Ye Fan spoke these words with perfect calm, as though recounting something entirely ordinary, apparently without the slightest awareness of what a storm he might be calling down upon himself.
He alone was going to go to war against an eastern-marching Crusade!
What breathtaking audacity—to dare to do such a thing. It would undoubtedly stir up waves that would rock heaven and earth. To the sect leaders present, it sounded as though he intended to pierce the sky itself.
In ancient times, the Crusades had been fought over the holy city of Jerusalem, bringing devastation to countless living beings. In those days, powerful masters had been as common as clouds, and every campaign had shattered the heavens and split the earth.
Ye Fan showed none of the fervor one might expect. Everything had come about simply because the Western Order’s people had moved against him—this was merely retaliation on his part, and he spoke of it without any particularly fierce sentiment.
“I don’t care who they are. If they’ve come to pass final judgment upon me—to carry out an enforcement action against me—then I’m sorry, but whether they are Crusaders or Holy Knights, they can only be killed.”
In the present age, he had no desire to crush any particular religion. But neither would he tolerate others bringing their aggression to his doorstep. Several Fallen Angels had marched east to the Central Lands to deliver their verdict upon him and take his life—this was intolerable.
With such a scene having unfolded at the cultivators’ grand gathering, people had lost all interest in the tournament. Even several of the top prodigies among the younger generation had entered the Palace of Nine Heavens and Ten Thousand Blessings.
“Fellow Daoist, please do not misunderstand—my clan has no intention of seeking vengeance.” The clan chief of the Great Xia Dragon Sparrow lineage spoke up, having witnessed Ye Fan’s cultivation, fearful of being misjudged or resented.
“This is nothing,” Ye Fan said with a smile. Such small matters were not worth dwelling on.
Everyone present held very high standing—all of them sect leaders of major factions. Only Long Xiaoqu, Huang Tiannü, the Kunlun Twin Fish, and a few others were of the younger generation.
What Ye Fan had not anticipated was that these young prodigies all requested to spar with him, continuing the combat from earlier—essentially asking him to teach them through demonstration.
“Shhhk!”
Sword light blazed across the heavens. A flying sword moved freely through the Palace of Nine Heavens and Ten Thousand Blessings, striking out waves of primordial light and radiating a lethal killing intent that shot straight into the sky.
This was the Dao of the Red Pine Master—a single grain of dust transformed into a sword could fill the sea; a single blade of grass transformed into a sword could sever the sun, moon, and stars. Ye Fan had not yet reached such a realm, but manifesting sword intent was well within his ability.
Not only Zhan Yifan, but even the Immortal Sword Sect Master and the various sect leaders were rendered utterly stupefied, nearly turned to stone. Such a technique was world-defying, possessing a power that could pierce heaven and earth.
In this moment, Ye Fan held nothing back, giving full expression to the profound mysteries within him.
Then he began to manifest the methods of the Jade Pool, exchanging moves with the Kunlun Twin Fish. His entire bearing became ethereal and transcendent, like an immortal banished from the heavens, untainted by the mortal world—graceful and fluid.
Finally, he even manifested the Feathered Immortal Art of the fierce master—a technique with the power to cleave through the heavens themselves! He had never received its orthodox transmission, yet through life-and-death confrontations with Hua Yunfei on multiple occasions, he had grasped some of its essence. With his current cultivation, he could recreate a portion of it on his own—and the result surpassed the ordinary.
Sect Master Xuehen let out a quiet sigh. Ye Fan’s current level of cultivation far exceeded what any of them had imagined. He was absolutely on par with sect leaders from the ancient era—perhaps even stronger.
“Big Fish, Little Fish—the two of you ought to take Elder Ye as your master.” He made this suggestion outright. The Feathered Immortal Art alone was enough to astound the ages; taking him as a master was unquestionably worthwhile.
The fierce master’s talent was peerless across all of antiquity—no ordinary person could hope to approach it. Cultivating the Dao in a mortal body, his Dao and secret arts surpassed those of every sect, revered across all the heavens.
Anyone with eyes to see could perceive the truth of this. These sect leaders, whose lashes had not grown hollow from years of cultivation for nothing, were naturally shaken to the core and determined to pave a path of brilliance for their disciples.
They had every reason to believe that Ye Fan’s tremendous power was inseparable from these supreme secret arts—that he perhaps possessed the most powerful ancient scripture of all, capable of standing against all under heaven single-handedly!
