The Qinling range, located in the western region of the Central Prefecture — vast and boundless, no less than a million li across, its entirety mountains and ancient ridges.
Beneath the night moon, the land was silver-white. Ancient trees and mountain peaks were wrapped in a thin mist, moonlight wreathing about. One could frequently see some old corpses absorbing and expelling the essence of moonlight.
From time to time, ancient war chariots could also be seen charging out of ancient mountains, flying through the moonlit night, rumbling as they went. Some belonged to monarchs, and some were the mounts of great masters.
It was a pity that all of these belonged to ancient corpses — buried here in life, they had now taken on a kind of power again, traveling by night. Strange and mysterious.
In the cold, clear moonlit night, Ye Fan walked alone through the Qinling range, preparing to depart for distant lands. He took one last look at these mountains and rivers, avoiding seven or eight ancient corpses comparable to Holy Masters.
“The Ailing Old Man has truly gone. Did he obtain what he sought?”
The Qin Sect was still there, but some people were missing: the Ailing Old Man, the Moon Spirit Princess, the fair-featured scholar, Hua Yunfei, and Li Xiaoman — all gone.
In the Qinling great battle, there had been intervention by a supreme existence comparable to ancient saints. At the final moment, Ye Fan had even sensed their divine sense rippling — and it had been somewhat familiar.
“Was it truly the Ailing Old Man? What identity does he truly hold — to be able to interfere with Supreme Dao Imperial Weapons? Simply staggering!”
In the current age, saints who were still alive: in the Eastern Wilderness there was one — the Mad Old Man. In the Western Desert on Mount Sumeru there was also one — the Fighting Victorious Buddha.
Their spiritual power was boundless. A single hair that fell from them could kill a half-step great master. A single drop of essence blood that flew from their body could annihilate a Holy Master.
These were existences beyond imagination — unmatched in the current age, without anyone who could compare. Even immortal lineages with Supreme Dao Imperial Weapons would not dare provoke them.
“Is he truly that person?” Ye Fan thought of what the Ailing Old Man had said to him. Once, they had walked together through the Qinling range, speaking of many events from eight or nine thousand years past.
“A once-in-a-generation prodigy of that era — a matchless existence — who has actually lived until now? Then his true age is most likely over nine thousand years. Truly alarming!”
Ye Fan wished to see the Ailing Old Man once more, to give him an undying holy fruit. But that chance had not come. That sickly, frail old man had long since departed.
“His life’s end is approaching. For him to pass into nirvana like this would be such a pity — unable to receive a divine undying medicine before the end!”
The Qin Sect remained. The main peak was only just over a thousand meters — ordinary and unassuming, drawing no attention — yet it had supreme experts presiding over it, including no shortage of kings who had been transformed by a degree-granting divine art.
This was a place of profound and unfathomable depth. Ye Fan had obtained the Military Script Art — there was no longer any need for him to remain. He had come back to take one last look, and would then leave entirely, never returning.
“Begin a new journey. Cultivate from here forward — set the sail high and cross the vast seas, reach the Immortal Platform!”
Ye Fan departed from the western region of the Central Prefecture and made his way east. He did not go into seclusion. He had just broken through to a fresh new level, and needed to temper it, to consolidate it.
Seclusion was certainly important, but tempering the heart in the world of men could not be neglected either. At this level of cultivation, everything required insight. Sometimes sitting still in a mountain forest for a hundred years did not yield as much as one journey through the ten-thousand-foot mortal world.
Like an ascetic practitioner, Ye Fan made his way east step by step, experiencing the full range of human life. Cultivating the Dao through the mortal world, he observed the geography and lay of the land at every place he passed.
Over half a year, he finally stabilized his cultivation at the ninth transformation of the Dragon Transformation, proceeding on foot through one region after another, witnessing the prosperity and power of the Central Prefecture’s various hundred sects.
Many people in the Central Prefecture were searching for Ye Fan. Setting aside the Myriad Beings Mother Qi Cauldron on his person, those two pieces of green copper alone were enough to make people unable to sit still. Yet no one could find him.
