A stone coffin no longer than a palm, only four fingers wide, appeared in Ye Fan’s hand.

Its style was plain and unadorned, bearing blurred carvings that, upon close inspection, could be made out as the sun, moon, stars, flowers, birds, fish, and insects — all things ancient, things that had existed since time immemorial.

The Nine-Layered Coffin of the Age of Myth!

Ye Fan had finally brought out this inauspicious artifact, resolved to stake everything on it — using it to strike at Mount Sumeru and break through the Great Thunder Sound Temple.

Most people who saw it were puzzled, their faces showing incomprehension — they simply did not recognize it. What use could a small coffin the length of a palm possibly have? Could it really surpass an Emperor Artifact?

Only a small number of people were visibly shaken at the sight of it. Within their astonishment, they seemed to dimly perceive its origins — and in an instant, a great many legends about this kind of coffin came flooding to mind.

“Can it truly be a divine spirit’s coffin from the Age of Myth?!”

Many from the ancient clans had come — some of the elder patriarchs of ancient imperial clans had voices trembling. They were closer in time to the Age of Myth than those of the present age, and thus naturally knew far more about such coffins.

“Is there something fearsome about it?” Many were baffled and turned to ask those around them — immediately stirring a wave of discussion.

Among the saints from beyond the domain, a handful of elder titans also stepped forward and looked on, drawing closer for a better view. Without exception, their faces revealed expressions of shock, their hearts pounding violently.

“It truly resembles that thing!”

As certain wise elders of great seniority whispered of the coffin’s origins and its terrifying nature, everyone felt as though a torrent of ice had been poured over them — a layer of gooseflesh rising across their skin.

It was said that it was buried above the nine heavens, never to sink into the yellow earth below.

Everyone’s breathing grew rapid, their hearts hammering without stop. How had Ye Fan come to possess this — what a trump card to have kept hidden, enough to make people’s skin crawl.

This was something that must not be provoked. One misstep, and an entire clan could be annihilated.

“The legend of the Divine Spirit Nine-Layered Coffin is far too terrifying. It must not be touched. Upon encountering it, one should pay reverence and bury it beyond the heavens — sending it back into the depths of the universe.”

The elder patriarchs of the ancient clans and the saints from beyond the domain all wore solemn expressions. Even those on Ye Fan’s own side were grave and serious, approaching the matter with extraordinary caution.

Among them, one person’s reaction stood out above all others — the Silkworm Daoist. His response was far stronger than anyone else’s. He shot to his feet with a snap, like a divine sword unsheathed, radiating an aura of overwhelming intensity, sweeping away all the listlessness that had clung to him before.

In that moment, his eyes blazed with brilliant divine light — beams of substantial radiance extending for several miles. His lips trembled again and again, his fists clenched tight.

The others naturally noticed his unusual state and carefully inquired — but he gave no response. His gaze was fixed ahead, unblinking, like an immortal statue staring into the distance.

People knew he had a strange temperament — even the Silkworm Princess was normally helpless against him. Qi Luo, Ye Tong, and the others naturally did not take it to heart and left him undisturbed.

“Do you intend to use this against my Mount Sumeru?!” The voice of the old monk Mo Ke finally changed. His expression was far from pleasant as he chanted the name of Amitabha Buddha and said: “Using it may wound yourself first.”

“Save your concern,” Ye Fan said flatly.

Deep in the starry sky, during the battle at the Divine Realm, the ancient coffin of the Void Emperor had played an enormous role — obliterating all faith power within that realm and bringing it to ruin.

Taking out the Nine-Layered Coffin now, Ye Fan was naturally not trying to replicate the outcome of the Divine Realm battle.

The Divine Realm had been tampered with by a Celestial Venerable, which was why the Great Emperor’s deathly aura could destroy the faith power within it. Mount Sumeru was different — it had never been cursed. There was no possibility of igniting it like a firecracker.

In the battle of the Divine Realm, the assembled heroes had only used the deathly aura emanating from the Great Emperor’s corpse to destroy an immortal divine religion.

