The eyes of the twelfth rider of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders turned glacially cold. This was less a quip than a show of open contempt and provocation.
Clang!
The twelfth rider’s spine resonated. A demonic saber erupted from within him — his own body serving as its sheath — a blood saber that had been nourished and refined within the flesh. Its cold aura was overwhelming; its edge-light slashed three thousand zhang across the sky.
The entire street fell instantly silent — so quiet a dropped needle could be heard. Every person stopped walking and turned to look.
One had to admit, the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders were formidable beyond measure. Even the twelfth — one of the lower-ranked among them — radiated a shockingly fierce surge of battle energy.
The smile faded from Ye Fan’s face. He regarded the twelfth rider with cold indifference — no killing intent, yet an air about him that made others involuntarily wary.
“Twelfth, what are you doing? The intention was to politely invite Brother Ye — how is it that every time, you conduct yourself with such reckless arrogance? A genuine act of goodwill, and yet it turns into a confrontation.”
The man covered head to toe in cyan-gold armor, seated atop the pale dragon, spoke up. As the second-ranked figure of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders, he possessed an authority that was not to be challenged. At the sound of his voice, the twelfth rider’s expression stiffened, and the blood saber slowly receded back into his body.
“My apologies, Brother Ye. We intended to invite you for a drink, to smooth over the unpleasantness from before. It seems we’ve only deepened the misunderstanding. Since you have an engagement with a beautiful companion, we won’t impose.” The second-ranked figure among the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders spoke. His eyes held a strange power — no distinction between white and pupil, simply a radiant pale blue that was both dazzling and unsettling, like a demon-god reborn.
Without waiting for Ye Fan’s reply, the leading figures turned their mounts, cracked the sky with their hooves, and departed. People scrambled out of their way on all sides.
The lower-ranked riders who remained cast a few cold, expressionless glances at Ye Fan, then drove their own savage beasts away in a surge of rolling battle energy.
“Brother Ye’s name has spread throughout the First City of the Human Race. Even the formidable Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders have backed down — truly admirable.” The Feathered Immortal’s luminous and lovely face carried a faint smile. Her white feathered robes floated around her; her dark hair gleamed like silk; her form was long and graceful — clear and pure as an immortal.
True to her name, the Feathered Immortal was like a celestial being who had strayed into the mortal world — jade-boned and divine-postured, carrying an otherworldly quality as though at any moment she might ascend to the heavens on a cloud of rosy mist. She was a vivid and beautiful young woman.
“Is Miss Feathered Immortal mocking me? Those people will be far more troublesome for not striking now — I actually would have preferred a confrontation just then,” Ye Fan said, shaking his head.
The Feathered Immortal smiled. “With Brother Ye’s strength, there would be no trouble.”
“There’s a small tavern up ahead. Shall we go there? It looks quite tranquil,” Rui Wei said.
It was an old, established drinking house — truly small, yet one could smell the fragrance of its wine from a great distance away, tucked at the end of an unremarkable little alley.
The courtyard within was pleasantly refined. A dozen or so peach trees had been planted there. One could not tell what season it was in this place, yet every tree was covered in a blush of pink — their fragrance delicate and serene.
“Very nice,” Ye Fan said with a nod. It was far better than those loud and bustling wine houses — peaceful and quiet, suited for easy drinking.
Only a handful of customers were in the courtyard, scattered among the ancient peach trees — a flask of aged wine, a few simple dishes, a quiet exchange of words.
They sat down. An old man stepped forward, wiping the table with quick, practiced hands — it was already clean, but the chairs and table had been here for many years, long-polished until they glowed with a soft luster.
A flask of aged spirits and several specialty dishes were promptly set before them. The three of them drank lightly, in a relaxed and convivial atmosphere, exchanging their experiences on the Fallen Saint Island.
Ye Fan’s solitary slaughter of over twenty opponents — all of them killed — left Rui Wei in a long bout of disbelief. Such an achievement felt entirely unreal to him.
The Feathered Immortal smiled and chatted, but her expression eventually grew solemn as she raised the matter of the demonic figure who had consumed living cultivators whole. She considered this person to be a grave threat — one whose identity remained unknown even now.
“There was truly such a person who entered Zone One and fought Mu Guanghan?” Rui Wei said, looking alarmed.
“Yes — I saw it with my own eyes. A dark demonic light blotted out the sky as boundless killing radiance erupted through Zone One,” the Feathered Immortal said with a nod.
