect much the same as the sea spirit ganoderma.

“Hmph!”

Jiang Qingyi gave a cold snort and closed the boxes again.

How could she not know what Bai Ruxue and Qin Siyao were thinking?

They already knew she had refined the Stealing Heaven Pill for Xiao Mo.

And the Stealing Heaven Pill consumed essence blood.

What they were sending now—things to replenish qi and blood—was nothing more than their attempt to keep Xiao Mo from owing her a personal debt.

But what did what she did for Xiao Mo have to do with them?

“Don’t tell me they really think they’re my martial aunties?”

Jiang Qingyi shut the boxes, snorted, and turned to walk into the room.

The next morning.

Xiao Mo rose early.

Today, Xiao Mo was going to attempt foundation establishment!

Xiao Mo climbed into a carriage and headed for that remote plain he had planned long ago.

Wei Xun wanted to go with Xiao Mo, but Xiao Mo refused.

Of course, Xiao Mo did not bring Sili, either.

It was not that Xiao Mo did not trust Wei Xun and Sili.

Rather, Bai Ruxue and Qin Siyao would be going as well. They would help him set up the altar and the spell formation.

Bai Ruxue and Qin Siyao did not want others to know what realm they truly possessed.

Before long, Xiao Mo—wearing a blue scholar’s robe—stood on this stretch of deserted land.

For Xiao Mo, this first tribulation truly did carry a measure of tension.

Though Xiao Mo had passed through heavenly tribulation many times within the Book of a Hundred Lives, those were ultimately only simulated lives.

Dying in the Book of a Hundred Lives was not real death.

Dying in reality meant he would truly be gone.

So on this small plain, Xiao Mo carefully arranged the altar.

Before attempting the tribulation, he planned to make an offering to Heaven and Earth, hoping that when the lightning struck, it might strike a bit lighter.

At Xiao Mo’s behavior, Jiang Qingyi gave a small snort and turned her head away, muttering softly, “What’s there to worship? Must we cultivators still watch the Heavenly Way’s expression?”

Xiao Mo pretended he had not heard.

It was not that he could not understand her view.

Because earlier, when Xiao Mo asked Jiang Qingyi what he should watch for during tribulation, Jiang Qingyi said there was nothing to watch for—when she faced tribulation, she would first curse the sky to its face and regard it as ants.

Xiao Mo could only say that method suited geniuses, not him.

After all, cursing the sky during tribulation was extremely likely to invite retribution.

Unless one was a terrifyingly gifted genius, an ordinary person—especially a mundane ruler like him—should honestly follow the proper steps.

Compared to Jiang Qingyi thinking all of Xiao Mo’s preparations were unnecessary,

Bai Ruxue wore a gentle smile as she helped Xiao Mo build the altar and personally arranged the offerings.

Xiao Mo felt this sort of tribulation attitude was quite correct.

Look at her—respecting the Heavenly Way. That was how a normal cultivator ought to behave.

But once Bai Ruxue finished setting the altar, she reached out to straighten Xiao Mo’s collar and said with a smile,

“Husband, when you face tribulation, don’t rush. Just focus. We’ve already given the Heavenly Way its due face. If that dog of a Heavenly Way refuses to know what’s good for it and dares to make things hard for Husband, this concubine will tear off a piece of the Heavenly Way!”

“....”

Hearing Bai Ruxue, Xiao Mo did not know what to say for a moment.

It seemed that for Ruxue, her respect for the Heavenly Way was built entirely on whether the Heavenly Way “knew what was good for it.”

“Brother Emperor, the auspicious hour has arrived. It’s about time.”

After setting the spell formation, Qin Siyao ran up to Xiao Mo with bright delight and said lightly, “Brother Emperor, don’t worry. The Foundation Establishment Realm is easy. You just open and close your eyes and it’ll be over.”

“Thank you, the three of you.”

Xiao Mo clasped his hands and bowed.

Even if their identities were complicated, it seemed that with them present, this tribulation would not be too difficult.

Half an incense stick’s time later, the three of them withdrew to a distance of one li from Xiao Mo.

Xiao Mo took a deep breath, released the seal on his realm, and attempted foundation establishment!

Thunderclouds gathered and churned above Xiao Mo’s head.

Within five li around Xiao Mo, everything dimmed, as if a torrential rain would fall the next moment.

RUMBLE!

As a bolt of lightning tore across the sky, a heavy peal of thunder followed.

