From Rongcheng Gong of Shu, to Rongcheng Zi of the Western Zhou, to Rongcheng Shi the tribal chieftain of primordial antiquity — by piecing together scattered traces left behind across various ancient texts, his true identity had gradually been revealed. Astonishingly, he was an immortal figure worshipped by the primordial peoples of ancient times.
Ye Fan and the others walked around the coffin, observing the terrain repeatedly, examining whether any formation markings or Dao traces were present, fearful of any misstep. This was an ancestral-level cultivator of the Dao, and he inspired deep reverence.
The hearts of all three were unsettled. Now that the identity of the yellow clay coffin’s owner had been revealed, the weight of it pressed upon them all the more heavily. That the earth immortal should have such a tremendous origin was staggering.
The interior of the dragon’s mouth was dry; after the waterfall ceased, no trace of water remained. The cave walls were smooth, likewise bearing no Dao markings. After careful confirmation, they prepared to open the coffin and lift the lid of yellow clay.
However, after retreating a sufficient distance, when he attempted to employ his Daoist arts to move the coffin lid from afar, he found it utterly useless — the lid did not budge even a fraction.
Holding his piece of green copper, Ye Fan walked forward step by step. At a moment like this, the fragment of the green cauldron was the most powerful protective talisman he possessed — should anything unexpected occur, it could preserve his life.
Boom!
He lifted one corner of the yellow clay coffin lid, and in an instant the entire dragon cave blazed with light stretching ten thousand zhang. Markings appeared across every wall, and a sweeping and all-encompassing power illuminated the space so brilliantly that no one could open their eyes.
In that instant, the entire dragon-mountain was bathed in immortal light, as a breathtaking aura permeated throughout. Its entire body shone azure-green, gleaming brilliantly, as though it were about to return to life.
Ye Fan quickly released his grip and retreated several dozen steps back. Clang — the yellow clay coffin lid closed back into place without a single gap, all light withdrawn inward, vanishing completely, returning to stillness once more.
The Old Crane and the Third Valley Master were trembling with terror. Both collapsed onto the ground. The immense power of a moment ago had filled them with bone-deep dread, shaking their very souls — it was beyond what they could bear.
“There was no killing intent. Only a display of the immortal’s presence.” A long time passed before the three exchanged glances and came to this conclusion.
In the moment the coffin opened, if even a single thread of killing intent had been present, the Grand Valley Master and the others could not have kept their lives. That kind of presence was something entirely beyond what they could bear.
“Dimly, I seemed to see vast quantities of oracle bone script densely covering the cave walls, as though recording a supremely important ancient secret,” the Grand Valley Master said.
“Very well — let us try again.” Ye Fan stepped forward with careful deliberation.
Though the coffin had been crafted from yellow clay, it was heavier than ten thousand jun. Had Ye Fan not possessed the innate divine strength of the Sacred Body of the human race, he could not possibly have lifted it open.
Even so, it was a tremendous effort for him. In the instant he lifted one corner of the lid, blinding light once again filled the space — the cave walls blazed with radiance, immortal energy swirled and billowed, and five brilliant lights filled the air.
Inside the ancient cave, countless markings appeared — all of them primordial ancient characters, profoundly abstruse and difficult to decipher, covering every inch of every surface, blooming with boundless radiance.
Sweat poured from Ye Fan’s brow. It was merely the lid of a yellow clay coffin, yet it was this incomprehensibly heavy — and with tremendous effort he shifted it to one side, setting it down on the ground.
Behind him, the Grand Valley Master and the Monkey trembled uncontrollably from head to foot, unable to stop themselves. They were on the verge of bowing down in prostration, driven by a primal instinct rising from their very bodies.
The lid of the earth immortal’s coffin had been opened.
Ye Fan peered inside. Within, a churning mass of primordial chaos surged and roiled — impossibly mysterious, drawing the eye to want to see more.
Yet he dared not rashly disturb the primordial chaos. Should it erupt into violent turbulence, it might destroy the entire Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains and send the soul trembling in shock.
“Not a single shred of killing intent — only the presence of the earth immortal.” Ye Fan’s body had gone incomparably rigid. Had he not been gripping the piece of green copper, he too might not have been able to stand safely in place.
Thud!
On the other side, the Monkey finally lost all control of his body and struck his head against the ground. The Old Crane was no different — he could not control his own flesh, and trembling violently, collapsed to his knees and bowed before the yellow clay coffin.