“Some people believe it was the elegantly dressed young lord of the Human King Ancient Star Domain — Tuoba Yu. Could the rumors be true?” Rui Wei said.
“It wasn’t him. He was among the observers at the time,” the Feathered Immortal said, shaking her head.
“Do you have any leads?” Ye Fan asked.
The Feathered Immortal nodded. She had learned a disturbing truth: the person, upon withdrawing, had crossed seventeen zones in succession — and then vanished entirely.
“How is that possible? What an oppressive weight of shackles that would require. Can someone truly be that powerful?” Rui Wei exclaimed in disbelief.
Ye Fan was also moved. “Were his movements impeded in any way?”
The Feathered Immortal shook her head, her expression grave. “His speed was extraordinary — Mu Guanghan would never have let him go otherwise. He vanished after crossing six zones, with witnesses in the other zones to confirm it.”
“This is simply unbelievable,” Rui Wei said after a dazed silence, feeling it couldn’t be real.
“Whether he is powerful enough to have reached an absolute pinnacle, or whether he possesses some supreme secret artifact capable of ignoring the trial grounds’ restrictions — either possibility is terrifying,” the Feathered Immortal said. “For anyone, this is a dreadful threat.”
It was precisely for this reason that she had come to find Ye Fan. Without any attempt at concealment, her purpose was clear: she wished to form an alliance with him.
Moreover, based on the Feathered Immortal’s analysis, this demonic figure was very likely the Killing Saint — possessed of various forbidden divine abilities, making him the single most dangerous person present.
They drank lightly as they talked, and the conversation naturally turned to the ancient star domains. Ye Fan paid particular attention to the Feathering Star, for in the Northern Dipper region, there was a Feathering Divine Dynasty.
“The Feathering Star underwent a great migration several hundred thousand years ago…” The Feathered Immortal shared some ancient history.
It had been an extraordinarily flourishing ancient star — countless saints rising together, ten thousand teachings thriving in concert. The extent of that glory was nearly impossible to describe.
Roughly three hundred thousand years ago, a brilliantly gifted prodigy appeared — someone from beyond the domain — who claimed to be a descendant of the remnants of the Ancient Celestial Court. This person stirred up limitless storms across the Feathering Star, and in the twilight years of their life, before passing into stillness, they founded a powerful divine dynasty.
Tens of thousands of years later, an unparalleled hero was born to that dynasty — someone who shook the ancient world and illuminated all of history. This figure attained the Dao and proved the Way to become Emperor, then led the divine dynasty on a great migration, disappearing into the starry void.
“The remnants of the Ancient Celestial Court…” Ye Fan was profoundly shaken.
The shattered jade cauldron was in the hands of those remnants. The Feathering Divine Dynasty was a force they had built — it had been destroyed within the Northern Dipper… but that did not mean the end.
“Brother Ye, where are you from?” The Feathered Immortal moistened her lips with wine and asked with a smile.
“The Northern Dipper,” Ye Fan said. He had nothing to conceal. Having chosen to walk this road, he was without fear. If that were not so, he would not have come.
“The Emperor-Burying Star!” the Feathered Immortal exclaimed.
Evidently, this ancient star domain had once shaken the cosmos, leaving its mark in the memories of many ancient lands — and even now, its name drew cries of astonishment.
“Truly a star of outstanding heroes and buried emperors. They say the road to immortality is also destined to open there,” the Feathered Immortal said, light dancing in her eyes.
She cautioned Ye Fan to avoid revealing this if possible — for on the road ahead, he would certainly face world-class enemies. It was said that in the age of the Emperor-Burying Star’s glory, it had made bitter enemies of many ancient star domains.
The starlight grew dim, lending the air a sense of oppression. In the early morning came a great commotion: two cultivators had been struck down in the night, their deaths only now discovered.
A shadow fell over many hearts. A sense of ill omen rose unbidden.
Ye Fan walked through the streets and found the soldiers had all been deployed, conducting earnest searches and instituting what amounted to martial law — yet they had still come up empty.
Night fell again. A piercing shriek rang out — a seeded-level powerhouse who had stepped into the sacred realm was struck down in the darkness.
Every soldier lying in ambush converged on the location, and a number of powerful cultivators rushed to assist.
But in the very next moment, a cry came from an entirely different direction. Another powerful cultivator had fallen.
