Nine dragons pulling a bronze coffin, origin unknown, destination unknown, drifting through the universe across boundless ages, heading toward an unknown distance.

It carried too many secrets — from ancient times to now, no one had been able to break through the mist surrounding it, unable to reveal its origins.

Now, to actually see the traces of its image on this western mountain’s stone carving — how could this not shock them, far too sudden. Why would someone have carved it here?!

Wiping away the moss on the carved image, brushing off the debris, revealing the mottled ancient marks — nine dragons like true dragons stretching across, powerful and vigorous, as if about to break through the wall and ascend to the heavens. Behind them, cold iron chains connected to a massive bronze coffin, magnificent and grand.

“This is… who carved this, what secret lies here?!” Pang Bo’s emotions were violently stirred.

The reason they had come to this shore of the starry expanse, stepping onto the path of cultivation, was all because of the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin, which had led them into this bizarre and magnificent cultivation world.

Without a doubt, the nine dragons pulling the coffin carried an earth-shaking secret, existing eternally since ancient times, drifting through the universe without decaying — what had been buried within, awaiting later generations to explore.

This place was special — why was its image carved here? Ye Fan’s body and mind grew peaceful, silently reciting hundreds of ancient characters, obtained precisely from this ancient coffin.

“Eh, something’s changing, there are light patterns flowing!” the Black Bear Saint exclaimed in surprise.

As Ye Fan silently recited the scripture from the bronze coffin, this stretch of stone wall radiated ripple after ripple of light, like ripples in a lake, spreading outward.

Ye Fan’s heart jumped in surprise — just as when he’d placed the palm-length stone coffin before the Nine-Layered Coffin carving for comparison, the same change occurred, light rippling like water.

“It’s moving, the nine dragons are ascending, pulling the ancient coffin toward the firmament!” the Scorpion Saint said, his face full of shock, eyes gleaming, watching this scene.

On the stone wall, the nine dragons pulling the coffin soared into the high heavens, truly moving, faint rumbling sounds seemingly audible, momentum overwhelming, wind and thunder erupting.

“No, it’s just the carved image transforming, it hasn’t really moved.” Ye Fan opened his heavenly eye and discovered it was blurred carvings manifesting — at first glance it looked like movement.

This was a kind of dao imprint, mimicking reality so convincingly it could deceive even saints, making one’s heart tremble, finding this stone wall ever more unfathomable.

After a moment the ripples vanished. Even as Ye Fan continued reciting, nothing unusual happened on the stone wall anymore — everything calmed down, the carving simple and natural once more.

By this time, Pang Bo had already cleared the moss from the ninth carved image, revealing a pitted, uneven surface, crisscrossed with hundreds of scratches.

“It’s been destroyed — what was this final image?” Pang Bo muttered to himself, feeling it must have been crucial, even more mysterious — yet it no longer existed.

Long Ma stepped forward, trying with force to carve into the stone wall, wanting to leave a mark, but found it unmovable — this stone wall was as solid as a pillar supporting heaven, let alone destroying it, not even a single grain could be chipped off.

Only the final image remained hidden, leaving everyone’s imagination running wild, their hearts filled with inexplicable astonishment, feeling they’d missed something important.

“The last four images, each more astonishing than the last — what do you think they contain, what profound meaning? The one before was the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin, could the ninth be the great secret of ascending to immortality?!” Pang Bo rubbed his hand over the pitted surface, the truth long since erased.

“Let me try.” Ye Fan’s expression turned solemn — he placed great importance on these nine carved images. He sat cross-legged before the stone wall, his whole body glowing, circulating a secret technique.

On Earth, he had once obtained a Vedic scripture containing a wondrous technique for tracing back to origins, able to trace back to the source and reveal historical truths once more.

His brow bone glowed, crystal clear, like a divine mirror, shooting out a blazing beam of light that fell upon the ninth destroyed carving mark — the area immediately shook violently.

Heavenly dao rumbled, wind and thunder erupted, faintly, ghosts wailed and gods howled, heaven and earth suddenly darkened, with phantom images of divine and demonic corpses surfacing.

They were greatly alarmed — just what secret did this image hide, that it could make heaven and earth change color, producing such a shocking apparition, truly astonishing and terrifying.

Ye Fan’s head was covered in sweat, his face deathly pale, the golden blood energy throughout his body rapidly dimming — the expenditure was truly too great, yet he couldn’t break through the mist. Those phantom images of divine and demonic corpses trembled, the sounds of ghosts wailing and gods howling growing even clearer, nearly approaching, about to press down upon him.

The great dao trembled, heaven and earth rumbling, as if there were secrets of gods and demons, an opportunity for ascension, hidden within a damaged image, making one’s very bones shudder.

In the end, Ye Fan failed, breaking into a cold sweat, circulating the ancient technique from the Vedic scripture — the first time it had ever felt this strenuous, and yielding nothing. He had a feeling that continuing this way, he himself would likely meet with misfortune — all of this felt utterly inconceivable.

“What kind of power is this?” Pang Bo, Long Ma, the Black Bear Saint and the others were all greatly shaken, their faces full of shock.

Ye Fan calmed himself, the light emitted by this wondrous technique receding, and the various apparitions in heaven and earth gradually vanishing — the divine and demonic corpses, the ghostly wailing and howling, all disappeared.

Heaven and earth returned to peaceful clarity, the terrifying scene dimming and dispersing, as if nothing had happened at all — the western mountain unchanged, exactly as before.

“I think this was at the very least erased by a Quasi-Emperor, otherwise this absolutely couldn’t be — even after such a long span of years, it still makes me feel this much pressure.”

Ye Fan even believed that the destroyed ninth carved image was still radiating a strange power, possessing an astonishing divine might — the apparitions just now may well have included its fluctuations too.

