Fire Spirit Ravine. Not a blade of grass grew there — scorched and barren, a mark left by ages beyond counting, never to fade.
Figures were everywhere, observers densely packed on the distant mountain ranges in every direction. Many laughed coldly, convinced that Ye Tong’s youth and impetuousness would come back to haunt him.
In the center of the field, Mo Xue’s purple-gold crown held his hair in place. His face was sharp as if carved by a blade — full of martial energy, angular and defined. His eyes were like cold stars, brilliant and radiant. Every pore of his body breathed out life essence in steady inhalations and exhalations.
Upon his body ran strand after strand of Dao breath accompanied by lightning and thunder — these were Dao-marks born from reaching a certain depth in cultivation, recognized by heaven and earth, resonating with the nine heavens and ten lands.
Hummm!
Mo Xue struck then — at incomprehensible speed. Cold light played across his armor; above and below were washed in cold radiance. A great cleaving tear through the void slashed downward, causing the sky itself to tremble.
His fingers pressed together into a blade. The power of this single strike was boundless. Even many of the sect masters present changed expression — this speed and strength were rare in the world, and even they felt they would struggle to resist it.
Ye Tong’s entire body flickered with firelight. His eyes blazed with sunlike brilliance. Forming the Sun Divine Seal with his hands, he shot a beam of golden light from his fingertip — Sun Sword Qi, razor-sharp and unmatched.
Clang!
Sparks burst in the void. The void-cleaving slash met the Sun Sword Qi in an eruption of cascading light — like fireworks blooming, beautiful and breathtaking. Yet this caused every person present to change color and inwardly marvel: these two were so young, and already they wielded divine powers of this magnitude. If allowed to grow — where might they reach?!
Crack!
Mo Xue let out a clear whistle, spitting a mouthful of innate quintessential energy that transformed into a wave of Dao ripples — one hundred and eight Sonic Sword-threads surging toward Ye Tong’s skull, extremely sudden.
The entirety of the void shook like ricepaper rattling apart; every current of air broke into wild disorder. Sand and stone flew from every peak; the ancient trees were all reduced to powder.
Pop!
The Dao ripple sword-threads pierced the surrounding void into a thousand holes. How much worse for a body of flesh and blood — anyone struck would be left shattered and broken.
Ye Tong faced the threat without fear. Both hands swept into motion, raising a golden circle that seemed hewn by nature itself, sending a brilliant curtain of battle-qi surging outward to envelop him.
The Dao ripples rose and fell, sweeping over the golden circle, but could not destroy it. Upon Ye Tong’s body, nothing took hold — every razor-sharp Sonic Sword-thread was blocked entirely.
“Ye Fan’s golden circle from years past has reappeared!” someone cried out.
People would not forget the sight of Ye Fan manifesting the Taiji circle — ten thousand techniques incapable of touching his body, the golden circle raised — an image that had awed an entire era.
Light and fire surged upward, solar sacred fire rolling out in great waves. Ye Tong launched a fierce counterattack. Bathed in the blaze, as though the sun above existed solely for his sake, he guided stream after stream of mysterious fire-force down from the heavens.
He was the image of a fire god — towering flames erupting from within his body, scorching the void to slag as they surged forward.
Mo Xue was forced to dodge and retreat, producing a pitch-black fan and directing it toward the void. In an instant, a vast stretch of flames was extinguished — a chill that cut to the bone.
“The Yin-Tai Banana Fan!” someone recognized it with a cry.
This sort of fan was nearly impossible to find in the world. Refined from banana leaves grown in places of supreme yin energy, infused with an innumerable array of rare precious metals and stones, at enormous expense — this was a secret treasure of the ancient age.
Mo Xue fanned again. The Yin-Tai Banana Fan sent black mist surging across the heavens like blades of ice slashing at people’s very souls — one’s spirit threatening to shatter, cold piercing to the marrow.
Distant observers stumbled backward. The grass and trees on every mountain peak froze in an instant, then disintegrated into black powder, incapable of withstanding the cold.
Ye Tong saw this and his pupils contracted sharply. His opponent had clearly prepared thoroughly to counter his solar sacred power — yet he was not afraid.
