Within the Qingxuan Sacred Land, upon the heights of Moshufeng Peak, Qin Moran—the Chief Talisman Master of the sect—stood draped in her signature ink-white robes. She was lecturing the disciples gathered before her: “The Path of Talismans is a Daoist method that utilizes the soul as a guide to hook the rhythms of heaven and earth, imprinting them onto a slip of talisman paper.”

“These rhythms are the very power of the laws that inherently exist within the world. As a talisman master, your task is to perceive these rhythms, imprint them, and utilize specific techniques to unleash their infinite wonders.”

“To become a true master, one must first achieve proficiency in the art of calligraphy. Following that, a robust soul is required. Finally, one must possess the perception and understanding necessary to resonate with the rhythms of heaven and earth…”

The Qingxuan Sacred Land placed great importance on the cultivation of its disciples. As the Chief Talisman Master, Qin Moran was responsible not only for crafting high-level talismans for the sect but also for occasionally instructing the new generation in the craft. As she spoke, she paced between the desks, reviewing the characters the disciples had written. After a short while, she couldn’t help but shake her head in disappointment.

This batch of disciples was truly abysmal; their handwriting was even worse than the last. Forget reaching the level of calligraphy masters—they didn’t even possess the most basic brush rhythm. Looking back over the centuries, the most exquisite handwriting she had ever seen still belonged to Gu Xiu.

Strange, why did I suddenly think of him? A waste like him has already left the sect; I should have wiped him from my memory long ago.

It must be because Eldest Senior Sister has been mentioning him so frequently of late. I must find an opportunity to help her sever that attachment and let it go.

Qin Moran collected her wandering thoughts and resumed her instruction, beginning the lesson on how to scribe their very first talisman. However, as she proceeded, her expression grew increasingly grim. Among the dozens of disciples present, not a single one could produce a coherent, complete talisman. Even Gu Xiu, during his first talisman lesson over five hundred years ago, hadn’t been this incompetent.

Forcing herself to stop comparing them to Gu Xiu, Qin Moran produced her Seven-Colored Glaze Brush. “Watch closely,” she commanded.

“The most critical element in crafting a talisman is the perception of Dao rhythms. With every stroke, you must use your soul power to attract and blend with the rhythms of heaven and earth!”

As she spoke, her brush began to dance. Her natural talent was brilliant, possessing an extraordinary aptitude for the Path of Talismans. As her brush moved, the rhythms of heaven and earth were immediately stirred, manifesting as faint glows that were drawn into the paper. This display drew gasps of genuine amazement from the disciples.

“So smooth?” “Elder Qin truly is a once-in-ten-thousand-years genius! This is incredible!” “So this is how a true talisman is born…”

The exclamations made Qin Moran shake her head inwardly. The Path of Talismans demanded a serene mental state; if one’s mind was cluttered with vanity, true height would always be out of reach. As that thought solidified, she executed her final stroke.

The talisman was complete!

Instantly, the laws of the world surged. The beckoned rhythms descended toward the paper. The moment they fused would be the moment the talisman reached perfection. Qin Moran was intimately familiar with this process and waited for the final formation.

However, just as the talisman was about to crystallize, an unprecedented change occurred.

The rhythm of heaven and earth that had been about to settle into the paper suddenly trembled violently. Then, under Qin Moran’s astonished gaze, it abruptly broke free, leaped high into the air, and instead of dissipating, it turned toward a specific direction.

“This… what is happening?” Qin Moran was baffled.

But the mystery only deepened. It wasn’t just that single rhythm. Within her spiritual perception, dozens, then hundreds of new rhythms began to emerge from the void. These rhythms were manifestations of heavenly rules; theoretically, they were inexhaustible, yet they remained invisible to the common eye. Even profound masters required special rituals to summon them.

“The rhythms are manifesting on their own… what has happened?”

Qin Moran felt a surge of panic; alarm flickered in her eyes. This scene surpassed anything she understood. What was even more terrifying was that as a vast number of heavenly rhythms emerged simultaneously, they all turned in unison toward the same direction.

Then… they actually bowed slightly!

It was as if these primordial laws were greeting a respected old friend with the highest honor. It was vividly, hauntingly lifelike.

“This is…” Qin Moran’s eyes widened, her entire frame trembling. “This is Ten Thousand Rhythms Paying Homage!”

“It means… these rhythms desire to be written! They are manifesting of their own accord to show goodwill! They are being attracted and are paying homage!”

“But how could such a thing be possible? Has a Talisman Dao Supreme appeared?” “No, that’s impossible! Could a peerless genius have been born? A natural-born Sovereign of the Talisman Path?”

Countless thoughts clashed in her mind, leaving her thoroughly unsettled. She felt an inexplicable fear. Many believed that talisman masters controlled the rhythms, but true masters knew they only cooperated with them. A master’s power was dictated by their affinity—how well they resonated with the world without force or coercion.

Her own talent was strong, her affinity high, yet she lacked the capability to make even a fraction of the world respond so favorably. To achieve a level where ten thousand rhythms paid homage simultaneously was something unprecedented since the dawn of history.

It signified that either the world had fundamentally changed, or someone had undergone a drastic transformation. Where was the source of this reaction? Why was it happening now? Qin Moran’s heart swirled with fear, admiration, and a crushing sense of reverence.

She was not the only one. Across the vast lands, the phenomenon was felt by all.

“Ten Thousand Rhythms Paying Homage! It’s actually happening!” “Investigate the source immediately!” “Has a terrifying existence descended upon our world?” “I feel actual fear… if this is caused by a person, does it mean we will never be able to scribe a simple talisman again?”

On that day, countless practitioners abandoned their work to gaze eastward, knowing something monumental had occurred. Yet, while the ordinary masters were merely shocked, another reaction took place elsewhere.

Within the Central Continent, near the restricted zone of the Burial Immortal Valley, an elder who had sat petrified for millennia beside an ancient hall suddenly snapped his eyes open. He gazed eastward as if piercing through the very veil of reality.

Moments later, the elder burst into a fit of mad, joyous laughter.

“He comes! He arrives!” “Three thousand years of waiting, finally rewarded!” “The Fated One destined to inherit the Ink Cold Tower…” “Has appeared!!!”