A light skiff drifted downstream along the river. Green mountains rose on both banks—gibbons cried out, tigers roared. Ye Fan sat cross-legged on the flat-bottomed boat, drinking alone. The current flowed now gentle, now turbulent.
In these recent days, he could not find the Black Emperor anywhere. The dead dog had already become a legend in the Eastern Desolation—not long ago, it had nearly gotten the Northern Emperor killed, truly shaking the entire vast Eastern Land.
Ye Fan was in no rush to find anyone. So long as little Xiao Nannan and the others were safe, he did not worry. In the meantime, he traveled through the great mountains and famous rivers of the Eastern Desolation, cultivating in peace—very naturally, very at ease.
“The Setting Sun Valley—the seclusion ground of an ancient saint. The sea has turned to mulberry fields; more than one hundred and thirty thousand years have passed, and nothing of it remains.”
The river surged east—grinding away at the great gorge—and the Setting Sun Valley of old had become an expanse of marsh and lake. Even the last traces left by an ancient saint had vanished.
Ye Fan stood at the prow of the skiff. He poured a cup of wine into the water and let the rushing current flow freely past. The small boat did not stir—it remained quietly fixed in place as he gazed carefully at the scene before him.
The Setting Sun Valley was long since submerged. Only a few hilltops rose above the water, winding like dragons and serpents, or like giant turtles gazing at the moon—strange and bizarre.
“In that time, the saint who founded the Turtle-Serpent Twelve Swords swept through the Eastern Desolation, established a renowned and mighty supreme great sect, and had the holy grounds come in throngs to offer their congratulations.”
“What a pity—even the greatest legacies eventually reach their end. Supremacy gives way to decline, and after not even twenty thousand years it was finished—so swiftly it leaves one speechless, gone in the dust of ages past.”
“A lament—the Turtle-Serpent Twelve Swords became silence thereafter. A supremely magnificent and world-shaking body of divine arts was forever lost.”
Ye Fan cultivated his self—wandering freely—and when he encountered such ancient sites, he naturally paid his respects, hoping to feel the Dao-traces and the journey of the heart that those who came before had left behind.
“The Turtle-Serpent Twelve Swords—could they be connected to this range of hills?” He gazed out at the few remaining hilltops rising above the water, shaped like coiling serpents and like aged turtles.
The setting sun was vivid and sorrowful—the evening light like blood, dyeing the horizon crimson. The hilltops seemed almost to have a spirit of their own, leaping in the lingering glow of the sunset as though turtles and serpents were rising together.
“Is it the mountain that moves? The water that moves? Or the heart that moves?”
Ye Fan stilled his mind and composed his spirit. He sent out his divine consciousness, spreading it toward every serpent ridge and turtle peak—and in an instant, the mountains, the earth, and the rolling river all resounded together, giving off great bell-like tones one after another, like the sound of great bronze bells.
“This is…!”
The spiritual imprints of those who had come before—piercing through all of history, never extinguished—were stirred by him in this moment. All of them resonated at once, as though a hundred great bells were vibrating in unison.
The river surged—rolled up into the sky. Cliff walls towered heaven-high—rumbling and trembling. Every kind of divine light flickered, illuminating the whole of heaven and earth, making one involuntarily want to fall to their knees in reverence.
Ye Fan initially assumed this was the imprint of that ancient saint—perhaps it had triggered the Turtle-Serpent Twelve Swords. But he quickly dismissed the thought.
Nearly a hundred different imprints had resonated, not a single powerful Dao-trace—and soon he understood what had happened. Others before him, just the same as he, had come to pay their respects, and had left behind fragments of their spirit—imprinted in the cliff faces.
“A supremely rare body of divine arts has truly been lost in the ancient era. So many people have come searching, yet all of them left only sighs.”
Half a month later, Ye Fan had long since crossed far away. He arrived in a vast wilderness—stretching for hundreds of thousands of miles without a sign of human habitation—only ancient trees, and the roars of beasts.
The Fallen King’s Burial Ground. This was a place soaked in blood. Bare and bare hills, no grass growing, not even birds alighting—an extraordinary silence, without even a breath of wind.
A true wasteland in every sense of the term. The hills were the color of rust—as though dyed in blood—and no matter how much time had passed, they remained that vivid and sorrowful hue.
