Life’s journey is filled with rises and falls — yesterday’s blooming flowers wither by dawn, and who can truly command their own fate? Fireworks burst forth in brilliant splendor, only for their scattered embers to drift down in lonely silence.
When all the splendor fades away, what remains is cold and desolate — visitors cease to call, and compared to just a few days prior, Ye Fan’s residence could only be described as bleak.
The solitary courtyard lay quiet, yellow leaves drifting down. Ye Fan coughed softly, and blood stained a white cloth crimson — vivid and alarming. He gazed at the cold, empty courtyard and let out a long sigh.
Life’s rises and falls are like the blooming and withering of flowers — though moments of brilliance exist, the inevitable days of quiet fading follow, all of it carried along in the wind of the mortal world.
The Divine City remained as it always had, unchanged in every way. Yet when Ye Fan appeared within it once more, the feeling was entirely different.
Just days ago, it had seemed as though the whole world knew his name — greetings came without end, and he had smiled so often his expression had gone numb. Now, though he still drew attention when he appeared, few approached him. The reception was cold. Indifferent.
When he turned away, fingers pointed and voices murmured — cutting remarks woven in among the whispers. In a single moment, he experienced every face that humanity had to offer.
“The Holy Body is finished. With less than half a year left to live, it all ends in quiet obscurity — defeated by a world reborn tens of thousands of years later. No miracle was ever made.”
“The various Holy Sons can finally breathe easy. That great mountain pressing down on their hearts is about to collapse on its own. The shadow is lifting.”
“The Wind Clan’s jewel no longer needs to worry. She certainly wouldn’t agree to be betrothed to a Holy Body in this condition. Perhaps the Wind Clan ought to count themselves fortunate — no decision or promise was ever made.”
“What good did breaking the curse do? In the end, he’s going to die anyway — heh!”
“What does it matter that his battle prowess lords over the younger generation? If the heavens won’t let him live, can he really defy them? All he can do is wait for death!”
……
Some felt sympathy, others reveled in his misfortune. Expressions varied, and people said all manner of things — there were voices of regret, and naturally, there were also mocking tones and those who kicked a man while he was down.
Ye Fan walked through the streets, taking all of this in. He was silent. Not a single word left his lips.
In the end, he returned to his residence. That day, he paid no visits to anyone. He felt the need to be still — to quietly think through certain matters.
Deep in the night, the solitary courtyard was cold and quiet, a few strands of starlight falling through the dark, dim and hushed.
Ye Fan began coughing blood again, staining the white of his collar a desolate crimson. He wiped the traces of blood from the corner of his mouth and tilted his head back to gaze up at the stars, lost in a daze.
Suddenly, he sensed something amiss. He turned to look — perched on top of the courtyard wall, a small creature was sneaking a peek at him, peering about furtively. It was a small golden living being.
It had successfully passed through its heavenly tribulation and transformed into a tiny golden qilin — no bigger than a palm, endearingly chubby, with large, clear eyes.
“Cough…” Ye Fan coughed up blood again.
The tiny golden qilin flew over and landed on the ground, its entire body radiating light. Plump and waddling as it walked, it carefully approached Ye Fan, then tugged at the hem of his trousers.
“You unlucky little thing — you’re not afraid of me anymore?” Ye Fan sat on a stone chair and looked down at it.
The little golden creature gave him an exaggerated roll of its eyes, then breathed out a strand of seven-colored misty silk toward him. It sank swiftly into his body and transformed into a warm, gentle current of energy.
Ye Fan felt a wave of ease wash over him. His life essence seemed to have been touched by a spring breeze, and his injuries eased somewhat — though ultimately, nothing had truly changed.
“You’re quite thoughtful…”
Ye Fan hadn’t expected that when no one else came calling, on this cold and quiet night, it would be Shencan who came to see him. Though it had forgotten its past, its instincts remained — guided by pure, simple intuition to judge good from bad.
Ye Fan took out the small remaining piece of divine source he had left and held it out toward Shencan. The little creature immediately brightened with delight, clutched it in its arms, and began nibbling away with great contentment.
After finishing the divine source, it suddenly flopped to the ground, its four tiny qilin legs twitching gently. It gave Ye Fan quite a fright — but at that very moment, Shencan sneakily cracked one large eye open and peered at him with a mischievous gleam.
“You’re addicted to playing dead.” Ye Fan laughed.
The little golden creature immediately sprang up, letting out a disgruntled little grumble. Ye Fan was startled — this tiny thing had done it specifically to cheer him up.
