The nine Great Emperors had vanished, yet the boundless heavenly tribulation and lightning remained, rumbling across the vast star domain.
Ye Fan stood firm beneath the heavens, steadied his heart, then ascended once more into the sky. He knew the divine punishment was not yet over — further trials still awaited him ahead.
“Kill…!”
A desolate aura surged toward him, as though he had arrived at the edge of the primordial universe, bearing witness to a divine war from before the ancient era — iron cavalry, the clash of arms, battle cries shaking the heavens!
Ye Fan found himself standing in the midst of a vast battlefield, as though he had been transported to the time before the ancient era. Thousands upon thousands of troops surged forward in a sweeping, boundless tide. Endless celestial soldiers and heavenly generals appeared, and towering ancient archways and great halls stood tall amidst the chaotic lightning.
The ancient Celestial Court!
That thought was the first to surface in his mind. His spirit trembled violently — it was as though he had truly returned to that age. Countless humanoid bolts of lightning came charging toward him. Were they the celestial soldiers and heavenly generals of the pre-ancient era?
Was this the age of myth? In the distance, primal divine beings whose roars shattered suns, moons, and stars raged across the sky. True golden crows soared across the nine heavens — embroiled in an all-consuming war!
A magnificent tableau, an immortal epic — this was the true portrait of the battlefield before him, unparalleled and beyond compare. Ancient figures let out long roars, supreme beings bellowed in fury, and the great war raged until the very rivers of stars collapsed.
Those magnificent halls, those soaring heavenly archways — towering and breathtaking, seated high upon the celestial vault.
Immortal mist drifted and swirled. Primordial energy coiled and circled. The ancient architecture stretched out endlessly in every direction.
Countless beings were locked in slaughter, waging war before this vast celestial palace. Yet all of this was still formed from lightning, saturated with the spirit of the mythological age.
“Kill…!”
Battle cries shook the heavens. Celestial soldiers and heavenly generals filled the four directions. This was a war without equal in history. Ye Fan, dragging his weary, wounded body, was swept into it — drawn into this final great battle.
A vermillion bird danced across the nine heavens, its wings scattering the star rivers as it spread them wide. A celestial serpent pierced the blue sky and swept past, sending countless stars crashing down. This was the terrifying spectacle of a great annihilation.
Ye Fan stood in the midst of it all, neither retreating nor avoiding. He pressed forward without hesitation, alone charging toward the front. His battle blood boiled and surged, and everything before him fell.
He fought before the ancient Celestial Court, joining in the great conquest — bathed in the blood of countless beings, treading upon boundless piles of bones, seeking the direction of his own path to the Dao.
Humanoid lightning, palace-archway-shaped thunderbolts — all of it was vivid and lifelike, as though it were a real scene. Even when a single punch shattered the skull of an ancient saint, the sight of blood spraying outward was so remarkably true to life.
Ye Fan reflected: Were these beings that had once truly existed between heaven and earth — recorded by heaven and earth through the marks of the Dao, seeking to reveal something to those who came after?
He fought his way forward, seeking his own path, holding within his heart an undefeatable conviction. He ascended and descended through the heavens, traversing a hundred thousand li. Supremely sovereign, he killed until the four directions were desolate, and no opponent remained in sight.
This was a ferocious and harrowing battle, charging through a thousand troops, ten thousand horses. Ye Fan had only just become a saint, yet already he was undergoing a trial like a great tribulation — a baptism of fire. In terms of consolidating his realm, this was immensely beneficial, a precious period of settling and tempering following his sublimation.
He did not know how many days and nights he had been fighting. Ye Fan killed until he was utterly spent, until not a single figure remained in sight. Beneath his feet lay only fallen corpses as he pressed alone into the deepest reaches of the ancient Celestial Court.
Boundless fallen leaves drifted through the air, one after another, all stained with blood and carrying a bone-deep chill — and an even deeper sense of sorrow.
Such was the desolate scene outside the Central Heavenly Palace. Not a single soldier stood guard. There was only dead silence and stillness, and the vast, eternal grief of glory long fallen into ruin.
Ash from the tribulation lay scattered everywhere, accumulated in thick layers. Though it too was formed from lightning, it felt so utterly real — as though no one had set foot here in a million years.