“Young Shifu, Huang’er offers you her respects.”
Beside him, Huang Tiannü reacted with remarkable quickness. Radiant as a fairy with a face that could make fish sink and birds fall, that could shame the moon and eclipse flowers—dressed in a modern style, yet carrying the charm of classical elegance—she was normally very proud and aloof. Yet now she wore a playful expression that was a uniquely captivating kind of beauty.
Wei Yü stood tall and spirited; Yan Xiaoyu was delicate and lovely. As the Twin Treasures of Kunlun, they stood nearby, momentarily dazed, glancing toward Sect Master Xuehen of Kunlun.
No one had anticipated Huang Tiannü to be so nimble, snatching the initiative and pledging herself as a disciple first. She cared nothing for any notion of betraying her sect—the clan leader was her great-grand uncle anyway; no one could accuse her of that.
“I’m asking you to take Elder Ye as your master—not to rebel against your sect. Why the hesitation? Go quickly and make your request,” said Sect Master Xuehen.
Seeing this, the others all chimed in as well. To find anyone in the current era comparable to a sect leader of the ancient age—or even surpassing one—was an extraordinarily difficult thing, yet here stood a living, breathing example before their very eyes. If they could have their disciples cultivate alongside this person, never mind the heritage they might receive—even their standing and position would be transformed entirely. Who would dare harm them thereafter?
Establishing a connection with Ye Fan was, in itself, an invisible form of protection!
In the end, the Longhu Mountain Sect Leader summoned his own descendant as well—a young man by the name of Zhang Qingyang, known as the Little Zhenren of the Daoist tradition, also called the Little Celestial Master.
Huang Tiannü, Zhan Yifan, Long Xiaoqu, the Kunlun Twin Fish, Zhang Qingyang—these six were very nearly the six most extraordinary talents of the younger generation, those with the greatest potential. Each of their masters was pressing Ye Fan to take them in.
Among them, Huang Tiannü was the most animated—utterly unlike her usual cold and proud manner. Her large eyes curved into crescent moons as she latched shamelessly onto one of Ye Fan’s arms and refused to let go, practically throwing a tantrum.
Long Xiaoqu was the most indifferent, as that was simply his nature—direct and straightforward. He said only a single sentence, asking Ye Fan to transmit the Fa to him, then stood there as still and stiff as a post.
With so many people petitioning him, Ye Fan continued to shake his head. He had no intention of taking on formal disciples. Offering some guidance was fine, but for now, keeping the little purple creature by his side to teach was sufficient.
“Please reconsider, Elder Ye. These few children are all promising seedlings. It’s a pity they were born at the wrong time—if they remain within their sects, they will be held back.”
The entreaties continued.
Such extraordinary talents were rare. Every sect had poured its heart and soul into nurturing them, giving them the finest spiritual grounds for meditation, letting them consume ancestral sacred medicines, working hard to recreate something resembling the environment of the ancient era.
Yet this was the furthest they could take them. The resources had nearly run dry. After entering the Dragon Transformation realm, the demands would only grow greater, and there was no longer any way to replicate an environment like that of ancient times.
Witnessing Ye Fan’s level of cultivation, they believed he likely had other methods—and they hoped he might assist, allowing these remarkable young talents to walk further down a longer road.
“Elder Ye, with your level of cultivation, sooner or later you will choose to journey far away. The spiritual energy of the Earth has run dry—you will inevitably follow the path of the ancient sages and depart. But when you do, what of the things on this Earth that tie you here? No matter how transcendent you become, there will always be people, always be things, that you cannot forget. To leave behind a few disciples, to transmit your great Dao through them, to have them guard the bonds that anchor you to this mortal world—what could be wrong with that?”
Kunlun Sect Master Xuehen’s words gave Ye Fan pause. Indeed—perhaps decades or centuries from now, he would ultimately set out into the star ocean. Even if crossing back to the Northern Dipper proved impossible, he would still make every effort to try, to see those old friends once more.
After he was gone, who would stand vigil before his parents’ graves? Who would care for those people he could not bring himself to forget? Who would watch over the things that still bound his heart to this world of red dust?
In the end, Ye Fan agreed, taking the several of them on as registered disciples.
At the same time, he also hoped that through these sects, he might learn where the ancient sages of antiquity had gone—what path they had walked—and whether they had left behind any traces or clues.
The cultivators’ grand gathering drew to a close, concluding with great satisfaction. All who attended felt it had been worthwhile—witnessing a being comparable to an ancient grandmaster make his move was the greatest reward of all.
