One punch.

Just one punch — and Ye Fan had blasted that foul-mouthed man apart. A crimson mist dispersed. The man was torn to pieces, shattered into the mountain terrain.

He had charged in too eagerly, and the moment he provoked, Ye Fan swung that golden fist and reduced him to fragments. Even in death he couldn’t believe it.

That terror accompanied the extinguishing of his life. In his final instant, there was only regret — but time does not run backward. His life imprint dimmed completely, and was gone.

Blood stained the weeds red. Bone fragments scattered among dried branches and fallen leaves. The scene was raw and gruesome. Ye Fan paid it no mind, turned around, and fixed his gaze on the mountain ridges in the distance.

The moment he entered, he had sensed a thread of dangerous energy — as though some powerful being had been watching from the shadows. In one brief glance, he had caught sight of a pair of pale blue eyes retreating into the distance.

And so he had stood motionless on that blue stone, back to the entrance — but he had been gazing into the distance, observing a terrifying creature.

Hoofbeats shook the sky. Long Ma, wreathed in crimson flames, shot back like a bolt of divine lightning. His expression was grave. “There really is something out there — a flash of pale light, gone a thousand li in an instant. I didn’t give chase.”

Ye Fan turned it over in his mind, then made his way deeper into the Saint-Fallen Isle. Entering a mysterious ancient island like this, a smooth path was impossible to expect. Strange and bizarre events would be unremarkable here.

This was an isle of savage primordial spirit — greater in expanse than a whole continent, drifting in the cold cosmos since the beginning of time, indestructible.

Even life-bearing stars might not match it in sheer scale. Even divided into fifty zones, each territory was vast enough to swallow the horizon.

Towering ancient peaks, great mountain ridges — like one wall of demons after another erected between heaven and earth, stretching across the path ahead. Ancient trees of immense height sank their roots into the soil, full of teeming vitality.

Many old vines entangled everything they touched, each one as thick as a water vat. No one knew how many months and years they had been growing — they lay coiled like great gnarled dragons, draped over the massive mountains, cascading down ten-thousand-foot cliffs.

Wild apes roared — clearly primordial variants, their entire bodies crimson as blood, their fur stretching for meters in length, their height dozens of zhang tall. They leaped from one great mountain summit to another, their cries splitting the sky.

This was a savage and primordial world, preserved in its most ancient form. Ancient medicines grew in abundance. Specimens of several thousand years’ age were unremarkable; some that had survived for tens of thousands of years existed as well.

Mountain valleys rang with ape cries and tiger roars — the look of a prehistoric age, completely intact.

Ye Fan moved away. Behind him, a commotion broke out as the others entered. They immediately found the blood mist and bone fragments, and each one changed their expression.

This was a singular ancient passageway. Before entering, nothing on this side could be seen. Not a single person had witnessed Ye Fan’s one-punch obliteration of that man.

“Truly ruthless and merciless. Not a moment’s hesitation. The killing was clean.”

“He killed a fellow in such a short span of time. His combat power cannot be taken lightly — everyone must be careful!” The middle-aged Daoist nun had entered. Her face was dark, and she warned the others: to avoid being ambushed by Ye Fan, all of them had to stay together.

Red Willow nodded. “Correct. This person is sinister and ruthless — he will absolutely try to intercept us. We must stay on guard. But with so many of us traveling together, no matter how great his ability, he’ll die.”

In truth, Ye Fan hadn’t thought about any of them at all. He had no plans to ambush anyone, and had walked straight into the depths of the trial grounds. His mind was clear and open — he was absorbing the Dao of this place.

Outside the Saint-Fallen Isle, in the black cosmos, a group of cultivators was deeply stirred. Twenty-odd powerful figures had gone in. Not a single person believed Ye Fan could make it through this alive.

In the distance, the twelfth of the Thirteen Riders of the Primordial Wasteland was about to urge his mount to follow — but was stopped by the second, who rode a great azure dragon.

“So many people have already gone in. What’s the point of adding to the spectacle? Let us wait quietly for the blood-soaked outcome. Whichever side wins, that’s fine.”

