This was a vast estate that combined gardens, palace halls, and cultivation grounds into one — grand and imposing in every sense — yet once through the gates, only wild grass grew in thick tangles, the whole place utterly desolate. Waves of a bloody, iron-sharp scent drifted out from within.
A formation array encircled the outer perimeter, but the paths inside the estate were free of killing arrays, so one could walk through unobstructed. Ancient trees blotted out the sun, and the courtyards had long since been swallowed by climbing vines and weeds.
Ye Fan’s heart stirred. He sensed a familiar aura.
A flutter of wings — several wild pheasants burst from the grass and fled. Not far off, a wild rabbit leapt up and bolted away in a mad sprint.
Long neglected, this place — nominally a city lord’s manor — had gone without a resident for no one knew how many years. Had its foundations and roof beams not been constructed according to ancient formation blueprints, it would have rotted away long ago.
Up ahead, the bloody scent grew thicker with every step. At the same moment, the blood in Ye Fan’s body began to burn, slowly reaching a boil.
“This place is…” He understood what this place was. He felt a deep sorrow for those who had come before.
Deep within the estate, ancient trees grew wild and tangled. Countless vines and enormous trees had swallowed and even toppled the buildings. Yet within one vast and open area, not a single blade of grass grew.
It was a blinding crimson — pooled into scattered puddles of water, not just one but many, like scattered stars. Each pool was small, only a few meters across, yet linked together they stretched hundreds of zhang in length.
Blood.
Those were puddles of blood, scattered across this broad expanse of land. Nothing else grew here — bare, stripped of all greenery, the iron reek of blood hitting the nose from the moment one entered the estate.
The sacred blood within Ye Fan surged and stirred, drawn to these blood pools by an instinctive resonance. They came from the same source, the same lineage — a communion and calling that transcended time and space.
Ye Fan’s expression showed nothing — no joy, no sorrow. He simply watched in silence.
Sacred Body blood.
Like his own, it possessed an undying, supremely powerful quality. What astonished him was that through all the ages past, it had not dried up.
Within the sunken ground, the crimson stretched vast and unbroken. In a small portion of the pools, faint wisps of golden radiance flickered — the divine power that had yet to fully dissipate even now.
It had to be said: the Sacred Body bloodline was domineering beyond measure. Even after more than a hundred thousand years, the blood had not congealed. An undying power still lingered within it, unscattered.
“This was no ordinary Sacred Body. In his time, he was peerless and unmatched beneath the heavens. A pity — a true pity — that he was ambushed and cut down here.” The escort guide spoke.
On this ancient starry road, certain battles were etched into memory forever. Certain constitutions drew the attention of all. Certain ancient stars shone with boundless brilliance.
According to the escort guide, this Sacred Body of the human race had reached a level of cultivation that touched the very mysteries of creation. The trials of the ancient road held nothing more for him — he simply wished to press onward to the final pass and see what lay at the end.
Yet in that same era, another constitution existed — supremely domineering, without equal in its generation. Upon hearing that the Sacred Body was coming, this being turned back from deep within the ancient starry road specifically to fight him. In a battle that shook all creation, he ultimately struck down the human race’s Sacred Body.
That battle shattered the heavens and split the earth. The starry road itself cracked. Countless stars across the cosmos were ground to dust. A divine body tens of millions of zhang tall was broken apart, and all this blood had rained down from beyond the boundary.
One could only imagine how terrifying that world-shaking battle had been. It was counted among the rarest battles in all of history, and it was recorded in the annals of divine warfare.
At the time, the entire ancient road fell into a frenzy. No one knew how many people rushed to witness that fight — those who ventured too close found themselves caught in the shockwaves, dying scattered across the cosmos.
When that battle ended, its consequences rippled outward for years and could not be stilled. It was called one of the most terrifying divine battles in all the ancient road’s history.
All these years, the estate had remained sealed off, no outsiders permitted near it — all to preserve the blood within. That alone said everything.
