The wind was bone-piercingly cold, and the great steppe ran red with blood.
Half a month had passed, yet the northern lands remained engulfed in the fires of war, with battles and pursuits still raging without end.
A colossus that had stood for hundreds of thousands of years had completely fallen, and dozens upon hundreds of wolves and tigers had rushed in, tearing and fighting over the carcass, dismembering it — a painting drenched in blood.
The sacred ground had crumbled, the clan annihilated. The Wang Family, which had ruled the Northern Plains since the age of the Desolate Antiquity, became history. A more complex configuration of power took shape, with all parties in unanimous pursuit of the Wang Family’s surviving fish caught in the net.
This was an unspoken understanding: for a new power to rise, it was inevitable that it would trample upon the bones of the former hegemon, and there would be no peace until every last descendant was eliminated.
Over the past half month, the world was shaken. The entire realm trembled. The destruction of an ancient-era clan cast a shadow far and wide, its influence vast and profound.
For ordinary people, this was akin to the overturning of an ancient heavenly court — something bordering on myth. Even that which was said to be immortal had a day when it reached its end.
A lineage that had long accumulated its awe-inspiring might and looked down upon all under heaven was severed just like that, collapsing so suddenly that dust and shock swallowed heaven and earth alike.
A full half month had passed, yet people were still reeling from the impact. This was a world-shaking tidal wave, rattling the entire realm, instilling awe in the hearts of all mortal souls.
The Barbarian Clan’s iron cavalry was this formidable — tens of thousands strong, they marched into the Northern Plains as one and leveled an ancient-era clan. People spoke of nothing else whenever they met, every face flushed with exhilaration.
How many years had it been since such a momentous event had occurred? In the Post-Desolate Antiquity era, this would surely rank among the handful of events with the greatest impact.
The name Ye Fan seemed to have taken on a strange and bewitching power — after spreading across the Five Regions, it struck a chill into the hearts of all who heard it.
Gone for twelve years, he had returned to this world — the very fact of it contained a world-shaking secret. How else could someone come back? Only the ancient Great Emperors and the Great Sages of the human race possessed such an ability.
And moreover, not long after his return, he struck in a blaze of fury for the sake of an old friend — leading the Barbarian Clan’s great army into the Northern Plains, crushing the Wang Family’s sacred ground in one fell swoop and annihilating an ancient clan.
Twelve years ago, tales of Ye Fan were confined largely to the Eastern Desolate and parts of the Central State. But now, with one battle, he shook the world. All Five Regions trembled. There was no one who did not know his name.
From this day forward, every cultivator upon this ancient star knew the name Ye Fan. That earth-shaking battle became a legend towering beyond all reach.
Everyone was in discussion. Every great teaching weighed the implications. The entire realm surged with unrest.
The Barbarian Clan’s might and fearsome power also set the world trembling — especially the various sects of the Southern Range, who were all unnerved. They had never imagined that within the depths of those ancient mountains, such a tribe of primordial warriors existed.
Perhaps only the Monster Emperor’s Palace truly understood that this fearsome force had never been severed — it had persisted from the ancient era all the way to the present, merely keeping an extremely low profile.
The depths of the Wang Family’s foundation were hard for the world to fully fathom, but the news that they possessed a Sage-level ancient ancestral beast had already spread across all under heaven.
In this Post-Desolate Antiquity era, Sages were mostly the stuff of legend, seldom seen. To possess such a living ancestral beast was something truly terrifying to hear — absolutely capable of slaughtering all in its path.
And yet even with such fearsome power, it had been suppressed by the Barbarian Clan’s great army. Just how terrifying those savages were could well be imagined — even the sacred grounds that wielded Extreme Dao Emperor’s weapons were left shocked.
The storm continued to unfold, discussed everywhere, watched by all under heaven.
Ye Fan’s forceful return — daring in one rage to uproot an ancient-era clan — set the blood of countless young people boiling. Who among the young did not dream of such things? All yearned for success, to leave behind a mighty name in the annals of history. No small number left their mountain gates and began making their way through the world of mortals.
This battle affected many facets of the world. According to statistics gathered by many great teachings, local conflicts increased severalfold as a result — as though the curtain had been pulled back on an age of turmoil.
In the Eastern Desolate, Yao Guang, the Holy Son, stood beneath a divine waterfall, his entire body shrouded in one hundred and eight divine rings. Even his hair was golden, his eyes deep and fathomless as the ocean, as he gazed afar toward the Northern Plains.
In the Northern Region, numerous ancient royal clans were emerging into the world, unsettling many great powers who felt as though sitting on a bed of needles, wishing they could relocate their entire clans.