In the distance, the wilderness was lush—plants flourishing, vegetation rich. Only this place was like a solitary island, without a single trace of vitality.
Legend had it that a Divine King had fallen here—a figure of unparalleled power, invincible in the world, who had reached the level of a saint.
One could say that in that era, a Divine King of the Eastern Desolation who had attained sainthood was an extraordinarily terrifying existence—without an enemy in the world, sweeping all before him without a single opponent.
This peerless Divine King had been close friends with the first-generation source-heaven master. As they both grew old together, misfortune befell the progenitor of the source-heaven lineage—one terrible and mysterious event after another followed in quick succession.
In the end, the Eastern Desolation’s Divine King traveled together with the founding ancestor of the source-heaven line into this vast wilderness, where in their final years they settled in seclusion, intending to outlast whatever dreadful things were coming.
But no matter how great the invincible Divine King’s abilities—his arts defying the natural order—he could not change what was to come. Half a year after they settled in seclusion, a great battle took place here that shook the Eastern Desolation.
The outside world never learned the details. But on that day, they had seen a bloodstained brilliance surging into the sky, and the most powerful ultimate art of the Eastern Desolation Divine King—shaking heaven and earth upside down, the blood-light drowning the entire wilderness.
A terrifying energy caused the most ancient living fossils of the Eastern Desolation to feel it in their very core—each of them shaken beyond all expression.
Afterward, when people arrived at this place, the peerless Divine King lay in his blood—the crimson tide had dyed the earth, and both he and the founding ancestor of the source-heaven line had perished, leaving no remains.
The Fallen King’s Burial Ground—one could say that the blood of a peerless invincible Divine King from the ancient era had dyed this land crimson, drowning this wilderness, infused with divine blood—and from that day to this, the color had never faded.
“The progenitor of the source-heaven lineage and an invincible genius like this—even together, resisting ‘misfortune’ in their final years, they still fell in regret. How truly terrifying…”
Ye Fan fell into deep thought, his heart far from calm. The final years of a source-heaven master were truly harrowing—a great calamity he did not know how he would one day face.
“That is…!” Suddenly, his expression changed. He spotted a silhouette—standing upon the blood-soaked burial mound.
The person was wearing grey robes—and vanished in a flash, so fast as to be inconceivable. Even Ye Fan’s divine eye could not see them clearly, could not keep up with their speed.
Too fast!
Ye Fan was too far away. Yet he felt the retreating figure was somehow familiar—and then, in an instant, his heart gave a great lurch. An expression of utter disbelief crossed his face, and he stepped onto the movement rune and gave chase.
But by the time he arrived at that spot, there was not a trace of the figure to be found. At that speed, they could have traveled eight or nine hundred miles in an instant—there was no chance of catching up.
“Senior Divine King!” he shouted. The entire wilderness rumbled in response—yet there was no reply whatsoever.
Ye Fan felt certain he had just seen the peerless Divine King who had vanished for years—the tragic, heroic figure in white: Jiang Taixu.
“He truly looked like him…” He could not be certain, but felt there was a sixty-percent chance he was not wrong. His heart was shaken beyond measure.
“The peerless white-clad Divine King has not died—he has survived. Which means he must have made a breakthrough!” Ye Fan’s heart surged with excitement, yet he also sighed deeply for the life the Divine King had lived.
The primordial ancestral kings were all about to emerge. The white-clad Divine King’s return was enormously invigorating for Ye Fan. If war were to break out against the ancient living beings in the future—this would be an invincible combat power on his side.
“Having been pushed to the very edge of death by emotion—yearning to die for the woman he loved, severing all of his Divine King foundation, yet ultimately coming back to life—just how strong would such a person have become?” Ye Fan did not know.
Without a moment’s hesitation—severing the Divine King foundation, saving little Tingting, returning to the existence of an ordinary mortal. Throughout all of history, no Divine King had ever been willing to do such a thing!
“The white-clad Divine King shed divine blood for me, and exhausted his very foundation for little Tingting. Then he walked away alone—intending to be buried with the fairy Suicai in the wilderness. Yet in such circumstances, he lived on…”
Ye Fan lingered long in this place—absorbing the Dao-traces and ancient remains left behind by those saints of old. After half a month of quiet cultivation, he rose and departed—but he did not see Jiang Taixu return. He was deeply regretful.
