The Divine City stood as ever. Its walls, like cast tungsten-iron, gleamed with cold light — undying from antiquity to the present, the center of the Northern Region since time immemorial.

Now that the primordial tribes of the Northern Region had awakened, this place was more prosperous than ever. The declaration of Yuanshi Daoren and Tongtian Daoren spread quickly through the land.

The Heart of the Enlightenment Ancient Tea Tree was a priceless treasure. Cultivating alongside it made progress twice as swift with half the effort, drawing one near to the order of heaven and earth and aiding in the pursuit of enlightenment. It was a rarity without peer in the world.

The Crown Prince’s face had gone iron-grey, but words once spoken could not be taken back. To break his promise would leave a blemish on his identity as a Divine Son — no small matter. In the end, he gritted his teeth and bore the pain, and had the item delivered.

The messenger was an elderly man — one of his guardian Daoists. He arrived at a small teahouse within the Divine City, gave Ye Fan and Pang Bo a long, deep look, and left behind a pendant.

It was perfectly round and transparent — the essential core of the Enlightenment Tea Tree, crystalline and translucent, traced all over with lines and veins, innately connected to the Dao and resonating with it.

The Undying Celestial Emperor had carved a coffin from the trunk of the Enlightenment Tea Tree and refined its essential core, leaving it for his descendants. A second such item could not be found in the world. It was a treasure of the dreamlike kind.

“I didn’t think the Crown Prince would truly endure the pain and send it over.” Pang Bo laughed heartily. He held it in his palm and examined it closely — feeling as though in this instant he was somehow connected to the Dao itself.

“I don’t need it — keep it for yourself.” Ye Fan waved it away when Pang Bo offered it to him, stating that he already had the Bodhi Seed, whose power was equally formidable.

The trial of the Severing of the Dao was right before him. Enlightenment now had to be achieved through his own self, in order to accomplish the true transcendence of “the Dao and the Self as one.” Neither the Bodhi Seed nor the Heart of the Enlightenment Ancient Tea Tree was a necessity.

Pang Bo and Ye Fan had shared life and death together since they came to this world — naturally there was no ceremony between them. He simply put it on his person without further ado.

“Is the divination of the Divine Reckoner accurate? Can we truly leave this world?” Pang Bo asked. In recent days, the two of them had visited many friends — worried they might depart at any time.

“That’s hard to say — perhaps a few months, perhaps a few years, or even several decades before we can leave.” Ye Fan said with furrowed brows. The next moment, they crossed the void and vanished, unwilling to be tracked and plotted against by agents of the resentful Crown Prince.

“Heavens curse it — that stupid bird got one extra mouthful and made this Emperor suffer a great loss!” Back in Heaven Village, the Black Emperor was howling at the top of its voice.

Ji Ziyue, meanwhile, was smiling sweetly, her slender hands gently stroking a fluffy little phoenix bird. It was only the size of a fist — round and plump, every down feather gleaming gold, radiating an overwhelming spiritual energy.

“Tweet, tweet…”

It let out soft cries, splashing about in water blended with the Nine-Aperture Sacred Spirit Liquid, flapping its little wings contentedly, looking thoroughly pleased with itself. Just a moment ago, it had even snatched a mouthful of the divine liquid directly.

By now, anyone could see its potential — it would grow to at least the Demon Sage realm at minimum. Upon learning the full story, the Ji Family naturally spared no expense to nurture it. They had sent Ji Ziyue with a piece of “divine material” to exchange for the Nine-Aperture Spirit-Communicating Sacred Liquid.

This was a piece of flesh only the size of a knuckle — crystalline and translucent, pulsing with an undying vibration, suffused with divine radiance, indescribably strange.

And yet Ye Fan, Pang Bo, the Monkey, the Black Emperor, and the others all felt a trembling sensation when faced with it, an involuntary urge to prostrate themselves. Strangest of all, Duan De’s Heaven-Devouring Demonic Cauldron rang out with a resonant clang.

“Don’t tell me… this is an Emperor’s flesh and blood?!” Li Tian swallowed with difficulty.

Even Qi Luo was drawn over immediately, arriving at the earliest opportunity. Yan Yixi, Li Heishui, and the others quickly crowded around — all of them filled with astonishment.

Duan De rubbed his hands together, swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and said: “Is this the flesh of the Void Emperor?”

“No.” Ji Ziyue wrinkled her delicate nose and gave him a big roll of her eyes.

Clang clang…

The Heaven-Devouring Demonic Lid at Duan De’s brow stirred and then flew out of its own accord, hovering above his head and raining down streams of immortal radiance.

