An autumn wind swept through, scattering the yellow leaves and leaving the mountains desolate.
The Northern Region was a land of bitter cold. The four seasons cycled through, but autumn and winter stretched long — for half the year, the land held no life, only a bleak and frozen stillness.
Chaotic Cloud Prefecture: mountain ranges stretched endlessly, ridge after ridge, with scarcely a flat piece of ground to be found. The peaks pierced the sky so high they seemed to stir the clouds themselves, which was how the prefecture had earned its name.
“I think this prefecture will do nicely,” Ye Fan said.
Tu Fei nodded. “The terrain here is nothing but towering peaks and steep ranges, mountains everywhere. It really is a good place to lie low.”
Chaotic Cloud Prefecture lay eleven or twelve days’ travel from the Northern Region’s Sacred City, separated from Fire Cloud Prefecture by a stretch of oasis and two expanses of reddish-brown desert.
They had spent more than half a month scouting before finally settling on this prefecture as the place to make their move — and to wait to be “discovered.”
The Black Emperor lay concealed within a range of hills, responsible for carving the Dao markings, while Ye Fan and Tu Fei moved freely about, gathering detailed intelligence on the prefecture’s situation.
Mountain Rock City — though nestled deep among towering peaks and steep ranges, it was the central city of Chaotic Cloud Prefecture. With mountains in every direction and no flat ground on which to build, the city itself was not particularly grand. Its roads were paved with mountain stone; along the ancient streets, rows of great trees had already gone nearly bare, their yellow leaves drifting down as if whispering of autumn’s chill.
Ye Fan walked along the narrow stone streets, circling through the city, and quickly gathered a good deal of news.
The great figures of the various Sacred Grounds had been utterly captivated by that ancient scroll and were now pouring all their energy into studying Purple Mountain, each of the major powers constantly working out calculations, hoping to one day open it smoothly.
Ye Fan climbed to a tavern, ordered a pot of aged wine and a few small dishes, and drank alone, listening to the conversations of the cultivators around him.
“The Sacred City cut out another fine piece — some rare treasure, apparently. It was bought by one of the Central Prefecture’s imperial clans.”
“A lot of people are still searching for that Ye Fan. Any leads? He’s worth a hundred thousand catties of Source, you know.”
“A hundred thousand catties of Source is nothing. Think about what he’s carrying — the Myriad Things Mother Qi. A priceless treasure. Even the great emperors of antiquity would covet something like that.”
“The great figures are busy studying Purple Mountain. Looks like there’ll be quite the spectacle before long.”
“Geniuses have poured in from all the Sacred Grounds — not just Yao Guang and the Ji Family. No matter how vast the Northern Region, there’s probably no place left for him to hide. The Myriad Things Mother Qi will inevitably end up in a Sacred Ground’s hands.”
“Truth be told, many elder figures are quietly searching for that Ye boy as well — they just haven’t made a show of it. After all, the Myriad Things Mother Qi is far too precious.”
“Speaking of which — the Archaic Sacred Body was once peerless under heaven, sweeping all before it. Yet now it can’t even push past the Dao Palace secret realm. If it had been allowed to grow, to contest against the Sacred Sons and Sacred Daughters — the Eastern Wasteland’s future would certainly have been ‘lively’ indeed.”
Ye Fan’s heart stirred. He had heard the names of many renowned figures mentioned — both from the younger generation and from the elders — all of whom had come to the Northern Region, all with their eyes on his cauldron.
Tap… tap… tap…
An exceptionally rhythmic set of footsteps drifted up, as if resonating directly in the hearts of everyone in the tavern, making their pulses beat in time.
Many felt a tightening in their chests, a sensation like suffocation — as if an invisible hand had seized them by the throat and taken control of their breath.
At the head of the staircase, a boy of thirteen or fourteen appeared and walked up. He was dressed in white from head to toe, without a speck of dust. His hair was a glossy black, his skin white as snow, his eyes like black gemstones, his lips red and teeth bright — utterly handsome, a fine-looking young man by any measure.
“Some Archaic Sacred Body — some ‘peerless within the same realm.’ To my eyes, he’s nothing but a stray dog. The day I run into him, I’ll catch him and make him my slave.”
This boy had the beauty of jade and the grace of an immortal flower, yet his words were utterly unsparing, and many in the room frowned.
