The moon was full, mist drifting through the mountain forest, all manner of wild beasts howling. Bonfires flickered brightly within the barbarian tribe’s settlement, dispelling the mist that shrouded the ridge.

The aroma of roasted meat drifted through the air as barbarian children carried jar after jar of aged wine. Ye Fan, the Monkey, Duan De, Dongfang Ye and others sat together with some elderly tribesmen, drinking heartily.

Dongfang Ye’s return brought great joy to the entire barbarian tribe. Ancient barbaric battle-blood flowed within him; barring any accident, he would one day become a War God, his physical body second only to the Human Sacred Body.

“Yuangu isn’t actually the direct son of the ancient sovereign — he’s a descendant separated by several generations…”

As people sat around the bonfire, tearing into dragon-crocodile meat and drinking bowl after bowl of aged wine, the conversation naturally turned to Yuangu. Though not the ancient sovereign’s own child, his bloodline was not diluted — separated by only a few generations at most.

Moreover, his talent was extraordinary — in terms of cultivation alone, rarely seen in all history, unmatched within his entire race. Otherwise, he would never have been sealed away.

The Monkey spoke up: “He’s the eighth-generation descendant of the Primordial Sovereign. The power of his bloodline is no weaker than a true direct son of an ancient sovereign — unmatched within that race.”

“That can’t be right — could he really be stronger than the Primordial Sovereign’s own children, and end up replacing the ancient sovereign’s heir?!” Li Tian asked, astonished and uncertain.

“That’s not quite it. Around the time the Primordial Sovereign achieved cross-legged meditation death, two terrifying Sacred Spirits emerged in succession, both at the very peak of Sacred Spirit level, each capable of contending with an ancient sovereign…”

The two Sacred Spirits had emerged intending to seize the weapons left behind by the Primordial Sovereign, descending upon that race and nearly annihilating one of the great royal clans that stood at the height of its glory, looking down upon the entire primeval era.

It could be said that in that battle, mournful winds howled and blood rained down across the primeval lands, turning the earth crimson. Eight great royal clans, subordinate to them, answered the royal summons to render aid — and every single one of them died to the last man.

The Primordial Sovereign had three direct sons, each one astonishing enough to make gods weep and immortals tremble, each one capable of half-attaining the Dao — yet all of them perished in that battle, and even their own children were dragged down with them.

In the end, only over a dozen bloodlines remained from the youngest son of the Primordial Sovereign’s lineage. The most prosperous of the royal clans had nearly been wiped clean from the face of the earth — an unbearable tragedy.

One must understand: from the ancient sovereign’s birth, to his passing, to the rise of his heir, there would ordinarily be at minimum tens of thousands of years of peak prosperity — yet they had only enjoyed half of their allotted fortune before this great calamity struck.

And it was precisely because of that battle that the Primordial Sovereign’s line could not possibly have any surviving direct heir. In the end, they selected from among later descendants the most extraordinary one, someone almost equal in strength to a direct son of the ancient sovereign — Yuangu.

Night had fallen bright across the mountain forest; distant mist drifted in, transforming into a haze of colored light. The place was lively, the barbarian tribe overflowing with warm hospitality.

When they finally departed, Ye Fan took out nine drops of True Dragon Undying Medicine and gave them to the Barbarian King, telling him it could extend the life of the War God sealed within the origin essence for the tribe.

“This gift is far too precious!” the Barbarian King said, deeply moved.

Even the black Mysterious Tortoise poked its enormous head out from the pond’s edge, saying: “The Fierce One’s True Dragon Divine Medicine from years past — truly a rare treasure!”

Finally, Ye Fan and the others set off on their journey home, returning to the Northern Territory. They would face Yuangu in battle — though the time had not yet been fixed, they still needed to prepare early.

The Monkey said: “I suspect this is Yuangu’s own decision. For a life-or-death battle like this, the people of the Primordial Lake would certainly object — they can’t afford to lose him, especially if you’ve also completed your Dao Cut, they’d be even more worried.”

“Cutting the Dao… it’s simply too difficult,” Ye Fan murmured to himself.

The Third Immortal Cut severed a cultivator’s path forward, leaving no further Dao to seek. Many people exhausted their entire lives without making the slightest progress.

At this checkpoint, some achieved sudden enlightenment in a single moment; others sat in stagnation for a thousand years, grieving in vain; countless heroes vomited blood and perished; countless beauties grew white-haired, turning to bone.

Heaven cuts away the mortal path, destroying the very foundation. If one cannot achieve clear comprehension, even with tremendous willpower and diligent cultivation, it would all be for naught — one blockage could last a lifetime.

