# Chapter 1194: The Prophecy
Above the palace where the crowd stood, rolling clouds churned endlessly. Soon, a figure that seemed both illusory and real appeared there. The figure gradually solidified—white robe, long beard, drifting like an immortal—exactly the old man they had seen when they first entered the strange landscape region.
"The Prophet!"
"The Prophet has appeared. What a pity, I'm blocked outside, not even qualified to receive a prophecy!"
Many people blocked at the periphery kept cursing, extremely frustrated, wishing they could squeeze their way in. But the invisible force was like a void light screen, isolating them completely. They couldn't sense any aura from within, nor hear any sound. They could only use their eyes to watch everything happening inside.
The Prophet's body slowly descended, appearing before the great hall. His face carried a hint of gentleness as he calmly looked at the crowd. No one could sense his aura. Such an expert was simply beyond the comprehension of those present.
At this moment, Lin Feng noticed Qiongqi's expression. The old man disguised as a Taoist priest narrowed his eyes slightly, staring unblinkingly at the Prophet, as if trying to see through him using his own experience.
It wasn't just Qiongqi. Everyone else's gazes were also fixed on the Prophet, their eyes carrying sharp intent. How would the Prophet foretell their destinies?
"Who goes first?" The old man swept his gaze across the crowd with a faint smile, speaking lightly, leaving it to them.
"I will." A figure stepped forward, exuding an air of arrogance. Even facing the Prophet, he remained the same, as if only he existed between heaven and earth.
This person was Peng Mo, the divine bird Golden-Winged Great Roc. He considered himself unmatched in talent across the Eight Wastelands, always arrogant, looking down on everyone, wild and untamed, extremely demonic.
"The blood flowing through your veins marks you as extraordinary. But you are too proud, looking down on everything. If you can seek change, you have hope of reaching High-rank Emperor. Otherwise, at best, you will stop at Mid-rank Emperor." The Prophet spoke calmly, as light as clouds and wind, pointing out Peng Mo's fate in a few sentences.
Peng Mo's demonic eyes burst with extremely wild light. "Just Mid-rank Emperor and High-rank Emperor? Is your prophecy accurate?"
The first person to be prophesied already questioned the Prophet. Peng Mo was a divine bird, the Golden-Winged Great Roc, proud and ambitious. He believed he would shake the Eight Wastelands, become the most dazzling star, unprecedented, and prove himself an Emperor.
The Prophet didn't mind. He simply smiled. "I cultivate the Heavenly Fate Art. I don't even know how many years I've lived. But the geniuses I've seen outnumber the hairs on your head. Among them, there are Golden-Winged Great Rocs, even demon beasts with higher bloodline levels than yours—like the Undying Phoenix, the Divine Beast Qilin, the Golden Demonic Dragon. As for accuracy, if you think it's accurate, then it is. If you think it's not, then let it be."
"I, the Golden-Winged Great Roc, will definitely become a Demon Emperor, shaking the past and present!" Peng Mo declared arrogantly, then stepped aside. Though arrogant, he knew how terrifying the person before him was and naturally wouldn't offend him.
"I hope so. But remember, I only prophesy the achievements you can reach. The prerequisite is that you live." The Prophet smiled faintly. Everyone understood this point. The Prophet couldn't possibly know when you would be born or when you would die. That wouldn't be a prophet, but a seer.
"Next!" The Prophet said lightly. The second person to step forward was Lei Yao, following closely behind Peng Mo.
"Your limit: Low-rank Demon Emperor."
"Crack!" Thunderbolts burst from Lei Yao's body. He was unconvinced. His limit was only Low-rank Demon Emperor?
"Next!" The next to step forward was Mang Niu from the Primitive Wasteland Demon Domain's Mang Niu Mountain. The Prophet's prophecy was the same: limit, Low-rank Emperor.
"I'll go!" Yuan Fei stepped forward. The Prophet looked at him and smiled faintly. "Mid-rank Emperor. Of course, if a Great Emperor reverses your fate for you, you could break into High-rank Emperor."
"Chi, chi..." Sharp golden light shot out from the Golden-Winged Great Roc's body. He was a divine bird, the Golden-Winged Great Roc. Yuan Fei was just a demon ape. How could he compare? Yet the Prophet's prophecy for him was no lower than Peng Mo's.
"Demon beasts succeed by talent, but are also limited by it. Powerful races are born extraordinary, but that also determines where their limits lie. Only by making changes can you break through those limit restraints." The Prophet spoke calmly to Yuan Fei. Yuan Fei nodded in understanding. The old man had told him this long ago. Demon beasts, especially powerful ones, were born extraordinary. But when they reached the pyramid's peak, they could barely advance another step unless they changed themselves.
"Next." The Prophet remained calm and composed, continuing.
"Me." Qi Jiaojiao jumped out from beside her brother, her beautiful eyes looking at the Prophet.
"No hope of becoming an Emperor."
"Boom!" Qi Jiaojiao felt as if struck by heavenly thunder. Her beautiful eyes instantly froze. The Prophet only gave her four words: no hope of becoming an Emperor. No need for further prophecy.