Ye Fan’s steps were steady and resolute, one step at a time carrying him toward this ancient, desolate Central Heavenly Palace. He climbed the steps and entered the empty hall.
With a heart full of wariness, he turned his gaze toward the supreme throne at the very center — and his heart immediately lurched. It was not empty. There was a faint, hazy silhouette!
Sitting alone, as though bearing the loneliness of ten thousand ages. Half-present, half-gone, indistinct and blurred. The cosmic star rivers revolved around the figure, carrying an air of dominion over the entire primordial universe — supreme and unrivaled from ancient times to the present.
The Sovereign Emperor!
Ye Fan stopped. Dragging his wounded body, he stood within the Central Heavenly Palace and faced that dim silhouette in silence.
Would there be a world-shaking, era-defining great battle in this Central Heavenly Palace, within these hallowed halls? Ye Fan was ready.
If this was the Sovereign Emperor, the being would be unfathomably powerful — power beyond imagining. How else could such a being command the ancient Celestial Court? Ye Fan was about to face yet another life-and-death trial!
Ye Fan’s expression remained calm, his heart settled and steady. Within him burned an indomitable conviction — the will to be undefeated. Against whoever stood before him, he could face them with composure.
Even if this truly were the Sovereign Emperor — what of it? He could fight!
Without a trace of fear, Ye Fan stood alone — an unshakeable will, invincible. He dragged his wounded body forward, fully expecting a battle with the Sovereign Emperor — yet that hazy light scattered and dispersed. No powerful being materialized.
The Sovereign Emperor from before the ancient era dissolved with the wind, fading into complete darkness and obscurity.
“He was never truly here?” Ye Fan murmured to himself, carrying a trace of wistfulness, a sliver of disappointment, and something more — a deep, lingering regret.
“What did I just witness? Was it a lone, fractured remnant of the Sovereign Emperor’s will, guarding the last of the Celestial Court — until finally it was extinguished within the eternal, desolate grief? I saw it… and yet I know nothing…”
Boom!
Suddenly, an ancient cauldron came flying out — three legs, two ears, a vessel of the Dao, suppressing past, present, and future!
The moment it appeared, it shot toward the Cauldron of All Creation above Ye Fan’s head. The two vessels collided violently, scattering cascades of immortal radiance that surged toward him as an assault.
“It’s that one… the green cauldron — this is its state from when it had just become a divine weapon!” Ye Fan stared at it in astonishment.
The two cauldrons clashed. The star domain collapsed. Some planets were directly pulverized. Everything swept in their wake was shattered to pieces.
In this world interwoven with lightning, even the green cauldron had been recreated and manifested — a truly astonishing sight. The two cauldrons collided again and again in fierce, violent combat.
After a day and a night, Ye Fan dragged his exhausted body forward, the ancient cauldron rising and sinking above his head, and broke through the ancient Celestial Court.
In that moment, all manner of wondrous signs appeared, rending this corner of the universe apart. Regrettably, aside from Long Ma, not a single person witnessed it — yet these were some of the most terrifying celestial phenomena from across all of history.
Things like the Nine Stars Aligning or the Ten Suns Rising Together were merely the simplest of signs. The primal divine beings howled. Star domains were destroyed — too many to count. A primordial great peng quaked and struck across three thousand worlds, its savage flames reaching to the heavens.
“It’s over…”
Ye Fan climbed to the absolute pinnacle and sat before the sea of primordial chaos. He cast the cauldron into it and watched serenely as it rose and fell.
At once, all manner of thunder rang out. Primordial energy shot in every direction, resonating and clanging as it swept toward the cauldron — and poured into Ye Fan’s physical body at the same time.
The final tempering of the cauldron — forged in the light and fire of primordial chaos — made the myriad-life patterns upon its surface even more complex, varied, and vivid, as though they might burst through the vessel walls at any moment.
The divine beings born and nurtured within the cauldron were reciting the ancient scripture from within the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin, causing the cauldron to grow ever more solid, primal, and boundlessly grand — like gazing upon a vast, crystal-clear cosmic sea of stars.
At last, everything dissipated. Only Ye Fan remained, standing alone beneath the star-filled sky. A cauldron rose and sank above his head, cascading down hundreds of millions of threads of starlight and ten thousand streams of primal energy, making him appear blurred and unreal.
