“My fellow, who are you?” Pang Bo asked. This person was far too mysterious, and had spoken such strange words.
“A wanderer striving to cross the bitter sea of the mortal world,” the newcomer replied — drifting and indistinct, wrapped in misty haze — and truly seemed extraordinary in some ineffable way.
“You are indeed a lofty figure, fellow Daoist. Your every word and gesture carries a certain artistic quality,” Pang Bo said.
The man amid the primordial chaos mist smiled faintly. “Are you mocking me, fellow Daoist?”
“I would not dare.” Pang Bo’s expression turned earnest, and he asked the man why he had fixed his gaze upon the “fiftieth” position, and what hidden significance it might hold.
“The Great Extension number is fifty, yet the one that escapes — the one that slips away — is what one strives to seize. In truth, there is no particular mystique to it. It is only a competition among those of the same kind. I had settled upon that number and wished to align myself with it,” the man said.
Everyone present collectively felt that this person must be extraordinarily powerful, for they sensed in him an unfathomable depth — like an ocean, vast and boundless without limit.
“Would I be correct in asking, fellow Daoist, whether you might be the Chaos Body spoken of in the legends of the mythological age?” Ji Haoyue suddenly spoke up, staring intently at this person.
“I am afraid I must disappoint you all. I am merely a mortal body — no special bloodline talent whatsoever. Just now, I was passing through a small chaotic realm, and this mist clung to me as I came through,” the newcomer shook his head. As he did, the primordial chaos mist that enveloped his entire body dispersed, revealing his true appearance.
He was a young man — and a seemingly ordinary one at that. Not particularly tall, certainly not imposing, his features plain, entirely indistinguishable from the masses — with not a single remarkable trait.
If anything could be called remarkable, it was only his eyes. They were very clear — like two pools of immortal spring water, limpid and pellucid.
Ji Ziyue quietly nodded to the others — this person truly was a mortal body, with no special bloodline essence whatsoever — and yet had cultivated to a level of strength that defied all imagination.
“Might I ask your name, sir?” Pang Bo inquired.
The plain-featured young man smiled and replied: “Zhang Bairen.” He was a mortal body who had perceived and comprehended the natural laws of heaven and earth, his strength honed to a degree that shook the world.
And his name gave Pang Bo a strange sensation — his mouth twitched, disbelief washing over him. First he shook his head, then nodded.
Ye Fan was also taken aback and looked at him again and again, carefully. At that moment, the dark crimson killing sword on his back rang out, drawing itself from its sheath, emitting threads upon threads of immortal radiance.
Zhang Bairen was startled. “Can this be one of the four killing swords of the Numinous Treasure Celestial Venerable — one of the swords capable of slaying immortals?” He involuntarily stepped back several paces, as if to establish a safe distance, unwilling to remain too close to Ye Fan.
“Is that truly your name, friend?” Pang Bo asked in earnest.
“A name is given by one’s parents. And besides, I have no fame to speak of — what reason would I have to impersonate anyone? It is nothing more than an ordinary symbol,” Zhang Bairen said.
Ye Fan, Pang Bo, and Long Ma exchanged glances. This person — this name — struck them like hidden thunder in utter plainness.
“Friend, do you believe the number fifty holds great significance?” Ji Ziyue asked with a light smile.
Zhang Bairen shook his head. “I was the one who fell into a lower state of mind, clinging to a fixation. The Dao follows what is natural — there is no need for deliberate intent. To act in accordance with one’s nature, expressing what arises from the heart, is what allows one to approach the Dao, gradually align with it, and ultimately transcend it.”
These words, once spoken, immediately startled everyone. Even the most reticent among them, the Ancient Golden Peng, could not help but spread his wings, as divine feathers scattered threads of rosy light.
Zhang Bairen stepped forward, approached the crystal stele, and carved his name upon it in an entirely casual manner — taking the fifty-fourth position, truly following the flow of things.
This left the Twelve Saints greatly surprised. This person exuded a sense of tranquility and mystery. One moment he had been sighing, and in the next instant he had set everything aside.
“Friend, it seems you know of the one called Emperor Sovereign. Who is this person, and why would someone take such a name?” Long Ma asked, pointing at the fiftieth position on the crystal stele.
Zhang Bairen shook his head. “I have never met this person and know nothing about them. It was only upon seeing this name that some scattered fragments of legend came to mind.”
“Oh — there are legends as well. We would welcome your instruction, friend,” Pang Bo asked politely.
