If he’d stripped away the extraneous dao laws and the rules of his proven Daos outside, Lan Xiaobu was certain his strength would plummet. But here, in this chaotic, ruleless void, as he peeled off the dao laws not native to his Eternal Life Dao, he felt only a persistent weakness—no other sensation. Perhaps he was already so weak that further decline didn’t stand out.
This ongoing frailty stemmed more from the chaotic, ruleless environment itself—the oppressive chaos sapped his vitality bit by bit.
He didn’t know how long it took, but just as he wondered if he could hold on, his Dao suddenly felt clean, free of foreign interference. Even his consciousness sharpened noticeably.
Yet Lan Xiaobu found no joy in this. He knew that if, after stripping these laws, he couldn’t cultivate a new Eternal Life Art here, he’d still perish in this chaos.
Forcing himself to stay alert, he cautiously circulated the Eternal Life Art.
To his delight, unburdened by other dao laws, the Art flowed freely with his intent, completing a full cycle within his body without hindrance. After one cycle, he could clearly pinpoint the Art’s flaws and where it needed new dao laws to be perfected.
Unable to contain his elation, he knew he’d survive. As long as the Eternal Life Art could form an internal cycle, he wouldn’t fall here.
With the second cycle, he began constructing the missing dao laws according to his own will. The five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, earth—and all cosmic rules had been stripped away, as had his proofs of fortune, merit, rules, samsara, and space.
Now, the five elements of his Eternal Life Dao had to be built by him. Space and time, too, required his own creation. Though he’d grasped the Six Paths, a new samsara law needed to be forged here and fused into his Dao.
He understood that constructing these supreme laws would come later. For now, he focused on refining the Eternal Life Art’s core, building basic dao laws to ensure his survival.
As he crafted and integrated each law into the renewed Eternal Life Dao, a sense of exhilaration washed over him.
At first, this circulation was confined to his body. Gradually, a faint dao charm formed on his surface—his Eternal Life Dao technique was taking shape.
Once that initial charm emerged, his cycles began drawing in the surrounding chaotic energy.
In cultivation, time loses meaning—especially for Lan Xiaobu in this state. He had to forge his Dao in chaos and then recultivate from scratch.
A millennium passed in a blink. Though still cultivating, the chaos around him had naturally formed a rule-bound space.
This space’s rules were entirely his own, while beyond it stretched the same ruleless chaos.
Awakening, he realized his cultivation had plateaued—he could progress no further. Opening his eyes, he sensed the changes around him.
Within this chaos, a hundred-meter radius around him was governed by his self-made dao rules, rooted in eternal life and layered with elemental laws he’d established.
His divine sense found no trace of the Cosmic Dimensional Model. Though reluctant to part with it, he wasn’t overly distraught.
Losing the Model yet gaining a complete Eternal Life Dao—who could weigh such a trade?
Assessing his cultivation, he’d reached the peak of the Quasi-Saint realm. To advance, he’d need to prove his Dao anew.
He didn’t rush. Something felt off—his Fortune Dao Tree was gone from his sea of consciousness. Without it, he’d never have reached this chaotic void; he’d have died outside.
His divine sense shifted to the Eternal Realm. Stripped of its dao laws, it was accessible but desolate. Even the Five-Needle Pine Dao Fruit Tree clung to life, sustained only by the realm’s abundant divine spirit veins and essence—otherwise, it’d be a wasteland of dead things.
Good thing Taichuan wasn’t inside.
Hastily, he infused his Eternal Life dao laws into the realm, refining its cosmic rules and foundational laws.
As he worked, the realm’s divine herbs and dao fruit trees revived under the new life-giving rules. The Five-Needle Pine even sprouted buds where fruits had fallen, poised to bloom again.
Satisfied, he still mourned the Fortune Dao Tree’s loss.
Then he noticed something worse: the Eternal Realm lacked two vital trees—the Emperor Rest Trees were missing.
Panicked, he stepped into the realm. As its master, he didn’t need to enter physically—his perception sufficed. But the trees’ absence unnerved him.
Inside, he confirmed it—they were gone.
At their former spot, only withered roots remained, lifeless and long dead.
What happened? Lan Xiaobu frowned. These trees had followed him since his Divine King days, their vitality saving him repeatedly despite his Eternal Life Art’s limits.
Probing his sea of consciousness where the Fortune Dao Tree once stood, he understood. Surviving this chaos and rebuilding his Eternal Life Dao here had come at a cost.
He’d lost the Cosmic Dimensional Model, the Fortune Dao Tree, and the Emperor Rest Trees.
As his Dao unraveled, the Fortune Dao Tree had linked to the Emperor Rest Trees, sustaining him. Without them, he’d never have reached this void.
The Emperor Rest Trees, already strained, had given their all. When he began stripping foreign laws in this chaos, even the Five-Needle Pine nearly succumbed—let alone the Emperor Rest Trees, which had lost 99% of their vitality. They’d perished in his realm.
Sighing with a heavy heart, he planted several chaotic divine spirit veins around their roots, shielding the area with a protective array. Though the odds were slim, he hoped they might one day revive.
Returning to the chaotic void, he embedded more chaotic divine spirit veins around him and began proving his sainthood.
This time, he didn’t prove fortune. Grounded in his Eternal Life Dao, he built his own spatial rules to prove space.
A dense vortex of divine essence enveloped him, his spatial dao laws rippling outward, expanding the rule-bound space within the chaos. From one mile to ten, then a hundred…
*Crack!* Something old seemed to shatter. Joy surged as he sensed his sea of consciousness—a new dao tree had appeared.
Unlike the Fortune Dao Tree, this one was encircled by a ring of dao laws, brimming with eternal life’s charm. The ring carried the familiar aura of his newly proven spatial Dao.
Perhaps this wasn’t proving space but perfecting his own spatial rules. From now on, he believed no peer could breach his spatial domain.
Was this First-Turn Sainthood?
He shook his head. Strictly speaking, this wasn’t a turn—it was simply sainthood. He no longer saw proving as nine turns. If he proved his own Samsara Dao next, another ring would encircle his dao tree.
Others might peak at nine turns, but he could prove any cosmic law he grasped. Unlike them, his progress would merely add rings around his dao tree.
To others, without reaching Eternal Sainthood, he’d be a First-Turn Saint. But he knew his level depended on how many rings adorned his dao tree.
His Dao was eternal life, so he’d call this tree the Eternal Life Dao Tree. Fortune would become one of its encircling dao laws.