“This is absolutely an ancient Emperor’s flesh — though the vital essence within has been almost entirely spent, the supreme divine weapon still resonates with it. Could this be… the corpse of the Fierce One?!” Duan De was shaken.

“This is something brought out of the Ancient Bronze Immortal Palace long ages ago.” Ji Ziyue said earnestly.

Everyone’s hearts gave a violent lurch, and expressions of shock appeared on every face. The Ji Family’s gift was truly extraordinary. Though it was only a tiny piece of flesh, it was priceless nonetheless — for it had fallen from the body of an Emperor. Not only could it be used to forge immortal weapons, but it could also be used in cultivation. Its most precious quality lay in the Emperor markings it contained within — if one could decipher them, the benefit would last a lifetime.

The Emperor’s power it contained had naturally long since dispersed — the Ji Family had drawn it all out. If they had not, no one could have approached it. It would have shattered a person’s physical body. An Emperor cannot be defiled by just anyone.

The Ancient Bronze Immortal Palace was shrouded in a mysterious halo. It appeared only once every several thousand to tens of thousands of years, traversing the earth’s veins, appearing in a different location each time.

Legend held that within it lay the secret of ascension to immortality — yet no one had ever reached its innermost depths. Of all those who had entered throughout history, nearly all had died within.

Ye Fan and Ji Ziyue had been fortunate enough to enter, obtaining a tremendous stroke of fortune. With the aid of the Greenish-Bronze Block, they had retrieved the Source Root of the Vital Essence of Ten Thousand Things — returning from the brink of death by nine deaths.

The human prodigy Nangong Zheng had also emerged alive — one of the very few survivors ever recorded in history. There was also one Great Sage who had returned alive, but all others had turned to bone and perished within.

That Great Sage had reaped the greatest harvest of all — yet unfortunately lacked the life to enjoy it. Long ages ago he had been the sole survivor, and he had carried out some fragments of a shattered corpse on his back from the Ancient Bronze Immortal Palace.

Unfortunately, the Emperor’s corpse is not something that just anyone can touch. Even that Great Sage could not. Combined with the fact that his own lifespan had already been nearly exhausted, he passed away the very day he carried those remains out.

What happened afterward was known to many of the ancient sects of the Eastern Desolation, for there were no small number of related rumors in the world. Several of the most flourishing sacred grounds of that era had divided those body fragments among themselves.

“In the past, the elders of my clan always denied it, calling it a rumor. Now, at last, they have told me the truth — and everything was real.” Ji Ziyue said.

The Ji Family had been most fortunate of all: within the flesh, they had discovered a ring. It appeared perfectly ordinary — made from a piece of bronze, rough-wrought, as if made by the hands of a child. Yet it was undying, having existed for an uncountable number of ten-thousands of years. Sturdier than a holy weapon, it had withstood the grinding of ages.

It bore no Dao markings of any kind, yet carried within it a mysterious power, unfathomable — something that could be called a secret treasure. Later, a Sage of the Ji Family had theorized: this had originally been a piece of ordinary copper, yet it had been the most beloved possession of that great Emperor. Worn on his person year after year, it had been nourished by the Emperor’s divine nature — and perhaps had served as a refuge for his very soul. It had thus been transformed into an immortal treasure.

Only an Emperor of Antiquity could have such power — to take a piece of ordinary copper and transform it into an immortal ring, eternal and undying, filled with divine nature.

Swoosh!

A flash of light in Ji Ziyue’s palm — and an ancient, rough-wrought ring appeared. It was indeed crude, not refined in the slightest. Yet it carried an indescribable quality of charm, such that any treasure in its presence would seem dim by comparison.

This ring had originally been lost. Ji Ziyue had found it as a young child in a forgotten corner of the clan, playing with it in her hands. At the time, it had released wisps of immortal radiance, drawing the attention of the clan’s elders. After a gathering of senior members deliberating in closed session, they had bestowed it upon her directly, with an admonishment to never lose it.

BOOM!

The Heaven-Devouring Demonic Lid seemed to have come alive. Streams of supreme Dao divine might burst forth, and it left Duan De’s head, quickly shrank in size, and began hovering and sinking repeatedly above Ji Ziyue’s palm.

Everyone was shocked — though what was slightly reassuring was that its divine might was restrained inward and did not harm anyone. It merely made every heart pound.

“Is the corpse within the Ancient Bronze Immortal Palace truly that of the Fierce One?” All of them were astounded.