This tribulation crossing had taken Ye Fan a very long time. He had advanced into the Immortal Four and become a saint, having fought for ten years, waged war for ten years, and endured suppression for ten years. Today, he broke through to the Third Celestial Layer of the Saint realm in one stride — three levels at once.
Had anyone been present to witness this, they would have been petrified. Every step forward in the Saint realm consumed enormous effort — even advancing a single inch over many years was difficult. Yet here was someone who had broken through three levels the very moment they became a saint.
The lightning vanished. The many planets in this star domain had been blasted apart, and only now did they settle into calm. Starlight cascaded down, illuminating everything in brilliant clarity.
Ye Fan let out a long, resonant howl. Endless silver cascades poured down from the sky. Boundless stars shed their radiance, converging toward him — baptizing his physical body, replenishing his vast, consumed energy.
After achieving sainthood, one could wander freely through the universe and draw upon the power of the void. Ye Fan was suffused with radiance — the power of star rivers and moonlight, along with other cosmic divine abilities.
A full day and night passed before he finally stopped. His body flowed with crystalline luminescence. His black hair hung like a waterfall. The many divine gates within his physical body treasure had all opened, filled to the brim with holy power.
Within his brow, a golden miniature figure took a single step forward. The three-legged, two-eared round cauldron immediately shrank and was cradled in the golden figure’s arms before it flew into the immortal platform, disappearing into the bone above his forehead.
Everything was complete. With every raise of his hand and every step forward, Ye Fan now commanded boundless power. In this moment, he could reach out and pluck the stars and seize the moon — not an illusion, but a true and real capability he now genuinely possessed!
He had successfully entered the ranks of the saints. From this point forward, there was a qualitative leap.
In the distance, Long Ma’s heavenly tribulation had long since ended — yet its transformation was not complete. It was still ongoing, which left even Ye Fan quite astonished.
There was a massive sacred cocoon out there, woven from countless chains of divine order. Beyond that, wisps upon wisps of Dao-transformation energy coiled and entangled within it.
Long Ma was wrapped inside a great cocoon, and — like several moons — it revolved around a great star that was continuously and ceaselessly interweaving Dao-transformation energy, with vast waves of holy power flowing outward.
A horse actually learning to form a cocoon like a silkworm — it was beyond comprehension.
Ye Fan had now achieved sainthood. His eyes were deep as oceans, with the trajectories of ten thousand ancient stars in motion reflected within them and visions of star domains collapsing — profound and boundless, without any discernible end. He fixed his gaze on that cocoon.
He understood clearly that Long Ma had been granted a great fortune, rare since ancient times. The great star of Dao-transformation was weaving endless chains of divine order and law, wrapping around it and allowing it to be reborn from within. After achieving sainthood, it would be unfathomably profound.
“Boom!”
Several days later, the great cocoon exploded open. Long Ma was covered in flames, its sacred fire leaping and dancing. Its hooves treading the star-filled sky, it released a terrifying sound like mountains crumbling and seas roaring.
“This seat has broken through — AWOOOOO… woof, ROAR!” It was impossible to tell whether it was horse, dragon, or wolf — all manner of howls and roars poured out without ceasing, expressing the excitement within its heart.
“This seat has broken through two levels at once — rare since ancient times! Who dares contend with me?!” Long Ma bellowed. Even after achieving sainthood, its nature remained unchanged — its arrogant bearing on full display.
Yet when it saw Ye Fan, it froze in place immediately, then couldn’t help but shout: “Is there no justice in this world?! This seat nearly underwent Dao-transformation — nine deaths and one survival — before attaining the Dao fruit of today, and still I’m a whole level below you?!”
“Let’s go. We’re heading back.” Ye Fan leapt into the air and settled onto Long Ma’s back. Holding a black-gold spear in hand, he thrust it once, piercing through the universe, and entered the primordial training ground.
Before the plaza of the Second Sacred City of the Human Race, twelve gateways opened one after another. Bitter Head Tuo, Mu Guanghan, Tuoba Yu, Ouye Mo, Yu Xian, and the others emerged in succession.
As for Emperor Tian’s subordinates — those six ancient saints — each stood coldly in the distance, watching the exit. They had emerged ahead of time and were waiting quietly.
