The Northern Territory lay in complete stillness; the myriad ancient races of the primeval era were all filled with dread, lying low, not daring to make any move.

However, the entire world elsewhere had already begun to seethe with excitement. The Wushi Bell had rung, like the first ray of primordial divine light splitting through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead for the human race.

Great Emperor Wushi had been reborn, and would suppress the myriad races — this was what everyone was saying, spreading discussion everywhere, shattering many days of silence.

Perhaps it was because they had been suppressed for too long — many people wholeheartedly believed that the ancient Great Emperor was truly about to appear, that he would shatter the entire existing order.

However, the bell’s tolling did not last long; it stopped abruptly. Many people waited anxiously, and some even grew fearful, worried that it might return to eternal silence once more.

“Why is this happening?”

“Is Wushi really still alive?”

The human race grew anxious, while the myriad ancient races remained cold and indifferent — everyone was watching closely, silently waiting.

At this moment, the people of Divine Spirit Valley let out a breath of relief, their tense nerves relaxing somewhat, a cold, cruel smile appearing on their faces.

Two days passed, but Purple Mountain showed no further sign of activity — it was as if the bell’s shockwave had never appeared at all.

The cold smiles on the faces of some of the primeval race’s powerful warriors grew even more pronounced. Divine Spirit Valley’s tense nerves relaxed; their warships gathered in the sky, and though they had not yet acted, they made ready at any moment.

Within Purple Mountain, Ye Fan and Zhang Lin sat together, the Heaven-Devouring Demon Cauldron suspended above them, rising and sinking, thousands upon thousands of strands of dark light hanging down, enveloping them both.

Ye Fan was using the ancient Great Emperor’s weapon to suppress the corruption, hoping to help the Fifth-Generation Origin Celestial Master shed the red fur covering his body and purge the malevolent energy within him.

However, two days passed and he still could not change Zhang Lin’s fate. The red corpse-fur diminished, but his physical body began to give off the stench of decay.

“Don’t waste your effort. When I return to normal, that will be the moment my life ends,” the Origin Celestial Master sighed.

Who in this world can escape death? This single truth had stumped countless brilliant talents throughout the ages — even the ancient Great Emperor had ultimately collapsed within the passage of years, returning to dust.

The Origin Celestial Master had walked proudly through heaven and earth, unearthing every secret buried beneath the ground, obtaining astonishing treasures capable of extending his own life — but he could not achieve true immortality.

Zhang Lin had vanished in his later years; it had now been ten thousand years since. What ordinary person could live so long? He was not a Great Accomplishment Sacred Body, nor a human Great Emperor — had he not become a demonic aberration, he would have withered away long ago.

And now, Ye Fan sought to forcibly purge every trace of dark mystery from within him, but this could only cause him to decay, becoming nothing more than a corpse.

Zhang Lin showed no disappointment. Having lived so many years, his lifespan had long since run dry; he held no attachment to eternal life.

“The ancient Great Emperor’s weapon truly is domineering — it can suppress the mysterious energy within my body. Now I can finally remain lucid for a period of time.”

“Senior, why did you try to seize the Medicine King from my hands not long ago? Do you need it?” Ye Fan asked.

“Indeed, why did I do that? Muddled and confused — why would I have such an instinct?” Zhang Lin muttered to himself, then suddenly grabbed at his waist-length blood-red hair.

A look of agony crossed his face, and he mumbled to himself, tearing out handful after handful of the terrifying red fur, pacing back and forth, until finally a horrifying look emerged in his eyes.

“Aaarrrooo…”

Finally, Zhang Lin let out a beast-like roar, his eyes flashing crimson, and he dashed off like the wind.

He passed through cave after ancient cave, vanishing at the end of a narrow path, howling like a wounded beast.

A long while later, he reappeared, cradling in his arms a massive chunk of origin essence, within which lay a beautiful woman, like a lotus emerging from the water, flawless and pure, ethereal and elegant.

“It’s her!” Ye Fan was astonished. Years ago, when he had first entered Purple Mountain, aside from encountering the Divine King Jiang Taixu, he had also seen a woman sealed within a piece of origin essence — this was her.