In that instant, a wave of feeling washed over him, and he thought of many things. A pure, simple creature like this was sometimes far more endearing than complicated people.
Ye Fan suddenly realized that he — whose heart was as firm as iron — had, in this moment, grown a little sorrowful. And when all was said and done, it was this small creature that had come to see him on this cold, bleak night. Without a sound, he reached out and gently stroked the little golden being.
He was not afraid of death. But there was regret in his heart — a genuine, deep longing to return to the other end of the starry sky. In these last days when his life was so short, he desperately wanted to see his parents again, to see his loved ones and friends.
“How did that unlucky little Shencan end up here…” came Li Heishui’s voice.
“Whoosh!”
Shencan indignantly waved its tiny claws, then bolted away in a streak and vanished — disappearing into the night sky without a trace.
Li Heishui and Tu Fei entered the courtyard. They had disappeared for several days, seeking out the Thirteen Bandits for help, looking for a way to break the curse, and had only now returned.
“Just take the qilin seed,” the two said. “It won’t cure the root cause, but it should definitely extend your life for some time. Then we can slowly find a way.”
It was clear the Thirteen Bandits had no solution either. As for that result, Ye Fan had long since anticipated it.
When dawn broke, Pang Bo returned — utterly exhausted, with the Black Emperor trailing behind him. They had gone to the Demon Clan’s sacred territory.
“The Green Emperor’s heart might be able to restore you. I’ll find a way to obtain it,” Pang Bo said, his tone firm.
The heart of the Demon Clan’s Great Emperor possessed boundless vitality, but no one knew where it was concealed. Pang Bo and the Black Emperor had searched long through the Demon Clan’s sacred territory and had not turned up a single lead.
“Never mind — injuries left by the Great Dao cannot be treated with external remedies. The great figures speculated that even a fully matured immortality divine herb would be useless,” Ye Fan said, shaking his head, unwilling to let Pang Bo take such a risk.
“Where there is even a thread of hope, it must be pursued — even if it means carving a path through blood. I will help you claim the Green Emperor’s heart,” Pang Bo said, resolute.
“Enough, none of you are going to throw your lives away. Let this Emperor think it through carefully.” The great black dog paced back and forth, then lay down nearby and fell silent.
When Ye Fan appeared again on the streets of the Divine City and once more heard the murmuring crowds, a peculiar calm settled over him. Even cold and cutting words could no longer stir him.
“Woof, what are you babbling about, you human pet?” The Black Emperor had never been one for restraint — the moment it heard a cutting remark, it would bound over and crane its enormous head upward, barking and hollering for its “human pet” to collect payment.
On their walk through the city, who knew how many people had been driven to gnash their teeth in fury by the Black Emperor — yet none dared act on it, and could only curse under their breath.
“The Holy Body is done for, and that wretched dog is still this brazen. When the time comes, I’ll skin it alive and eat its flesh!”
“He doesn’t have many days left. All he can do now is linger and savor this mortal world one last time before he dies!”
The Black Emperor had left — crossing through the void to depart. It said it would be gone for a few days, and that perhaps it could find a way to save Ye Fan’s life.
The Temple of Wondrous Desire stood in the evening light, gilded along its edges by the setting sun, resting among the clouds. A layer of sacred luminance flowed across it — clear, radiant, and serene.
“Isn’t this our Holy Body? I heard you’ve been unwell — why aren’t you resting and recuperating? What brings you here?” Wu Ziming appeared alongside a group of others — a face not seen in many days — his expression wearing a smile of extraordinary brilliance.
“Indeed, your health matters most. You really should go rest and recover. Otherwise — heh — look at that sunset. Beautiful as it is, it sinks all the same,” said Li Chongtian beside him, narrowing his eyes with a smile.
“If you don’t want to die, stay far away from me,” Ye Fan said, sweeping a glance over them.
“He’s practically dead already, and still this arrogant — does he even have divine power left? I’ve heard he coughs blood every single day,” someone in the crowd muttered quietly.
“Get out of my sight at once, or don’t blame me for being merciless,” Ye Fan said, clasping his hands behind his back and standing in the air, eyes fixed on the dozen or so young people gathered before the Temple of Wondrous Desire.
Every single person there felt their heart lurch. This was a Holy Body at minor completion — even with so little life remaining, coughing blood day after day, after breaking the curse, the younger generation all regarded him with deep wariness.
“Bad omen — let’s go!” Wu Ziming didn’t dare hold his ground and turned to leave immediately.