“Hmm — in the most ancient of ages, this name once appeared and caused a great stir, as one person alone slew all the Great Sages of that time,” Zhang Bairen said.
“What?!” Everyone cried out in shock.
Throughout this vast expanse of sky, living ancient stars were extraordinarily rare — yet small thousand worlds that harbored living beings were not scarce. Called the myriad heavens and ten thousand domains, the total number of Great Sages across the entire universe, should they all appear, might be staggeringly immense.
“I expressed that incorrectly. What I mean to say is: he once stood here, with his back to the great pass and his face to the assembled heroes, and slaughtered every trial participant who came before him,” Zhang Bairen clarified.
Even so stated, it was enough to shock the world — far too terrifying and astonishing. What kind of person could possess such overwhelming power?
Everyone was left stunned.
“How many did he kill?!” Ji Haoyue asked gravely.
“Fifty-four,” Zhang Bairen replied calmly.
Everyone went silent. According to ancient records, there had once been an era with the fewest participants — fifty-five people in total, who had reached the final great pass and carved their true-self imprints upon the stele.
This meant that Emperor Sovereign had appeared in that era, and had killed the other fifty-four.
“What was the final outcome? Did he fail to become an Emperor?” the Bear Saint among the Twelve Saints asked in a low, resonant voice.
“He let out a faint sigh toward this great pass, and without ever entering, turned and walked away,” Zhang Bairen said.
“This…” Everyone’s expressions shifted. This person’s actions were truly beyond comprehension — having directly slain all competitors outside the pass, and then simply departing — leaving people utterly at a loss.
Whether this was truly the same individual — one existing in the most ancient age, another in the present era — was difficult to say given the vast gulf of years between them. Of course, it was not impossible either. At the very least, one could preserve themselves using divine source to seal oneself away, and thereby survive across the ages.
“Is this the fellow Ye Fan, then? I have traveled through distant realms and heard your name in many places. Now, seeing you in person, you are indeed remarkable — even surpassing your reputation,” Zhang Bairen said. His eyes were so clear they were nearly transparent — like carved crystal — as they studied Ye Fan’s blood, bone, and internal organs intently.
Ye Fan returned the gesture of greeting, and in the same moment a luminescence spread across his entire body, instantly sealing off everything — making it impossible for the other to see through — while simultaneously, threads of immortal light from his Source Heaven Eye gazed toward Zhang Bairen.
“I bid you all farewell. We shall meet again on the Heavenly Road ahead. May we all achieve the Emperor’s form before we meet in battle — and fight to our heart’s content when that day comes,” Zhang Bairen cupped his hands in salute, tore open the heavenly dome, and departed, breaking through the void.
The crystal stele soared into the clouds, gleaming and radiant, as fifty-four people left their names — every single one of them exceptional and beyond compare, of unparalleled strength.
Taichu, Yin Tiande, Jin Chanzi, the White-Robed Divine King Jiang Taixu, the Cannibal Fiend Dongfang Taiyi, Emperor Sovereign, Zhang Bairen — among fifty-four names, only these were ones they had either met or heard of. The rest were entirely unknown to them.
But that was already more than enough. Among those they recognized, not a single one was an ordinary creature of the pond. Each was an unrivaled champion of their era. One could only imagine how arduous the road ahead would be.
Ye Fan and the others gazed at the great pass, their minds filled with a thousand surging thoughts.
Since ancient times, the Heavenly Road had opened once every ten thousand years — yet not every opening produced a Great Emperor. It might be tens of thousands of years before one appeared. Would this era be different?
“Even if one fights one’s way through to the very peak, reaching the summit does not guarantee one will become an Emperor,” the Golden Lion sighed softly.
Ji Haoyue said: “This era will be unlike any before it — more fearsome than all previous eras of splendor combined, a sight never before seen since ancient times. Even figures such as Emperor Sovereign have appeared in this very generation.”
“I wonder how the Northern Dipper fares now,” Ji Ziyue said softly. She had grown homesick — missing her parents, yearning for every blade of grass and every tree in that world, longing to return.
Ye Fan raised his head at her words. “We have already fought our way to the end of this ancient road. We are free to return and see how the Northern Dipper star domain stands now.”
A tremor passed through everyone. More than a hundred years had passed since their departure. Most of their youth and time had been spent on this ancient path, and every one of them longed to go back and see.