“Save her!” Zhang Lin’s voice was hoarse.

Ye Fan understood at once — this was Yang Yi, the Sacred Maiden of Jasper Pool from ten thousand years ago. He had once heard Fifth Uncle Zhang speak of her.

Yang Yi had been Zhang Lin’s beloved confidante. Upon learning of the ill omens that had befallen him in his later years, heartbroken beyond measure, she had disregarded her own safety and resolutely entered Purple Mountain, never to be seen in the world again.

“Back then I wronged her too greatly. Even after my death, I still dragged her down into this hopeless fate,” Zhang Lin’s voice trembled, his red-furred hands shaking.

This chunk of origin essence radiated a sacred aura, its light restrained and inward. Ye Fan was stunned — he really had misjudged it back then; this was clearly a special type of divine origin.

Ordinary divine origin was golden in color. Back then he had not yet learned the Origin Celestial Scripture, and had no idea other colors of divine origin existed.

But this was not formed from divine origin liquid — it was Zhang Lin who had shattered it and sealed Yang Yi inside, using the technique of the Six Immortal-Sealing Seals, mixing it with other divine origin powder, embedding it into the cracks, sealing her for ten thousand years.

Yang Yi had entered Purple Mountain to die for the Origin Celestial Master’s sake. Zhang Lin, half demon and half man, had become a red-furred monster and lost all sanity, yet some instinct remained — to save Yang Yi. It left Ye Fan filled with deep emotion.

“Dong…”

The Wushi Bell rang again — and this time, the tolling did not stop, continuing on and on, shaking the entire world.

One day, two days… ten days…

Over ten days passed, and the bell’s tolling did not cease, ringing on and on, shaking all five domains, the human race seething with excitement.

This was the might of Wushi’s name — no matter how many years had passed, the moment the bell rang, it still shook people’s hearts; everyone grew tense.

This time, the myriad ancient races of the primeval era truly grew afraid. Who could keep a bell tolling continuously for over ten days? It was beyond comprehension. Anyone standing nearby would surely be pulverized into dust.

Divine Spirit Valley was now completely subdued this time; their restless intentions cooled instantly, as if doused with cold water — they dared not act rashly, lying low quietly.

“Dong…”

Two months passed, and the Wushi Bell still tolled on, keeping the entire Northern Territory in complete peace — not a single ancient living being dared show itself; all were suppressed by fear.

This was a monumental upheaval. Now, many people truly believed that Great Emperor Wushi had manifested — otherwise, how could the bell’s shockwave last so long?

Within Purple Mountain, Ye Fan’s face was pale. Over these two months, he had coughed up countless mouthfuls of fresh blood, biting into the Medicine King every two days.

He remained within the Heaven-Devouring Demon Cauldron, which blocked all the bell’s shockwaves, but this was a peerless imperial weapon — even the slightest tremor from it could be fatal.

The Demon Lid sealed the cauldron completely airtight. Though he was inside it, he still suffered greatly; had he not been clutching the two pieces of green bronze, he would long since have become a puddle of blood and flesh.

The two imperial weapons were locked in confrontation. Every day, he would activate the Demon Cauldron, sending out a strand of dark light to lightly strike the great bell hanging on the stone wall above.

Had it not been for the peerless Demon Cauldron, had it not been for the green bronze, even a Sage would long since have been reduced to nothing — no one could withstand the bell’s shockwave; it was utterly devastating.

The Wushi Bell could ring on its own — this was beyond imagination, as if someone were driving it continuously. This let Ye Fan deeply understand its terror; no wonder several imperial weapons striking together in the past had failed to stop it.

In this era, perhaps only the Heaven-Devouring Demon Cauldron was like this — once fully united and complete, it could revive and ring on its own without anyone controlling it, able to contend with the Wushi Bell.

“Dong…”

The bell’s shockwave continued unabated, ringing for over two months now. The Sacred Carapace that Ye Fan inhabited had already developed cracks throughout — he too had ultimately been affected.

However, over these more than two months, his gains had also been enormous. As the great bell roared and the Demon Cauldron trembled, Dao patterns crisscrossed everywhere.

