He wept and sniffled as he recounted the events of these years. For him, it had been a chapter of darkness — trapped on the path to immortality, completely severed from this world.

“What?!” Everyone was utterly stunned.

“And it wasn’t this era’s path to immortality — it was a path from millions of years ago. Grandmother broke through the ancient path, shattering the chaos, and we fell into some mysterious primordial chaos divine soil.”

Mentioning the old woman, Tu Fei grew subdued. That elder — a contemporary of the Old Madman — had not been able to withstand the blade of time and had passed on. Yet she had passed down to Tu Fei an extraordinary wealth of knowledge and technique.

They had originally only been excavating ruins, trying to obtain the northern polar immortal light — and instead they had become trapped within a sealed ancient path. It was staggering.

“You’ve become a quasi-emperor — that’s truly defying the heavens.” Li Heishui exclaimed, for by all accounts of Tu Fei’s natural gifts, reaching such a level should have been impossible.

Ye Fan saw even more clearly than Li Heishui. Tu Fei had undergone a complete and thorough transformation — his natural gifts were entirely different now. At over four thousand years old, becoming a quasi-emperor was not early — but his foundation was extraordinarily solid.

“It was the Extinction Heavenly Arts. A pity Grandmother didn’t succeed — but I experienced extinction, died once, and then was reborn from the ashes.” Tu Fei spoke without concealment, laying everything bare.

Tu Fei returned and entered the Heavenly Court. Learning of everything that had happened over these thousands of years, he could not help but feel a wave of complicated emotion — the dark upheaval, the post-golden-era age — it was a lot to take in.

Most of all, Ye Fan had become Emperor — this shocked him, though then he let it go. After all, he was a quasi-emperor himself now.

“Time — it passes like this, and we’ve reached such heights.” Tu Fei sighed softly, then his eyes filled with tears, for many people he would never see again.

Of the five little outlaws, three had already died. Liu Kou, Wu Zhongtian, Jiang Huairen — none of them would ever be seen again. Some had died during the ancient clan and Assassin Divine Dynasty’s rampage; others had fallen in the dark upheaval.

“Aooo…” Tu Fei wept freely. Time had swept by — almost four thousand years in the blink of an eye — and this was a permanent farewell. Those friends were gone forever.

Li Heishui and Ye Fan were sad as well. They patted his shoulder, not knowing what to say.

The Black Emperor hung its head almost to the ground. It was the one who had lost track of Tu Fei — and here he was, only returning now after so many years. Though truly, it could not be blamed — back then the situation had been desperate, everyone trapped within the Immortal Mountain, the Headless Horseman had emerged, and there was simply no other choice. It had used the chess formation runes as an experiment to teleport people away, prioritizing survival over accuracy.

“My grandfather — is he…” Tu Fei’s voice trembled.

“The old man is still here — he has been talking about you ever since, waiting for your return.”

Not long after, Tu Tian was brought to them. He had aged enormously — he was in the last years of his life.

In truth, had Ye Fan not used his blood to extend his life, Tu Tian would have passed away many years ago.

“Grandfather!” Tu Fei cried out, tears covering his face.

“Xiao Fei — you’ve… finally come back to see your grandfather.” The old man’s eyes were cloudy with age. He trembled, and took Tu Fei’s hand, his very lips quivering.

He wept. He had lived such a long life, built such a fearsome name for himself — yet in the end, he had held on for one reason only: to wait for his grandson to come home. Unable to let go. His heart had been full of sorrow.

“Grandfather, you must live for ten thousand years. I’ve come back — from now on, we’ll never be separated. I’ll care for you properly.” Tu Fei sobbed.

He had already learned: of the legendary thirteen great outlaws of the Eastern Desolation, only one or two remained. Some had died in the dark upheaval; others had died of old age. His grandfather Tu Tian had survived solely because of one stubborn conviction — he could not let go, could not leave without seeing his grandson one more time.

“Being able to see you — grandfather is satisfied. Even death holds no regret now.” Tu Tian’s hair was snow-white, his eyes dull, and tears ran down his face.