Behind him followed two elderly men in gray robes — ancient-looking, bent and stooped, like a pair of loyal old servants.
One of them stepped forward, chose a table for the boy, carefully wiped it again and again with his sleeve, and only then allowed him to sit. Afterward, both old men stood silently at his back.
“Whose child is this — and how was he raised? Spouting wild words at such a young age, without the slightest restraint. Isn’t he afraid of straying down the wrong path?” Although the others in the tavern had already guessed the boy’s identity was not ordinary, some still couldn’t hold their tongues.
“Oh? Am I wrong?” The boy glanced sideways at the speaker, his tone neither warm nor cold.
“Child, you should speak with more humility. Many a genius has fallen in their youth.”
“Hmph!” The boy let out a cold snort like the toll of a golden bell — it made the blood and qi of many around him surge — and he said: “The Archaic Sacred Body has been romanticized. Even fifteen-odd thousand years ago, it wasn’t necessarily invincible.”
Among the cultivators who came and went from all directions, there was no shortage of skilled fighters. One of them pushed back: “In those years, the Archaic Sacred Body swept all before it — that’s an undeniable fact. Even now, that ‘ruined body’ has shown remarkable combat power. Very few within the same realm can suppress him.”
The white-robed boy smiled coldly. “Whether it’s a ruined body or a sacred body, it’s still just something to be crushed.”
“You’re getting bolder and bolder, young brother. How old are you? On what grounds can you defeat the Archaic Sacred Body? Even as a ‘ruined body,’ he’s nearly peerless within his realm.”
“A frog at the bottom of a well — what does it know of how vast the sky is? Within the same realm, I can kill him just the same.” The white-robed boy’s voice was cold and detached.
“Who exactly are you, to be so confident you can defeat the Archaic Sacred Body within the same realm?” someone asked in astonishment.
“I come from a mountain village — an ordinary commoner, nothing special in my origins. Does suppressing an Archaic Sacred Body really require one to have a distinguished background? He truly amounts to nothing.” The white-robed boy’s expression was icy.
The Eastern Wasteland was boundless and vast; its deep mountains and great rivers harbored many extraordinary individuals. Not every skilled fighter came from a Sacred Ground, and everyone showed a look of surprise — feeling that this boy might truly have emerged from such a lineage.
Someone couldn’t resist reaching out with their divine sense, wanting to probe the white-robed boy’s cultivation level — but before it even got close, it was as if they’d been struck by lightning.
One of the two gray-robed old servants flashed his eyes, and a terrifying radiance shot out, driving back seven or eight probing divine senses all at once.
“Who’s the one talking big here, not afraid of the wind cutting their tongue?” Tu Fei walked up the stairs, helped himself to a table without ceremony, glanced over at Ye Fan — who wasn’t far away — and then turned to the boy. “May I ask your name?”
“Xia Jiuyou.”
Tu Fei, as the descendant of a great bandit, was never fazed even by Sacred Ground cultivators, and he certainly wasn’t going to be polite to some boy: “I’ve heard of Gai Jiuyou. I’ve never heard of Xia Jiuyou.”
Eight thousand years ago, Gai Jiuyou had fought his way through the Central Prefecture without meeting his match, and many believed he would become a great emperor — but in the end, he had gone far away to the Eastern Wasteland and vanished from that land.
“From today on, you will remember this name.” The white-robed boy Xia Jiuyou smiled coldly, again and again.
“The way you look down on everything under heaven — how about you try a couple of moves with me?” Tu Fei eyed him askance.
“I have no interest in you. I came down from the mountains primarily for the Archaic Sacred Body.” Xia Jiuyou didn’t even spare Tu Fei a glance.
Tu Fei — big mouth that he was — wanted to slap this boy dead on the spot, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. He asked: “Has the Archaic Sacred Body offended you?”
“He hasn’t offended me, and I still want to catch him. I read in an ancient text that the Sacred Body’s blood can be refined into medicine. I came specifically for him — I intend to refine a furnace of divine elixir. Afterward, he will be my most faithful slave.”
“What a fine hero for such a young age.” Ye Fan spoke up, casually pouring himself a cup of wine and drinking it down.
In truth, he was itching to give this boy a good thrashing. It was the first time he had ever encountered someone so arrogant — and at such a young age, at that, with this boy talking non-stop about refining him and making him a slave.