“The so-called Third Immortal Cut is about severing a cultivator’s path!” the Monkey said, sharing his own understanding, recounting all manner of experiences, for Ye Fan’s reference.

With the great battle approaching, who could look lightly upon a challenge from a young member of the current generation under an ancient sovereign’s bloodline? For a figure of an ancient sovereign’s son’s caliber to complete the Dao Cut — that would make him unmatched among his peers!

“How does one resist the Dao Cut? Perhaps it can be understood this way — cutting oneself with a blade, severing the thoughts within one’s heart, cutting away everything, cutting clean, cutting out one’s own Dao.” Qi Luo explained from the side.

Over the following month, Ye Fan sat cross-legged upon the mountain cliff, watching the morning glow by day and the myriad stars by night, cultivating his breath, feeding on mist and dew, seeking clear comprehension of his own Dao.

Every morning, Little Sparrow would come wobbling up, sucking on her pacifier, calling out breathlessly: “Has the Divine Child cut the Dao yet?”

As his first formally accepted disciple, Tongtong naturally would not be left behind either, sitting cross-legged on the cliff every day, cultivating alongside him, breathing in the morning glow. By now, the Bodhi Seed was shared between him and Little Sparrow — Ye Fan had long since had no need for it himself.

A month of contemplation, a month of seeking the Dao, a month of quiet meditation — though Ye Fan’s heart remained as still as calm water, he still could not take that final step.

In the end, his mind grew troubled; unable to cut the Dao, with no sign of a breakthrough for this checkpoint, he rose to his feet.

“Has the Divine Child cut the Dao yet?”

Another morning came, and Little Sparrow wobbled up the mountain clutching her bottle, wiping away a bead of sweat, plopping down onto the grass to ask.

“Is Master done yet?” Tongtong also asked, full of hope.

“Still need to wait,” Ye Fan said, patting their heads before walking down the mountain.

On the other side of the starry expanse, there was too much he cared about, too much that he thought of constantly, wishing to return — it had almost become a kind of curse upon him.

Must he cut away everything related to Earth? That would be equivalent to denying himself, forgetting his past, obliterating his true heart.

At the same time, there was so much in this world too. Perhaps in the near future he would have to leave — the same reluctance, the same helplessness, made it difficult for him to find peace of mind.

Cutting away love, cutting the Dao, cutting away his very self — Ye Fan had silently calculated this before, thought it through carefully. There was too much he could not let go of, too many entanglements. If he truly calculated it all out, it seemed he would have to cut away himself entirely.

What kind of Dao was that? He did not know, and had no intention of going down that path.

“Ahh…”

The Silver Blood Twin Sovereigns were screaming miserably, as always — the Black Sovereign had been drilling them nearly to madness, day after day, their cries harmonizing with the sound of barking dogs.

Li Tian and Yan Yixi had, over these days, often disappeared for several days at a time, going to Divine City to seek instruction at the Tianxuan Stone Workshop — there was genuine possibility of becoming disciples of a Sage.

Aside from occasionally slipping off to steal divine wine from Qi Luo’s cellar, the Monkey remained mostly away, rarely returning.

Li Heishui had formally taken discipleship under the greatest bandit lord of the Northern Territory, and now returned even less often — it was quite likely he would soon go into seclusion for several years, not to be seen again.

As for Duan De, it was said he had discovered an ancient primeval-era tomb that was constantly haunted; he had fled back in disgrace several times, speculating it might belong to some Sacred Spirit. He had thrown himself with burning enthusiasm into his great archaeological undertaking, and was rarely seen either.

Ji Ziyue visited every few days, but seeing Ye Fan absorbed in comprehending the Dao, she did not disturb him much, resting her chin on her hand, gazing off into the distance from another peak.

Dongfang Ye, on the other hand, came often, eager to help Duan De with the excavation. But the shameless Daoist refused outright, even at the cost of his life — because the wild man’s sacred weapon had been reclaimed by his tribe, and he feared that if they truly dug up treasure, the barbarian would fight him for it with bloodshot eyes.

Half a month later, news came from the Northern Territory: the Human Sacred Body had founded a sect, named the Heavenly Court, and word of it spread throughout the world.

“Who leaked the news?” Ye Fan was stunned, because at present they had not announced the Heavenly Court to the world at all — otherwise it might have been strangled in its cradle by Hell and the Human Realm.

“The two little ones did a divination. Someone is deducing everything about you, and they know you’ve founded a sect,” Qi Luo said, sensing the gravity of the situation himself.