He raised one hand toward the sun above, and aimed the other at his enemy. Rumbling thunder sounded without ceasing; great torrents of blazing light fell visibly from the sky.
This was a breathtaking show of grand ambition!
Ye Tong was directing the sun overhead as his “great weapon” — channeling the descended firelight, which blotted out the sky, into the crown of his skull, then transforming it into primordial sacred power and driving it toward Mo Xue.
Splat!
Thrust meeting thrust — fierce opposition. Mo Xue used the Yin-Tai Banana Fan to resist the solar sacred fire. Between the two forces it alternated between searing heat and freezing cold, the temperature swinging to extremes.
In the surrounding mountain terrain, many great boulders liquefied to magma one moment and solidified again the next, then were shattered by frost — a terrifying sight.
They say water and fire show no mercy — when these two forces clashed, it was nothing short of calamity. Two extremes in opposition, each collision shattering the sky.
“Calamity — we’re all going to die!” Many lesser cultivators had never witnessed a spectacle of this magnitude; faces going white as snow, they cried out in fright.
The sight at this moment was truly overwhelming. Ye Tong wielded the sun itself as a weapon, cascading waves of fire blanketing the sky — the heavens had become entirely an ocean of flame.
All of that blazing light finally converged into a river, entering the crown of Ye Tong’s skull, then driving forward toward the Wanchu Holy Son with overwhelming force.
Even the Yin-Tai Banana Fan could barely hold on — cracking and splintering sounds rang out, crack after crack appearing along its black surface, nearly burned apart and shattered.
“Ye Fan’s disciple is remarkable — with grand ambition, wielding the sun and moon as weapons in his hands. Truly astonishing!”
Many of the older generation stared wide-eyed. Though the temperature nearby blazed fiercely — more than a dozen mountains reduced to lava — chills ran up their spines.
In the distance, Ye Fan smiled and nodded. More than ten years had passed, and that child who used to weep had truly grown up — fully capable of standing on his own. This imposing might surprised even him. The future achievements were without limit.
“A heart of grand ambition — that is what makes a path that reaches far.” The Divine Knight said.
Mo Xue let out a great shout, and actually put away the Yin-Tai Banana Fan. He spread all ten fingers and shot ten bolts of electric light, cleaving through the long sky.
Everyone was taken aback — he put away a powerful secret treasure to fight bare-handed. Was he not throwing away his strengths?
Yet Ye Fan frowned, and two piercing beams shot from his eyes. He murmured to himself: “No wonder he dares battle someone carrying the Sun Sacred Emperor bloodline — he also has a very rare constitution. He is not simple.”
Only a few sensed the anomaly. Those ten bolts of electric light were extraordinary — within them coursed threads of terrifying energy that pressed down on the spirit.
Boom!
At last, the electric light detonated. Where it collided with the towering firelight, it held without falling behind — it could even extinguish swaths of sacred flame.
“What is this — Chaos Lightning!” someone cried out.
The vast majority stared wide-eyed in disbelief. At this age, he dared to refine Chaos itself? Even elders of vast experience would not dare attempt it.
Ye Tong’s expression grew grave. He unleashed sweeping attacks, driving the vast flames to press down on Mo Xue. From the sun above, thousands upon thousands of curtain-like torrents of light fell downward.
In this moment, Mo Xue was supremely terrifying — as though he had transformed into a divine being. Lightning crackled and thunder rolled from every inch of his body; every pore discharged electric arcs.
This was no ordinary lightning and thunder. It was Chaos Lightning — rarely seen even in heavenly tribulations. When it fell, it struck with world-shaking force.
Everyone stood dumbfounded. What was Mo Xue’s origin? How could he wield Chaos in this way? Each move sent Chaos Lightning scattering — a form of attack that was, among peers of the same generation, absolutely transcendent.
“This is… the constitution that Wanchu has long sought?”
“How many tens of thousands of years has it been? Wanchu Holy Land has searched without end. Could it be that they have truly found the legendary constitution?”
Many people were shaken, speculating that if the guess was correct, Wanchu Holy Land had truly turned hardship to fortune and found a “celestial seedling.”
“That’s right — he is very likely a Chaos Constitution!” someone said in a grave voice.