“Are you here for the Sacred Body too? Both the Ji Family and Yao Guang are offering rewards. If you have any leads, what would you pay?” Tu Fei asked with a sly grin.
“Whatever they’re offering, I’ll match.” The white-robed boy Xia Jiuyou glanced at him and replied.
In that instant, everyone in the tavern was stirred. What was this boy’s background? The highest reward offered by the two great Sacred Grounds was one hundred thousand catties of Source — how could a mere boy possibly produce that?
Everyone stared at him, all showing expressions of astonishment. He didn’t seem to come from any of the Sacred Grounds. Just who had he trained under?
“A hundred thousand catties of Source is no small sum,” Ye Fan said offhandedly.
“Can you actually produce it?” Tu Fei also challenged.
“A hundred thousand catties of Source is not inconsiderable — but I’m hardly so strapped for funds that I couldn’t pay it.” The white-robed boy Xia Jiuyou’s expression remained cool.
“What background could this boy possibly have? Could he be a disciple taken in by some aged Sacred Lord who ventured into the great wilderness in his twilight years?” Some began to speculate in this vein.
“He he…” A soft laugh drifted over, accompanied by a fragrant breeze at the head of the stairs. A girl of breathtaking beauty walked up, her voice like pearls of different sizes falling onto a jade plate — clear and lovely. “This little white-robed young brother certainly has quite the bearing.”
She was a tall and exceptionally alluring woman, dressed in a green skirt, with emerald light playing about her head, five-colored jade light rising from her feet, her every movement brimming with charm, her eyes soft as water, her fine hair flowing.
Ji Biyue!
Ye Fan’s heart stirred. She was one of the three great young fighters of the Ji Family’s younger generation — second only to Ji Haoyue. Though this woman was seductive and captivating, she was absolutely a ruthless figure — she had even wanted to kill her own younger clanswomen.
The white-robed boy Xia Jiuyou asked: “Who are you?”
“I am Ji Biyue.” Ji Biyue smiled beautifully, causing more than a few people in the tavern to momentarily lose their senses.
“So you’re here to compete with me for the Archaic Sacred Body?” Xia Jiuyou said.
“What competition? He killed one of our Ji Family’s Supreme Elders — I simply want to kill him.” Ji Haoyue’s smile was sweet.
“Yet I don’t necessarily intend to kill him. I want his blood to refine divine medicine, and I intend to take him as my slave,” Xia Jiuyou said.
Tu Fei transmitted his voice to Ye Fan in secret: “You see that? This little brat has me so furious I’m about to go mad. What’s his background? How do we deal with him?”
Ye Fan kept his expression unreadable and transmitted back in secret: “Don’t do anything rash. Once the big matter is done, we can take our time settling accounts with him. He almost certainly has a very powerful background.”
Again, footsteps sounded on the stairs as a young man ascended. He wore blue robes, his bearing exceptional, his heroic spirit contained within, and his eyes occasionally flickered with electric light.
“Brother Li Rui of Yao Guang, you’ve come as well.” Ji Biyue laughed softly.
He was a young powerhouse at the Four Extremes secret realm — one of the top fighters of Yao Guang’s current generation. After Yao Guang’s Sacred Son had been taken away by Ye Fan, Li Rui was very likely to be chosen as the new Sacred Son.
“It seems everyone received the same message — someone sold information to all of us simultaneously,” Li Rui said with a smile.
Tu Fei had already changed his appearance long ago — not as thoroughly as Ye Fan, whose entire bearing and aura had been transformed, but enough that he wasn’t worried about being recognized, since he and the people present hadn’t had any real direct contact before.
He transmitted to Ye Fan: “What the hell — which bastard is feeding them information? Could it be someone like us, trying to set them up, who just happened to arrive at the same time?”
Ye Fan was puzzled as well. Both Yao Guang and Ji Family members had come to this mountain city — clearly something unusual was going on.
“No matter who else has come, the Archaic Sacred Body is mine to claim. He will be my future slave.” Xia Jiuyou spoke coldly.
“Whatever else happens, we absolutely must tear this white-robed little brat to pieces first. Didn’t he say he has a hundred thousand catties of Source? Let’s rob him!” Tu Fei seethed.
Ye Fan also wanted to give him a thorough thrashing. This Xia Jiuyou was truly too arrogant — but he did seem to have a genuinely powerful background, daring to contend with the Sacred Grounds like this.