Da Xia was an undying ancient imperial dynasty — it had flourished for hundreds of thousands of years.
Great mountains had collapsed. Rivers had run dry. Vast seas had turned to mulberry fields. Ages had passed and all things had changed.
Yet Da Xia had remained at the height of its power, constant and unmoved. Since the Great Emperor of antiquity first established this undying dynasty, it had stood without toppling.
How many shifts of ancient history it had recorded, how many hidden secrets it had carried — no one could say.
Ye Fan’s mind turned over many things. What had happened over two thousand years ago? Had Shakyamuni truly come to this world? What kind of encounter had he had with the native inhabitants — and what had caused the Da Xia prince to change color at the mention of his name?
If secrets lay within all this, it could not help but set the imagination racing. Da Xia would surely know the truth. As an undying dynasty, the great events of this world were events it would have recorded.
The Yao Guang Sacred Son’s smile was warm, his teeth gleaming, even the hair on his head giving off a golden radiance. He was approachable, and he looked forward at Ye Fan.
“Wuliang Tianzun,” Ye Fan chanted his Daoist blessing and shook his head. “This humble Daoist is a wandering cultivator, drifting through the world. I heard of this matter by chance, was troubled by uncertainty, and therefore asked.”
He had not adopted the guise of Duan De. At present he stood tall, robes flowing, his features otherworldly. Though quite young, he carried a perceptible quality of transcendence.
“The Daoist Master is being modest. Could you perhaps resolve my confusion — where does Shakyamuni originate, and what manner of existence is he? What do you know of him?” The Yao Guang Sacred Son smiled, gentle as a spring breeze.
Shakyamuni had come from across the vast starry sky. Ye Fan could never say such a thing. He said instead, “I know only the name of the Tathagata — nothing of his life or deeds. Perhaps the Sacred Son could be the one to resolve my confusion — what is the origin of this Shakyamuni?”
“Shakyamuni…” The Yao Guang Sacred Son’s eyes sparkled with colored radiance, dreamlike and illusory. It was evident these two words held a mysterious power — every time, they drew a different expression from him.
Men like him and the Da Xia prince — they could stand unmoved even if a great mountain collapsed before their eyes. Yet the name of the Tathagata left their hearts uneasy.
“I came to ask you, and you turn it around and ask me — the Daoist Master is truly impenetrable.” The Yao Guang Sacred Son smiled warmly and then shook his head.
“I was only going by rumor — I don’t understand what’s truly within. I would very much hope the Sacred Son would be generous enough to instruct me. Wuliang Tianzun,” Ye Fan said, his feathered sleeve drifting.
“This kid — he really seems to think he’s a Daoist now. Though he does play the part convincingly,” Liu Kou muttered under his breath.
“All because of a little nun,” Li Heishui offered as a conclusion.
“Peculiar appetites,” Jiang Huairen said, even more concisely.
The Yao Guang Sacred Son’s gaze was deep, as though it could pierce through the canopy of history and gaze toward an eternal, unknown point. He said, “That name carries a strange power. Over two thousand years ago, it was as though there was a sudden rupture in time — everything connected to it vanished without a trace. I know only that it once existed.”
Ye Fan’s smile was like morning light. He nodded to indicate understanding, but inwardly his thoughts were racing in every direction.
Over two thousand years ago — what had the Tathagata done? What traces had he left in this world? Did they still exist?
All of it was a mystery, full of the unknown, and he desperately wished to reach the bottom of it. He was consumed by a need to understand every part of it.
For him, it was too important. The world across the starry sky — ancient star gates left behind by those who came before — spanning endless star systems — where did this journey ultimately lead?
There was too much he did not understand. Were the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin a coincidence — or were they retracing a path someone had walked before? Had the Buddha also come to this other end of the star sea by accident?
Ye Fan had a dreamlike, surreal sense of it all. Across the starry sky — a figure of two thousand five hundred years ago — should, by rights, long since have returned to dust and earth. And yet he, Ye Fan, might one day actually speak with that figure.
The Tathagata almost certainly came to this world. But something terrible must have happened — I just don’t know what. Ye Fan thought to himself. He turned to look at the Da Xia prince, and found the man utterly cold and distant.
Why did he react this way? There was surely something hidden — Shakyamuni’s name was a thing the prince shied away from, something he was unwilling to speak of!
The Yao Guang Sacred Son revealed a calm smile, turned to face the Da Xia prince, and said, “Your Highness — dragon energy soars from you; you are a dragon son of Da Xia. I imagine you have some knowledge of the Tathagata. I wonder — what exactly happened over two thousand years ago? Why did everything connected to this person vanish into thin air, as though he had never existed?”