Word spread that he was a cultivator at the peak of the Dragon Transformation realm—something made evident during his battle with the several Fallen Angels. The sect leaders rendered their judgment: perhaps he was close to ascending to the Immortal Platform.
As for the true circumstances, Sect Master Xuehen and the others would naturally not say—for they knew that Ye Fan might soon stand alone against an advancing Crusade!
Keeping his true power concealed might prove his greatest trump card. For Ye Fan intended to reclaim all the ancient Central Lands artifacts that the Western Order had taken—and he had no desire to show his hand all at once.
“The museums aren’t so much the issue—it’s the ancestral artifacts in places like Jerusalem and the Vatican that need to be reclaimed.”
On this subject, even the several sect leaders spoke with something of a bitter edge. A number of Central Lands ancestral artifacts had been taken away in former times—a humiliation—now displayed in the West, still unable to return home.
“I will make that journey, and bring back every ancestral artifact,” Ye Fan said quietly, his gaze drifting toward the distant West.
He then led his several registered disciples down the mountain, departing the Shangqing Sect and declining the invitations of various sect leaders to remain longer—he had already lingered here for many days.
When Ye Fan and his group left the sacred grounds and entered the mundane area of Maoshan, they had barely gone any distance before the world suddenly seemed to turn on its axis. The scenery shifted completely, and wave upon wave of supreme sword energy came surging in, along with flashing light from numerous ancient weapons.
“What’s happening?!”
The Kunlun Twin Fish and Huang Tiannü cried out in alarm. All of them readied themselves for battle, each guarding one direction—then they looked to Ye Fan, awaiting his command.
“An ancient slaughter formation. Someone wants me dead!” His expression darkened. He had just demonstrated his might at Maoshan, and already someone was unafraid, having laid out a formation of this magnitude here to refine his very soul.
This slaughter formation was enormous in scope, clearly the product of immeasurable effort. A closer look revealed it to be an ancient absolute-killing formation of the highest order, transported here through tremendous power and concealed in this location for many days.
This was a domain formed by the ancient world—great trees towering to the sky, vines as thick as mountain ridges, vast peaks soaring into the clouds, killing intent boundless, coiling across the land.
“Boom!”
A great seal came crashing down from above. Nine dragon heads were carved upon it—fierce and magnificent, carrying ten-thousand-fold weight. It was cast from bronze, covered in green verdigris.
“A king’s weapon!”
A cold light flashed in Ye Fan’s eyes. The enemies this time were truly formidable—to deploy an ancient weapon of this kind, whoever was lurking in the shadows must be extraordinarily powerful.
His expression did not change. He called the others behind him and stepped out alone. He extended his fingers like a blade and slashed toward the nine-headed bronze seal.
A thunderous boom erupted as his fingers sent out waves of sword energy—like golden surging waves, one rolling after another—striking upward into the sky.
Long Xiaoqu, the Kunlun Twin Fish, and the others were all shaken to the core. This was the first time they had seen Ye Fan strike with full force. The golden blood energy he radiated set their ears ringing.
Within Ye Fan’s body, his golden blood roiled like a great river—or like thunder rolling—and the sound it produced nearly knocked them all off their feet.
“Is this Master’s true battle power?” Even Long Xiaoqu, who had harbored inner resistance since the beginning, stood frozen, his whole body trembling. Even ancient grandmasters could not compare to this!
“Clang!”
As Ye Fan’s blood energy shot skyward, the golden sword waves he unleashed numbered in the thousands upon ten thousands, shearing off an entire corner from the nine-headed bronze seal. It crashed to the ground.
“Even a king’s weapon—a weapon of the Dao-cutting grade—has been damaged!” Zhan Yifan gasped in amazement.
A dragon’s cry shook the nine heavens. The ancient great seal of nine dragon heads shed its green verdigris, erupting with ten thousand feet of radiance that lit up the sky—transforming into a mountain of bronze dragons that pressed down from above.
In that moment, the terrifying aura split heaven and earth. The mountains and rivers roared for ten thousand li. The ancient ground within the slaughter formation cracked apart, and distant mountains collapsed—a scene of utter terror.
“This is… this is the Nine Dragon Sacred Bronze Seal—a renowned ancient artifact of the highest order. It can strike of its own accord and suppress and slay those who would cut the Dao—kings among beings!” Long Xiaoqu cried out in shock.