Liu Dashao quickly pointed to the white casket; everyone’s eyes followed, and upon seeing the white light emanating from it, astonishment rippled through the group. They followed Liu Dashao toward the miraculous white box. At this point, even Cai Qingchong, who must have awakened unnoticed, looked at the crowd with bewildered confusion, and Fan Debiao, who was supporting him, trailed along as well.

Having taken only a few steps, the beam of white light suddenly erupted like a geyser, blazing so fiercely that it instantly illuminated the entire Celestial Palace, the dazzling brilliance forcing everyone to squeeze their eyes shut.

When the others finally managed to open their eyes, a miraculous scene unfolded before them. The diffuse white light had coalesced, slowly gathering above the white casket into a fantastic, hazy apparition.

As the light stopped flickering and stabilized, the image above the white casket grew progressively clearer. Revealed to their gaze was a vista of a prehistoric wilderness: undulating high mountains, vast grasslands, a sapphire lake, dense stretches of forest, numerous strange beasts and birds, and what resembled a flying craft—a UFO, as modern rumor described it—hovering near a large settlement of crude thatched huts. A throng of people, clad in hides and bone fragments, holding primitive stone tools, knelt before the craft, offering devout prostrations. Standing beside the UFO was an overwhelmingly gigantic figure, garbed in an eight-trigram Taoist robe, holding a golden sphere, his countenance utterly marvelous. At his side stood a pair of vividly seven-colored Phoenixes, holding their heads high. Not far from his feet, an elder in animal skins, supported by two others, sat smiling contentedly on the ground.

Seeing this tableau, everyone was struck speechless with awe. After a long silence, Scholar Jia murmured, “Heavens, who is that man? Isn't that the ‘Phoenix Gall’ just snatched away by the Phoenixes that he’s holding? And those two Phoenixes… could this man be Zhang Daoling, the progenitor of Taoism?”

As his words faded, the image suddenly blurred again, and the white light dimmed considerably. Just as the group began to feel lost once more, the light intensified, gathering before them into another vision. This time, it displayed a radically different scene, oddly bifurcated. One half showed a sky choked with thick, black clouds, mountainsides scorched black, forests and meadows engulfed in fire and dense smoke. The deep blue lake had long since dried up, the earth cracked into massive parched fissures, and crowds of people in primitive furs and leaves fled in every direction…

The other half depicted a torrent of turbulent yellow floodwaters surging toward them, carrying the broken remains of countless thatched huts and the corpses of primitive humans and animals amidst the deluge…

The towering figure holding the ‘Phoenix Gall,’ flanked by the pair of Phoenixes, now stood atop a high mountain, his expression grave. His mouth was open, seemingly shouting a warning, while his right hand cradled the ‘Phoenix Gall,’ and his left pointed a single finger toward a massive cave beside him.

At this juncture, realization dawned on everyone: this man must be an extraterrestrial, a being from another world. He had first used the miraculous ‘Phoenix Gall’ to heal the chieftain of a primitive tribe, thus earning their worship and veneration. Later, during the deluge of fire and water, he had guided this tribe into the cave—perhaps the very subterranean mysterious Ninety-Nine Heavens they now inhabited.

Subsequently, the white light from the casket flashed intermittently, cycling through different images. After viewing several such sequences, the group finally grasped the genesis of Taoism. The first image showed a man dressed in peculiar garb resembling a Taoist robe emerging from a cave, entering what looked like a stockaded village, teeming with people whose attire and architecture suggested a tribal settlement.

The next scene depicted the man from the cave now clad in armor, mounted on horseback, leading the masses of Yellow Turban soldiers, armed with crude weapons, as they besieged fortifications and clashed on battlefields…

The white light continued its rhythmic pulsing, presenting images of the protracted struggle between the Yellow Turban Army and the Eastern Han forces, followed by the eventual rise and fall of the Yellow Turban Rebellion. These events largely paralleled historical records.

It was the final image that truly shocked them. The image immediately preceding it showed an Eastern Han general leading troops to breach the Yellow Turban capital, culminating in Zhang Jiao falling upon his own sword in suicide.

But the very last vision revealed Zhang Jiao alive, appearing within the Golden Ancient City. A mysterious man in Taoist robes stood beside him. Below the Dragon Throne, countless figures knelt in deep reverence. The robed man, smiling, stood in place of Zhang Jiao, calmly extending one hand to signal the assembled ministers to rise.

The display ceased there, the image frozen. Silence descended as everyone stared fixedly at the static final scene, struggling with a single, inexplicable question: Zhang Jiao was clearly dead; how could he be resurrected in the main hall of the Golden Ancient City?

Suddenly, Scholar Jia cried out, “The Phoenix Gall! I know! It’s the Phoenix Gall!”

“The Phoenix Gall? What do you mean?” Liu Dashao frowned and asked.

Scholar Jia exclaimed excitedly, “The person beside Zhang Jiao must have taken her body after his death, traveled to the Western Regions, and used the immortal Phoenix Gall to revive Zhang Jiao!”

Everyone froze at the implication.

At that moment, Liu Dashao spoke up, “The visions have stopped here; we’ve largely uncovered the secrets of this place. That last scene is indeed perplexing, but I propose two possible explanations. One: perhaps the white casket was meant to project more images to resolve our confusion, but after thousands of years, its power has waned, preventing further display, leaving us with this unresolved image. The second possibility is that the Zhang Jiao and the others in this vision are merely the living dead, just as we found them in the Golden Ancient City.”

Although Liu Dashao’s words felt somewhat forced, and everyone still harbored unanswered doubts, it was true that even exhaustive thought might not solve this puzzle now, especially given the countless enigmatic questions that had plagued them since leaving Bodhisattva Mountain and the Golden Ancient City. Was the first figure, the one holding the Phoenix Gall with the Phoenixes beside him, truly Zhang Daoling? Did he construct the Ninety-Nine Heavens? Is the Phoenix Gall a genuine divine artifact capable of granting immortality and resurrecting the dead? So many mysteries! How would they ever be revealed?

The group engaged in a flurry of disorganized discussion, resulting in no clear path forward. As more riddles surfaced, they gradually fell into a mutual, staring silence. Indeed, the world held too many unknowns and unsolved enigmas.

The white light from the casket continued to project the final, unchanging image. Everyone stared blankly at the suspended scene until a feeling of tedious boredom set in. Fan Debiao grumbled first, “Even if we solved every mystery, what then? We are in a dead end. The Boundless Taoist Canon has sealed shut; no one can exit.”

With that, he plopped onto the ground and fell silent.

A wave of dejection swept over the others. The initial terror had long faded from their hearts, replaced only by bewilderment and despair.

Slowly, one by one, they sank to the floor. Amidst them, Cai Qingchong and Fan Debiao, restless, rushed to the hall doors and fiddled with them for a time, likely hoping to find a mechanism or a way to open them, but eventually returned dejectedly.

Scholar Jia regarded them coldly. “Don't waste your effort. I searched the doors thoroughly right after they sealed; there isn't a single hidden mechanism, and the hardness of this amethyst means not even explosives could breach it.”

Silence descended again, stretching for an indeterminate time, until a faint ‘gurgling’ sound echoed through the hall. Everyone looked up, searching for the source. Finally, all eyes settled on the spot where Fan Debiao was seated. Fan Debiao shifted uncomfortably and whispered, “I’m hungry. But I’ve eaten all my rations.” His simple statement served as a stark reminder: sealed within the Boundless Taoist Canon, without provisions or water, what awaited them? Only death!