“I know nothing. Buddhism has a living sage — if you wish to understand, go ask them yourself.” The Da Xia prince’s expression remained impassive, and he offered nothing more.
Nearby, Yao Xi was quietly pondering. The words “Tathagata” — she had never heard them before. Clearly the Sacred Son knew more than she did, which made sense — he was, after all, the future master of Yao Guang. The realization stirred a faint ripple in her heart.
Ye Fan had completely settled himself. Extracting anything from the mouth of the Yao Guang Sacred Son was next to impossible — the man would obviously not reveal his secrets. As for the Da Xia prince, that was even less of an option. He hadn’t even asked deeply yet, and the prince had already adopted the expression of a man who wanted to put ten thousand li between himself and this conversation.
He concluded that in the future, he would need to pay a visit to the Western Desert — to that legendary Mount Sumeru — to learn the truth.
Of course, before doing so, he could try first to learn a few things from the pure and innocent little nun.
Ye Fan turned to look again at her. She truly was only a young girl, a slip of a girl — white robes outshining snow, her gaze utterly clear, her large dark eyes rolling this way and that. She was quite timid — the moment he turned to look at her steadily, she was like a startled little rabbit darting behind the Da Xia prince’s back.
The Da Xia prince frowned. He was enormously fond of his younger sister, and as a brother, the last thing he wanted was someone like Ye Fan always coming around — he couldn’t help but feel as though this man was trying to lead his sister astray.
“Wuliang Tianzun — this humble Daoist is a man of the monastic path. Sweeping the ground so as not to harm even an ant, cherishing even moth-wings by placing a veil before the lamp. There are no worldly thoughts within me,” Ye Fan said with perfect gravity, the implication clear.
The Da Xia prince’s expression remained blank, but inwardly he felt deeply uncomfortable. The little white-robed nun, however, suppressed a smile, her large dark eyes glancing at him a few times.
“He’s taken to the Daoist identity wholeheartedly — I’d say he’s on par with that scoundrel Daoist, maybe even another shameless one in the making,” Liu Kou was already drawing comparisons between him and Duan De.
“Have any of you heard of Shakyamuni?” Tu Fei asked in a low voice.
“Never heard of it. Those monks are far too mysterious — they’re almost never seen. If it weren’t for people from the Central Continent occasionally mentioning them at the Sacred City, I’d have had no idea such a school existed,” Li Heishui shook his head.
“I’ve heard of the school, but know almost nothing about it,” Wu Zhongtian said with a furrowed brow. “My grandfather mentioned it — apparently the school is extraordinarily powerful, with ancient Buddhas within it of unfathomable depth.”
“Only that much — nothing beyond it,” Jiang Huairen shook his head.
Ye Fan’s heart had grown still. The matter of Shakyamuni was something he would need to learn about slowly and gradually. His attention returned to the present. He moved in an unhurried, graceful Daoist manner, with the bearing of an immortal monk, and strolled through the area. He discovered that Yao Xi showed not the slightest reaction — she did not recognize him in the least.
It seems my Heavens-Altering, Earth-Changing technique has reached a level of considerable mastery — she cannot sense my aura at all.
Ye Fan’s steps were light and elegant, carrying the manner of an immortal, and he drifted over close to Yao Xi. He said, “The immortal lady resembles a lotus risen from the water — luminous and breathtaking, clearly born with immortal bones, the body of a natural Daoist cultivator. Truly an exceptional marvel of our Daoist tradition.”
The Yao Guang Sacred Woman heard this, smiled faintly, and said, “The Daoist Master is far too complimentary. Is there something you need?”
“Not at all — what I have said is true.” Ye Fan was entirely earnest. “I sensed upon the immortal lady’s person an aura belonging to an ancient Great Emperor. Though your cultivation has not yet reached its pinnacle, you already carry such dense immortal energy — you are clearly no ordinary person.”
The Yao Guang Sacred Woman was inwardly slightly surprised. At her brow there resided a Moon Palace — an ancient secret treasure whose tier was difficult to determine and that almost no one knew of. Could this Daoist have sensed it?
Her expression remained serene. “The Daoist Master must be joking. May I ask — to which school does the Daoist Master belong?”
“This humble Daoist belongs to no school and no faction — a lone floating cloud, a wild crane. I have left seclusion this time only to search for a certain junior disciple of mine,” Ye Fan said, chanting his Daoist title.
