The first battle had concluded. The Hegemon King departed in shame. A generation’s supreme Fire Spirit had fallen. The outcome was, without question, earth-shaking — Ye Fan’s three great disciples had risen in this grand age of the world, looking down upon all eight directions.
Three silhouettes, wreathed in divine halos, standing side by side — like war gods who had stepped forth from the ancient ages into this world, their equal nowhere to be found among mortals.
The surrounding area fell quiet. People held their breath. Ye Fan’s disciples had already grown to this level. What did that mean for his mortal enemies? And if battle came again — who would face them?
In this moment, no one moved against them. Though supreme cultivators from the Emperor’s Pass still watched with cold eyes from a distance, not having truly come forward, this battle had surely shaken every one of them to the depths.
The people dispersed. Stillness returned to the area.
Of course, those who wished to follow Ye Fan had not gone far. They lingered in the vicinity — waiting, hoping for an opportunity.
“Master, who are these three sorry specimens?”
Before the thatched cottage, Hua Hua tilted his head to one side. His shaved head gleamed as if waxed to a high polish. He squinted sideways at Mo Wentian, Tuoba Mo, and Yi Ming, his expression full of lazy contempt.
“Who are you calling a sorry specimen?!” Tuoba Mo’s fury ignited at once. Being powerfully subdued by Ye Fan and pressed into labor was one thing — but now to be looked down upon by some shaved-headed man was another matter entirely.
“Hey, you’re looking for a beating, aren’t you? You dare to pass judgment on Big Brother Monk. Take a look at yourself and figure out who you are. Go and pour the monk a cup of tea. Know your place.” Hua Hua plopped himself down on a wooden stump and pointed at Tuoba Mo, ordering him around.
“Baldy, you’ve got a lot of nerve. Dare to fight me?!” Tuoba Mo’s fury shot straight to the crown of his head. He came striding forward.
“Fight then. Who’s scared?” Hua Hua stood up and smacked one palm forward.
Bang!
Without any suspense at all, Tuoba Mo went flying sideways through the air, crashing into the dirt. Ye Fan had struck him into severe injuries, with all five of his secret realms shattered — recovery was going to be an extraordinarily difficult path.
“You monk — if you had any guts, you’d let me heal up first, and then I’d beat you until even Amitabha wouldn’t recognize you!” Tuoba Mo seethed with hatred.
He was a man akin to a demon in nature — reckless and uninhibited in this world, always acting on his own impulses, supremely domineering. Right now, the frustration bottled up inside him was something else entirely.
“Who do you think you are? Just any stray cat and dog gets to come and challenge me? If I had to respond to every single one of you, I’d be worn out.” Hua Hua laughed coldly.
On his way here, he had already heard the story of these three — especially the detail that this particular demon-like man had once claimed that his master Ye Fan had grown old and could be defeated without breaking a sweat. Naturally that had been filed away in his memory.
When a monk takes revenge — it is never a simple matter.
“Hey, kid — I hear you were pretty bold, wanting to fight my junior brother Yang Xi to prove that Yao Guang was stronger than my master. And I also hear you said that after three hundred years, the Holy Body Ye Fan of the Human Race no longer existed in this world — already dead. What a vicious thing to say.” Hua Hua fixed his gaze on Mo Wentian next.
Mo Wentian let out a cold grunt and said nothing.
Hua Hua smiled. “No matter. I can see you have quite the spiritual root. You must be destined for the Buddhist path. Today, the poor monk will receive you into the fold.”
“You… what are you planning?” Mo Wentian felt the hairs on his body stand on end. A premonition of disaster came over him as he watched Hua Hua with sharp wariness.
But what power did he have to resist right now? He was bound and immobilized by Hua Hua without ceremony, who then produced a gleaming razor, pressed his hand unhurriedly onto Mo Wentian’s head, and brought the blade down.
“Stop! Stop!” Mo Wentian cried out, his face going green. This monk was truly a singular and utterly shameless specimen — and this was what he intended to do.
“Good sir, you may cry out all you like — screaming until your throat cracks open won’t help at all.” Hua Hua wore a shamelessly sly grin. The razor in his hand flashed and swept, bright blade light flying like a blizzard of snowflakes drifting down from the sky.
Mo Wentian howled — yet his head was pinned and he could not move. He could only feel his full head of black hair cascading down, a cold breeze sweeping across his scalp, his whole body shaking with fury.
“Good sir, you have achieved great enlightenment. Your three thousand threads of worldly vexation are no more.” Hua Hua sheathed the razor with the flair of a supreme master of the blade, swinging it through a few quick flourishes and striking a coolly dramatic pose.