The leader of the Tianhuang Thirteen Riders, Gu Ling, urged his silver sacred wolf forward and galloped out across the long sky. Then came a large number of cultivators, returning to the ancient city one after another.
Among them, a young man with dark, sinister eyes strode forward with several elders following behind him, all of them gazing into the distance as though waiting for something. The young man at the center of the group was Yan Chifeng — he had escaped catastrophe within the primordial training ground through the use of a death-substitution technique.
The second-in-command of the Tianhuang Thirteen Riders, Ye Wuhun, urged his sacred beast — a dark azure dragon — forward, arriving nearby in an instant, and murmured something low into Yan Chifeng’s ear. His eyes were equally cold.
Half a time-period later, the twelve gateways were about to close, and no one else would be entering or leaving. Everyone was briefly stunned — Ye Fan had not come out. His performance had been visible for all to see; could someone as powerful as he truly have perished within?
“The time has come — close the training ground!” Grand Commander Yu Han issued the order.
“There is still a seeded contestant named Ye Fan who has not emerged. In principle, it is unlikely he has perished within. The Grand Commander should use the Dao Mirror to project immortal light and verify whether he has fallen before making the decision.” An elder spoke up — a powerful figure under the guidance official.
“There is no need.” The Grand Commander’s expression was cold and indifferent.
“But… according to the rules, the Dao realm must be checked before the exit can be sealed. Otherwise, if someone is still alive and trapped inside the training ground, the consequences would be unimaginable. If the sacred beast king within were to awaken, anyone unable to exit in time would in all likelihood perish.”
“Seal the training ground!” Grand Commander Yu Han issued the order coldly.
The twelve gateways rumbled shut, sealing the world behind them away in the void.
“Heh — dead. You’re dead after all. Without surviving, nothing you did amounts to anything.” Guan Cheng let out a cold, bone-chilling laugh — icy and frigid. His Dao heart steadied. With an air of detachment, he faced the twelve sealed gateways and said in a sinister tone: “The strong prevail and the weak fall. You died here. When the training ground opens again next year, you’ll be nothing more than a pile of dust.”
“What are you saying?!” Rui Wei glared at him in fury.
“I’m simply stating a cruel fact.” Guan Cheng replied coldly.
“Boom!”
Suddenly, a world-shaking sound rang out. One of the gateways exploded apart. A lone rider, wreathed in divine flames, came charging through like a war god — spear leveled across a steed — shaking the heavens.
“What?! He came out!”
Everyone was thrown into shock.
That lone rider, bathed in divine light, brilliant as the morning sun, blazing like immortal fire — rumbling forward, he trampled through the gateway and charged straight out, his divine might supreme above all.
Ye Fan held a black spear in one hand, galloping forward on horseback, like an undying Immortal King descending to the mortal world — awe-inspiring to the soul.
Above all others, Guan Cheng, standing close by, was the most unnerved by the sight. He had just been mocking coldly only moments ago, and now he saw the man himself come charging out. His heart surged with resentment, and on instinct, he raised his bronze dagger-axe.
It was hostility — resentment — pure instinct. A peerless supreme figure like this had not died, and had emerged with such force, filling him with bitter helplessness beneath his hatred.
Seeing this, Ye Fan thrust his spear forward. Long Ma’s hooves thundered, shaking hearts and souls.
Clang!
The bronze dagger-axe shattered. Ye Fan swept through in one motion, his divine light blazing in ten thousand streams. Guan Cheng let out a cry — there was no stopping it at all. He was pierced straight through by the spear, drenched in blood, and Ye Fan lifted him into the air with a single hand, leaving him suspended in midair.
The onlookers were shaken, filled with awe. It had been impossibly fast — from the moment Guan Cheng revealed his hostility and instinctively struck, to the moment Ye Fan’s spear thrust through, everything had been completed within the span of a lightning flash.
An unparalleled spear strike!
Ye Fan gave his hand a shake and hurled the long spear outward. It carved a terrifying arc through the air, pinning Guan Cheng along with it in flight. With a sharp clang, it landed directly in front of Grand Commander Yu Han.
Blood splattered everywhere. The black spear trembled as it pinned Guan Cheng to the ground. The blood pooled and splashed, landing across the top of the Grand Commander’s feet.
The scene fell utterly silent.