Yuangu was dead. His ambitions, his desolation, his regrets — all dissolved into scattered points of luminous rain, drifting away on the wind.

In the end, this fiercely resolute man had severed his Dao, yet could not sever his thoughts and his genuine feelings. Bearing burdens too heavy to name, he had come alone into this world to prove his Dao, chewing on loneliness and desolation. He had blood in his veins, flesh on his bones, and tears in his eyes.

When the rain of light faded, the evening glow dispersed as well. The sky darkened. A cold, desolate wind swept across the barren earth, and a curtain fell over everything.

Ye Fan had won, yet he felt none of the joy that should have accompanied such a victory. In his final moments, Yuangu had let out a grief-stricken whisper, spreading his arms wide and reaching toward a void without light — alone against the darkness — and those words had touched something deep within Ye Fan.

To cast everything aside for the hope in one’s heart, only for it all to come to nothing in the end. How many people in this mortal world were like that? They had strived, known joy and sorrow, known loneliness, and ultimately gained nothing.

Every person is the sole protagonist of their own life, with their own story. Yuangu was not without strength — but because their positions differed, because their paths diverged, he and Ye Fan had faced each other in a battle to the death. There was no right or wrong in it. In the end, he became nothing more than a heap of scattered white bones on the road to the Great Emperor — his loves, hatreds, and passions extinguished here.

This was the merciless road of proving one’s Dao: to relinquish, to let go, to cast aside kin and genuine feeling — and yet perhaps arrive at nothing in the end, gaining nothing at all, one’s own blood and bones forging another’s path to emperorship, leaving behind only a sorrowful song.

In this same place, during the most ancient of eras, something similar had once occurred. Two individuals of extraordinary, heaven-defying talent had fought a life-or-death battle, a clash worthy of being called the supreme contest between young Holy Emperors, enough to send all the heavens into an uproar.

In that battle, the Primal Emperor had won, defeating the greatest enemy he would ever face in his life, and from that day forward walked the path of proving his Dao. A million years later, a new cycle began — yet his descendant had lost, his body perished, his Dao extinguished.

The Sunset Glow Plains: a place destined never to be ordinary. Perhaps a hundred thousand years, a million years from now, another pair of young Emperor-candidates would contend for supremacy here, leaving behind yet another kind of legend.

The entire battlefield fell deathly silent. People watched as the rain of light departed, vanished, and scattered. Yuangu’s final wish had been to return to the most ancient of ages — clearly impossible now.

No one knew who sighed first. Yuangu had indeed been a man of genuine feeling and passion, and yet his end had come in such a bleak and melancholy fashion, stirring the hearts of all those who harbored ambitions of proving their own Dao.

A brief silence — then the people of the Primordial Lake let out howls of unwilling fury. Many surged upward, their killing intent flooding the sky like a tide, sweeping toward Ye Fan like a great torrent, transforming the vast plain into a scene of ruthless slaughter, like autumn wind scattering fallen leaves.

Black mist roiled and surged. Murderous intent churned and boiled. The hearts of many from the Primordial Lake bled inwardly. This had been the eighth-generation descendant of the Primal Emperor — one who had survived all this way into this age solely to prove his Dao — and just like that, he was dead. They felt as though they had lost a priceless treasure, as though tens of thousands of years of heavenly fortune had been squandered.

Hum!

A cold streak of light shot out, aimed directly at Ye Fan’s head in the middle of the battlefield. It was a silver spear the length of a chopstick — a relic of the most ancient era — pointing straight at the space between his brows, intent on nailing him dead.

Ye Fan turned sideways and made no move to intercept it. The reason was clear: that silver spear, barely the length of a chopstick, radiated rippling waves of energy, its surface engraved with endless intricate rune patterns. This was not something an ordinary person could have offered up.

Indeed — dense layers of interlocking rune patterns covered it. The spear shattered on its own, transforming into a small world that sought to swallow Ye Fan whole. Someone powerful had made their move, intending to capture and take him away.

A flash of golden-purple radiance burst from between Ye Fan’s brows. The Purple-Gold Hammer sent a wave of force surging outward — a damaged holy weapon, but enough to shatter that small world on the spot, reducing it to a scatter of flying ash.

“Kill him!”

No one knew who had roared those words, but a massive azure claw reached down from the void, covering the entire sky. It emanated a faint thread of a Saint’s might, intent on annihilating Ye Fan.

The light between Ye Fan’s brows flashed again. A thread of purple-gold rippling force shot outward, soaring like a true dragon in brilliant, dazzling light, blocking that giant hand while Ye Fan himself rapidly retreated.

