"We cannot fail to act in time again. This time, we need to sever the problems from the root. This is the only way.
"The Time and Space Immortal God has been behind the scenes, pulling the strings of our Immortal Plane for too long. Every time he takes action, another monster is born. Can we really allow this to happen again?"
GIlpin struck while the iron was still hot. This was his best chance. After witnessing a mere mortal do something they deemed impossible, the hearts of the Immortal Gods were in complete disorder. They could already faintly feel that their dao hearts were rippling. If things continued, a ripple would become a wave, and eventually, a wave would become a tsunami.
"What is your plan, Gilpin? Don't tell me that you just plan on just trying to take advantage of numbers? We've tried this before, to no avail. I won't send my Ice Phoenix Clan to death." Imaigne stared daggers at the high elf.
But, hearing these words, let alone being intimidated, Gilpin was ecstatic. The previous embarrassment he felt for his failed prediction vanished. In fact, he would be willing to be humiliated several times over if the result was the whole Immortal Plane turning against that man.
His revenge. He could almost smell it.
"Maybe if this was a normal gathering, it wouldn't be worthy of saying that numbers won't do much… But did you ever think that our Immortal Plane isn't the only Planar World that hates him to his core…?"
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "64ce79d606107d003c23ea27", id: "pf-5140-1"})Gilpin's words were slow and deliberate. The more he said, the wider their eyes became.
"… You… Madman…. You want to allow other planar worlds passage into our lands?! Have you lost your mind?!" Imaigne roared.
In her rage, a barrage of ice cracked beneath her feet as her blue hair whipped about violently.
"Of course not." Gilpin sneered. "Who said they would have to come here? The void is infinite and expansive… The possibilities it opens are endless…"
Gilpin caused their pupils to constrict. To them, a seemingly high-class elf of noble stature had become a madman. But… None of them had any objections any longer.
**
A long while later, Dyon found himself in the depths of the Peak Mountain. Though he was still in a sorry state, his eyes had a touch of fondness to them. Of course, it wasn't toward that unfilial disciple Nazaire. Though he was practically wagging his tail like an obedient puppy, Dyon didn't spare him a glance.
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "64cc9e79c7059f003e4ad4b0", id: "pf-5109-1"})Instead, he was entirely focused on a door that was before him.
Not many knew of the existence of this door. Of the members of Pill Sword Mountain, there were very few who were even aware that such a thing was here, let alone having the clearance to enter it. And, even fewer than that were aware of the origin of this door.
The twin doors were impossibly tall, easily over ten kilometers. However, they were buried so deeply beneath the ground that even the very top of their frames couldn't reach the surface.
The doors themselves were a beautiful radiating silver. They reminded Dyon of the golden doors of the Four Horsemen trials. Or, maybe from another perspective, now that he had awakened his memories, those doors reminded him of this one.
Gorgeous images of battle protruded from the doors. Dragons with silver scales, warriors with silver armor, weapons with silver blades. They all came together to form a heart thumping image.
The origin of this door, though, was maybe even greater than the scenes it painted, though. It was a Treasure of the 33 Heavens, one of the 11 of the Body Path, Eternal Tomb.
Though not many knew of its existence, this wasn't because Pill Sword Mountain had wanted to hide it. As one of the most ancient and powerful hegemons in existence, if they couldn't boldly claim ownership of such a treasure, then could anyone? Let alone claiming ownership, they would scream it to the high heavens.
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "663633fa8ebf7442f0652b33", id: "pf-8817-1"})However, the reason they never had was because this treasure wasn't theirs at all. Rather, it was Dyon's. More accurately, it was one of the treasures Dyon had personally refined himself to hold his good friend in death.
That year when Dyon was enraged by Pill Sword Mountain and made them guarantee to treat all mortals equally, it was just a pretext. The true goal of his actions was to bury this tomb. Dyon wasn't such a good person after all, whether it be mortals or immortals, he didn't care.
As the most ancient and tallest mountain of the Immortal Plane, Peak Mountain had the richest Spiritual Vein in existence. It was just the perfect source Dyon needed to maintain the active ability of Eternal Tomb. That was his true purpose in the visit that ended in Pill Sword Mountain's humiliation that day.
Of course, only the Sect Master at the time was aware of this. And due to the oath he had to swear, he was forced to keep tight-lipped about the whole matter. Only his successors and the highest ranking elders would even be aware of this door's existence. As for its purpose… It went to the grave with him.
All those successors knew was that this door was tied to their Sect's Fate. If it was opened without permission, Pill Sword Mountain would inevitably crumble.
Of course, Dyon knew he had the right to open this place. After all, it was left to him. But, how could those old fogies believe that? So, he had no choice but to challenge the Stele's and demand this as his reward.
But, he hadn't been aware that his disciple had become the Sect Master of Pill Sword Mountain. The version of himself who had yet to regain his memories hadn't known anything else about Nazaire other than that he was representing the void coalition, so he didn't have the ability to make the connection.
If he had simply read the name at the top of the God Stele, he probably could have guessed this. But… He had disdained to do so. He simply didn't care what those names were, the people behind, or even their records and skill. Since this was the case, why would he waste his time reading their names?
He had been pleasantly surprised when he saw Nazaire appear, but who knew this unfilial disciple would actually want to challenge his master instead of dutifully bowing out?
This was the second reason Dyon was pissed at his disciple. The nerve of him.
