Time had flowed on. The ages had brought only greater power — yet all he could see was ruin and devastation. What in the world had happened?

Ye Fan felt ice-cold from head to toe. How many years had he lost? Was that still him? The man in the bronze mirror had white hair hanging loose around his shoulders. His body still stood tall and straight, but his face bore the countless marks of years gone by.

He was no longer young. Even his Holy Body had grown old. How many terrible years must have passed for this to have happened? And he had lost all of them.

I refuse to believe it!

Ye Fan told himself this was a dreamscape — an illusion, not reality. For if it were real, it was simply too horrific to contemplate. In a world this vast and empty, if a Holy Body’s ten-thousand-year lifespan had run its course and aged away, who in this world could he still find?

He drew a finger across his left wrist. Blood welled up. Pain came. This was no dream — everything was real.

Ye Fan’s Primordial Spirit departed from his body. The golden figure, no larger than a fist, instantly broke through the barrier of time and space, and gazed out across the boundless cosmic void. What met his sight was nothing but desolation and ruin in every direction.

The icy cosmos seemed to have died. There was nothing, nothing to be seen — great swathes of stars and constellations had grown dim forever, extinguished utterly and completely.

Over the course of these ten thousand unknown years, some terrible great battle must have taken place — and the cosmos had been reduced to this state. The pain in Ye Fan’s heart was excruciating. Even now he could not bring himself to accept this outcome.

How could it be like this? How could things have come to this?!

It was beyond imagination. He stared at the aged man in the mirror — the man with wrinkles on his face, weathered and careworn — and his heart trembled. If this much time had truly passed, then all his loved ones, all his friends, would be gone.

Even that adorable daughter who had just been born — barely one year old — by now had surely long since returned to the earth. If all of this were real, he felt as though he might suffocate.

Little Xiao Zi — tender and sweet, barely a year old, still so easily confused, clinging to him so dearly — yet he had never been able to stay by her side for long. They had always been separated. And now it had come to this.

Ye Fan let out a long, keening cry. He could not accept it. He cast one last glance at the golden divine sea, now drained and on the verge of vanishing, then threw himself into the darkness of the sky. He crossed entire galaxy clusters, flying toward where the Heavenly Court had once stood.

Ye Fan kept telling himself over and over that this was an illusion, that it was not real — yet the pain in his flesh and the cold in his Primordial Spirit, and every method he tried to test the truth of it, all confirmed the same thing: this was no dream.

The hatred, the madness — how could things have come to this?

I cannot accept this! The words echoed through the entire cosmos — his deep, powerful roar reverberating across every corner, shaking one shattered star after another into further collapse, plunging the already dim cosmos into still greater cold.

He crossed the starfields in great strides, each step consuming an entire galaxy beneath his feet as it vanished behind him. His Dao and his law had grown powerful enough that with a single thought, the eight wastelands could be annihilated — yet he felt not the slightest trace of joy.

All along this journey, every sight that met his eyes was ruin. Not a single stretch of intact starfield remained to be found. Countless stars had been shattered, and cosmic dust drifted through the void. Occasionally there were blood and broken bones, and fragments of shattered weapons — cold and bitter.

Ye Fan did not admit it with his lips, yet within his heart the pain was already as raw as a wound torn open. This was no illusion. Thousands upon thousands of years ago — perhaps ten thousand years ago — some terrible great battle had taken place, and this entire cosmos had been beaten into a wreck. And he had missed it all!

Throughout this journey he had not seen a single living being. Everywhere was the silence of death. At last he drew near — he had arrived at the stellar domain where the Heavenly Court’s headquarters had once stood.

And his heart went cold. The place was utterly devastated. Every star was shattered. As for those divine islands that had once hung suspended in the air — all had been ground into dust.

Ye Fan charged into the depths in a frenzy. There was no one left, no one to be found. The place had long since become ruins — there was only residual blood and rubble.

No!

Ye Fan let out a grief-stricken roar. When he truly beheld the result before him, his entire body trembled. He clenched his fists. His face had drained of all color.

Every last hope had been shattered. The Heavenly Court was no more. He had sought something, anything — and found that not even a trace remained.

Trace it to its source!