“Ye Fan, get out here and face me — my big brother could kill a hundred of you with one hand!”
After half a year of quiet, an arrogant voice resounded from north to south and east to west. Wang Chong was not dead. He cried out these words, calling through the Central Prefecture — declaring his intention to kill the Holy Physique, to grind his bones and scatter his ash.
In the Qinling battle, Ye Fan had become renowned throughout the Central Prefecture. With the Nine Li Diagram, he had swept through the masses, driving a whole array of powerful cultivators to change color — even beating Wang Teng into serious injury, bones broken and tendons snapped, forcing him to flee on a golden ancient war chariot.
Yet in this battle, the Northern Emperor too had shaken heaven and earth, for the power he had displayed was entirely his own — cultivated by himself, without relying on any Imperial Weapon. He could contend with Holy Masters.
A young man in his mid-twenties who had displayed such world-shaking strength at that age — his future achievements were limitless.
The talk of an ancient emperor’s reincarnation was stronger than ever before. Many people believed that in just a few more years he would break through another level, surpassing Holy Masters to become an unrivaled ruler!
In the Qinling battle, while Ye Fan had stolen the limelight and beaten even the Northern Emperor into retreat with injuries, this had done nothing at all to diminish Wang Teng’s fearsome reputation. For against Supreme Dao Imperial Weapons, anyone would have to retreat.
In that brutal battle, even great masters had died in unknown numbers. That he could withdraw with his full body intact and live through it was already a miracle.
“Ye Fan, get out here — my big brother could crush you to death with one finger!” Wang Chong continued his taunting, each pronouncement more arrogant than the last.
Ye Fan’s heart was calm. He continued at an unhurried pace, heading east. Experiencing the full breadth of mortal existence, quietly absorbing its lessons — like an ascetic monk, barefoot in rough cloth.
“The power of the soul’s intent is this strong. Cast aside honor and disgrace, cultivate the mind alone — paying no mind to anything in the world outside — and there is this kind of strength.” This was his reflection.
Ye Fan was already a cultivator of the ninth transformation of the Dragon Transformation. The great dragon of his spine was nearly complete — close to the great circle of perfection, lifting his head and gazing upward at the Immortal Platform.
The Immortal Platform was the skull — and its central divine territory was the very center of the brow: the root of the final Secret Realm!
“My divine sense has never been weak. Cultivating this Secret Realm should be beneficial.”
The Central Prefecture was vast and boundless. Though Ye Fan had traveled for most of a year, heading steadily east, he was still in the western region — far from approaching the central part. Normally speaking, it would take him at minimum several years of flight to exit the western domain.
In the end, he began to traverse the void, arriving in the central region. The immortal vein upon which the Grand Scholar’s Mansion resided lay precisely in this stretch of great land.
Ye Fan was no stranger to this place. He had spent a great deal of time here before. Especially upon seeing a particular ancient city, familiarity washed over him.
Xiba City — a place of long existence, one of the ten great ancient cities of the Central Prefecture, situated roughly five thousand li from the Grand Scholar’s Mansion.
The city walls were lofty and majestic — towering and grand. The walls themselves were as though cast from dark iron, forming a great black steel fortress. The layout within the city was magnificent and bustling, with the various hundred sects and all manner of people present, traffic flowing like water, streams of people without end.
Once, Ye Fan had successfully bid for dragon marrow here at auction, and had also killed the golden Chixiao of the northern plains’ golden family outside the city — stirring up a great wave of consequences.
“Xiba City — I’m back!”
Elite talents from the Grand Scholar’s Mansion came frequently to this ancient city, where they could bid at auction for all manner of rare treasures and divine weapons, or purchase at great price the exceptionally rare enlightenment dragon marrow.
The ancient city remained as prosperous and grand as ever. Walking through its streets, Ye Fan soon heard Wang Chong’s taunts relayed through others’ discussions.