Ye Fan shot to his feet. Could this be the work of a single person?
That night, four incidents occurred in rapid succession. Four cultivators were killed — their deaths violent and unjust.
The next day, the Grand Commander of the First City of the Human Race came to an ancient place, knelt on one knee, and said, “I request the Crossing Guide to act. I believe you can find the true culprit.”
A vague shadow materialized upon the meditation cushion, speaking in an unhurried voice: “I have already warned certain ancient families within the city — they are not to make a move. As for assassination activities conducted internally among the trial participants… consider it another form of trial.”
“What — you intend to do nothing?” The Grand Commander’s expression filled with shock.
“Those who walk this road and fall victim to assassination have simply failed.” The vague silhouette disappeared. The meditation cushion held no one.
The mood within the city grew tense. Many felt that more than one person was at work — not only the Killing Saint, but others with ulterior motives had also stirred to action. How else could four people have died in a single night?
“Hey — can you all feel it? The Crossing Guide is turning a blind eye to all of this. This is a heaven-sent opportunity. Let’s all move out tonight and cut down that man called Ye Fan!” The twelfth rider of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders said with cold menace.
The thirteenth rider echoed this, voicing fierce agreement.
A pair of icy eyes turned toward them. Both men instantly went cold from head to toe. The leader of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders — his dark hair unbound, his upper body bare, his muscles like coiled dragons pulsing with divine radiance — carried with him a wild, savage power.
That single gaze was enough to reduce the twelfth and thirteenth riders to terrified silence.
The second-ranked figure among the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders let a sliver of cold, cruel amusement cross his face and said, “Do you truly believe you can kill him without making a sound?”
The two had some measure of fear toward him as well and said nothing.
“If we cannot kill him in an instant, the consequences will be beyond reckoning. We will become the ones blamed for that strange Killing Saint’s deeds, and we will have no place left in the world.” The second-ranked figure of the Thirteen Riders spoke coldly.
Then he smiled with ruthless calculation. “Better to do the opposite.”
“What do you mean?” the thirteenth rider asked with a trace of reverence, unable to follow.
“Go and provoke him — but do not come to blows. Only a few words of taunting…” the second-ranked figure instructed.
The atmosphere within the city was suffocating. Many cultivators were restless, someone dying every night, making a grave problem out of the situation.
Ancient beasts thundered past. The street shook as several mounted riders charged through, nearly colliding with Ye Fan.
“Watch yourself — don’t get killed!”
“Wait quietly for death to find you tonight!”
The mounts charged by with low, arrogant murmurs.
Ye Fan watched the departing figures of those few Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders with cold eyes. He had been provoked twice today — both times by their people — yet both times the other side ultimately backed down.
Deep in the night, an ill omen hung over the city. After two shrieks sounded in the distance, a dark shadow appeared in Ye Fan’s room and dragged him into a pocket void.
It was a scroll painting, controlled by a powerful saint, who used it to imprison him within and carry out a ruthless assassination.
Boom!
Yet in the end, it was Ye Fan who shattered the ancient scroll and fought his way out, slaying the attacker and capturing his primordial spirit — and then inspecting the person’s identity.
“A member of one of the ancient families within the city…” He was briefly taken aback.
He then searched the attacker’s sea of consciousness, and quickly pieced together what had happened. Someone had secretly delivered an exceptionally rare and precious material for forging weapons — worth a fortune — to this person’s family.
The material was only enough to forge half of a divine weapon. The one who delivered it had not revealed themselves — only left a message: if they could kill Ye Fan, the other half of the material would follow.
“Hmm. This family is not exactly upright — many within the city know of them, and that is precisely why they were chosen to carry out the assassination…”
Ye Fan’s thoughts naturally turned to the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders. A mocking smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
When it came to the art of assassination, who among those present could compare with him? Using such methods against him was purely futile — the Celestial Court’s secret art of killing was in a class of its own.
Then another thought struck him. He manifested a second version of himself — but quickly dissolved it back into wisps of clear energy, which drifted upward into the starry sky.
In a different manor, the twelfth and thirteenth riders of the Heaven’s Desolation Thirteen Riders sat with eyes cold and arctic, killing intent plain on their faces, waiting in silence.
Moreover, several seeded-level cultivators had been invited to drink — seated within an array formation that cut them off entirely from the aura of the outside world — while a few soldiers also sat among them.