This night was very long — as if it would never end. No one knew what dawn would bring. Many lay awake through the night, faces haggard and burdened with worry — it was agonizing.
At last, dawn broke. A thread of light rose from the east, piercing through the mist and shining into Yaochi.
The red sun burst forth with radiant light. Within the pure land, mist drifted and coiled. Morning dew, tender leaves, rippling lake-waves, bright and vivid petals — all shimmered with light.
Fresh, clean air swept across one’s face. The mist amid the hills shimmered in a hundred colors in the light of dawn, rising in hazy, steaming wisps — beautiful and serene beyond words.
Yet on a morning so full of vitality, every single heart was heavy. What had to come was now arriving. The grand gathering of ten thousand clans was beginning; powerful Ancient Kings would be descending.
On a mountain cliff, the White-Robed Divine King sat cross-legged, breathing in the morning light — otherworldly and untainted by even a speck of dust. Ye Fan was at his side, recounting in detail everything that had transpired over the past dozen years or so.
That night, Ye Fan had been able to sit alongside Jiang Shenwang — something that made many cultivators deeply envious. He was like a figure of divine standing to them — someone far out of reach.
On another cliff nearby, the seven Ancient Kings also sat cross-legged, their expressions utterly without emotion and untouched by feeling — until the moment the morning glow rose, when all seven opened their eyes together.
“It is time,” said one Ancient King.
Those words pulled everyone back to reality all at once. They were about to face a great storm — powerful Ancestor Kings taking the stage, refusing to believe the Great Emperor Wushi still lived, with a world-shaking collision all but inevitable.
Every heart was clouded with shadow. No one moved; they stood motionless on the ground, waiting for that moment to arrive — heavy, oppressive, as if breathing had nearly stopped.
At last, the sacred bell rang. A supremely powerful sage had arrived, the resonance reaching into the pure land. The Sect Masters of the various schools were needed to go out and receive them.
What had to come had finally come. No matter how one tried to avoid it, there was no escaping. Whether this age would be one of coexistence, or whether it would ignite a dark and turbulent era of chaos — all of it would be revealed today.
At a moment like this, no one could be calm. This was a negotiation that would be written into history — one that concerned the futures of every clan, its influence reaching far and wide.
“Negotiation — is that all a weak clan can say? What have you to negotiate with us?” A clear, cold voice arrived from outside the pure land, entirely without mercy.
In the morning light, three towering figures walked forward — the stride of a dragon, the bearing of a tiger. All three wore armor — icy and severe, gleaming with a metallic luster — forged from divine gold, every piece of sacred grade.
Behind them, more figures appeared, radiant with ten thousand zhang of light.
“Excellent — old acquaintances have all come. Then enter Yaochi together — and see who among you is fit to sit down with us for a talk!”
People were horror-struck. In total, eleven sages had arrived in person — every one of them a flood of overwhelming power, like living deities stepping forward from the primordial earth.
“Let us enter Yaochi, then — and see what is so remarkable about the inheritance the West Emperor left behind!”
The arrivals had come with hostile intent. Though the eleven Ancient Kings had not deliberately released their auras, walking together as they did produced an all-encompassing pressure. People could barely stand; most had fallen prostrate on the ground.
People were terrified. Not one — not two — but more than a dozen. Even with the Divine King’s unrivaled bearing, how could he contend against so many? Despair consumed everyone.
This was not an equal confrontation at all. If it truly came to open battle, those assembled would hold an overwhelming advantage — and this was still not all of them. Surely more were yet to come.
High in the heavens, streams of misty green energy cascaded down — thick and heavy. The Immortal Tear Green-Gold Pagoda stood within a small world, flickering in and out of sight, chaos energy surging around it.
“The aura of an ancient Great Emperor — so that is the legendary West Emperor Pagoda. Can’t see it clearly enough. I would truly like to hold it in the palm of my hand for a proper look,” one of the Ancient Kings said, tilting his head back to study it, and then gave a cold laugh.