Beside him, Gu Fei and Gu Lin nodded seriously, their large eyes utterly pure. Their heaven-stealing techniques were not yet fully matured — they could not yet achieve Great Accomplishment — but their innate talent was outstanding, and they could still deduce some things.

“It might be one of our uncles.”

After lengthy calculation, the pair of young siblings concluded it was someone from the Fatesayer’s lineage — the two divine children’s father still had one or two fellow disciples alive in the world.

News that the Human Sacred Body had founded a sect named the Heavenly Court spread like a gust of wind across the land, sparking widespread discussion.

“Could it really be… the Heavenly Court! What exactly does he intend to do?”

“How could that be the name he chose? What is he planning?”

Nearly everyone was shocked. These two characters carried weight beyond measure, holding extraordinary significance, unsettling people’s hearts.

Even the myriad ancient races of the primeval era were extremely sensitive to this name; all of them felt a jolt in their hearts.

Whether in the ancient history of the human race or the ancient records of the primeval races, there existed myths and legends concerning the Heavenly Court, though unverifiable — everything about it had long since vanished into smoke and dust.

Yet, many ancient races believed that in that distant past, there existed a lost, forgotten history — that deities had once existed, that immortals had once been born, that an ancient Heavenly Court had once appeared!

The Slaughtering Divine Dynasty — the Heavenly Court — had also left an unforgettable memory for human cultivators. During that dark age, the Heavenly Court had reigned supreme over all under heaven, and the entire earth had been shrouded in death.

Then, in the age of the ancient wilderness, it was rumored that the Azure Emperor had also once intended to establish a Heavenly Court, had once entered the Divine Ruins, had once entered the Immortal Mausoleum, even attempting to move the Southern Heavenly Gate of the Divine Ruins out into the world.

But in the end, all of it came to nothing. That generation’s demon race Great Emperor ultimately achieved cross-legged meditation death, leaving behind an eternal mystery — no one ever knew why he had taken such actions in his later years.

Perhaps the Azure Emperor had discovered something, perhaps he had intended to achieve something — no one could say for certain. In the end, it all became a matter of the past, a secret never to be unveiled.

“Did you all hear? The Human Sacred Body has founded a sect, named the Heavenly Court!”

“I already heard. To actually choose that name — what tremendous audacity.”

“Named the Heavenly Court — who can tell me what he’s trying to accomplish? Isn’t his ambition a bit too grand?”

At first, there seemed to be nothing much to it, but once people began discussing it and recalling everything associated with this name, many found themselves unable to sit still — even the various primeval races found it difficult to remain calm.

Ye Fan’s founding of a sect had caused a massive uproar, because the Heavenly Court carried enormous significance. Many couldn’t quite articulate why, but they knew this name absolutely could not be used carelessly.

Had he glimpsed some secret of heaven’s design? This was the question on the minds of many powerful, undying factions among both the human race and the ancient races — the entire world was watching closely.

“Why would he found a sect now — even my father never dared establish a Heavenly Court back then. How dare he do it now?!” In the Northern Territory, the person most unsettled by this was none other than the Heavenly Sovereign’s Son, monstrous waves surging within his heart.

Regarding the two characters “Heavenly Court,” he had long harbored thoughts of his own, having considered it for who knows how long, and muttered to himself: “I had originally planned to attempt establishing the Heavenly Court only on the day I achieved the Dao. It seems I may now have to found my sect ahead of schedule — and seize everything that is yours!”

In the Village of Heaven, the two children performed divination, again and again, cold sweat pouring down. They divined only on the two characters “Heavenly Court,” and the result left them terrified — they could calculate nothing at all.

“All we know is that founding a sect under this name now will have an immeasurably far-reaching impact. Whether it’s good or bad, we truly cannot calculate.” The two little ones were physically and mentally exhausted.

“For now, it’s not yet time to reveal all our trump cards. Do you two have a way to conceal all of this?” Ye Fan asked.

“No problem. Grandfather Fatesayer gave us the talisman tokens that every generation of ancestors refined and consecrated — they can suppress all secrets of heaven’s design.” The two little ones answered with full confidence.

“Very well then. I’ll go found the sect openly — it will be a Heavenly Court of one person alone. Conceal everything else; don’t let the secrets of heaven leak out.” Ye Fan turned and departed.

On this day, the Eastern Wilderness stirred once more with monstrous waves. Ye Fan had founded a sect, named the Heavenly Court, consisting of only a single person — and it shook every faction to its core!

Many people traveled north; numerous great powers mobilized, all wishing to see for themselves just what a single person dared to accomplish by raising such a name. Of course, this was also a great crisis, for that very day, someone declared that this name could not be allowed to exist in this world — that no one under heaven had the right to use it!