At the Jiang Family, Jiang Yifei was clad in white as snow, his bearing graceful as jade, his dark eyes brimming with wisdom — refined and handsome. He stood atop a towering mountain that pierced the clouds and murmured to himself: “Yuangu may make his move. Huangxu Dao will most likely not descend the mountain…”
Within the Divine City, a Daoren with disheveled hair, dressed in a worn and tattered Daoist robe, stumbled about in a drunken stupor, muttering: “Who am I, who is the Holy Physique, and who are any of you?”
He pointed at the people around him. Every last one of them fell back — nearly horrified — scattering in all four directions as though fleeing from ghosts and gods.
“That is Shencan Daoren!”
Those four words were all anyone said, spoken only to warn those they recognized, and then every last one of them ran far away. Not a single person dared to linger.
“Huo Qizi pays reverence at the secret ground of old.” Outside the Primordial Ancient Mine, a solitary figure stood alone — like an eternal and undying great mountain that had existed since the beginning of time, pressing so heavily upon the spirit that one could not breathe, and the heavens in all four directions seemed on the verge of collapse.
He faced the Primordial Ancient Mine and had been standing there for seven days, yet had not taken a single step inside. In the end, he turned and walked away — seemingly merging with the great Dao of heaven and earth — and vanished beyond the horizon.
In the Southern Range, atop a graceful and beautiful mountain peak, silver waterfalls cascaded down, green pines stood lush and verdant, strange stones jutted up boldly, and flowers bloomed in magnificent profusion.
A young man — pure and transcendent, flawlessly handsome, like an immortal banished from the heavens — sat cross-legged upon a rocky cliff in flowing blue robes, his ten fingers gliding nimbly over an ancient qin, drawing forth a melody of celestial beauty.
All around him, a hundred birds came to pay homage, alighting one after another. Various blossoms bloomed especially for him, releasing their fragrance ahead of their time, their petals glistening like crystal.
Dong!
The final string was plucked. A thunderous note rang out — unlike any of the beautiful sounds that had come before — and in the sky above, a massive black void opened, boundlessly terrifying, swallowing the entire expanse of mountain range below into itself.
“The origin of the Holy Physique — I have been anticipating it for twelve years. You have finally returned.” Hua Yunfei spoke calmly, rising to his full height.
Several thousand li away, atop another cliff face, a beautiful woman in white sat cross-legged. Three hundred and sixty-five golden vortices rotated across her entire body, each one containing a golden deity within — uncanny and terrifying.
After a long while, she opened her eyes. Two dazzling beams of light shot forth, dyeing every flower across the mountain and valley in a layer of golden radiance — incomparably brilliant and beautiful — yet an instant later, they all burst with a soft pop and disintegrated into fine powder.
The Yin-Yang Sect in the Central State fell into a deep and brooding silence from top to bottom. The earth-shaking upheaval of recent times left them unable to sit or sleep in peace, and many disciples were seized with mounting dread.
That demon Ye Fan had come back — and had actually assaulted an ancient-era clan. If he were to come leading the Barbarian Clan’s iron cavalry, how could they possibly resist? Every young disciple felt their skin crawl.
Of course, there were also great teachings sharpening their blades, preparing to cut Ye Fan down entirely.
The two ancient Assassin Divine Dynasties — their Holy Sons and Holy Daughters had already set out into the Southern Range, waiting only for Ye Fan to appear so they could unleash their thunderous strike.
The Holy Sons of every generation had dared to strike down kings in open confrontation — all the more so for those who had always moved in the shadows, renowned for assassination.
“By killing, we prove the Dao — and achieve immortality!”
Deep within the Southern Range, two shadowy figures cried out in unison. In their wake, an untold number of ancient mountains collapsed, crumbling into stone dust.
A world-shaking murderous aura shook the ten thousand ancient heavens, spreading across the vast and boundless Desolate — incomparably terrifying. Then a man and a woman parted ways, each setting off alone and disappearing separately.
The Barbarian Clan of the Southern Range, over this past half month, remained as they always had been: ancient trees reaching toward the sky, great birds of prey dozens of zhang in span wheeling in circles above the tribe like dragons cutting across the void — a scene from before recorded history.
In these past days, great teachings came one after another to pay visits. The battle in the Northern Plains had shaken the world, and every major power was unnerved, all wanting to gauge the true depths of the Barbarian Clan’s strength.
The Barbarian Clan had their own code of conduct, and for the most part they had declined to receive visitors — yet today they made an exception, granting an audience to a distinguished party of guests from the Ji Family of the Eastern Desolate.