To be designated a divine battle and inscribed into the ancient records was the highest honor possible. Throughout all of history, many Great Sages — and even near-Emperors — had not seen their greatest battles earn such a designation.
A light breeze swept through. Fallen leaves drifted down. The garden was very still, and one could feel something solemn and desolate in that quietness.
Ye Fan stood motionless. He had once heard the old patriarch of the Hall of Rare Scholars speak of it — that four or five Sacred Bodies of the human race had walked the ancient road in different eras, and that some had spilled their blood beyond the boundary and buried their bones in foreign lands.
And each of these individuals had been peerless in the Northern Dipper in their time — their cultivation touching the mysteries of creation, their aura pressing down upon the sun, moon, mountains, and rivers — with achievements that shook the world. Yet this was how their stories ended.
“Quelling chaos, subduing the heavens and earth, shining at the peak of the Great Dao. And in the end — killed in battle beyond the boundary, bones buried in a foreign land…” Ye Fan found it difficult to accept.
The blood stains, the desolate scene — he found them very hard to accept. Once invincibly powerful, the human race’s Sacred Body had been struck down like this. It was deeply grievous.
Had they been villainous, perhaps it would be easier to bear. But they had clearly done great deeds for the world. They had walked the ancient starry road — and met this fate.
The blood pools remained, silently lamenting a lifetime of sorrow.
On the ancient road, there was no right or wrong. The path to Emperor was contested by the strong. The strong prevailed. It was merciless and cruel.
“That opponent was truly powerful — standing at the absolute pinnacle of the human path, possessing an equally invincible constitution. From time immemorial, it has been the natural nemesis of the Sacred Body. Across multiple generations they encountered one another, and each battle shook the heavens and made the cosmos tremble.” The escort guide said.
Ye Fan was silent. To walk this road was to abandon everything. Anyone who did so had to be mentally prepared for this outcome. The strong advanced; the defeated perished.
He offered a silent tribute, walking the perimeter of the blood pools, absorbing the sense of regret and desolation left over from those ancient ages. Who among the fallen would have been willing to end this way?
The golden threads within the blood were sparse now. The escort guide had made it clear — later generations had refined away a portion to use in medicinal elixirs. Otherwise, even the divine power would eventually return to the heavens and earth.
Sacred Body blood was peculiar. It started as bright red and slowly transformed into gold — yet when one finally reached the Great Perfection state, it would slowly shed that gold and revert to bright red once more.
“May you rest in peace, Senior.” Ye Fan said quietly.
He gazed deep into the cosmos, as though trying to see through the entire ancient road — because on that road ahead, a nemesis awaited.
In this life, that constitution had appeared again. He would encounter it, just as the Sacred Body of a hundred thousand years ago had done. He would face the supreme enemy of his lifetime.
It was like a cycle — a collision of fate. Separated by so many years, when the Sacred Body rose again, the other constitution arrived right on schedule, making its way to the deepest reaches of the ancient starry road.
“Between the two constitutions, across how many clashes? What was the record?” Ye Fan asked.
Over the years he had gathered much knowledge in the starry void, and naturally he had been paying attention to the legends of his nemesis. He had heard some of it from various escort guides along the way. But surely none of them knew as much as the escort guide of the fiftieth city, where it all happened.
“The confirmed records show four clashes in total. All four were inscribed in the annals of divine warfare and designated the contest of the greatest powers. The human race’s Sacred Body won once.”
Three losses and one victory. That result shook Ye Fan deeply. Could the nemesis truly be that fearsome? Dominant to such a boundless degree — it was truly difficult to believe.
The escort guide added: “There is also another account — that the Sacred Body achieved one more victory. However, it was never witnessed by anyone directly. Only the aftermath was seen in a region of destroyed star systems, and so it could not be formally inscribed in the annals of divine warfare.”
“His remains… are there none left?” Ye Fan asked, his heart heavy. So powerful, so glorious — the human race’s Sacred Body — yet this was the grim twilight he met.
“That battle shattered the heavens and cracked the earth, and even stars fell. How much less a body of flesh and blood…” The escort guide sighed.