The first five images on the stone wall concerned that old man — chopping wood, feeding horses, and finally riding a dragon away, vanishing from sight. The latter four images had nothing to do with him, not part of the same story, as if they’d been added on afterward.

“Did this old man leave these behind — who was he? The first four images are part of his past — what significance do the latter four hold?”

The group discussed it, but couldn’t reach a conclusion, focusing their attention on the latter images.

Among them, the sixth was the mythical-age Nine-Layered Coffin, the seventh was the Undying Heavenly Blade with a stone-shelled divine egg, the eighth was the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin, and the ninth had been destroyed.

Among the images on the stone wall, two ancient coffins appeared in total, completely different from each other — logically, they shouldn’t hold the same person buried within. According to common sense, the latter four images were each unrelated, independent of one another.

Just then, they all felt a sudden sense simultaneously — their immortal platforms trembled, the light from their brow bones blazing brightly, illuminating the stone wall, upon which rows of small characters appeared — ancient divine script.

“My heart holds some measure of melancholy, the god nears his final decline, knowing full well the immortal path is illusory, yet can only press forward desperately.”

These words conveyed a sense of helplessness, while also revealing that this person was utterly unfathomable — at the very least he must have been a Quasi-Emperor, otherwise how could he speak such words.

The stone wall glowed, row after row of ancient characters surfacing, recording certain past events — indeed left by that wood-chopping old man, who had ultimately ridden away on a dragon, only able to “press forward desperately.”

The latter four images weren’t fabricated — all things he had personally witnessed, containing world-shaking secrets, hence he had recorded them as images, to offer insight to later generations, though without stating it explicitly.

But there was no lack of warning within them either!

“Ye Zi, why don’t you just discard that stone coffin in your hand, bury it in the starry void — I always feel that thing isn’t quite right, keeping it on you will cause serious trouble.” Pang Bo said.

Ye Fan pondered, pointing toward the very bottom of the stone wall, where there was one final line of text — it turned out to be an annotation, stating that these latter four images had all been seen on the immortal road.

As for the order of the images, it was arranged according to the sequence in which the old man had seen them, not inherently significant in itself. It merely mentioned that the final image perhaps shouldn’t have appeared in this world — after much hesitation, he had ultimately erased it.

Everyone drew in a sharp breath — the stone coffin, the Undying Heavenly Blade, the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin, all on the immortal road — some things had already intersected with them, and this felt somewhat off.

Pang Bo stared at that Undying Heavenly Blade, sensing a vast, ancient killing intent, as if it could slash through all heavens and myriad realms, pressing through the stone wall toward him, making his flesh feel it would split apart.

“This heavenly blade, famous through the ages, and this egg — what’s going on here, what trump card did the Undying Heavenly Emperor leave behind?!”

Ye Fan had slain the Heavenly Emperor’s son, and now there was an egg beneath this blade — it felt eerie, unease stirring faintly in his heart.

“There’s a legend that the Undying Heavenly Emperor was an immortal phoenix descended to the world — even if untrue, there’s likely some hidden story or secret behind it. Is this egg his own rebirth through nirvana, or someone else?” Pang Bo voiced this terrifying speculation.

This made everyone’s hearts jolt, exchanging glances with each other — since even that old man who once wielded the wood-cutting blade had kept his distance from it, it suggested there was great trouble with this blade and egg.

These last few images were each independent, with no connection between them, but each was astonishing, inspiring fear.

Over the following years, they remained on this ancient star, cultivating in the life-bearing ancient land suppressed by the great dao, tempering themselves.

This stretch of stone wall became their practice ground, constantly deducing, silently observing and studying. After Ye Fan observed the first five images, he began to deliberately abstain from using magical power, choosing selective forgetting.

“Eventually, one day, this entire world will cease to exist, all dao will become void, only my heart will remain, only my body will remain — this is the true oneness.”

He didn’t use magical power, didn’t rely on dao principles, wandering this world on foot in ascetic practice.

Ye Fan chopped wood, fed horses, walked across this planet — he once served as a minor clerk in an ancient city, once served as a war general on the frontier, and once traveled famous mountains and great rivers with a group of scholars.

Four years later, he returned to his true self — amid the vast red dust of the mortal world, having passed through all manner of occupations alone, though not quite great enlightenment, he had gained accumulation and insight.

“My dao…” Over these years, he had continuously pondered his path forward in cultivation, wishing to establish his own scripture, and now his thoughts were gradually maturing.

On this day, the western mountain’s stone wall grew crystal clear and glistening. As Ye Fan, Pang Bo, Long Ma, the Black Bear Saint and the others meditated, their scriptures resonated, emitting a strange sound, rumbling loudly.

Even the great dao above couldn’t suppress it — clearly they had all made progress over these four years, achieving no small feat. At this moment they broke through the restraints of heaven and earth, making the dao sound rumble here.

“Eh, ancient characters have appeared on the stone wall again…” the Scorpion Saint exclaimed in surprise.

On the stone wall, the moss long since cleared away, now nourished by the dao light, clear as jade, a line of ancient divine script surfaced.

It was still left by that old man, describing a conjecture — that the mythical-age Nine-Layered Coffin had fallen to the mortal world, perhaps for some reason descending to the mortal realm of its own accord, meant to travel along a certain path.

Moreover, he had carved an ancient image — stretches of ancient star regions, marked with coordinates, the path he himself had walked. Along this path he had once seen the Undying Heavenly Blade, witnessed the divine egg, encountered the ancient coffins of the gods, and everything on that erased ninth carved image…

“Let’s go, let’s see what’s really out there!” They set out, once again stepping into the starry void.