He sat within the Heaven-Devouring Cauldron, holding the two ancient bronze pieces, using them to protect his body while quietly comprehending and cultivating — these two-plus months surpassed twenty years of normal cultivation!

Only now did he understand how difficult the Three Immortal Cuts of the Dao truly were. Not to mention two months equaling twenty years — even two hundred years would be the same.

The Three Immortal Cuts of the Dao — what exactly was he meant to cut away?

Ye Fan found himself stuck here, nearly lost in confusion. He realized he had too many entanglements — his entire being seemed like it needed to be cut away!

Since ancient times, this checkpoint was unknown how many brilliantly talented individuals it had stopped. Ancient texts recorded that several breathtaking geniuses who shook past and present had perished at this very barrier — otherwise, there might have been a few more Great Emperors in the world.

Moreover, legend said that even among the human race’s Great Emperors, some had nearly failed at this Third Cut — one could imagine just how difficult it was.

Mediocre talents could never pass through it, but the stronger one was, the greater the resistance one might encounter — one’s very talent could become an insurmountable chasm on the path ahead.

Listening to the Wushi Bell toll, watching the Heaven-Devouring Demon Cauldron tremble, Ye Fan quietly comprehended, motionless, even as more cracks appeared on his body — he felt no fear.

Within the Sacred Carapace’s brow sat a golden divine spirit in meditation — that was his true self, embracing the cauldron in unity with the Dao, listening to the rhythm of the bell and the cauldron, ceaselessly comprehending his own Dao.

The Three Immortal Cuts of the Dao required one’s entire life to fight for, yet diligence alone brought no guaranteed results. Heaven cuts away the mortal path, destroying one’s very foundation.

Since ancient times, no one had ever achieved this in one stroke; no one had ever passed through smoothly. Even the ancient Great Emperor had been the same — he had to cut the Dao with his very life.

Over these two-plus months, listening to the sound of the Dao, the golden figure within the Sacred Carapace’s Immortal Platform grew ever more radiant, embracing the cauldron as one, radiating nine strands of undying divine rings.

He advanced to the ninth small step of the second heaven of the Immortal Platform. Indeed, if not for the two imperial weapons locked in confrontation, if not for being within a Sage’s physical shell, he would already have undergone his Tribulation.

He believed that once he returned to his true body, with physical form and primordial spirit unified, he would immediately undergo Tribulation and become the most supreme powerhouse of the second heaven.

As for the Third Cut… it was simply too difficult. No matter how hard he tried, he could not take this step. In the end, he let out a sigh.

“Dong!”

The final toll of the bell rang out, and Purple Mountain slowly returned to tranquility. The bell’s shockwave vanished that day.

Three months had passed, and Ye Fan had finally endured it. The primordial spirit within the Immortal Platform had grown ever more radiant, ever stronger, embracing the cauldron like an undying god.

The powerful ancient Sage’s physical shell, sheltered within the peerless imperial weapon, had also developed dense cracks all over, but it had ultimately not been destroyed — it had survived. Yet the Medicine King had nearly been exhausted.

Ye Fan did not regard this experience as suffering, but rather as something to comprehend with his whole heart. These three months of facing the Wushi Bell’s shockwave and the Heaven-Devouring Demon Cauldron’s roar would benefit him for a lifetime.

At this moment, the entire world had been thoroughly subdued; not a single person was without fear. The myriad ancient races of the primeval era no longer dared act rashly, all filled with dread.

Over these three months, countless human cultivators had knelt and bowed toward Purple Mountain, nearly making it a pilgrimage, prostrating themselves step by step.

Meanwhile, the myriad ancient races of the primeval era held their breath in silence, hiding within their lairs, not daring to take a single step outside.

The Wushi Bell had rung continuously for three months, the world subdued, all living beings trembling in fear — yet no one knew that an even greater storm was about to arrive.

“Far from enough. Only the bell’s shockwave is heard, but no imperial technique has been displayed — how can this truly subdue them?” Ye Fan murmured to himself, then sent a voice transmission into the Heaven-Devouring Demon Cauldron, saying: “Ancestor, it’s time for you and I to take the death gods out for a walk.”