Wanchu — naming their sect thus expresses part of their doctrine: at the very beginning of heaven and earth, the ten thousand things were first born, originating from Chaos.
Their ancient scriptures spoke of certain secret arts from the age of Chaos — extraordinarily profound and abstruse, with the secrets of the world’s beginning encoded within.
To cultivate these teachings to their ultimate form was extraordinarily difficult, however — unless one was innately aligned with Chaos, resonant with the primordial breath of ten thousand things’ beginnings, the highest achievement could never be reached.
But such a person was almost impossible to find. Over all these years, not a single one had ever been encountered. This sect had never produced an unrivaled powerhouse who stood supreme over the world.
Now — it appeared they had found one.
“Truly unimaginable — that such a constitution could exist in the world. No wonder Wanchu Holy Land was so confident it sent its disciple to challenge the Holy Body’s successor.”
People couldn’t help but voice their thoughts.
Clang!
Light blazed from Mo Xue’s brow. A small sword a few inches long shot forth, slashing directly toward Ye Tong — supremely sharp and keen, ten thousand strands of Chaos energy draped downward, profoundly terrifying.
Ye Tong let out a long cry. From his brow flew a fire-red Sun Bell that crashed into the Dao Sword — between them erupted blazing radiance that swept in every direction.
Clang!
The resonant sound of a great bell filled heaven and earth. The fire-red bell body blazed with light, rapidly expanding and hovering above Ye Tong’s head — swaying gently and resonating.
Across from him, Mo Xue stood with sword in hand — the great sword he held was tens of zhang in length. He stood like a heavenly god, his divine might awe-inspiring.
This sword had been forged from Chaos Stone — innately capable of attracting Chaos energy — its entire surface inscribed with runes, transformed into a world-stunning Dao Sword!
He let out a great roar and slashed forward with the Chaos Sword, sweeping through all six directions and eight extremes. His hair flew wild, his eyes radiating overpowering intensity — carrying a bearing that swallowed mountains and rivers.
Clang!
Ye Tong met it head-on. The great bell above his head was also forged of divine material — cast from Daluo Silver Essence — though by now dyed red by fire, blazing and dazzling.
The tens-of-zhang great sword cleaved down onto the Sun Bell, and light and fire erupted thousands of zhang high. Simultaneously, wave after wave of bell-shock radiated outward, sweeping across the Eight Wastelands. Fire Spirit Ravine was reduced to desert on the spot; distant mountains continued to collapse one after another.
Mo Xue’s eyes turned fierce. His hair intertwined with Chaos as his body burst into a ring of Chaos light, resisting the most terrifying solar sacred power. He gripped the stone sword, unleashing sweeping, wide strikes — the longer the battle went, the more powerful he grew.
Ye Tong also fought with all his fire. Since entering the world, he had never encountered any real obstacle. In this moment, a divine sun manifested overhead. He stood within it, casting brilliance in all four directions.
“The Wanchu Holy Son is a Chaos Constitution, yet this Ye Tong is not falling behind — and even seems to be pressing down with superior force. What constitution does he have?”
“Need you even ask? Watch how he commands the solar sacred fire like an extension of his own arm, every inch of flesh glowing — most likely it is the bloodline power of a solar divine being!”
At this moment, Ye Tong stood within a golden sun — like a young deity, inhaling and exhaling the essential qi of the Eight Wastelands, every strike surging with boundless momentum. The bell resonated solemnly, carrying the force of the opening of heaven and earth itself.
And Mo Xue was equally formidable — enveloped in Chaos light, like a god of war. He wielded a great sword dozens of zhang long and slashed in every direction, heaven and earth crumbling around him.
Bell and sword clashed, resonant sounds ear-shattering. Chaos qi spread throughout, fire surged to the heavens, and this entire place boiled.
“Every generation gives rise to its own talents, each commanding the winds for a few centuries!”
Jiang Yifei — patriarch of the Jiang Family, the man whose depth no one had been able to fathom — let out a quiet sigh. His white robes were pristine as snow, his eyes deep. Those were the words he chose.
Many people nodded involuntarily. The Ye Tong and Mo Xue before them were, beyond doubt, heaven-defying geniuses such as come along once in many tens of thousands of years. Their rise was like Ye Fan’s era — when he stood alongside the Holy Son of Yao Guang, the Huang Xu Dao, Huo Qizi, and the rest.