Xiao Mo drew a breath, swallowed the Stealing Heaven Pill, and prepared to meet the tribulation.

These days, Xiao Mo had read many books on foundation establishment.

Under normal circumstances, the foundation-establishment tribulation was only two strikes.

If he passed, he would enter foundation establishment.

If he failed, the light outcome was grievous injury; the heavy outcome was the body destroyed and the Way extinguished, form and soul annihilated.

There was a one-in-ten-thousand chance a cultivator could attempt foundation establishment again later.

But from Xiao Mo’s understanding, among those who succeeded on a second attempt, it was one in a thousand.

BOOM!

The instant the thunder detonated, that violet light at the horizon had already crashed down.

Xiao Mo did not dodge.

Heavenly lightning could not be dodged anyway.

He stood where he was and took the first strike head-on.

When the lightning scattered, he lowered his head and coughed twice. A scorched stench surged up in his mouth, and his throat felt as though it had been smoked through.

On his face, his hands, and the skin visible through tears in his collar, there were blackened burn marks.

He blinked and shook his head. In his vision, fine golden sparks still drifted, and a ringing hum still buzzed in his ears.

Xiao Mo looked toward the three in the distance. His sight was blurry, and he could only make out indistinct silhouettes.

Before Xiao Mo could steady his breathing, the second strike had already come.

This time, the lightning did not smash down directly from midair.

Instead, it abruptly contracted and condensed, taking the form of a longsword, its tip pointing straight at Xiao Mo.

“Tribulation lightning taking form?”

Bai Ruxue’s voice dropped very low, but her foot had already stepped forward by half a pace.

Beside her, Jiang Qingyi and Qin Siyao also shifted forward a step, and the expressions of all three changed almost at once.

So-called tribulation lightning taking form was a phenomenon seen only when Dragon Gate Realm cultivators faced tribulation.

Above the Dragon Gate Realm, spiritual power condensed to a certain degree, and the tribulation lightning the Heavenly Way cast down would take on different forms depending on the cultivator’s primary method.

But Xiao Mo was only attempting foundation establishment.

The foundation-establishment tribulation—two strikes were already the limit. How could there be formed lightning?

And on the plain, Xiao Mo had no time to think about any of that.

The lightning-sword of tribulation was already upon him.

He raised his hand. The spirit sword Jiang Qingyi had given him fell into his palm.

Xiao Mo condensed a strand of sword qi and cleaved toward that lightning sword.

The two forces collided, bursting into a muffled detonation.

A shockwave rolled outward, flinging碎-stones from the ground. Dust whipped up three zhang high.

When the smoke and dust dispersed, Xiao Mo’s knee buckled. He crashed down on one knee, his sword stabbed into the ground to brace him.

He kept his head lowered. Blood slid from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the scorched earth before him. On his arms, his neck, the corner of his brow, the skin split in several fine lines. Blood seeped out and mixed with ash-black sweat.

Bai Ruxue clenched her sleeve, her knuckles whitening.

The second strike of tribulation had passed.

But the sky did not clear.

Instead, the dark clouds pressed lower, and within the roiling layers of cloud, something seemed to move.

A moment later, a head pushed out.

It was an ancient desolation thunder beast.

Its entire body was a dim, deep blue. In its eyes there were no pupils—only two clusters of even brighter lightning.

It made no sound. It only lowered its head and stared hard at Xiao Mo on the ground.

“A third strike of lightning???”

Xiao Mo lifted his head, staring at the thunder beast, doubting whether he had seen wrong.

He began to doubt whether he was even facing a foundation-establishment tribulation.

Lightning taking form, three strikes falling in sequence—Dragon Gate Realm tribulation was no more than this.

Xiao Mo’s heart carried a trace of helplessness.

He had the Hundun Emperor Bone, and he had swallowed the Stealing Heaven Pill refined by National Preceptor Jiang. What virtue did he have, that Heaven would still “honor” him like this?

At the same time, Bai Ruxue moved.

The spiritual power in her sleeves nearly congealed into substance, and in her peach-blossom eyes, the black pupils turned into golden vertical slits.

Jiang Qingyi also tightened her grip on her sword.

At some point, Qin Siyao had already drawn a Ten-Fierce Spear into her hand.

They knew that if they intervened now, Xiao Mo’s foundation establishment would be ruined. If the first attempt failed, then later trying to step over this threshold again would be harder than ascending to the heavens.

But if they did not intervene, Xiao Mo would die here.