“Grandfather, you can’t die. I want to take care of you.” Tu Fei cried out.

“Foolish child — how can a person not die? Thousands of years have passed in a flash. One generation gives way to the next. This world belongs to you now. Those like us will slowly die and disappear.” Tu Tian’s words were both a comfort and a lament.

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want grandfather to die!” Tu Fei’s tears fell like rain.

Ye Fan again offered to refine supreme imperial blood to extend Tu Tian’s life — to keep him alive.

“There is no need. Thank you, little Ye. After all these years, I have felt guilty about it. Were it not for my wish to see Tu Fei, I would never have allowed you to waste even a single drop of your blood.” Tu Tian refused.

Everyone urged him.

But he shook his head and held firm. “How can I do such a thing? Sacred blood sustaining a life — that is consuming little Ye’s own life essence. That is the root of his own life. It cannot be wasted on me.”

“It is no matter. The Heavenly Court has sovereign medicines — the old man can live on.” Ye Fan said. Watching a grandfather and grandson face the prospect of permanent separation moved him deeply.

“I have already waited to see my grandson. There are no regrets left. I know when enough is enough. I can go and join the old companions now. We great outlaws will reunite beneath the earth — I miss those old friends so much.” Tu Tian’s gaze drifted, his thoughts far away.

He murmured: “The golden great era will one day come to its close. The heroes will wither. Time is a blade. When that time comes, you will need the sovereign medicine far more than I do. I have already seen it — a bleak and mournful great era is coming. The divine medicines and the like are far more useful saved for you children.”

Everyone was taken aback, then fell into a collective sigh.

Half a year later, Tu Tian passed away. Tu Fei stayed by his side for every last moment, and the old man left in peace and contentment — without a single regret.

Time flows like water — once gone, never to return.

Another thousand years swept past. Ye Fan was now over five thousand years old. His blood and vitality grew ever more vigorous. When others reached this age, it signaled the beginning of the descent from life’s peak, the slow drift toward twilight years.

Yet for him, it was merely the beginning. He was the Sacred Body — capable of living ten thousand years by nature alone. And now that he had become Celestial Emperor, how long he might endure was impossible to say.

Yet time was merciless. Though it could not take his youth, it continued to harvest the lives of the elder generation.

During this period, the grandson of the Slaughter Saint Qi Luo — Old Blade, as he was called — passed away, and his life reached its end. Not long after, word came from the Northern Dipper that the Red Dragon Daoist, who had once shown great kindness to Ye Fan, had passed. Then the Peacock King and the Crow Daoist followed.

At five thousand years old, Ye Fan was peerless beneath the heavens — no adversary remained. Not one person dared cross swords with him. Yet within his heart was a vast sorrow.

One after another, those who had shown him kindness passed away. His heart ached, yet there was no true remedy. He wanted to extend their lives — yet was refused, every time.

Sacred blood was like divine medicine — especially the sacred blood of a Celestial Emperor body, precious beyond measure. But as those who refused him had said: his blood was his own life force. Extending others’ lives meant consuming a portion of his own longevity.

These elders chose death over allowing him to diminish himself for them.

The qilin medicine, the peach, and the others had ripened once. They had been harvested and stored away. But the elder generation refused to consume them — those were to be saved for Ye Fan, the Monkey, Ye Tong, Yang Xi, Xiao Song, and the next generation of people. Because when the golden great era fell and they entered their twilight years, they would surely have need of them.

Ye Fan was invincible across the nine heavens and ten earths — yet he was powerless. He was exploring the path to long life, but those people could not wait.

Five thousand years, and he had found no one who could withstand him — yet against time itself, he was helpless. He could not draw back those people’s youth, could not hold on to their lives.

At times, Ye Fan would gaze alone at the star-filled sky — sometimes remaining motionless for an entire night. Friends and loved ones passed away one by one, filling him with a quiet desolation. He felt something of loneliness. His wife and daughter had gone far away, impossible to meet again in this lifetime. Though he stood at the absolute pinnacle of the human Dao, there was little he could change. In another few thousand years — would everyone of his generation be gone? How much more lonely would he be then?