Many of the onlookers had been pulled into it as well, ultimately becoming cosmic dust, leaving behind only wisps of blood mist. The Sacred Body was defeated. He suffered devastating wounds. His body — the one called undying — was shattered into pieces.
After the battle, the sacred blood became the target of all factions scrambling to claim it. Not a single drop was left behind; for cultivators, it was a furnace full of the highest medicine.
Afterward, someone returned a portion of the fragmented remains. But the essence of divine power had already been refined away, and the broken body was buried on an ancient star.
“Later, that star underwent some strange and inexplicable changes. That small portion of remains — the lesser half of the body — spontaneously dissolved into the Dao. And today, there is only an empty grave remaining.”
This ancient star belonged to the human race’s fiftieth pass.
Every ten passes there would be one life-bearing star, like a great dam across a river, where many trial-takers would linger. The human race’s fiftieth sacred city was somewhat special — it possessed two life-bearing stars, like twins.
The ancient star where the Sacred Body was buried was very close to the human race’s fiftieth sacred city — the dimmer of the two twin stars.
“When even that lesser half of his body dissolved into the Dao, it triggered changes in the heavens and earth there. The spiritual energy of the entire star plummeted sharply. The Great Dao grew ever more distant and elevated, making the place increasingly unsuitable for cultivation.”
Having learned where the Sacred Body was buried, Ye Fan naturally had to go and pay his respects. He set out alone, not bringing Long Ma, the Golden Lion, or the others.
The dimmer of the twin stars was visible from afar, orbiting a solar star. It was relatively close — right up ahead.
The human race’s fiftieth sacred city was flourishing and prosperous, well-suited for cultivation. Many trial-takers lingered there, meditating on the Great Dao, cultivating diligently day after day.
Ye Fan did not delay for a single moment. He left the city, stepped through a domain gate, and before long descended onto a planet of modest size.
The sky was a hazy, leaden grey. Dark clouds drifted past, obscuring the sun, giving everything a stifling, oppressive feeling.
Across the land, vegetation grew sparse. Lush, primordial forests were nowhere to be seen. Vast stretches of terrain were bare and stripped, lacking green growth.
The formation script beneath Ye Fan’s feet began to flow — one strand after another. He activated the Circulating Qi — Words technique, and the stars shifted, mountains and rivers receded. Following the topographical map provided by the escort guide, he made his way toward an ancient region.
The area was dominated by towering mountains, completely barren. Numerous riverbeds were scattered throughout, all of them long since dried up — for no one knew how many tens of thousands of years.
Deep within this region lay an ancient grave. The spiritual energy of the heavens and earth seemed to have been drained because of it. The land around it was utterly bleak — not even weeds could survive. The earth was a dark red, as though soaked in blood over countless ages, and now only a cold and desolate stillness remained, severely lacking any vitality.
Was this the Sacred Body’s tomb? Ye Fan walked forward step by step, his heart filled with feelings he could not name. The invincible Sacred Body had actually been defeated. He had died. His body was shattered to pieces. His bones lay buried in a foreign land.
From the moment he began his path of cultivation to this day, Ye Fan had never once lost a battle against a peer. Every step of the journey, though fraught with danger — brushes with death too many to count — those near-fatal moments had never come from someone of the same level.
Yet this forebearer Sacred Body — peerless in the Northern Dipper — had bled out here, leaving Ye Fan shaken and struggling to accept it.
“In the future, when I fight him — how will it go?”
The ancient grave was large — it could be well over a zhang tall. A Sacred Body lay sleeping within it, buried beneath dark red soil.
“Someone has come to pay respects — someone tending the grave.”
Ye Fan’s heart stirred. After such an immense span of time, the ancient grave had not disappeared. Someone must surely be guarding it. And on the ground lay withered flowers — they appeared to have been placed there recently.
“Why has someone come to pay respects again?”
“If you want to bow, you ought to go to the other twin star and bow to the victor — why do some people always come to pay their respects to the loser?”
In the distance, two pairs of cold, icy eyes watched from afar, filled with undisguised hostility.