“I may have heard of your junior disciple — perhaps I can be of some help,” Yao Xi said, not actually believing a word of Ye Fan’s story, taking it all as empty talk.
“In truth, I was also about to ask a favor of the immortal lady — I wish to ask you for news of that poorly-disciplined junior disciple of mine. After all, Yao Guang is one of the Sacred Grounds of the Eastern Wilderness.” Ye Fan wanted to learn what these Sacred Ground scions knew of the scoundrel Daoist’s past. “His name is Duan De — Daoist title Wuliang.”
“The shameless Daoist is your junior disciple?” Yao Xi looked genuinely surprised.
“His conduct has been improper, and the title ‘shameless’ that others have given him is not without some truth.”
“May I ask how old you are, Daoist Master?” Yao Xi inquired.
“This humble Daoist has practiced the Dao for over three hundred years. When I count carefully — I have spent three hundred and eighteen years in idle passage of the seasons.”
……
“Pfft—!”
From a short distance away, Li Heishui spat out a mouthful of wine. The cracked gourd in his hand nearly hit the floor. In a low voice, he cursed: “This kid is absolutely a beast!”
“I’ve seen thick-skinned people, but I’ve never seen skin this thick. He actually stripped away the woman’s undergarment, and now he’s here playing the role of an accomplished immortal elder, talking about the Dao and the Immortals,” Tu Fei cursed, hoping Ye Fan would get exposed.
“You think if the Yao Guang Sacred Woman knew this kid’s true identity, she’d vomit blood? Should we shout something out?” Jiang Huairen said with a grin.
Wu Zhongtian furrowed his brow. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
“This is what they call wearing a veneer of virtue. This is what they call a beast in scholar’s clothing. This is a living example right before us,” Liu Kou said indignantly under his breath. “An absolute beast!”
Not far away, the Yao Guang Sacred Son and the Da Xia prince walked side by side toward the nine strange stones arranged in the Immortal Stone Workshop.
The Yao Guang Sacred Son’s whole body glowed with radiance. Even his flying hair had turned golden, as though cast from liquid gold, blazing like the radiance of a sun deity descended to earth.
Wu Zhongtian’s brow furrowed. “I feel he is like a cosmic fire furnace — his blood and energy surge like a vast ocean, boiling and rolling. The Yao Guang Sacred Son may not be the top figure of his generation — but he’s not far off.”
Li Heishui and the others changed color. They had brought Wu Zhongtian here precisely to counterbalance the Yao Guang Sacred Son — hearing this evaluation was far from welcome.
Tu Fei sighed. “When his Holy Light Technique appears, it truly is peerless. The light illuminates the sky — ten directions are purified — it is genuine ten-thousand-method impenetrability. No offensive technique can tear through it.”
Li Heishui showed a worried expression. “His Holy Light is growing ever stronger — blazing like the sun. I feel that even a divine body would struggle to break through. In this world, I believe only one offensive technique could counter him — but regrettably, it is forever lost.”
“You mean the Battle Saint Technique of Jiang Tai-xu, the Divine Sovereign — who for five thousand years held the title of greatest offensive power in existence?” Tu Fei frowned.
“Yes — otherwise even a divine body may not be able to tear through that Holy Light. Most likely it would end in a draw. For someone his age to have cultivated this supreme secret technique to such a level — it is truly terrifying,” Li Heishui replied.
Nearby, Jiang Huairen said nothing. Jiang Tai-xu was his ancestor — and yet that first-rank offensive secret method had already become a lost echo.
“There may be one other offensive great technique capable of breaking through this fully-realized Holy Light,” Wu Zhongtian said quietly.
“There is another?” The others exchanged uncertain, surprised glances.
“You’ve limited yourselves to the Eastern Wilderness and forgotten the Central Continent.” Wu Zhongtian swept his gaze toward the Da Xia prince walking side by side with the Yao Guang Sacred Son ahead. “The Imperial Way dragon energy of Da Xia is said to be supremely dominating — it destroys all it encounters, penetrates anything without exception, shaking the heavens and moving the earth. I believe it would be a match for the Yao Guang Sacred Son.”
The Da Xia prince — his iron armor flickering, dazzlingly brilliant, dragon energy coiling about him — if one looked carefully, nine true dragons could be seen coiling across his body, dragon heads raised high, resting upon his shoulders, supremely martial, like a Heavenly Emperor descended to the mortal world.
“I wonder — between the Imperial Way dragon energy and the Divine Sovereign Jiang’s offensive holy technique, which is stronger and which is weaker. Central Continent people have always been proud, but the two have never had a direct confrontation,” Tu Fei said with deep regret. “A great lament across the ages — we will never be able to witness a peak battle between those two great offensive techniques.”