From Elder Jiang and Uncle Zhang at the very beginning, to the Victorious Buddha, Gu Tianshu, Qi Luo in later years, then the Human Demon and the Old Madman, then Tu Tian, and now the Red Dragon Daoist and the others — one by one they had gone. How could he endure the grief of sending them off, again and again, without end?

In the years that followed, vast numbers of celestial soldiers began to age. Some celestial generals began to die. An entire generation of the Heavenly Court began to grow old and pass on.

Time flowed. Ye Fan reached six thousand years old. His supreme power surpassed all that had come before. Not only were there no opponents — it was difficult to find even a person who could withstand a single strike from him.

But he had grown more desolate.

Looking around, the Heavenly Court now had many new stone steles. Celestial soldiers and divine generals — great numbers of them — had died and been laid to rest in the Heavenly Garden. And some of the familiar faces from long ago were gone too, never to return.

The autumn wind rose, cold enough to bite to the bone. Ye Fan walked through the garden of graves, gazing at the dense rows of tombstones. His heart felt cold. Step by step he walked, growing quieter with each stone he passed.

Now, everyone in the Heavenly Court showed the marks of age.

To this point, only the Monkey, Ye Tong, Yang Xi, and a few others still had blood and vitality like a great sea — they had reached the highest peak of their lives. At around six thousand years old, this was their most brilliant era. They shook the cosmos, overawed the eight wastelands. When they went forth, none could oppose them — revered by heaven and earth alike, dazzling beyond all description.

But if time continued to flow, they would be like the sun at noon — inevitably tilting toward the west, slowly drifting away from their peak.

Aside from them, the others had long since begun their decline — like the setting sun, the peak now past.

That year, the Heavenly Court’s formidable combat power and supreme expert, Shan Huang, reached the end of his life and passed away within the Immortal Mountain. The other great demon lords who had once escaped the Eighteen Levels of Hell alongside him and joined the Heavenly Court had already died long years ago.

That same year, after leaving the Underworld, the half-human, half-ghost Gu Xin’ao’s body finally dissolved — dust to dust, earth to earth — ending his hazy life.

The Heavenly Court’s supreme combat forces began to pass away one after another. It signaled that the Heavenly Court, after reaching the apex of its glory, had begun, like all things under heaven and earth, to fade. There was no escaping this law — loneliness, the closing of an era.

And it was not the Heavenly Court alone. The entirety of the mortal realm was the same. Every great bloodline showed the marks of age. The incomparably glorious golden great era, having developed to its utmost, began to show signs of decline.

People knew: the great era was about to fade.

This law of succession and change was something no one could resist. All things rise and fall. Greatness inevitably crests — and once crested, must decline. It had always been so.

“The Jade Desolation King has died!”

“The King of the Underworld Body blazed through the golden era — now his old wounds have flared, and he has turned to dust.”

“The Feathering King charged the heavens in defiance — and was obliterated, body and soul.”

“The Brahma Battle Body’s old afflictions stirred new Dao wounds — he has become tribulation ash.”

“The Void Heavenly Body has grown old and passed away, seated within a stone chamber.”

…

One piece of news after another arrived. One extraordinary figure after another reached the end of this life. The great era was visibly declining. The so-called golden age was truly beginning to wither.

The tombstones within the Heavenly Court had grown ever more numerous. Looking out, the steles rose like a forest, with no end in sight. An entire generation of celestial soldiers and divine generals had passed. The wind stirred fallen leaves, and the place felt desolate.

Ye Fan stood there for a long time without moving.

“Master — seal me away.” Behind Ye Fan, a voice spoke.

It was Xiao Song. He was in the most glorious period of his life. His youth was still with him — he was still as simple and genuine as ever. Time had left no trace upon his face.

“I want to protect the Heavenly Court. One day, when even Master is no longer young, I will emerge — I do not wish to see it fade. I want the glory to continue.” Xiao Song spoke with great seriousness.