For countless eons, the Dao Ancestor had been the embodiment of serenity, a being who walked the path of the Dao with unwavering certainty. His goal, clear since the dawn of his existence, was to merge with the Heavens—to become one with the natural order, to transcend all desire, and to embody the Dao itself. He had taught this philosophy to the 72 Sages, and his teachings had guided generations of cultivators toward spiritual enlightenment.
Yet, as the words of Zui Tian and Wujin Meng echoed across the Infinite Immortal Realms, something stirred deep within the Dao Ancestor—something he had not felt in epochs. Doubt.
In the silent, ethereal halls of the Heavenly Realm, the Dao Ancestor sat upon his Lotus Throne, his usual meditative calm replaced by an unease he had never known. He had heard their speeches—first Zui Tian’s discourse on energy and its boundless nature, and then Wujin Meng’s heartfelt warning to guard the heart.
Their ideas were not just novel; they were revolutionary. They challenged the very essence of what the Dao Ancestor had always believed. His own path was one of merging with the natural order, of letting go of the self, of becoming part of the infinite, impersonal flow of the universe. But Zui and Wujin… they spoke of freedom, of the individual soul, of guarding the heart and forging one’s own path.
For the first time, the Dao Ancestor questioned whether his pursuit of the Dao had been the right one.
He stood slowly, his form glowing with an otherworldly light as he gazed out over the vast realms beneath him. The Heavens—his goal for millennia—felt different now. They no longer seemed like the ultimate truth, but rather, a prison of certainty, a boundary that limited rather than expanded.
“Have I been wrong?” the Dao Ancestor whispered, his voice barely audible.
As he walked through the halls of the Heavenly Palace, he passed by the 72 Sages, all seated in deep meditation, their minds absorbed in contemplation of the Dao. They had followed him for eons, trusting in his wisdom, believing that his path to the Dao was the truest. But now, even the sight of his most loyal disciples failed to bring him comfort.
The Dao Ancestor’s mind raced back to Zui’s speech on energy: “Energy is the final and exact science.”
Energy, he realized, was not bound by the same laws he had followed his entire life. It flowed freely, transcending time and space. It was formless, without limitations. It was alive, in a way that the Dao, as he had come to understand it, was not. He had always thought that merging with the Dao meant letting go of his individuality, becoming part of the grand, cosmic tapestry. But what if the true path lay in embracing that individuality, in shaping the universe through one’s own will, just as Zui Tian had suggested?
The Dao Ancestor ascended the steps of the Heavenly Altar, a place where he often meditated in silence, his connection to the Dao deepest here. But today, as he reached the top, he could not sit. His thoughts were turbulent, swirling like a chaotic storm.
“Zui Tian speaks of freedom. Wujin Meng warns us to guard our hearts. Yet I have taught my disciples to let go, to relinquish the self in pursuit of the Dao.”
He closed his eyes and reached out with his spiritual senses, feeling the vastness of the Heavens around him. He had always thought the Dao to be all-encompassing, yet now it seemed… empty. As if something fundamental was missing.
Wujin Meng’s words echoed in his mind: “Home is where the heart is. Guard it.” Could it be that in his pursuit of becoming one with the Heavens, he had lost something vital? Had he forsaken his own heart, his own individuality, in the name of the Dao?
The Dao Ancestor’s doubt deepened, his mind drifting to the stories of the Paracausal Firmament. A battle of ideas had once shattered the primordial realm, separating light from darkness, and now, with the rise of paracausality, the balance of the universe itself seemed to be shifting. The Ideas that Zui and Wujin had become were more powerful than the Dao Ancestor had ever imagined. They were not just followers of a cosmic order—they shaped that order.
“Could it be,” he whispered to himself, “that the Dao is not the highest truth? That there is something beyond it?”
For hours, the Dao Ancestor remained in contemplation, gazing out at the Heavens. His entire existence had been devoted to the pursuit of the Dao, but now he began to wonder if that path had been a cage. A path that denied the individual spirit in favor of an endless, impersonal flow of cosmic energy.
He thought of the Immortal Emperor, the Abyssal Master, and the countless other powerful beings who had walked their own paths, each seeking their own truths. And now, with Zui Tian and Wujin Meng rising to Idea-hood, even the heavens themselves seemed to tremble at the notion that freedom, not harmony, might be the highest state of existence.
“Perhaps,” he said, his voice firming with resolution, “the path of the Dao is not one of abandoning the self, but of finding it. Perhaps… there is a way to merge with the Heavens while still guarding one’s heart.”
The next day, the 72 Sages gathered around the Dao Ancestor, sensing his turmoil. Sage Wei, the oldest and most revered among them, approached cautiously.
“Master,” Wei said softly, “we sense a shift in your spirit. Is something troubling you?”
The Dao Ancestor gazed at his disciple, his expression unreadable. “For the first time in my existence, I am doubting my path, Wei. Zui Tian and Wujin Meng have brought forth ideas that challenge everything I have ever believed.”
The Sages exchanged worried glances. Their master, the one who had led them down the Path of the Dao, had never faltered in his conviction.
“What do you mean, Master?” Sage Wei asked, his voice tinged with concern.
“The Dao we follow may not be the highest truth. There may be something beyond it. Something that embraces both the individual and the cosmic order. I do not yet know the answer, but I intend to find it.”
The Sages bowed their heads, acknowledging their master’s internal struggle. They had followed him for eons, and now, it seemed, they too would be forced to question their beliefs.
As the Dao Ancestor descended the altar, his resolve grew. The speeches of Zui Tian and Wujin Meng had opened his eyes to a new path—one that would not abandon the Dao, but would seek to understand it in its fullness. Not merely as a cosmic force, but as something that could coexist with freedom, with individuality, and with the heart’s true desire.
For the first time in eons, the Dao Ancestor did not seek to merge with the Heavens. He sought to understand them. And in that understanding, he hoped to find a new path—one that would guide not only himself but the Infinite Immortal Realms into a new era of balance between the self and the universe.