The leader, seated atop a holy beast gray wolf, bare-chested, his lean body as powerful as cast copper, nodded coldly.

The group surged with killing intent and charged straight into the forty-second zone. No one dared provoke them — they were too powerful, their battle energy flooding the air like a crashing ocean tide.

“Lord of Junwei Mountain — which zone do we enter?” Before the Saint-Fallen Isle, someone asked.

The Lord of Junwei Mountain was a powerful seed-level cultivator, yet he hadn’t made his move early. He had waited until every other person had gone deep inside — now only four followers remained at his side.

“Wait a little longer.” He possessed natural purple eyes, wore the qilin-emblazoned robe, a purple-gold crown upon his head — an imposing figure of great majesty, carrying the bearing of a great sage of antiquity.

In the thirty-sixth zone, a sculpted hawk-vulture screamed through the sky. A wolf-hawk spread its wings — a wingspan of a hundred zhang — bearing the head of a gray wolf on the body of a hawk, sweeping through the blue heavens. It plunged steeply into a valley below, snatched up a mammoth of over ten meters in length, tore it apart beneath the open sky, scattered blood like rain, and swallowed it in several bites.

Blood and gore — the ancient and brutal scene of the strong preying on the weak.

Ye Fan was not riding atop Long Ma. He walked on his own feet across this land, advancing through the Saint-Fallen Isle, capturing one wisp after another of Dao-traces that had endured since the beginning of time.

A grove of wutong trees, wreathed in billowing flames, blocked the path ahead. They were rooted in clusters of volcanoes, pale blue fire dancing among their branches — entirely unlike any fire one would normally see.

“These are wutong trees where the descendants of the phoenix bird make their roost. I never expected to find such a large grove here. Could there be a sacred bird among them?” Long Ma peered into the distance.

Volcano after volcano rose and fell, connected in one sweeping expanse, flames surging upward. And yet those great pale blue trees flourished with vigor, not a sign of withering — their leaves blazing brilliantly, harboring a special and rare phenomenon.

Boom!

A terrifying presence surged forward. Sacred might flooded the air, pouring outward from within the wutong grove. Pale blue fire rose to fill the sky, and a great pale blue bird perched atop a wutong tree of several thousand zhang in height — its pale blue eyes enough to shake the soul.

“So it was you.” Long Ma cried out.

When they had first entered the Saint-Fallen Isle, they had sensed something watching from the shadows — it had been this pale blue luan, a descendant of the phoenix clan, an ancient saint of great power.

Another phoenix cry rang out, shaking the ancient land, splitting the vault of the sky. Not far away, upon another immense ancient tree, a second pale blue luan watched with hostility.

On those ancient, gnarled branches, a nest of pale blue fire flickered. From within came the energy of living beings. Four small pale blue luan chicks were peering out with curious eyes, blinking, looking lively and adorable.

The two ancient-saint-level pale blue luans had produced four small lives and were guarding them here. They were deeply alarmed by the terrifying blood-energy surging from Ye Fan’s body, like a great sea.

“I mean no harm. I have no intention of disturbing you.” Ye Fan spoke, and led Long Ma through without disturbing the tranquility of this place.

At last, he chose a great mountain. The summit was bare of any growth, save for a single blue stone. This had once been a nine-aperture stone figure — but someone had pierced it through with a sword before it could fully mature, before it could emerge into the world.

“This sword strike… was dealt by at least a great saint.” Ye Fan said softly.

The sword mark was ancient beyond reckoning — at minimum several hundred thousand years old. Yet cold and menacing killing intent still leaked from it, never fully fading.

In the end, Ye Fan sat cross-legged atop the mountain peak. He began to absorb a certain eternal, unchanging Dao that permeated between heaven and earth — and thus began the task this trial had set before him.

Long Ma also stood to one side, gazing out across the vast and boundless land, drawing upon the laws of the heavenly order to cultivate.

“You truly are unflappable. Your very life is in danger, and yet you sit here in meditation, trying to complete the trial? Delusional.” A cold voice reached them.