At this moment, the Yao Guang Sacred Son and the Da Xia prince were both examining the stone material. Those nine strange stones had been displayed for some days already, and this was the first time either of them had reached out to touch them personally.
At this juncture, Ye Fan and Yao Xi were engaged in an animated and pleasant conversation, talking and laughing as they also walked over — leaving the little bandits shaking their heads and murmuring continuously about beasts in scholars’ clothing.
“Daoist Master — do you also have some knowledge of source stones?” Yao Xi asked.
“This humble Daoist has learned much but mastered little — accomplished at nothing. I have had some slight dealings with the way of source stones,” Ye Fan said with a smile.
“I suspect the Daoist Master is being modest. Why not step forward and offer an assessment of these nine pieces of stone material?” Yao Xi smiled, eyelashes fluttering lightly, dark eyes like stars, jade teeth faintly showing, lips gleaming with color — radiant and captivating.
At these words, both the Da Xia prince and the Yao Guang Sacred Son looked over, each with a different expression.
The Da Xia prince had no goodwill toward Ye Fan whatsoever — perhaps a condition common to brothers, who always feared a scoundrel with designs on their sister.
The Yao Guang Sacred Son smiled with a warmth that revealed nothing, his particular spiritual quality drawing the eyes of the great majority of young female cultivators present.
The lovely little nun was also stealing glances at Ye Fan, full of curiosity, entirely in the manner of a child — guileless and innocent.
“Very well then — this humble Daoist will make a fool of himself.” Ye Fan stepped forward, but did not extend his hand. He simply circled the nine pieces of stone material twice.
At this moment, not far away in the jade tower above, a slender silhouette appeared — the Yaochi Sacred Woman herself, who came in person to observe Ye Fan’s assessment of the stones. She was veiled in immortal cloud, and no one could see her true appearance.
From the moment Ye Fan had spoken the words “Tathagata” — from the moment he had said “Shakyamuni” — she had been watching in silence. It was something Ye Fan could not have anticipated.
Ye Fan walked around several more times, then patted the largest piece and flicked the smallest piece, and said with an air of indifference, “These two pieces of stone material contain divine grace within. All the rest are worthless stone.”
Around him, laughter and scoffing broke out immediately.
“What arrogance — does he take himself for a Source Heaven Master? The immortal stones from Yaochi are so easily identified?”
“In my opinion, he is speaking complete nonsense. From my many years of experience in stone gambling, those two pieces he named are absolutely blank — nothing inside them.”
“There are far too many self-important people in this world. There is no need for the rest of us to pay him any mind.”
……
This was understandable. From the crowd’s perspective, Ye Fan had not examined the stones carefully at all — he had knocked on them a few times and declared two of them to hold something within. It was genuinely difficult to find that convincing.
“Oh — Daoist Master, you are so certain?” the Da Xia prince looked over and asked evenly.
“What this humble Daoist knows is limited. This is nothing more than a random assessment,” Ye Fan said modestly.
The Da Xia prince shook his head. “If I were choosing, one of those two would be my first choice — the other I would replace.”
He was here on behalf of the Yaochi Sacred Woman — that was common knowledge. He had only given his assessment on this day, suggesting he had prepared carefully.
Ye Fan smiled and said, “Why not make a wager with the Prince?”
“Oh — what manner of wager?” the Da Xia prince asked.
“If I identify the stone correctly, I ask only for a brief conversation with this young monastic.” Ye Fan gestured toward the little nun.
The Da Xia prince had been quite intrigued until this moment — but upon hearing these words, he immediately turned away. There was no describing how repulsed he felt inwardly.
The little nun wrinkled her small nose and brandished her tiny fist in Ye Fan’s direction.
“Daoist Master — are you truly certain these two pieces contain divine grace within?” the Yao Guang Sacred Son asked.
“This is only this humble Daoist’s view.”
Yao Xi also stepped forward, smiling. “I feel the Daoist Master’s perception is remarkable.”
At this moment, to everyone’s surprise, the Yaochi Sacred Woman came descending through the air — like an immortal walking on water, light and ethereal to the utmost, trailing a shower of flower petals in her wake, crystalline and shining as they drifted down.
“This Daoist Master — have you truly selected these two pieces of stone material?” Her voice was like the music of the heavens — beautiful and enchanting beyond words.
Around them, everyone was startled. No one had imagined that the Yaochi Sacred Woman would come in person. It was something that had never happened before.