Mo Wentian’s face cycled between shades of green, wishing he could stomp Hua Hua’s shaved head into the ground. He finally let out a long howl — but no black hair flew — only a gleaming bald head.
Hua Hua took one step back, sheathed the razor, and arranged himself into the pose of a high monk of attainment, hands pressed together in salutation: “Amitabha. How excellent. How excellent. Good sir, from this day forth you walk alongside me, you walk alongside the Buddha. One thought, flower blooms. All glory be to our master.”
He muttered in this mystic, portentous fashion — which sent Mo Wentian into an apoplectic fury, as though he wanted to take a bite out of someone. This shaved-headed man was utterly shameless and depraved.
“Ah, right — weren’t you calling out ‘baldy’ just now? Surely you weren’t referring to him?” Hua Hua turned to Tuoba Mo with the inquiry, then pointed at Mo Wentian.
Both parties’ faces turned to iron, eyes blazing, glaring at him with murderous intensity.
“That’s not right.” Hua Hua corrected himself — and then walked toward Tuoba Mo. “The Buddha teaches that all living beings are equal. How can you discriminate against Master Mo in this way? You and he walk as one — you are the same kind of person.”
Swish, swish, swish!
Cold light flashed. Blade light flew. Tuoba Mo was also rendered bald, his skull gleaming brightly. The veins across his scalp were visible, twitching and pulsing. His entire body shook as he launched himself at Hua Hua — uselessly, of course. One palm slapped him flat to the ground.
“Don’t — don’t come near me!” Yi Ming called out.
“I have always had the least tolerance for pretty-faced men. Whatever otherworldly air you think you have — it’s no match for the common, earthly look. Come, Big Brother Monk will give you a gift of fortune and bring you back to your true and simple nature.”
Bang!
Hua Hua swung one great fist and gave Yi Ming a spectacular black eye, then said: “You dare to humiliate my master, and you think your own master could stop me?!”
When Ye Fan, Yang Xi, and Ye Tong came walking over, Hua Hua had already finished his business. Three bald heads gleamed in the area — and the three victims, each one trembling all over, were too furious to even speak.
“Senior brother — what you did was wrong. They are people of standing, after all. How could you?” Yang Xi scolded — and then went over and helped each of the three to their feet. “Come with me.”
With different personalities comes different methods. Yang Xi brought the three — at the peak of their hatred — off to… a one-on-one duel. He was a battle fanatic through and through.
“Junior brother, be careful — their secret realms were all shattered. Don’t accidentally kill them with one hit!” Hua Hua called out to warn him.
“It’s fine — isn’t there your Nirvana Heart Scripture? Restore them temporarily, and I’ll be careful!” Yang Xi called back.
In the days that followed, the sounds of earth-shaking explosions and the furious howling of three voices drifted from the distance. The battle fanatic had begun to exercise his muscles and bones.
Within the Emperor’s Pass, the atmosphere was strange and tense. The Fire Spirit was dead. The Hegemon King had been defeated. For the past few days, people everywhere had been talking — every single person uneasy and unsettled.
Ye Fan had returned to life. After three hundred years, he had reappeared in the world. The news was by now nearly as good as confirmed, and it sent shockwaves rolling through the One True Path, shaking every single person.
Now, everyone was weighing the same question: if Ye Fan truly recovered his Dao power, what level of combat strength would he possess? This was a question every person with ambitions on the path to emperor was going to need to think through carefully — for in the future, they might truly have to face this. He might be a heavenly barrier, blocking the road of all who came.
“I didn’t see wrong that day. It truly was him.” The Western Bodhi Aware-of-Kindness let out a quiet sigh. Once upon a time, they had explored the Central Province Immortal Palace World together — there was a bond of shared history between them.
Jin Chanzi stood in white robes, immaculate as a transcendent, and nodded. “He is a formidable man. But whoever wishes to break through the path to emperor must pass through the trial he represents.”
On this day, Yin Tiande stood atop an ancient tower platform within the Emperor’s Pass, gazing toward the distance. He was in communion with the Emperor Venerable Immortal Scripture, untouched by the mood of the surrounding world. Only after a long while did he open his eyes, fixing them silently on one of the light gates — the one that would lead directly to the Immortal-Ascending Battlefield.
From his body surged a vast violet energy — rolling and surging for thirty thousand miles — like a god on the eve of a great journey, giving off a sense of unfathomable depth. That pair of eyes could extinguish the boundless starry sky.