An earthquake of shock went through all hearts. Was this provocation? Perhaps before too long, something like this would truly happen — an assault on the human race’s sacred ground to seize the imperial weapon!
One Ancient King cautioned the speaker to say less — in case the pagoda descended upon them and all would be turned to ash.
Another sage remarked that there was no need to worry about that here in Yaochi — at least two ancient imperial weapons were pointed at this place. If it came to a real clash, who would end up as the ash was anyone’s guess.
After the eleven entered, they showed not the slightest unease before the West Emperor Pagoda. As if no one else existed, they surveyed and pointed at every feature of Yaochi’s pure land.
Every human cultivator present felt their hearts shaking with terror. They had come fully prepared — two ancient imperial weapons trained upon Yaochi. It shattered one’s heart. If it truly came to war, even the West Emperor Pagoda might be destroyed.
Of course, that was the most extreme possible outcome — but it was not impossible! Imperial weapons of ancient Great Emperors clashing — neither side could bear that cost.
The pressure on people’s hearts was as heavy as a mountain — nearly suffocating.
The Heaven-Reaching Platform — a sheer cliff face more than a thousand zhang high, utterly barren of growth, as though a great peak had been lopped cleanly in half by someone’s hand — its severed surface forming a vast natural platform, boundless and sweeping.
Reportedly, this had originally been the tallest mountain peak in the northern domain, personally trimmed by the West Emperor into a level platform. Even severed, it was magnificent and awe-inspiring, bearing the bearing of a king of mountains.
It could serve as a martial stage or as a gathering hall for deliberation. No matter how many people came, all could be accommodated — for the West Emperor’s own inscribed patterns had been carved into it.
When Yaochi had relocated in those earlier days, it had taken tremendous effort to transport this entire mountain into the pure land.
At the center of the Heaven-Reaching Platform, the White-Robed Divine King sat cross-legged. Behind him stood the many Sect Masters of the human race and others. Facing them were the seven Ancient Kings, along with a great many powerful members of the ancient clans.
At the edge of the severed peak, a dark-faced Daoist stood with hands clasped behind his back — prepared to receive the eleven Ancient Kings — having taken human form: Xuanwu of the Barbarian Race, transformed.
“I thought the human race was supposed to be so formidable — calling a grand assembly of ten thousand clans takes some backbone. But look what I see — you dare sit here in such high and mighty fashion with just one person and one turtle to your name?”
A cold, merciless laugh. An icy and ruthless bearing. Eleven Ancient Kings descended upon the Heaven-Reaching Platform, sweeping their cold gaze across all. Each bore a trace of killing intent at the corners of their mouths.
“Not long ago, this poor Daoist’s Overlord Divine Fist beat an unwise Ancestor King to death,” the Daoist — who was in fact Xuanwu transformed — stated with great seriousness, wearing a thoroughly dark expression.
The temperature plunged in an instant. Cold killing energy spread in all directions. All eleven Ancient Kings looked over, fixing their gaze upon Xuanwu — expressions utterly cold, their eyes sharp as blades.
From the very opening, the atmosphere was stretched to a razor’s edge. Battle could erupt at any instant. Every living creature trembled.
“Should we go over as well?” Near the Celestial Prince, two Ancient Kings exchanged a glance, seeking each other’s opinion — but ultimately neither moved.
“Just a turtle — the human race has truly fallen far!” said one Ancient King. He was clearly provoking deliberately, having come with one purpose: to kill.
“And yet killing you would be beneath me!” The Black Turtle raised its head.
“Several of you have come a long way — why not sit down for a talk?” the White-Robed Divine King spoke up.
The Black Turtle turned around, presenting its rear to the Ancient Kings, and walked back — then settled itself on the ground in a seated position.
“Talk — what is there to talk about? Can your human race sit as our equals?” One Ancient King advanced with great strides, hard and unyielding, his purpose single: to fight, and to slaughter every last sage of the human race.
“What in your view constitutes sitting as equals — and what exactly have you come here for?” The White-Robed Divine King did not grow angry; he asked in a composed and even tone.