Vague shapes moved: twenty-two people appeared on the great mountain directly across from them. That peak soared into the clouds — magnificent and broad, with white torrents of waterfalls cascading down its face, a vision of grand splendor.

Ye Fan opened his eyes. Two flashes of light swept outward like lightning. He paid them no mind, and closed his eyes once more. The fragrance of ancient medicines drifted through cracks in the cliff face, leaving his body and mind light and empty.

“Did everyone see that? How astonishingly arrogant and self-satisfied. Does he truly think himself a peerless master? Laughable.”

“Hmm. I find him very disagreeable. Has everyone decided how we’ll kill him?”

Twenty-two people surrounded this place, taking positions on different mountain peaks. All of them radiated killing intent, their eyes cold and sharp — ready to strike at any moment.

“I have no enmity with any of you, yet you push me this far. It will be difficult to even think about sparing you.” Ye Fan rose to his feet.

The middle-aged Daoist nun’s gaze was venomous as a viper’s. “You killed my mount. And you say we have no enmity? There is no peaceful resolution to this day. First, cut down your own mount yourself — and I may grant you a dignified way to die.”

“Grant him a dignified death? That absolutely won’t do!” The red-robed woman shook her head with a cold laugh. Her waist was as slender as a willow, her figure seemingly boneless. Her name was Red Willow — a name she lived up to — and she laughed coldly: “So many of us have come together and gone to such lengths. It would be too easy to just kill him outright.”

“I only said it. I would never kill him with one sword.” The middle-aged Daoist nun smiled with cruelty.

The group pressed forward. All manner of light began to shimmer and flicker. Powerful sacred artifacts were awakening. They had come from different ancient stellar domains, shaking the heavens of their own stellar reaches. Naturally, each of them carried supreme and terrifying weapons.

A Heaven-Devil Umbrella that blotted out the cosmos. A war god’s whip stretching miles in length. A Heaven-Overturning Seal massive as a mountain. A blood-red great sword that tore through the sky… each one brilliant and dazzling, murderous energy flooding the wild.

It could not be denied — these were terrifying cultivators. Together, they were capable of annihilating several saints. Combined, they were a force impossible to stop.

“Here is your chance: kneel and confess that you are the saint-killer. Beg for our forgiveness. Then sever your own cultivation. We will allow you to leave alive, and never again set foot on the path of the greatest trial.” Blue Maple said with calm detachment, his blue robes billowing, a faint air of transcendence drifting around him.

The middle-aged Daoist nun smiled and nodded repeatedly, utterly ruthless.

“Have you finished your last words?” Ye Fan asked with perfect calm.

Everyone stiffened at once. Subjected to such mockery and degradation, the man remained still as still water — it chilled them inside. They had failed to unsettle him, and now they themselves felt a creeping unease.

“Long Patriarch has endured you for long enough. Come and offer up your heads — every one of you!” Long Ma bellowed in fury.

Ye Fan stood at the mountain peak. He held nothing back — releasing his powerful battle energy in full, and in an instant, it surged like a vast ocean, sweeping across the boundless earth.

His dark hair cascaded down like a waterfall. His eyes gleamed like cold lightning. Standing there alone, he carried a presence that seemed to swallow ten thousand li — his bearing supreme and peerless, looking down upon all under heaven.

“Kill!”

The group sensed something was wrong and moved all at once. The Heaven-Devil Umbrella darkened the sky. The Heaven-Overturning Seal crushed the earth. Sacred artifacts flew in all directions — a horrifying flood of power. And most terrifying of all, several forbidden artifacts detonated — absolute killing weapons, capable of destroying several ancient saints. These had been brought along the ancient path through the stars specifically to deal with supreme powerhouses. Now, at the very first opportunity, they were unleashed — a testament to these people’s unshakeable resolve to kill Ye Fan.

For anyone else, even an ancient saint of many centuries, death would have been certain. There was no way to escape — who could move faster than the light of a shattering sacred artifact?