Yet just as the three of them were about to move—

Xiao Mo stood up.

His knee lifted from the ground. His back straightened again. Blood still flowed, but he did not bend at the waist again.

A faint layer of light rose over his body.

“This is...?”

Bai Ruxue and the other two stared at Xiao Mo in shock.

That light was not dazzling and not sharp—soft, as though it came from a very distant place.

It was not the glow of spiritual power, and not the protection of a magic artifact.

It was like merit fortune condensed from the lights of ten thousand households!

Xiao Mo drew a deep breath, and the sword intent around him swelled stronger.

He had walked through human streets and alleys, treating commoners in plague and personally tasting medicine.

He had watched cooking smoke curl by hearths, supported poor households, and listened to children crying at night.

He had braved torrential rain to reach the dikes, controlling floods day and night.

To the cultivators on mountains, those were “ordinary,” “trifling,” “not worth mentioning” breaths of living beings.

But at this moment, they gathered into a thin halo of light that protected him.

Xiao Mo tightened his grip on the sword.

He did not look at the thunder beast. He did not look at the tribulation clouds roiling above.

He only lowered his eyes and looked at the spirit sword in his hand.

Then he struck.

This strike held no retreat and no reservation.

The last thread of spiritual power within him, the final bit of strength in bone and blood—together with that faint halo of “lights of ten thousand households”—all poured into this single strike.

The sword edge rose upward.

The thunder beast dove downward.

At the same time.

Within a detached courtyard of White Deer Academy,

a woman in an ink-black long dress was reading in her room.

Suddenly, she set the book down and walked quickly out.

Standing in the courtyard, she looked toward the distance, her pale slender hand tightening.

“Headmaster, what’s wrong?”

Hu Die, who had been practicing calligraphy in the courtyard, raised her head. Seeing her teacher staring blankly into the distance, she hurried to Shang Jiuli’s side.

In Hu Die’s impression, her teacher had always been elegant and composed, unhurried in all things.

This was the first time she had seen her teacher look so tense.

Shang Jiuli shook her head and said slowly, “Nothing... It’s just that an old friend has entered foundation establishment.”

“An old friend?”

Hu Die blinked, even more puzzled.

By all logic, her teacher’s old friends should all be great cultivators.

How could “old friend” be connected to foundation establishment?

“Yes.”

Shang Jiuli smiled and turned back, looking at her disciple, then rubbed her head.

“An old friend your master has long, long missed—very, very much.”

Central Lands.

The Confucian Academy.

In the core region of the Ten Thousand Arts world, the place every scholar under heaven dreamed of—

a streak of ink-black scholarly radiance rose from the Literary Temple, rushing straight into the sky.

Waves of clear wind swept through the Confucian Academy.

The wind was pleasant, and it carried the scent of ink.

Scholars who felt it only found righteous qi shaking within their chests.

This was the page-turning wind.

“What’s going on?”

“Such a dense page-turning wind!”

“Could it be a sage has descended into the world?”

“An omen at the Literary Temple! How many years has it been since the last time?”

“A sage... How long has it been since our Confucian line produced a sage...”

The academy’s disciples saw the omen and murmured with friends nearby, guessing what it could be.

“Head—Headmaster... the Literary Temple...”

A young Confucian gentleman ran in panic into the courtyard of the Confucian Academy’s headmaster, Kong Sheng, so anxious he stammered.

“I know. I know all of it.”

Kong Sheng, hair white as snow, slowly rose from his couch and walked to the window.

This old man who looked like an ordinary village farmer gathered his sleeves and looked into the distance in silence.

“Headmaster, what exactly is this omen at the Literary Temple?” The young Confucian gentleman stepped to Kong Sheng’s side, full of doubts. “Could it truly be a sage descending into the world?”

“Yes... a sage has descended into the world.”

Kong Sheng turned his head and looked toward another direction.

That was the Literary Temple.

Within the Literary Temple, there were statues enshrined for four sages.

But among those four, there was one empty place—and it looked strikingly abrupt.

As though a statue had once stood there, only to be moved away in the end.

“Jinche, do you still remember the story this old man once told you?” Kong Sheng smiled at his last disciple.

Jinche froze. “Teacher means...?”

Kong Sheng smiled faintly, yet in his eyes there was only desolation.

“Once upon a time, there was a very young, very young sage. He did very, very many things—things worthy of the people under heaven.”

“But the people under heaven... were unworthy of him.”