Now, what Ye Fan intended to use was the actual divine spirit’s remains within the coffin — not merely the deathly aura — introducing the entire Emperor’s body into Mount Sumeru.

If this succeeded, it would be nothing less than an annihilating catastrophe.

The faces of the ancient clans grew deeply solemn, for they all clearly remembered a past event — in ancient times, one supremely powerful race had obtained a Nine-Layered Coffin, only to face utter annihilation in the end. All of it had come from touching the forbidden thing hidden deepest within the coffin.

Back when Ye Fan and the others had obtained this coffin from the ancestral temple of the Feathered Ascension Divine Dynasty, even the Sacred Prince had solemnly mentioned that ancient catastrophe by way of warning.

Now, every method had been tried and none could overcome Mount Sumeru. Ye Fan had decided to play this final trump card — using the Emperor’s body in its entirety. How many people in all of history had ever truly witnessed a complete Emperor’s corpse? Almost never had one manifested in the world — and when it did, it set off an earth-shattering commotion.

“Amitabha Buddha, well and good, well and good!” The old monk Mo Ke chanted the Buddha’s name with a trace of agitation now. No longer was he as calm and composed as before. His eyes shot out beams of extraordinary light, fixed upon Ye Fan’s palm.

Ye Fan did not hesitate. He turned his hand and sent the small coffin flying into the Source Heavenly Forbidden Sacred Formation — and at the forefront of the formation, closest to Mount Sumeru, one position remained open among the formation banners. It had clearly been left there specifically for this coffin.

The deathly aura of the Emperor could not win the battle in one stroke — but by using the true Emperor’s corpse itself, suppressing it upon Mount Sumeru which had never been cursed, it should be effective. It should be able to tear open the mountain gate.

In this world, nothing existed that could harm a Great Emperor — even in death, the body they left behind was indestructible.

Within the Source Heavenly Formation, runes flickered. The primordial chaos mist flowed and swirled, drawing upon all the primal source energy of heaven and earth, with the veining extending all the way to the foremost banner position.

Ye Fan cut open his wrist. Stream after stream of golden blood spilled forth — infused with the Word Technique before being channeled into the formation, dripping upon the small coffin. With a cracking sound, a seam split open and the first layer opened.

This first layer revealed little. Inside was a slightly smaller coffin, still plain and unadorned, bearing various blurred patterns.

The divine spirit coffin does not enter the mortal world. It does not sink into the yellow earth. It is buried forever above the nine heavens. Its origins and significance are staggering beyond measure.

Every person held their breath, utterly tense. Today they might bear witness to something few in all of history had ever seen — something destined to be terrifying, certain to be recorded forever in the annals of time.

“Divine spirits are without flaw — the mortal world is unworthy of burying them. Even in death they remain unsullied. Only the nine heavens above are their resting place — their final peace in a place beyond the reach of the mundane world.”

And now, the divine spirit coffin had been placed within the formation like this. Once opened, it would inevitably trigger an event that would shake the world.

One layer, two layers… the small coffin continued to open.

Blood flowed heavily from Ye Fan’s wrist — golden rays shooting skyward, powerful fluctuations surging and billowing like a sea of golden flame, flying into the formation.

The divine spirit coffin was wrapped in this golden blood, blazing as though burning fiercely. Before long, six layers had already opened in succession — with no unexpected developments occurring.

Yet the hearts of those watching were oppressively heavy. All the saints retreated — putting as much distance between themselves and this place as possible. They had no desire to be caught in the aftermath. This place was almost certainly about to become a land of catastrophe.

“Stop!” The old monk Mo Ke could no longer contain himself and cried out in a loud voice.

The Great Peacock Wisdom King raised the Demon-Subduing Staff with both hands, ready at any moment to meet some sudden turn of events. The golden crown atop her head flickered — the image of the Buddha attaining enlightenment manifested before her, hazy and indistinct, making her entire person look as though her divine might could overawe the world.

“What is your intention — releasing Hua Hua from the mountain?” Ye Fan asked coolly.

“He is upon our Mount Sumeru — he represents a kind of karmic fruit—”

“There is nothing more to say!” Ye Fan cut him off directly. The golden blood from his wrist flowed faster and faster — he opened the seventh layer of the stone coffin with a single burst.