“Truly worthy of being the Holy Body’s disciple — equally fearless in the world. Even the Holy Son that Wanchu poured everything into cannot overcome him.”
“I feel as though I see a second Ye Fan rising to prominence!”
An elder among the older generation sighed.
Clang!
The Chaos Stone Sword and the Sun Divine Bell collided. Every strike carried the force of law, weaving a web of interlocking patterns branded upon the sky.
After hundreds of exchanges, Ye Tong let out a clear cry. Fire blazed to the heavens. With one hand he seized the great bell and rapidly accelerated its expansion — like an entire mountain pressing down.
The solar divine blood within his body seethed, releasing a sound like mountains collapsing and seas roaring — brave and unmatched, every strand of his full mane of hair rising and dancing.
Mo Xue’s expression changed. He raised his sword and slashed upward to resist the descending bell. The great sword, tens of zhang in length, strained to hold back the falling bell. His brows and lashes stood on end — and with a single shout he shook mountains and rivers!
Hummm!
The great bell resonated and thundered. Its bell-shocks were ring upon ring of mysterious ripples, transformed into the most terrifying Dao force waves that surged in every direction, reducing mountain ranges to ash.
And within the bell itself was even more fearsome still — bell-shocks like an ocean tide, fire-colored ripples dense as a net, all transformed into runes flooding the bell’s interior.
Mo Xue let out a sharp cry. His entire body burst into radiance and held up a curtain of Chaos light. The stone sword in his hand slashed with full force, intent on shattering this great bell.
But it was far too difficult. Ye Tong’s divine might was awe-inspiring — his hair flew wild, solar sacred light illuminating heaven and earth, standing within a ring of golden brilliant sun. He struck the bell without pause, his Dao depth like a sea — human and bell as one, unshakeable.
Mo Xue charged downward, trying to escape through the bell’s mouth. But the great bell had no fixed size — it expanded without limit, perpetually trapping him within, resonating and ringing as though its sound had filled ten thousand ages!
“Too terrifying — I feel as though I’m witnessing Ye Fan returned to the world. His disciple carries that same invincible bearing, equally unstoppable!”
People changed color. Even many sect masters ran cold down their spines — they honestly felt they could not withstand an assault of this kind.
Ye Tong struck the bell with mighty force. Though refined and handsome, in this moment his eyes blazed with brilliance — carrying a bearing that yields to none, sovereign above all!
His dense, full mane of hair fell in wild disorder, carrying a ferocity — and for the first time, beginning to reveal a bone-deep character of one who looks down upon all under heaven.
Crack!
Inside the fire-red great bell, the Chaos Sword fractured inch by inch. Under the bell-shocks it was reduced to powder, and all the surrounding Chaos light was dispersed. Mo Xue hung disheveled, blood pouring from his mouth in a great stream. Enveloped within the mountain-sized bell body, his strength was spent — pounded until blood and fluids streamed from mouth and nose, the Chaos light enveloping his body collapsing to ruin.
Bang!
In the end he struck out in desperate fury — the sea of Chaos within his body detonated, blasting the great bell high into the air. He flew out horizontally, breaking free from the bell.
Mo Xue’s eyes were sharp and penetrating. He fixed a long gaze on Ye Tong, then surged rapidly back toward the Wanchu Holy Land’s assembled forces. The moment he arrived he fell backward, collapsing to the ground — every pore of his body bleeding.
“What — the Wanchu Holy Son has been utterly defeated!”
“Ye Tong has won! Truly astonishing power — worthy of being the Holy Body’s disciple. This invincible bearing has been passed down through the lineage!”
People couldn’t help but sigh.
Then, suddenly — several enormous hands appeared one after another, blotting out the sky and pressing down toward Ye Tong in the center of the field, intent on reducing him to bloody pulp — to crush a heaven-defying genius in the cradle before he could rise.
In the distance, Ye Fan’s sword-sharp brows shot straight up. His eyes blazed with blinding light — like celestial swords drawn from their sheaths — and two cold flashes of lightning crackled in the void. He murmured to himself:
“Dare to touch my disciple — none of you want to live.”