In the Guanghan Divine Palace, Zhang Ruochen placed the Sundial at the hall’s centre.
Holding Saint Monk Xumi’s divine decree, he watched as the Sundial shimmered with a layer of cyan light, flickering gorgeously.
“It’s said the Sundial belonged to Saint Monk Xumi?” Zhang Ruochen asked.
The Moon God nodded lightly, then added, “Yes and no, Saint Monk Xumi was just one of its owners, in truth, the Sundial dates back to an ancient era, traceable to the dawn of civilisation.”
Her delicate jade hand pushed towards the Sundial.
A surge of divine power flowed into it.
“Whoosh!”
Countless light specks burst from the Sundial, enveloping the entire palace.
“Time markers, get back!”
Zhang Ruochen’s expression shifted, he darted backwards like lightning.
The first time he’d encountered the Sundial in the Ice Fire Phoenix’s nest, three time marker specks had struck him, slashing fifty years off his lifespan.
He retreated a hundred and twenty zhang before stopping.
The Moon God, unmoving, stood her ground.
The time markers extinguished like sparks before reaching her.
“Impressive, she ignores time’s power,” Zhang Ruochen marvelled inwardly.
Her strength was unfathomable, her divine abilities vast, seemingly omnipotent—what force in the world could challenge her?
Sensing his thoughts, she said, “It’s not that time can’t affect me, but in its current state, the Sundial’s time power is too weak.”
“Too weak? Even a Nine-Step Saint King stepping within a hundred and twenty zhang wouldn’t last a few breaths before their lifespan dried up,” Zhang Ruochen replied.
She explained, “If the Sundial’s full power erupted, forget a mere hundred and twenty zhang, it could disrupt time across an entire world, the devastation beyond your current realm’s comprehension.”
“I once poured saint qi into it, but it sank like a stone in the sea, no reaction, does it need divine power to activate?” Zhang Ruochen wondered.
“Swish, swish.”
Perhaps due to time accelerating, a sound like flowing water emanated from the Sundial.
Gazing at it, the Moon God said, “Try embedding Saint Monk Xumi’s divine decree into the central groove on the stone platform.”
Zhang Ruochen examined it closely, indeed, the platform had three grooves.
The middle one matched the size and shape of the circular jade decree in his hand.
Then he noticed something new, holding the decree aloft, the surrounding time markers automatically parted.
“Intriguing, truly intriguing, what’s this jade made of, how could it cross ten millennia from past to present? Could it once have been part of the Sundial?”
Holding the jade, he re-entered the palace, placing it into the central groove.
Nothing happened.
What’s this, no connection between the jade and the Sundial?
Suddenly, the floating time markers vanished, time’s flow shifted dramatically, slowing to a crawl.
Zhang Ruochen calculated, shock spreading across his face, murmuring, “Impossible, impossible… the time ratio’s reached such a terrifying level.”
The Moon God said calmly, “No need for such surprise, there’s an old Kunlun Realm saying, ‘A day in heaven, a year on earth,’ because in the mid-to-late stages of that divine war ten millennia ago, Saint Monk Xumi pushed the Sundial to its limit, enveloping the Kunlun Realm, a year there was a day in the Heavenly Realm and other worlds.”
“In mere centuries, the Kunlun Realm birthed a host of top-tier powerhouses, by the time the Hell Realm noticed, it was too late, the Kunlun Realm became the universe’s mightiest world, its power deciding the final battle’s outcome, if not for…”
She paused, a trace of regret in her eyes, adding cryptically, “Human hearts are too complex!”
Indeed.
Within the Sundial’s hundred-and-twenty-zhang radius, the time flow ratio hit an astonishing one to three hundred and sixty-five.
A year beneath it was a day outside.
Zhang Ruochen’s heart raced, “Ten millennia ago, the Kunlun Realm had such a glorious era?”
“A fleeting bloom, power inflated by time carries fatal flaws, take Black Heart Demon Lord, nurtured by the Kunlun Realm in its peak, and look at his end,” she said.
Her words seemed not just about that era, but a warning to him.
“Still, that period was the Kunlun Realm’s most dazzling chapter, sadly erased by an unseen force, known only to those who lived it,” she continued.
“Who buried that history, and why?” Zhang Ruochen asked.
She shook her head, “I’d like that answer too.”
After a long silence, he sighed, glory had faded, now the Kunlun Realm was a dying dragon in a mire, its survival through this crisis uncertain.
He said, “I found the Sundial in the Ice Fire Phoenix’s nest, it might hold the God Star Soul of the Ancestral Spirit Realm’s sole god, Hunter God, with your wisdom and divine power, Moon God, can you unlock its secrets?”
“Hunter God’s Star Soul isn’t in the Sundial, but…”
Graceful as a willow in the breeze, she approached the Sundial’s front, peering at it, “The answer might be here.”
Unnoticed until now, the stone platform beneath bore myriad intricate patterns and light specks.
Tens of thousands of specks, countless lines linking them, resembling a Buddha statue or a complex starry route.
Not his first time seeing this, fearing it’d vanish again, he grabbed spirit paper, sketching the patterns and specks.
“What is this?”
Studying them, he speculated, then dismissed each guess.
After a long gaze, the Moon God said, “It’s a starfield beyond the Kunlun Realm, each speck a star.”
“The lines are routes through the stars?” he asked.
Her snowy fingers traced the air, she smiled faintly, “You’ll learn those lines’ secrets in time, but I’ve likely unravelled Hunter God’s Star Soul mystery.”
He listened intently, only to hear, “In the Guanghan Divine Palace, only the Sundial emits light, so why a shadow?”
“Shadow? What shadow?”
Puzzled, he suddenly realised, looking up at the stone needle at the Sundial’s centre.
The needle’s shadow marked the hour.
Yet now, its projection on the dial wasn’t cast by light.
Leaping onto the platform, he spun the dial, the shadow stayed fixed in one direction.
“Haha! I see, I see!” He laughed.
The needle’s shadow wasn’t about time, its direction likely pointed to Hunter God’s Star Soul.
Of course, he only had a bearing, not the distance—ten thousand li, a million, or across a galaxy?
Smiling, he looked to the Moon God.
She ceased pouring divine power into the Sundial, “Don’t look at me, your opportunity is yours to seek, your path yours to tread.”
With her supreme power, she could cross billions of li effortlessly to retrieve it.
He wasn’t disheartened, she was right—his road was his own.
As she withdrew her power, the Sundial’s time effect faded, the palace’s flow returning to normal.
“Why’s it like this, does it truly need divine power to work?” he asked.
“Indeed,” she replied.
He felt like spitting blood, moments ago he’d been thrilled, thinking the Sundial would skyrocket his cultivation and train a legion of experts swiftly.
Divine power required—how could he proceed?
Even if the Moon God offered her power to aid his training, at this juncture, he couldn’t stay on Moon God Mountain.
The Kunlun Realm beckoned urgently.
Seeing his stunned look, a sly glint flashed in her eyes, “Ever heard of divine stones?”
His eyes lit up, “Can divine stones activate the Sundial?”
“Yes, see the two grooves beside the jade? Place two divine stones there, and it’ll work,” she said.
Joy surged, then his brow furrowed, “Divine stones are priceless, treasures only gods use, unbuyable in saint cities, Moon God, you must have some, care to gift me a few?”
“None.”
Her reply was curt.
His heart sank again.
But she added, “Other worlds might not birth divine stones, but the Kunlun Realm, one of the universe’s rare eternal worlds, surely can, check its ancient mines, you might find some.”
