In the mysterious dimension, Master Xuan Qing's voice echoed from afar, borrowing the power of the imperial jade seal.
Soon after, the Emperor Yonghui's voice rang out: "What is it that the Imperial Preceptor seeks to do?"
He asked with grave formality, a barely perceptible hesitation betraying itself in his tone.
Master Xuan Qing replied: "To purge evil demons, cleanse the red dust, break open the path to immortality—all hangs upon this one act!
Your Majesty, to let Heaven's gift slip by is to invite disaster.
Matters of opportunity are never fully within our plans; once the time arrives, it brooks no delay.
Your Majesty, do you still intend to wait another thirty years?"
Another thirty years!
This sentence was rather strange.
The Emperor Yonghui was not yet forty this year; where then came the talk of waiting another thirty years?
Had he already waited thirty years before?
Did he start waiting from the days of his childhood?
What was it, after all, that he waited for?