“That young fellow really didn’t come back with us — he stayed behind in the Northern Plains. He’ll show up after some time.” An elder of the Barbarian Clan explained.
Ji Ziyue wrinkled her delicate nose in dissatisfaction. “What on earth is he doing?”
“Little Ye is probably trying to track down Tu Fei. They’ve been separated for sixteen or seventeen years now — he was teleported into the Northern Plains and there’s been no word since.” Within a massive block of ice, Li Heishui’s entire body was being eroded by a dark light, his injuries growing heavier by the day.
“Very well then, I’ll just wait here for him to return.” Ji Ziyue propped her chin in her hand and sat down on a stone platform, watching the various pre-historic creatures with wide crescent-moon eyes that blinked with boundless curiosity.
“Don’t worry — Big Brother Ye will definitely be back. He promised to take me to kill Zitiandu and avenge my elder brother.” Dongfang Barbarian smiled with honest simplicity.
A desolate, misty moonlight. A cold, bleak wind. A blighted steppe. A blood-stained future. The twilight of a warlord.
Ye Fan had not yet left the Northern Plains. He traveled about with Yan Yixi and Li Tian, witnessing scene after scene of warfare — great armies converging on the Northern Plains from every direction, slaughter unceasing.
The killing was finally nearing its end. And in these days, they had also struck down a number of great enemies — all supreme powers who had fled the Wang Family’s collapse.
“Tu Fei, just where in the world have you gone? Which godforsaken corner did the Black Emperor’s teleportation dump you into?” Ye Fan was determined to find this old companion.
Pang Bo, the Monkey, and the others — alive or dead was unknown, their whereabouts a mystery. Of the rest, grim tidings had already come, awaiting cruel confirmation.
No one was hunting them down any longer, yet Ye Fan could not find Tu Fei either. All of his enemies at present had focused their attention squarely on him — they were certainly preparing to kill him.
Because of this, he saw no urgency in rushing back. Finding his old companions required deliberate planning; a slow and methodical search was needed.
The bright moon hung high in the sky, casting a cold and clear light. On the great steppe, the wild grass rose above a grown man’s head — a scene of boundless desolation.
Beneath this night moon, a lone wolf cried its lament, howling at the moon — the sound carrying especially far into the distance.
The three of them — Ye Fan among them — traveled on foot, crossing vast stretches of the steppe, visiting many ancient teachings and witnessing many customs and ways of life.
Dang—
A single resonant boom rang out in the night, carrying with extraordinary clarity beneath the moon — like the great bronze bells of antiquity thundering.
Desolate grass blanketed the earth. The boundless steppe stretched hundreds of thousands of li without a trace of human settlement — this particular stretch of land especially so, a scene of utter desolation. The wild grass grew two to three meters tall. How could such a sound have come from here?
Ye Fan and the others surged forward at full speed, racing more than a hundred li ahead. In front of the field blanketed with wild artemisia, an ancient temple stood towering and majestic, wreathed in a sacred radiance.
It was a mysterious sight — in the night beneath the moon, the boundless steppe was endless desolation with only the howling of wolves, yet here, all of a sudden, stood this sacred ancient temple. It felt decidedly out of place.
“The Buddhist faith of the Western Desert once entered the Northern Plains countless ages ago to spread its teachings. Could this be one of the sacred temples left behind from that era? Legend has it that one of Amitabha’s ten great disciples personally came to the Northern Plains to preach the Dharma.” Ye Fan was astonished.
The ancient temple was grand and imposing, solemn and sacred. Though it was the dead of night, it was enveloped in a golden radiance, while from within, the slow and steady pealing of the great bell rang out.
When they pushed open the ancient temple gate and walked into the courtyard, all of them immediately felt a sense of vastness and solemnity — the power of the Buddhist Dharma surged all around them.
Suddenly, Ye Fan froze. He had just stepped into one of the Buddha halls and was nearly petrified — for he had caught sight of a familiar silhouette: a peerless beauty.
“A distinguished guest comes from afar. I am An Miaoyi — playing a qin melody beneath the night moon…” A woman of unrivaled beauty, with a face and bearing that transcended the age, sat within the Buddha hall. One smile was enough to topple a city; another smile would topple a kingdom.
“Miaoyi!” Ye Fan cried out involuntarily.
“You recognize me, yet I no longer recognize you — which means you must be the one I have been waiting for.” This woman, white as snow and breathtakingly lovely, smiled with radiant brilliance — yet the sight of it sent a tremor through Ye Fan’s heart, leaving behind a taste impossible to name.
“You don’t recognize me?” he asked.
“I no longer do.” The smile of this woman made Ye Fan’s heart tremble.