“The Holy Physique is nothing — compared to my big brother, he is absolutely nothing. Let him dare appear, and I’ll stomp him to death with one foot!”
Everyone was talking about it. Wang Chong’s words had grown harsher and harsher lately, cutting Ye Fan down on every count — just short of standing on his face and cursing him outright.
“This young monster is going far too far. So aggressive — far too brazen.”
“He’s small in body, but his heart is vicious. He’s made up his mind to disturb the Holy Physique’s state of mind, prevent him from finding calm.”
“Many have seen through it: if the Holy Physique grows up, he will inevitably become a great enemy of the Northern Emperor’s path to proving the Dao. Wang Chong is worried for his brother.”
“At such a young age, he has already begun to clear the road and kill enemies for his brother?”
Ye Fan had nothing to feel angry about. Having experienced too much, the insults of a few words he paid no mind to — he took it with a calm smile. But he also had no intention of ignoring it indefinitely. When the time came to act, he would act!
“Wang Chong has come to Xiba City…” He heard this piece of news, smiled, and felt it was time to administer a warning.
No one had expected it — Ye Fan arrived at Xiba City without warning, making no effort to conceal his whereabouts. Appearing in his true form, he entered the city, and one great cry resonated throughout the entire city.
“Wang Teng — come out and face death!”
That single roar made the whole ancient city tremble. Immediately countless silhouettes appeared atop the black city walls, and many people flew into the air.
“The Holy Physique has appeared again — he truly dares come!”
“This time he’s here to kill the Northern Emperor — does he dare come so openly? Can he actually kill him?”
Ye Fan stood outside the city. Dressed in battle attire, golden divine light from his entire body surged to the heavens. His vital energy and blood were like a great dragon penetrating heaven and earth — even from a great distance, that aura of power could be felt.
“Wang Teng — come out and face death!”
Standing there like a war god — black hair thick and dense, dancing wildly in the wind — his gaze was clear and sharp, his divine light gleaming. He faced Xiba City, one of the ten great ancient cities of the Central Prefecture.
“Ye, you truly dare appear?!” Wang Chong flew out from the ancient city, hovering in the sky. His gaze was filled with venomous hatred. The last time, he had nearly been killed by Ye Fan.
“Call your brother out. Enough hiding. I’ll send you both to the immortal realm to reunite with your ancestors.” Ye Fan said calmly.
“Flash!”
Wang Chong descended. Behind him followed a row of old men — including two ancient life forms, whose scales flashed with golden light, savage and ferocious.
Xiba City — many people were stirred. They stood watching from the distant sky, among them disciples of the Grand Scholar’s Mansion, princesses of divine dynasties, and direct-line descendants of various great sects.
“Where is your brother? Tell him to come out and fight.” Ye Fan asked.
“Hmph. On the strength of what do you challenge my older brother? A heaven-sealing earthen net has long since been prepared for you — even with wings, you won’t escape!” Wang Chong laughed coldly.
“Where has Wang Teng died off to?” Ye Fan was most impolite.
“My big brother left long ago for the Eastern Wilderness — he has no time to deal with you. I can eliminate you here myself!” Wang Chong said in a sinister voice, extending a single finger. “Today I will grind you to nothing!”
Wang Teng had gone to the Eastern Wilderness. He very likely intended to enter the Ten Thousand Dragon’s Nest, or possibly the Purple Mountain where the Great Emperor Wushi had passed into nirvana, or perhaps to enter another ancient land to pay his respects to the king of some ancient race and their princess.
This was stunning information Ye Fan had purchased along the road from the Hundred Knowledges Sect, the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion, and the Red Dust Pavilion.
All three ancient sects were numbered among the Central Prefecture’s hundred sects, their origins ancient — traceable to before the Desolate Age. Their information was the most thorough of all. They sold intelligence to all comers, charging a thousand gold per character — and their accuracy was impeccable.
At the same time, another piece of news said: Wang Teng’s journey to the Eastern Wilderness might well be to seek a betrothal from an ancient family of the Desolate Age.