No, she was one of the Four Great Beauties of the Eight Wastelands. She was the precious daughter of the Qi family. She was born extraordinary. Why did the Prophet only give her these four cruel words—no hope of becoming an Emperor?
"Why?" Qi Jiaojiao's face turned ugly as she asked.
"Your radiance was all given by others—your family, your brother. You reached this point because someone always protected you. You only possess a beautiful face. Beyond that, you have nothing to offer. You've never had a tenacious will, never faced life-and-death setbacks. What you have is arrogance. So, no hope of becoming an Emperor. Unless you completely transform yourself, you might have a sliver of opportunity."
The Prophet's words were like ice-cold water pouring over Qi Jiaojiao, chilling her from head to toe. Her face turned pale. Everything she had was given by others? She herself had nothing?
"Jiaojiao, you will become a Martial Emperor!" At this moment, Qi Tiansheng stepped forward, placing a hand on Qi Jiaojiao's shoulder to comfort her.
Qi Jiaojiao nodded slightly, but she was deeply struck by the Prophet's words. Did she really have nothing?
Qi Tiansheng looked at the Prophet. "What about me?"
"Low-rank Emperor. Perhaps you have a chance at Mid-rank Emperor, but it's very small, unless you encounter heaven-defying opportunities!" The Prophet said lightly, making Qi Tiansheng feel ice-cold all over. Low-rank Emperor? Only Low-rank Emperor?
That meant Lei Yao had the same talent as him, while Yuan Fei would surpass him.
The people behind were now nervous. Though their faces remained calm, many had their hands clenched tightly. The Prophet's words could determine their fate. Perhaps it would also change the future structure of the Eight Wastelands. For example, just now, Yuan Fei could achieve Mid-rank Emperor, while Qi Tiansheng was only Low-rank Emperor.
Qi Tiansheng's hands clenched tightly, even making cracking sounds. His face showed unwillingness. His furthest achievement was only Low-rank Emperor?
"Senior, what about me?" At this moment, Wu Yan stepped forward, slightly bowing to the Prophet, appearing especially polite.
"You're the same as him. Low-rank Emperor. If you encounter heaven-defying opportunities, you can break into Mid-rank Emperor." The Prophet said calmly.
"Wu Yan is actually the same as big brother?" Qi Jiaojiao deeply looked at Wu Yan. She had always thought her brother was incomparable. But Wu Yan, who always liked to follow her, actually had the same chance as her brother to become a Martial Emperor.
"I'll try too." Fu Hei rubbed his head and stepped forward with a dark face. Combined with his naturally dark skin, it gave people an amusing impression, as if he was still brooding over being robbed.
"Fifty years, you have a chance to become an Emperor. Your limit is Mid-rank Emperor. There's a sliver of opportunity to break through to High-rank Emperor."
"Eighty years!" The crowd's expressions stiffened. The fate the Prophet gave Fu Hei was so high, surpassing everyone. Perhaps only for those within a hundred years would he mention the time limit.
"Hehe, that sliver of opportunity might become reality. But Senior, could you not mention the time limit? It makes me quite depressed. I was dreaming of becoming an Emperor within twenty years!" Fu Hei smiled somewhat embarrassedly, making everyone roll their eyes. This bastard had received the highest prophecy so far. His Heavenly Fire Constitution surpassed even the prophecy for the Golden-Winged Great Roc, with an added time limit.
"The time limit isn't precise. I just said within eighty years. Within eighty years, it could be fifty years, thirty years, or even ten years. It depends on your future encounters. But since you mentioned it, I won't mention time limits from now on, to avoid affecting you." The Prophet smiled. Fu Hei then stepped back, quite satisfied with this prophecy.
At this moment, Zong Renyu stepped forward, looking at the Prophet with a smile. "Senior, what do you think of my achievements?"
"Becoming an Emperor is no problem. But unless you cultivate your technique to its extreme, you will stop at Low-rank Emperor." The Prophet said calmly. "Of course, you could consider abandoning your human desire technique from now on."
Zong Renyu's expression froze. The technique he cultivated was indeed easy to grow powerful with. But as his predecessors had experienced, there would be a limit. Once reaching a certain level, he could advance no further.
"I'm just suggesting." The Prophet stroked his beard and smiled. Zong Renyu also stepped back. Just Low-rank Emperor?
At this moment, the people outside were extremely nervous. But they could only infer what might be happening from the expressions of those inside, unable to hear the sounds. This drove them nearly crazy. They desperately wanted to know what prophecies the Prophet had made for those inside.
At the same time, those who hadn't yet been prophesied were even more nervous. The Prophet cultivated the Heavenly Fate Art. He had lived for who knows how many years, his cultivation level unknown. He had seen countless geniuses. His words naturally carried weight. This had been verified by those who had been prophesied by the Fate City in the past.
Perhaps, the Prophet's words represented their future fate. Who could remain calm?
PS: Thanks to lixiangzhao and kankanshuoshuo for their tips!