Ye Fan howled like a man gone mad. His cry split the starfield, and in an instant this entire place was engulfed in Chaos Qi. He saw fragment after fragment of broken scenes — the cries of battle shaking the heavens.

Heavenly soldiers and generals surged forward in charges and breakouts. The army of dark spirits advanced in wave after wave. Blood flowed like rivers. And above it all, a massive phoenix nest hung suspended, sweeping down with radiant beams that caused the generals to fall in great swathes.

“To hell with it — I’ll fight you all to the death!” A long, fierce cry rang out, and Pang Bo flew straight up into the sky, his hair wild and unbound. The tremendous quasi-emperor might he unleashed cracked the starfield apart.

Yet what awaited him was a merciless, enormous hand. From the direction of the Underworld, an existence whose entire body was wreathed in black mist — ancient and imperial as a being from the highest antiquity — swung forward with tremendous force.

Crack!

What remained in the sky was only a single flash of vivid crimson. A rain of blood scattered and fell. Pang Bo vanished forever, without a trace.

“Uncle — Uncle Pang Bo is gone too. Waaah… You villains, give my uncle back his life!” Xiao Zi cried out at the top of her lungs, kneeling helplessly on one of the divine islands. She looked only a few years old — she had never grown up at all. So small and so frail, her face covered in tears.

This happened only a few years after I left? Ye Fan’s face was already streaming with tears. Pang Bo — gone, just like that? His entire body was shaking.

Ah…!

Li Tian and Yan Yixi screamed in furious defiance, charging straight up against the heavens. In their hands, the Divine Maiden Cauldron blazed with intense light — from its surface flew a great wheel of sun-fire, twisting into nine divine phoenixes and transforming into a boundless torrent of flame that surged upward into the sky.

They were fighting with everything they had, refusing to accept this ending, staking their lives and casting aside all thought of survival.

Yet it was utterly futile. From afar, the figure shrouded in black mist launched a punch forward with savage force. That dark, massive palm struck directly into the divine cauldron.

Crack!

The Divine Maiden Cauldron shattered. Even a cauldron personally forged by a great emperor could not withstand it — in that moment it was reduced to hundreds of fragments that flew off in all directions, unable to harm that figure by even the slightest measure.

At the same moment, Li Tian and Yan Yixi both let out cries of grief. The massive black hand pressed down, and from head to foot they crumbled inch by inch — flesh and bone alike dissolved into a mist of blood, struck from the rolls of this world entirely.

“Don’t kill my uncles and aunties… two more people gone,” Xiao Zi wailed, kneeling on the ground.

It was a scene of devastating cruelty. Ye Fan watched it with a heart as though being cut to pieces by knives. His fists were clenched, his whole body trembling. His once-good brothers — had they truly died in battle like this?

How many years ago was this? Perhaps ten thousand years. He roared in grief without end, wishing he could tear the void apart and return to that era to take part in the battle!

Ye Fan bit down so hard his mouth filled with blood. His fingers had been clenched so tightly they had gone pale-blue. His whole body shook. Brothers who had lived and died together with him — separated by ten thousand years, he could only watch them die. The pain, the suffering, the despair had reached their absolute peak.

Waaah… Xiao Zi wept loudly, kneeling there, calling out the familiar names of those in the Heavenly Court one after another, while with her small hands she dug through the ruins on the island.

Ye Fan’s heart lurched. Beside Xiao Zi lay a stretch of rubble — and within it there was no trace of Ji Ziyue. Yet amid the ruins there were spots of blood and a single corner of purple fabric.

Ye Fan’s body shook violently. Though he had already guessed the outcome, he still could not help it — his ears rang, his heart seized with agony. He staggered, and words of grief spilled from his lips.

Ziyue…

How could it have come to this? That woman who had always worn a smile, who had waited beneath the starry sky for so long for him to return — she was gone, just like this.

He had not seen the moment of her withering. Only a corner of purple fabric remained, and spots of dried blood, buried beneath the rubble. This was more cruel than seeing it directly — this was an ending too savage to be borne.

This emperor will fight you to the end as well!

A great black dog — the vertical eye on its brow weeping blood — radiated a terrifying presence and charged straight toward the direction of the Underworld.