Upon reaching the eighth layer, his wrist blood proved insufficient. He pointed a finger at his heart, splitting open a wound there, and refined the essence of his heart’s blood.

“Crack!”

The eighth layer of the coffin opened, revealing the final innermost small coffin. Now an extreme silence had fallen over the four directions. Not a sound was heard. Everyone held their breath.

Even the arhats, guardian heavenly kings, bodhisattvas, and ancient Buddhas atop Mount Sumeru felt their hearts beating faster — their expressions remaining cold and emotionless as before, not a word spoken, silently staring.

The last and ultimate small coffin appeared, exposed to the eyes of the world — only the length of a thumb, ancient and unadorned. Yet it sent a chill through every single person, as though they were standing before a primordial divine spirit.

An intangible pressure surged forth. Everyone’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point, tensed to the extreme, waiting for the final opening of the ancient coffin — wanting to see what great secret lay within.

The final layer was solid and indestructible, extremely difficult to open. Ye Fan expended a great deal of the essence of his heart’s blood — his face growing pale — yet it still did not move.

“Crack!”

In the end, he refined yet more heart’s blood. His body wavered — the expenditure had truly been tremendous! He let the essence of sacred blood spill upon the stone coffin. It let out a resonant tremor — then parted, opening by the tiniest of cracks.

A crack no wider than a hair appeared in the final layer of the coffin — yet from it erupted a surging deathly Emperor aura, covering the sky and blotting out the earth, vast as an endless ocean, boundless and infinite, charging directly toward Mount Sumeru.

Everyone’s face changed. The primal wave of the Great Emperor’s essence had not yet emerged — yet boundless deathly aura was already flooding outward, submerging everything ahead.

This Emperor deathly aura terrified gods and suppressed Buddhas — the most fearsome thing imaginable. For saints it was catastrophic. For sacred and pure faith power, it was like fire and water — diametrically opposed and irreconcilable.

One was the deathly aura of the deceased. The other was the thoughts of the living. Utterly opposed.

Under the direction of the Source Heavenly Formation, the formation banners snapped and billowed. The Nine-Layered Coffin of the Age of Myth shuddered — from the crack within, Emperor deathly aura poured forth without end, filling heaven and earth, surging toward Mount Sumeru.

Without question — this was a great calamity.

This was not the Divine Realm, which had been cursed. Faith power could not be ignited here. But the two forces were of opposing natures — and with the sensation of light and darkness meeting, a violent collision erupted.

The final innermost coffin was only the length of a thumb — yet the Emperor deathly aura it released was so terrifying, like the entire star river of the heavens cascading downward in an endless expanse, clearly demonstrating the principle that a mustard seed can contain Mount Sumeru — an entirely separate cosmos existing within.

Ye Fan activated the formation, moving to lift the final coffin lid entirely, to let the Emperor’s body emerge and suppress it toward Mount Sumeru’s gate — forcing open a way through.

Yet at this very moment, he sensed a surge of inauspicious energy. The Source Heavenly Formation’s runes blazed — covering the sky and covering the earth, casting a brilliant radiance upon him as he stood outside the formation.

Though it appeared sacred, Ye Fan’s brow furrowed. His body was seized by acute pain — as though being cut by knives. His pores swelled open, and one by one, needle-like red hairs pierced through the skin and began to grow.

At this critical juncture when the Emperor’s body was about to appear, this had happened — the inauspiciousness of a Source Celestial Master, which normally erupted in old age, had struck him here and now.

Without an Emperor Artifact in hand, Ye Fan let out a cold snort. Golden vital energy blazed across his entire body — in an instant incinerating every red hair on him, severing that strange force.

Evidently, the matter was not yet over.

“Wuuu—wuuu—”

An ominous wind howled. Demonic shadows flickered and shifted. In the distance, the earth turned dark and murky. A whirlwind of red hair sprang up — blotting out the sky and blotting out the sun, sending sand and stones flying. It looked utterly terrifying, charging straight in this direction.