“Sacred Body Ye Fan—dare to appear, and we shall obliterate your three souls and seven spirits. You will never be reborn!” These were the Wang Family’s words, echoing through the Eastern Desolation.
“With my son Wang Teng here, he will never have the chance to rise. Even if he is a Sacred Body and fully matures, he will only be killed—nothing but a withered bone beside the road to a Great Emperor’s ascension!” Wang Teng’s father was very high-profile. He stepped forward himself: “If he dares to show himself, we will kill him!”
Across the vast Eastern Desolation, dark undercurrents stirred. Ye Fan had returned from his travels through famous mountains and great rivers. He naturally heard these words—yet he did not go to strike at the Wang Family’s assets again. He was certain they had prepared a complete dragnet.
“Wang Family—if you wish to die, come to the Eastern Desolation in full. I will cut you down one by one.” These were Ye Fan’s words upon his return, and he showed himself in the central region.
At the same time, an ominous signal appeared on the Eastern Land’s great earth—primordial living beings had emerged into the world from the north, traveling through famous mountains and great rivers.
“Sacred Body? Nothing but a joke. Before my race, every constitution is nothing but a clay rooster and a clay dog—not worth a single strike!” The first young member of a primordial royal clan had emerged, releasing such words.
This was a powerful ancient living being, breaking free from its divine origin stone. Though young, it inspired wariness in all who saw it. It was said that the Northern Emperor Wang Teng had been seen walking alongside it—personally accompanying it.
“Royal Brother, let me deal with this so-called Sacred Body for you. When my clan wants to kill someone, no one in heaven or underground can stop us!” A young member of the primordial royal clan spoke thus—purple hair, eyes sharp and piercing, haughty and cold.
“You are on friendly terms with their Sacred Crown Prince. If you do this—might it cause discord within the primordial races?”
“The Battling Sacred Crown Prince reached nirvana in the primordial era long ago. What kind of crown prince is he still supposed to be now? If he cannot match our royal clan’s descendants, he is nothing but a sacred ape!” The young primordial royal clan member gave cold laugh after cold laugh.
“As long as Ye Fan can be found, I can crush him with a single finger.” Wang Teng said, unmoved.
In the Northern Domain, within an ancient underground palace hall hidden within a stretch of ancient mountains, two people sat facing each other—speaking of these matters.
“No matter—there are ways to find him. When my clan’s ancestral king attained the Way in his youth, he refined a divine lake—one of endless and wondrous uses. It rests in the deep recesses of an ancient cave. If you and I work together to activate it, we should be able to mirror his whereabouts.” The young primordial royal clan member said.
A massive cave—within which one could occasionally glimpse one or two enormous blocks of divine origin stone, each containing a powerful ancient living being, bobbing and drifting within—terrifying beyond measure.
They walked deep inside and came upon a small lake, ten zhang across in every direction—a pale golden hue, shimmering with strange and flowing light. The two of them worked together to activate it, and immediately it let out a soft humming sound.
Then, the pale golden small lake rippled with light—shivering rapidly—and then smoothed to mirror-stillness, reflecting a stretch of mountains and great earth.
“Hold the image of that person in your mind—recite his name in silence!” the young primordial royal clan member reminded.
Wang Teng let out a low roar. Nine dragons, nine phoenixes, nine tigers, nine xuanwu rose together—flooding the cave, blazing with brilliant light—and he stood at the center like the Emperor of the Center, all four divine spirits circling around him.
“Splash!”
The pale golden divine lake gave a great sound. The light of the water flowed and shifted—a mountain range took shape in its surface, vast and magnificent. On a sheer cliff face, a silhouette stood—and it was Ye Fan.
“Swish!”
Suddenly, Ye Fan turned and looked directly back—a gaze of almost physical substance pierced through the divine lake and out. In an instant, the entire image shattered.
“He has a prized treasure that can block our searching. But this is enough—he is in the Northern Domain. I know that place. I’ve been there!” The primordial royal clan member smiled coldly.
“I will go kill him now!” Wang Teng was on his feet in an instant.