“What are you still standing there for?! Strike down the Human Race’s Holy Body — avenge Yuangu!” someone on the Sunset Glow Plains shouted.

At the same moment, several enormous hands reached down from the vault of the sky — coming from different individuals, each radiating a faint strand of a Saint’s might — boundlessly terrifying, their aura overwhelming and oppressive.

These were all powerful experts, each with one foot already stepped into the realm of Ancestral Kings. A single such person could dominate an entire region and annihilate several races. Their combined attack against Ye Fan was absolutely lethal.

“I faced Yuangu in a life-or-death duel — life and death were determined by fate. What is the meaning of this?” Ye Fan looked up toward the high heavens.

“Daring to kill the descendant of the Ancient Emperor — ten thousand deaths could not repay such a crime. What right do you have to walk away alive? Pay with your lowly life!” In the end, six enormous hands had reached down — not true Ancestral Kings, but close to it.

From between Ye Fan’s brows, purple-gold ripples bloomed and split into six separate threads, each shooting toward one of the six hands, each carrying within it a strand of the Nine-Colored Divine Flame from the Fire Domain — capable of burning through anything.

Hsss!

High in the sky, all six hands trembled simultaneously and vanished rapidly back into the void. No one understood what had happened.

“What are you all waiting for?! The Human Race’s Holy Body has killed a descendant of the Ancient Emperor — this is a grave crime, one that cannot be pardoned. Let us all kill him together!” Someone shouted provocatively, stirring up trouble from the shadows.

Ye Fan watched with cold eyes. Whether it was those who had just made their move or those now shouting and inciting — none of them were royalty of the Primordial Lake. Someone with malicious intent was deliberately stoking conflict.

“A fair duel — this battle has reached its conclusion. You stir up the hearts of the people — are you trying to ignite a war between the Primordial Lake and the Human Race?” someone else bellowed.

At the same moment, a dazzling column of light rose into the air, Dao rune patterns filling the sky. A tide of blood energy surged like an ocean as the Barbarian King stepped forward. He snapped his fingers in rapid succession — one after another, screams of agony rang out. Above his head sat a single black mysterious tortoise.

Within the crowd, more than a dozen figures turned into beams of blood-light, their bodies and souls obliterated simultaneously. These were the very ones who had been stirring up trouble from the shadows, and not a single one survived.

“When did the Primordial Lake sink so low as to let any stray cat or dog try to use them as a weapon, to push them into opposing the Human Race?” The Barbarian King spoke.

Boom!

The people of the Primordial Lake finally made their stance clear. It was endless killing intent — surging and boiling. A group of people pressed forward, and at their center stood an Ancestral King. His blood energy soared to the very heavens, forcing many people to involuntarily kneel and fall under the weight of his overwhelming pressure.

This was a group of death gods seething with murderous intent. Yuangu had been their clan’s hope — and he had died just like that. It was an immeasurable, catastrophic loss.

It could be anticipated: over the next ten thousand years, the Blood Phoenix Mountain, the Divine Silkworm Ridge, the Fire Kirin Cave, and others would only grow more prosperous, for they possessed Ancient Emperor descendants. Yet the eighth grandson of the Primal Emperor had fallen — the Primordial Lake’s prospects were bleak.

“Whether or not we are being used as a weapon — that is not for you to say.” An elderly man from the Primordial Lake wore a bone-chillingly cold expression. With a sweep of his great sleeve, he lashed toward the Barbarian King — openly and unmistakably hostile.

Most formidable of all was the Ancestral King standing at the center. Every single pore across his entire body streamed with killing intent — thread after thread seeping out through each pore, pressing down upon heaven and earth. Even his own clansmen did not dare draw near. His white hair hung loose and disheveled, and his eyes were vacant in a way that was deeply unsettling.

This Ancestral King fixed his gaze upon the black tortoise atop the Barbarian King’s head and said: “At the Jasper Pond Grand Assembly, there was an agreement: Saints would not display their divine powers. Do you wish to break this covenant?”

“Careful with your words. Just now, it was the young Barbarian King who made his move — not the great Mysterious Tortoise. I understand your heart is filled with overwhelming resentment — one of the Ancient Emperor’s blood descendants died, and you are simply looking for an excuse to act.” The Mysterious Tortoise replied.

Boom!

From another direction, an immense surge of power descended like a sky-filling tide. Another Ancestral King manifested — clad in azure-gold battle armor, striding forward like a war god from the horizon, reaching their position in just two steps.