“I’ve caught it — the scripture of the Emperor Venerable. Wait a little longer. I’ll come to meet you very soon.” These were the quiet words he murmured.
“What?! Master, you have actually sensed the Emperor Venerable Immortal Scripture — this is truly… defiance of heaven itself!” One of his female disciples was shaken to the core. Then a look of jubilant excitement broke across her face, nearly bursting into cries of joy.
In another direction, there was an ancient Dao platform, engraved with the mottled marks of ages, a place that ought to have been drawing in the essence of heaven and earth, bathed in the nourishment of sun essence and moon splendor and the power of the stars — blazing brightly in this sacred function. And yet, at this moment, the Dao platform was shrouded in absolute darkness. A Great Dao Treasure Vase drifted and sank in that darkness, transforming into a black hole, devouring all essence and energy from the cosmos.
Below it sat a man, motionless, sunken into the deepest layer of Dao comprehension — like a god sealed within time itself, sealed within the ages.
At last, he moved. In one instant he opened his mouth and inhaled, and the Great Dao Treasure Vase dissolved into countless runic characters, streaming into his mouth. Black-colored rune symbols were branded into his very flesh and blood.
Then, his entire body suddenly blazed with light. In one instant the darkness was driven back. His entire aura and bearing underwent a dramatic transformation. A divine halo enshrouded him, and every inch of his body turned crystalline and luminous. Even his hair was touched with golden radiance — like the son of the Solar God.
In this moment, he overflowed with the energy of immortal life. An undying, inextinguishable divine presence emanated from him — like an immortal king who had endured ten thousand ages of tribulation awakening from ancient sealing, returning to the present world.
This was a completely distinct aura. Within him were two supreme cultivation arts, rapidly completing one transformation — making this body something terrifyingly powerful, flowing with the most mysterious light.
The power of the divine race. The energy of the sacred spirit. The blood force of the Heaven-Devouring Beast. The Dao imprints of the primal demon… On this single person, the auras of so many of the universe’s most formidable constitutions could be sensed — enough to make people tremble.
And now, all of those fundamental origins had been fused as one, returned to a single furnace, forging one person — and that person was Yao Guang.
“All these years, I have always been looking forward to a battle with you. I never imagined you would truly be this defiant of heaven — and that you’d come back. My blood is beginning to boil. I hope you don’t disappoint me.” Yao Guang murmured to himself.
“Master, you have no time to wander off right now — the Emperor Venerable Immortal Scripture takes priority. Didn’t the guardian of the Emperor’s Pass say so? This is the crucial step.” His other disciple, Li Qingzhou, approached and stood below the ancient Dao platform as he spoke.
…
In the Emperor’s Pass: the Great Mighty Sacred Spirit, the Nine Calamities Daoist, Emperor Tian, the Great Demon King Gu Huang, and certain bearers of ancient imperial bloodlines had all arrived — each with a different reaction.
To become a Great Emperor, one must first possess a physical constitution solid enough to bear that weight. And the one whose physical constitution exceeded even that of the Holy Body — perhaps that person would, in this age, become the supreme trial that the candidate with a powerful enough emperor’s body would have to face before ascending.
Everyone was thinking the same thing: perhaps this was the greatest trial that heaven had set before them — the resurrection and return of the strongest physical constitution of the Human Race, the Holy Body, to bar their way.
One person stood apart from all of this. That was Zhang Bairen. He walked alone along the ancient streets, taking no part in anything, seemingly transcending the world entirely.
The Immortal-Ascending Battlefield. Ye Fan spent several days in the company of his three disciples, listening as they told him much about the people and companions of old. His old friends were well, and the Heavenly Court had grown steadily stronger. The news brought him heartfelt peace.
On the thatched cottage roof, a gecko had fallen a few days before and broken off its tail — yet now the tail had partly grown back, and this drew Ye Fan into a long, still contemplation.
In the distance, a great python lay coiled on a boulder, shedding its skin. With great difficulty it struggled free of its old skin — and before long its entire body gleamed with golden scales, a single horn growing from the crown of its head. It was on the verge of transforming into a flood dragon, and it crawled away into the distance, grown mightier.
“Master, they are all in communion with the Emperor Venerable Immortal Scripture — including the descendants of the Primordial Emperor and others. Aren’t you going? I’ve heard there are peerless secrets within the scripture!” Yang Xi said.
“Not for now. Let your master sit quietly for a while and think about his own path.” Ye Fan sat cross-legged before the thatched cottage, watching flowers bloom and fall, watching withered wood spring back to life, watching wild grass put out new shoots — and the whole of him grew still.