“He’s going to die soon anyway — no need to bother with him. Just wait and watch the heavens take him away,” someone muttered resentfully as they departed.
Ye Fan gave a cold laugh. “Though my life is nearly spent, you are still not the sort who can humiliate me. I gave you a chance, yet you still dared to speak disrespectfully.”
“Hum!”
The void trembled. Ye Fan’s golden blood-energy surged skyward as he reached out a great golden hand and grabbed forward.
“You dare kill us openly?” someone cried out in fright. “Do you know who we are?”
“I had not yet decided whether to kill you — but with that one line, I’ll see you on your way!” Ye Fan’s great golden hand pressed down with tremendous force through the void.
“Crack!”
Heaven and earth shook. The evening clouds were shattered, and the horizon fell into a hazy blur. Ye Fan’s great golden hand covered all dozen or so people at once — and in the instant it fell, a spray of blood and gore erupted.
“Ye Fan, don’t misunderstand…” Only Wu Ziming and Li Chongtian managed to escape, terror written across their faces as they fled through the air, shouting as they ran.
Ye Fan flipped his hand and struck down again. The golden hand blotted out the sky. Though both men were at the Four Extremes secret realm, it felt as though they were pitted against a divine lord — they could not resist at all.
“Splat!”
Wu Ziming and Li Chongtian burst apart, dissolving into a mist of blood. Though they had been supremely powerful cultivators of the Four Extremes secret realm, they were still effortlessly annihilated by Ye Fan.
In the distance, every person who witnessed this scene was utterly shaken. Though the Holy Body carried injuries, his might had not diminished in the slightest — he remained beyond provocation.
The Holy Body must not be humiliated — that thought took root in every heart, spreading a chill through them all. The man was facing death; he had absolutely nothing to hold him back. No one could afford to antagonize him. That was the one thought that arose in every person’s mind.
Particularly those who had previously spoken cutting words grew even more fearful — their legs threatening to buckle beneath them. Recalling what they had said, they felt deeply unsettled, terrified that Ye Fan had heard and remembered every word.
Ye Fan swept a glance over the rest of the onlookers, then turned — white robes billowing — and walked into the Temple of Wondrous Desire.
Within one of the palace halls, the décor was magnificent: gilded beams and painted rafters, immortal mist curling through the air like a palace in the moon’s domain.
Ye Fan sat before a white jade table, calmly drinking tea, his eyes taking in the incomparable beauty seated across from him.
An Miaoyi was a woman of peerless grace — her hair a gleaming black, her skin surpassing snow, her eyes vivid and lively, her lashes long, her lips a sensual crimson. She stood with poised elegance, her beauty so breathtaking it stole the air from the lungs, her figure’s curves astonishing in their perfection.
“Little man, you’ve made me sad,” she said, her voice as lovely as the music of heaven. She walked toward him with light steps, like a radiant immortal bloom swaying in the breeze.
“I broke the curse — yet I don’t have much time left. Do you want to kill me with your own hands?” Ye Fan smiled.
“I did say that if you failed, I would be the first to kill you. But seeing you like this… how could I bring myself to do it?” An Miaoyi smiled — sweet and captivating — though deep in her eyes lay a trace of unwillingness.
“Who in this world can escape death? Even the Great Emperors are no exception. My only regret is that I cannot return to my homeland,” Ye Fan said softly.
“The curse is clearly broken — so why can’t fate be changed?” An Miaoyi’s dark tresses fell loose around her, her form luminous, a sacred radiance flowing from her — as though a flawless goddess had descended into the mortal world. “What are your plans?”
“I came to see you tonight, and then I will bid farewell to the Divine King — and leave the Divine City immediately,” Ye Fan said.
“At least you didn’t leave without a word,” An Miaoyi said, a smile gracing her face at its most beautiful. “If I were to fall forever into the mortal world, what would you do?”
Ye Fan made to speak, but she stopped him with a slender jade hand pressed gently to his lips.
An Miaoyi laughed, rising gracefully to her feet, her hair drifting around her. “Only if you live does any of it matter.”
Ye Fan said nothing, only watching this woman of unrivaled beauty in quiet silence.
“I want you to live,” An Miaoyi said, turning toward the writing desk. She retrieved an ancient scroll and held it out to him. “Memorize this cultivation method.”
“What is this?”
“It was left at the Temple of Wondrous Desire over a thousand years ago by a disciple of Shakyamuni.”
“What? A disciple of Shakyamuni?!” Ye Fan shot to his feet.
“Stay tonight,” An Miaoyi said, drifting lightly toward him.