“You will never have the qualifications to sit as our equals. One person and one turtle — that is nowhere near enough.” Another Ancient King stepped forward.
“If the Great Emperor comes, do you have the qualifications? You’d be scrambling to flee as fast and as far as you can,” the Black Turtle raged.
“Setting aside the question of strength — by sheer numbers alone, the vast human race has produced only a single sage. In the end it even has to drag in a turtle. What future can be spoken of? How can you stand as our peers?” The Ancient King in front had made his intention to fight entirely plain, a thread of cold contempt curling at the corner of his mouth.
“Weak clans have no right to speak — there is nothing to be said,” another Ancient King said even more bluntly.
Three of the eleven Ancient Kings were this sharp and aggressive, rubbing salt into the human race’s wounds with relish — without the slightest intention of sitting down for any discussion at all.
At this point, the tension atop the Heaven-Reaching Platform was at a knife’s edge. Battle could erupt at a single breath. All living creatures present were quivering.
One of the eleven — the one who had been silent all along — now spoke: “There is no other path now but to fight. We are merely those who have arrived first. There are stronger Ancestor Kings behind us. If we are eradicated — what is there left to discuss?”
It had reached the point of no return. To even have the right to negotiate, they had to first fight their way to it!
“Very well then — we fight here,” the White-Robed Divine King said without hesitation. No further words were needed.
“We have been eager for exactly this.” The three Ancient Kings who had been wearing battle armor stepped to the very front — the same three who had been most aggressive and combative just moments earlier.
Behind them, several Ancient Kings hesitated — and ultimately did not step forward. They chose to observe.
“In this battle, the stakes are life and death. If you die, there is nothing left to discuss — everything ends here!” one said, the words hard and absolute.
They all wore sacred robes — approaching the level of handed-down sage-level divine weapons. That any sage would have refined their sacred raiment to this degree was extraordinarily fearsome. Through the ages sages had been numerous enough, but the sage-level divine weapons they left behind were extraordinarily rare.
“Is this the West Emperor’s battle stage? Quite impressive indeed. How many years has it been — from the primordial age until now — it has been a very long time since I last tasted the blood of a human sage.”
Three Ancient Kings transformed into something demonic. Bone spikes erupted from their backs toward the sky — savage and ferocious beyond all description.
The White-Robed Divine King stepped forward. In the flash and crack of lightning and striking stone, great battle erupted — colliding with the three in a violent clash, as countless divine principles slashed across the sky.
One had to say — these three were extraordinarily powerful, having traveled far upon the path of sages. They far surpassed an ordinary Ancestor King.
Even with the White-Robed Divine King’s breathtaking talent, facing all three alone, he had not seized the upper hand. In the blink of an eye, several hundred exchanges had passed, with divine principles clashing more times than could be counted.
“In the age of the primordial, the human race was a subsidiary tribe of certain dominant clans. Under their protection and shelter, the humans survived. So many ages have come and gone — and still nothing has changed. You are still destined to kneel beneath the feet of the powerful.”
One Ancient King spoke coldly, deliberately seeking to disturb the Divine King’s composure — to create a fluctuation in his divine principles and seize an opening to strike.
“Very well — a battle to the death!” the Divine King said. He remained utterly composed — yet his attacks became even more terrifying.
“Kill!” The divine principles of the three sages suddenly converged as one, transforming into a golden divine figure — radiant with ten thousand zhang of light, filling the Heaven-Reaching Platform, driving forward to kill and crush.
BOOM!
The Divine King Jiang Taixu swung his fist — unleashing a tidal wave of surging power. His right fist transformed into the Hengyu Furnace. A single punch passed through the divine figure’s body, shattering one Ancient King to pieces.
BOOM!
Then he raised both fists again. Both hands transformed into the Hengyu Emperor Furnace simultaneously — one punch each — and the remaining two were beaten to pieces in the same breath. Blood rained down across the sky, transforming into endless crimson light. The blood of Ancestor Kings dyed the high platform red.
The Divine King does not kill — but that does not mean he never kills!