Ye Fan was an anomaly. He was faster than sacred artifact fragments. Even sacred light could not cut him. He had cultivated the Scriptural Art of Movement to the level of divine perfection. For the briefest of instants, time seemed to freeze.

He wrapped Long Ma within his movement and vanished — reappearing a thousand li away in a single flash, standing still atop another mountain peak, watching everything with cold, detached eyes.

These people were utterly ruthless. Five forbidden sacred artifacts had detonated. Any ancient emperor’s child would have been killed by the blast without question. Heroes capable of contending on the Emperor’s Path would have perished in regret if struck. Had the Saint-Fallen Isle not been protected by a supreme ancient formation, the shockwave would have spread far wider — it might have pierced through the island entirely and shattered it to pieces.

“He… didn’t die. He’s over there!” The crowd spun around. They saw Ye Fan. In an instant, a cold dread seized their hearts.

Long Ma roared: “You scum — you’re all going to die. Did you think I was something to be trifled with? Ten years of bloody war, ten years of conquest — if I hadn’t wanted to seize every advantage I could on the path of the greatest trial, I would have achieved sainthood long ago!” A bolt of crimson light — Long Ma charged straight at them.

“Anyone who walks this path is no ordinary being. You are not the only anomaly among us!” The middle-aged Daoist nun said in a cold voice.

“Everyone together — kill them!” The blue-robed man commanded in a cold, sharp shout.

Boom!

Ye Fan was faster than Long Ma — striking before Long Ma could reach them. He transformed into a golden divine being, carrying flood-tide blood energy, and launched himself at the enemy.

His technique was simple and direct. One golden fist — its divine might thundering three thousand li, hurricane winds raking the earth, the great mountains a thousand li away flung into the air.

“Crack!”

The foremost figure split apart, then shattered. Together with his sacred artifact, he exploded into a blood mist — pierced through by that golden fist.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Ye Fan moved. Every gesture, every motion sent the sound of collapsing mountains and crashing seas. His golden blood energy surged to the heavens. He was like a war god — peerless under all the skies. He swung his fist six times in succession — the true meaning of the Six Paths of Reincarnation — and in that single instant, six more people were reduced to mist.

Blood fog billowed outward, and two more terrifying sacred artifacts crumbled along with them. Sacred light boiled, a power without limit.

“Is… is this still a human? He… shattered sacred artifacts with his bare hands!” Some had been seized by terror. Their very souls were trembling.

“Leave a few for me!” Long Ma bellowed.

“Go and strike down all their mounts — don’t let a single one escape.” Ye Fan said.

Hum!

Red Willow’s Heaven-Overturning Seal descended. This was a famed and storied sacred artifact — not the very seal once wielded by a quasi-Emperor-level figure of legend, but it was still capable of pulverizing the sun and moon.

But Ye Fan’s battle energy surged to the heavens, his entire body blazing with golden radiance that eclipsed the stars and rivers. Like a god descended into the world, he clapped one hand toward the high sky, slapping the Heaven-Overturning Seal aside. Cracks spread across its surface — one after another.

“What kind of person have we provoked?!” Red Willow’s courage shattered. For the first time, she regretted the choice she had made. This person was too terrifying.

“Crack!”

Ye Fan’s palm swept past. Red Willow’s lower body instantly became a blood mist — completely obliterated. She let out a piercing, wretched scream. Her upper body was sent flying, hair splayed in every direction, her face full of terror.

But the afterwave of his golden battle energy swept forward — everything from her neck downward dissolved as well, reduced to bloody mud. Only a single head went tumbling sideways through the air.

“Save me!” She screamed in pure terror.

The middle-aged Daoist nun felt every hair on her body stand on end. She caught that head in her hands. Her face had gone white — this was a death god made flesh. She had provoked a demon lord she never should have touched.

Ye Fan swept through in all directions. His golden battle energy surged and flooded — swallowing ten thousand li. He opened his mouth and let out a clear, piercing cry. The sound of the character “Om” reverberated outward, and the powerful figures ahead of him shattered one after another, their blood mist drifting away. Even the mountain peaks a thousand li distant were ground to dust.