“In truth, the Northern Dipper may be even more brutal than this place. The path to immortality is about to open — who knows how many unrivaled heroes it has drawn in. There may even be quasi-Emperors among them.”
“Indeed. Even the existences within the seven great life-forbidden zones may emerge and make their move.”
“I believe that those who have inscribed their names on this stele — they may all have already headed there, for the path to immortality that opens once in ten thousand ages is on the verge of stirring.”
Pang Bo, Long Ma, and the others wore solemn expressions, engaging in earnest discussion.
“We truly should return,” Ye Fan said. He stepped forward to the crystal stele and carved his name into it. Light and brilliance burst in all four directions — not any kind of title, only two simple characters: Ye Fan.
“This road — I have claimed it. The day will come when I gather all the heroes of the cosmos in great assembly!” These were his words before the great pass, resounding and clear.
He alone left his name. Though he was not yet a Great Sage, he stood within the forbidden domain — no weaker than an entry-level Great Sage — and had met the requirement.
As for the others — they still lacked that final margin. After all, there was the Great Sage barrier, and they themselves had yet to reach the perfect peak of the Saint King level — making it entirely impossible for them to qualify.
“Take good care of my sister,” Ji Haoyue said to Ye Fan with grave sincerity. He did not wish to leave — he would stay behind, wait until his cultivation advanced further, and inscribe his name upon the crystal stele.
“Brother!” Ji Ziyue’s lips trembled. Though she had always been loudly declaring she would suppress her ten-thousand-sins brother, when it truly came time to part, she found it difficult to let go.
“We have been away too long. You should go back and take a look,” Ji Haoyue said with a resolute expression, seeing her off.
Long Ma said blithely: “I say, Ye Fan’s brother-in-law — why be so stubborn? You want to go back to the Northern Dipper too, don’t you? If you happen to catch the path to immortality opening, you might just directly ascend and become immortal. Why bother fighting over the Emperor’s throne? And if immortality is beyond reach, come back here afterward and confront all the heaven-defying geniuses of the entire cosmos — fight it out to your heart’s content with Taichu, Emperor Sovereign, Zhang Bairen, and the rest.”
“Ye Fan, I am staying behind as well,” Pang Bo suddenly announced. He was not leaving either — he too wanted to continue tempering himself, and would come to inscribe his name upon the crystal stele in time.
“Very well!” Ye Fan nodded.
Long Ma drooped its head dejectedly. “With you two working so diligently, do you not make me — this supreme being destined for immortality — look hopelessly unambitious? I feel deeply wounded.”
“We will wait for you both on the road ahead,” Ye Fan said.
“Actually — never mind. Without cultivating an invincible technique, without creating an unparalleled method, returning to the Northern Dipper might be even more dangerous.” Pang Bo shook his head and resolutely went off on his own way.
Ji Haoyue did the same — he had been reflecting all this time on how to transcend the methods of his ancestors, rise above them, and perceive his own Dao.
And so, Ye Fan and the others set off. They moved slowly — not returning immediately. In the twenty years that followed, they entered the ancient paths of other powerful races and roamed across different star domains.
Those twenty years were filled with battle — blades of light and shadows of swords, blood dyeing the starry sky. They encountered many great adversaries from different races, and Ye Fan’s name shook the heavens, astonishing every domain.
The dragon rose coiling, the horse gave a long cry — twenty years of roaming the cosmos, and who could stand against them?
For the cultivators of the starry sky, this was destined to be an era impossible to forget. Ye Fan’s spirit swallowed the starry river as he fought enemies in all ten directions, striding across ancient path after ancient path, clashing with the mightiest of different races.
Never once did he employ the immortal sword — relying solely on himself — and carved out a name of invincibility, silencing dozens of ancient paths.
The name Ye Fan resounded through every domain, becoming a byword for the unbeatable. During this time, five or six individuals came seeking him out, each bearing a name he had seen upon the crystal stele — from unknown races. Now, meeting in the flesh, Ye Fan cut through them all in bloody battle, writing a chapter of unrivaled glory.
Over twenty years, Ji Ziyue, Long Ma, Xiao Budian, the Ancient Golden Peng, and the others all made names for themselves. The group was unstoppable wherever they went.
“Let us go. It is time to return to the Northern Dipper — to see how things stand there now, and how the old companions of former days have fared…” At last, Ye Fan set foot upon the homeward road, heading back to the most mysterious of all ancient stars — the Emperor Burial Star.
“Path to Immortality — I am coming!” Long Ma roared.