This was the residual presence of the immortal venerated by the primordial peoples of ancient times. Even after the passage of countless ages, the moment the coffin was opened, a single thread of aura flowing forth was more than any bystander could withstand.
“On the cave walls… there are characters… something about the secret of the Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains…” The Grand Valley Master spoke with difficulty, his words blurring together, bearing a tremendous pressure, shaking and trembling as he spoke.
What was recorded on the cave walls was not this small grouping of dragon-mountains before them, but the true ancient Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains of primordial times. Unexpectedly, it was the earth immortal Rongcheng Shi who had revealed the secret here.
“Several million years ago…”
The moment Ye Fan saw these words, his entire body was seized by a shiver. How inconceivably long ago that was — had human beings even existed on this earth at such a time?
Suddenly, the yellow clay coffin trembled. The chaos within surged like an ocean about to burst free. Startled, he immediately retreated, seized the Old Crane and the Third Valley Master, and prepared to flee at once.
Clang!
Eventually it stabilized again. Within the coffin, it was as though an ocean of primordial chaos resided — unfathomably deep. The coffin walls were rough, the yellow clay flowing with shifting colors, flashing with ancient symbols that gradually absorbed all of the chaotic energy.
Ye Fan stood at a distance, quietly watching all of this. The two companions beside him trembled in both body and soul — not for lack of steadfast will, but because the difference in power was simply too vast.
At last, the chaos within the coffin vanished entirely, swallowed clean by the rough yellow clay walls. The interior was empty — nothing remained.
“It is empty. Where is the earth immortal’s body?” the Old Crane cried out in alarm. They had come precisely for the earth immortal — how was there no body to be found?
Inscriptions were carved inside the coffin as well, line after line, the same handwriting as that on the cave walls — plainly written by the same hand. They flowed with shifting light, deeply mysterious.
“The earth immortal merged with the Dao and dissipated — leaving nothing behind at all? That cannot be right. Where is that immortal divine tree? How has it left no trace either? It is something that endures with the ages and cannot simply dissipate,” the Third Valley Master said, a puzzled expression crossing his face.
“Set all of that aside for now,” Ye Fan said. “We came for the earth immortal’s secrets, and the most essential things he left behind are already here, written in this place. We need to read it all carefully.”
“The Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains… nurtured the hope of ascending to immortality…” They turned the ancient characters over in their minds again and again, all of them created by the primordial peoples of the ancient world — so ancient and abstruse as to be exceedingly difficult to decipher. Yet they had barely read a portion before they were stunned into speechlessness.
Millions of years in the past — a timespan terrifying in its sheer antiquity — the Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains had already been put to use. The era was so remote it defied imagination, and yet who had made use of them was unknown.
Reading further down, the content became even more spine-chilling. The Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains did indeed nurture the hope of ascending to immortality — yet Rongcheng Shi had not stated what that thing was.
From the meaning conveyed, it should be understood that at their level of cultivation, one already knew what it was without needing to say it aloud. This was written for those who had reached the same stage — not for minor cultivators such as themselves.
“Using one ancient life-bearing star after another to nurture… a great calamity…”
When they read this passage, they felt a cold dread seep from their spines into the very marrow of their bones. The origins of the Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains were terrifyingly ancient, and they had not begun on the earth.
According to what was recorded above, this was an earth-shattering secret — so staggering it even felt too absurd to believe.
The Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains — no one knew which star domain they had originated from, nor how many countless ages had passed as they transferred from one ancient life-bearing star to another.
Wherever they went, heaven and earth withered, spiritual energy dried up, vegetation withered and died, higher life-forms degenerated, all living things declined, rapidly deteriorating — in the most severe cases, the life force of an entire ancient star could be extinguished.
The several of them exchanged glances. The current state of earth seemed to be undergoing precisely such a change — spiritual energy waning, the great Dao growing distant and inaccessible, cultivation becoming increasingly difficult, the dragon-veins drying up.
All of this was caused by the Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains?!
They held their breath and read carefully. This might touch upon the greatest secret in all of earth’s history, ancient and modern alike — and they had the fortune to uncover it, to reach out and touch this hidden truth.
The Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains absorbed the essence of heaven and earth, consuming the spiritual vitality of ancient life-bearing stars. They had once descended upon the wandering star of misfortune — that had been the most severe occurrence, nearly causing an entire ancient star to wither away completely.