And this time, not only did that figure shrouded in black mist reach out one great hand — from within the blood-colored phoenix nest suspended above the Heavenly Court, a crystalline and slender hand also grew enormous, reaching down, covering the Black Emperor from above.

The Black Emperor had once followed the Wushi Great Emperor. Both the Underworld and the Imperial Dynasty wanted to seize it — capturing it alive was the most desirable outcome, for it might reveal the secrets of the Wushi Great Emperor.

The Black Emperor laughed bitterly — yet its eyes were filled with utter resolve. All around it, the endless array platforms lit up at once, burning together with its own body, blazing and leaping with flame.

“Brat — you owe me a congenital Holy Body Dao Embryo. Otherwise this whole horde of demons and monsters would have been blasted into ash!” It finished its great roar — and then exploded into pieces between those two enormous hands, and was heard from no more.

“The child of the Holy Body? I’ll take her!” From within the phoenix nest came a crisp and enchanting woman’s voice. A white, luminous palm reached down, grasping toward the small Xiao Zi — who appeared only a few years old — intending to seize her.

“We need the bloodline of the Holy Body. This child can only go to the Underworld,” the Underworld’s people responded coldly.

“I need her!” The woman within the phoenix nest refused to relent.

“To restrain that woman’s supreme Dao Fruit, even the slumbering Underworld Emperor was forced to awaken. The Underworld has paid such a tremendous price — how could we allow others to come picking through the spoils of war?” The person within the black mist replied with icy coldness.

“Don’t you already have one Holy Body that you’ve suppressed? Isn’t that enough?”

“It is not enough!”

The two colossal powers argued.

On the divine island, Xiao Zi’s face was streaked with tears. She wept in soft, pitiful sobs, straining with all her strength to move the rubble and broken tiles. Her small hands had been scraped raw and were bleeding. All the while she called out again and again: “Mama… come back.”

Ye Fan’s heart was bleeding. A low, rumbling roar escaped him. Scalding tears slid down his face — he did not know how many years it had been since he last wept. Now he was consumed by this grief, and he could barely withstand it. Loved ones, friends — separated from them by ten thousand years!

He wanted to act — but he was not within that space and time. He roared in grief and madness, unable to return to the past. He could only watch across a span of ages, filled with hatred and utterly powerless.

Boom!

Heaven and earth burst apart. The Heavenly Empress within the phoenix nest and the great power of the Underworld fought over Xiao Zi, each desperate to seize her for themselves. The shockwaves from that struggle were immeasurable — they shattered the countless divine islands around them, and several star and constellation clusters broke free of their original trajectories, some exploding, some splitting apart.

From within the rubble, two figures with broken and mangled bodies crawled out.

One blazed with solar radiance for ten thousand ages — his lower half already completely gone, blood still flowing — and it was Ye Tong. He shielded Xiao Zi behind him and charged furiously up into the sky.

The other, though he had lost his right arm, bore a face still serene despite the bitterness in his heart. With his one remaining arm he scooped up Xiao Zi, soothing her tears, and sprinted toward the distance.

The sun burst apart. A shower of golden light scattered across the sky. Ye Tong let out a cry of unyielding defiance that shook the sun, moon, mountains, and rivers — and then he was no more.

Xiao Song’s entire body burned with flame. He sought to tear open the fabric of space and send the tiny Xiao Zi through it — to let her escape. What he was drawing upon was the power of time itself.

That beautiful young man — in this moment, his brilliance and grace were without equal in the world. Yet his smile was one of bitter sorrow. He dissolved into the blaze of light, becoming one with heaven and earth, gradually fading, fading away — gone!

Yet how could the two great powers in the sky above allow Xiao Zi to escape?

Ye Fan roared. The tears kept falling. He watched as his two most beloved disciples — before ever having shone with the radiance that should have been theirs — withered away like this. Tears blurred his vision.

And that little Xiao Zi — once so mischievous, so full of life. Now so helpless, reaching out her tiny hands. Was she calling for him?

And yet all he could do was watch like this, separated by ten thousand years. His heart was wracked with guilt, the pain was unbearable. In this moment, everything within him was grief, hatred, and madness.