“Impressive, Human Race’s Holy Body. So ruthless and decisive — killing even a descendant of the Primal Emperor without hesitation.” It was clear this person had not come with good intentions either. Though not from the Primordial Lake, he had evidently come to stand up for them.

“It was a life-or-death duel. Had I shown weakness, I would have been the one killed. It was a fair battle. Must I really recite all the fundamental principles once more?” Ye Fan responded with neither arrogance nor servility. He had mentally prepared himself for exactly this.

The Ten Thousand Nourishments Mother Qi Cauldron flew out and hovered above Ye Fan’s head, dropping down strand after strand of divine power like silken ribbons to protect his body. The Nine-Colored Flame within it was ready to be unleashed at any moment — to bloodily slaughter everyone present, ancient kings and imperial bloodlines alike.

“Remarkable indeed. You kill the Primal Emperor’s descendant today — does that mean in the future you intend to trample the rest of us underfoot as well?” A third Ancestral King appeared, wearing a purple-gold crown, hands clasped behind his back. He stepped down from the night sky in a single stride, driving one foot directly toward Ye Fan’s head — intending to stomp him to death alive.

“You have gone too far — a fair duel, life and death determined by fate!” The Mysterious Tortoise above the Barbarian King’s head spoke. It opened its mouth and released a beam of light, blocking the Ancestral King’s foot and sending him stumbling backward several steps.

“Kill him!”

Many from the Primordial Lake could endure it no longer. Unable to accept this reality, a great number surged forward together, all preparing to attack Ye Fan at once.

The black Mysterious Tortoise above the Barbarian King’s head shot light from its mouth and said: “Do you truly wish to break the rules and force the great Mysterious Tortoise to reveal its divine powers?” Its voice rang out like thunderclaps, sending those people reeling and staggering, unable to advance.

The white-haired Ancestral King of the Primordial Lake let out a cold snort and stepped forward, confronting the Mysterious Tortoise head-on, blocking its aura. Between his brows, an inch-long divine sword blazed with dazzling radiance, and everyone present was struck by a chill of dread — that was the Primal Emperor’s Dao Sword. Yuangu had just unleashed it moments ago, and its terrifying power was there for all to witness.

Not everyone possessed the Six Paths of Reincarnation Fist to counter it. The Primal Emperor’s Dao Sword was an ultimate forbidden secret art of the final chapter, carrying the power to dissolve Dao itself — capable of slaying any great enemy, with nearly no one able to resist it. This was especially true when wielded by someone of Ancestral King level.

“The covenant that Saints shall not display their divine powers — is it truly to become a piece of worthless paper?” The Mysterious Tortoise spoke, its expression turning grave.

High in the sky, the Ancestral King wearing the purple-gold crown let a faint, cold smile touch the corners of his mouth. He stepped downward once more, one foot driving toward Ye Fan’s head, intent on stomping him to death alive.

Hum!

The void shuddered. He was sent flying sideways through the sky — a great distance — and still the blow did not land. For a stooped, skeletal old figure had appeared.

The Saint of the Heavenly Pivot Stone Workshop took his place at Ye Fan’s side. His expression was still as an ancient well, utterly unruffled, as he said: “This battle has already concluded. Let everything end here.”

“You say the curtain falls, and so it falls?” The Ancestral King in the purple-gold crown gave a cold, contemptuous laugh.

“I trust that the people of the Primordial Lake possess their own dignity and bearing.” The elderly Saint of the Heavenly Pivot Stone Workshop said this calmly — then his eyes blazed with fierce intensity as he fixed his gaze on the purple-crown Ancestral King.

Stagger, stagger, stagger— the Ancestral King involuntarily retreated several steps, his expression filling with shock. The White-Robed Divine King had made a resounding name for himself at the Jasper Pond Assembly, yet the ancient clans had little knowledge of the Human Race’s other Saints. Now, confronted with this old man, they could not help but be shaken — he was equally unfathomable.

“The Human Race’s Saints are truly formidable. But do you truly believe you can protect the Holy Body?” The Ancestral King in the purple-gold crown clasped his hands behind his back, a cold smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, as he gazed toward the distance.

At the far end of that direction, nine Ancient Primordial Ferocious Beasts stood poised at the horizon, pulling an ancient imperial carriage that hung in the void — radiating an aura of primal grandeur, simple yet majestic. The Nine Phoenix King, who had once received the praise of the Battle-Saint Emperor, was there.

Ye Fan spoke, his words ringing out sharp as a sword cry: “Not every Ancestral King is as narrow-minded as you. You wish to eliminate me? Then I am standing right here. Let me see how you intend to touch a single hair on my body!”