In a later era, a great upheaval arose and a war of tremendous violence erupted. The wandering star of misfortune could ultimately no longer bear it, and became a dead star.
For reasons unknown, the Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains chose the earth as their final destination. What they had been nurturing reached completion and was taken away by someone.
The consequence was this: in that ancient era unknown to later generations — perhaps the primordial epoch, perhaps even further back — many higher life-forms on the earth degenerated and regressed. Those of the Dao and of cultivation all departed.
In the long ages that followed, the Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains reversed their flow, emanating refined energy outward. And since the earth had not been entirely drained to begin with, spiritual energy grew abundant once more, and a golden age of peak spiritual richness arrived.
At some point in time — the specific era unknown — the hope of ascending to immortality, the thing nurtured by the dragon-mountains, was destroyed in another star domain. Roughly two hundred thousand years ago, someone crossed the vast distance and brought it back, placing it once more within the land that had given birth to it.
Upon reading this passage, all of them exchanged looks once more. The current drying up of the earth — could this be its cause? Had another cycle begun?
They read on carefully and with attention.
This thing had been destroyed after all. Even placed back in the land of its birth, it could not swiftly recover. In the end it took two hundred thousand years to show any signs of improvement, finally being perceived by the most powerful presences on the earth, who sensed that something was gravely wrong.
Someone moved against it, using great power to split apart the Ninety-Nine Dragon-Mountains, attempting to halt the worsening of heaven and earth — but the effort came too late. The only course remaining was to extract this thing.
Yet the birthplace of that thing was fearfully dangerous, the markings interwoven there heaven-defyingly potent. Even some of the supreme figures from other ancient star domains who entered had died there without cause or purpose.
To enter its birthplace, one needed an ancient map. If one followed the path marked upon it, there would be no danger whatsoever, and one could easily extract that thing.
Moreover, this ancient map had been lost on the earth. When a powerful divine dynasty from another star domain escorted that thing here for restoration, they had inadvertently lost it in this place.
Unfortunately, the map had been scattered into fragments in many different places. And because whoever possessed it could enter and obtain the hope of ascending to immortality, people fought over the pieces bitterly — for a time, reuniting them proved impossible.
The ancient peoples living on the earth realized this situation was untenable and quickly laid down their arms, all of them selflessly producing their fragments of the map to be united.
Yet at that moment an unexpected development arose — powerful figures from other star domains arrived and began competing for the map.
Later, even ancient sages could only die for nothing, having no standing to compete, and avoided it like snakes and scorpions. In the age of ancient antiquity, only a few great sages and one or two quasi-emperors on that ancient star had the power to pursue it.
Rongcheng Shi was one of them. He was a quasi-emperor — in that era, his power stood supreme above all others, unmatched throughout the ages, and he participated in the struggle.
He had originally been a tribal chieftain of primordial antiquity, watching the oceans transform into mulberry fields, witnessing the endless turning of ages. He pursued it all the way to the Spring and Autumn period, and with his heaven-and-earth-penetrating abilities, he had managed to obtain only two fragments of the map.
According to what was recorded, there had originally been nine fragments — but one of them had unfortunately been shattered into dust, extinguishing the last glimmer of hope for those of great divine arts. One after another they began to leave the earth.
“Is this the reason why there were no great masters of divine arts after the age of the great philosophers? That period of flourishing was actually formed because of the opportunity to ascend to immortality,” Ye Fan murmured to himself.
They continued reading.
Rongcheng Shi had been a tribal chieftain in the primordial age. He watched oceans run dry and high mountains flatten into plains, passing through ages upon ages of time — all his disciples died, leaving only himself alone.
During this process, he had encountered Shennong and observed the Yellow Emperor, knowing that as long as such people walked this ancient star, he himself would have no hope of attaining the Dao. He had originally intended to depart, yet felt some reluctance — he had, after all, obtained two fragments of the map.
In the end, he chose to enter the place where the hope of ascending to immortality had been nurtured, resolved to stake everything on a single desperate gamble.
Yet the record ends here, with nothing that follows.
Even the typically composed Grand Valley Master was deeply unsettled, desperately wanting to know how things had ultimately turned out. Yet the characters densely covering the cave walls had truly come to such an abrupt end.
“There is more — all of it fully recorded inside the yellow clay coffin,” Ye Fan said. The rough interior walls of the clay coffin were covered from end to end in dense text, recording what had happened next.