After the Xiang Marquis left, it took Wei Yuan quite a while to finally calm down.

In fact, it had been some time since their last meeting in the capital. However, Wei Yuan subconsciously felt as if it had all happened just yesterday. In regards to the First Consort’s message, he had no choice but to politely decline. There were many pressing matters within the realm of Qingming that he had to deal with at the moment, and he simply did not have the time to travel to Jingdu. Besides, even if he wanted to go, he would need a suitable reason.

Wei Yuan chose a spot on the vast, mostly empty landscape of the Great Realm and dug a small pond several zhang square and two zhang deep. After a light shower had fallen, he placed the seed—which was about the size of a water jar—into it. He watched as the rainwater gathered and slowly submerged the seed.

The rainwater carried a distinct, putrid stench. Since the battle with the Xu Clan, the national fortune of Western Jin had clearly taken a downturn.

The rainwater had a yellowish-green tint, but the seed seemed to relish it and begin absorbing the water at a visible pace. Soon, a spark of vitality emerged from the seed’s center, and it released a wisp of spirit qi.

Not far away from the jade hill, the Ice-Glass Divine Tree stood quietly. Snowflakes were drifting within dozens of zhang of its surrounding, and a thin layer of snow had already accumulated on the ground.

The Bay Laurel Immortal Tree was standing right at the edge of the ice and snow. A wisp of pale red sword...