“It is this one…” Duan De trembled. He revealed something that left everyone startled: ever since he had obtained the Heaven-Devouring Demonic Lid, he had occasionally suffered nightmares, and in those dreams he would always see a rough-wrought ring and a ghost-faced mask.

Now, seeing this crude copper ring before him, cold sweat broke out all over his body and his fine hairs stood on end. This was exactly as he had seen in his dreams — identical in every detail.

“The Fierce One Emperor’s ring…” Once everyone understood, they were left wide-eyed and slack-jawed. This was indeed an immortal treasure.

Without question, the Fierce One was a miracle, having outlived every other Emperor by far. Reborn multiple times, a single person had lived three or four lifetimes and more — a fact that shook antiquity and the present alike.

“Are the Southern Peaks Celestial Emperor and the Chaotic Ancient Emperor also the Fierce One?” Pang Bo said.

“The Southern Peaks Celestial Emperor perhaps — but the Chaotic Ancient Emperor certainly is not. My Celestial Court has a Great Sage who once saw the Chaotic Ancient Emperor.” Qi Luo shook his head.

There were too many secrets surrounding the Fierce One. Some even suspected she had never truly died, that she had continually shed her old form and been reborn, remaining in the world throughout the ages. Naturally, there were far more who opposed this view — for it was impossible for two Emperors to exist in the same age. This revered Emperor had ultimately transcended in the end.

“In my dreams I often experience a feeling of parting. Occasionally I can glimpse a blurry scene: a small girl with pigtails, crying as she sees off a young man who departs with a group of people into the distance. Ahead of them is a Five-Colored Altar.”

This was the true reason Ji Ziyue had brought out this ring. She had seen this scene, and her heart could not be at peace. Knowing that Ye Fan would leave, she could not help but reveal the secret of the Five-Colored Altar.

In Ji Ziyue’s dream, it was a remote and distant little mountain village.

The girl’s family was poor. The small clothes on her body were all patched, and even her little shoes had holes through which her toes poked out — a pitiful sight.

The young man was her only family. They had depended on each other for survival. The ghost-faced mask was their only toy — they had no lavish jewelry or ornaments. The young man, to make the little girl smile, had fashioned her a ring from a piece of bronze. Though it was rough-wrought, the little girl had treated it as a treasure.

Later, a group of people came to the village. They recognized the young man as a prodigious talent and took him away. As for the little girl, they shook their heads at her aptitude. Heedless of her cries and screams, they took the young man away by force.

The girl wept bitterly and ran — losing her worn-out little shoes in the process. The young man begged and pleaded desperately, and finally one among the group relented, agreeing that she could at least see him off.

In the end, they arrived before a Five-Colored Altar. The young man, together with the group and many young prodigious talents, ascended it — about to depart on a long journey. No matter how the little girl cried and screamed, she could no longer draw near.

Just before leaving, the young man took the ghost-faced mask with him and left behind the ring. He waved to her with all his strength — and finally vanished upon the Five-Colored Altar.

Several years later, the little girl grew up somewhat in hardship, all the while staying near the altar. One day, she saw many people return. She ran toward them heedlessly — only to see that young man’s bones. She was pulled away by force, unable even to look a moment longer. She wept bitterly — and from then on, never saw him again.

And there, all the scenes ended, never to return. This was the blurry vision Ji Ziyue had often dreamed of while wearing the ring.

“Was that little girl the Fierce One Emperor in later life?” Waves of emotion surged in all of their hearts.

“No aptitude — a pitiful little girl, the one who later shook antiquity and the present and stood supreme above all others, the Fierce One Emperor?!” They did not feel shock upon learning this. They felt pity, and a kind of sorrow.

Every time they faced the Heaven-Devouring Demonic Cauldron and looked at that ghost-faced mask upon it — that expression that was neither quite crying nor quite laughing — they could not help but feel their hearts ache. It was infectious.

Many had speculated that it represented an unforgettable experience of the Fierce One — that smiles held tears, and bitterness held beautiful memories — yet none had imagined there was such a hidden story behind it.

In the eyes of outsiders, it might have seemed a plain and ordinary episode from the past. But it was the most precious thing in that little girl’s entire life — a memory the Fierce One Emperor could never forget.

What had happened to her as she grew up, no one knew. Perhaps that was the beginning of her brilliance — sweeping across the nine heavens and ten earths without peer. At least that was how it appeared to the outside world. Yet she herself did not preserve it among her memories. What happened after? No one knew.

Ji Ziyue looked toward Ye Fan and said softly: “I know you will go far away. Not long ago I searched through every map of mountains and rivers and discovered the present-day location of that Five-Colored Altar from my dreams…”