Though the child was young in age, he was very intelligent. His eyes were bright, his forehead full and broad. His face lacked the high-altitude redness of Tibetan herdsmen, and his skin was fair.

Ye Fan’s expression was grave and solemn. He released his divine sense, sweeping through every inch of the child’s body, then delving deep into his sea of consciousness, intent on getting to the bottom of things.

Reincarnation — it was a matter of the utmost gravity, a question he had always wished to resolve. Was there truly a life after death? It touched upon issues of the greatest weight.

If there was, one could imagine that someday in the future there would surely be a great storm sweeping across the entire star domain!

Which of the ancient great emperors was ordinary? If they could be reincarnated, most would likely return at some future point — what kind of terrifying scene that would produce was simply beyond calculation.

Thinking further along this line: the ancient Heavenly Court had collapsed. Those few great figures, especially that august emperor — if they could be reincarnated… Ye Fan shuddered involuntarily.

If all of this came to pass, heaven and earth would be overturned, this entire universe would be shattered. It was simply unimaginable!

They said this was a great age, that the path to immortality was about to open. If reincarnation and rebirth were a fact, there was no doubt that the ancient great emperors would re-emerge, and when that time came, the trouble would be enormous.

The top of Ye Fan’s head felt tight. Why had the ten thousand clans all awakened in this era? It seemed like a kind of omen — the conjecture he had just formed in that fleeting instant might well come true.

The Wushi Great Emperor, the Battle Saint Emperor, the Undying Heavenly Emperor… the august emperor of the ancient Heavenly Court — not a single one of them was a trifling figure. Each was capable of upending all of eternity!

Ye Fan was exceptionally cautious. He stilled his mind and gathered his focus, not hesitating to send his own “spirit” to take up residence in this small, young body, advancing through every inch of blood and flesh, seeking to find an ancient Buddha within.

Several gurus were thoroughly shaken. Seeing Ye Fan’s solemn gravity — a golden tiny figure walking out from between his brows and conducting an inspection as though facing a great enemy — made their hearts pound violently, leaving them nearly breathless.

This child had remarkable bone structure; he was an excellent candidate for cultivation. In Buddhist terms, he was a person born with Buddhist bones. Moreover, though he was small, he was exceptionally wise, utterly unlike ordinary children, with a composure well beyond his years.

Within the flesh, blood, and bones, no “divine being” was hidden. Ye Fan could confirm this — his divine sense had nearly dissected every single cell, conducting a thorough examination.

At last, the fist-sized golden tiny figure entered the child’s sea of consciousness — the fundamental repository of the “spirit.” This time Ye Fan entered carrying the cracked green immortal cauldron; if any mishap occurred, it would be sufficient to subdue whatever awaited.

The human subconscious is extraordinarily powerful, housing one’s own innate “spirit.” What is called latent potential is deeply mysterious and touches on many things. If one’s innate “spirit” is sufficiently strong, it stands to reason that one’s latent potential will also be much greater.

Ye Fan searched through the subconscious. It is said that if reincarnation exists, the previous life would be stored within the subconscious — all past experiences, all divine abilities — preserved therein.

He discovered the child’s “mind-cache” at once — a region of scriptures. This portion of the subconscious had already awakened, which was why he could recite lost sutras.

The child’s sea of consciousness was extraordinary. There were flashes of lightning and peals of thunder, as well as blue skies and snowy mountains — vast and magnificent. This was a corner of what one might call the latent potential region.

“All conditioned things are impermanent; such is the nature of arising and passing. When arising and passing are extinguished, stillness and cessation bring bliss…”

Suddenly, Ye Fan froze. He saw a hazy old monk, reciting scriptures aloud, sitting high upon a mountain of Dao, within the as-yet-unawakenened region of latent potential.

Ye Fan felt as though struck by lightning. Could it truly be that reincarnation existed? He had actually glimpsed such an old monk within the child’s sea of consciousness — it was simply unimaginable.

He stood there in stunned contemplation. Had rebirth truly occurred? This was earth-shattering — beyond his ability to understand. He had only ever believed in this present life. When a person dies, all things become void.

Without doubt, this was profoundly jolting — it dealt a tremendous shock to his convictions. The old monk was hazy and could not be seen clearly, but he was absolutely an ancient Buddha.

Ye Fan steadied his composure. The golden tiny figure stepped forward through the sea of consciousness, pressing onward. He still harbored some disbelief; he wanted to get to the bottom of it, to see clearly.

“Thus Come One has attained nirvana, severing birth and death forever…”

“If one listens with a sincere heart, one shall continually receive boundless joy…”

He rounded this mountain of Dao, and his expression went still. He found himself facing an entire range of peaks, each one bearing a seated old monk, each with mouth open in the recitation of scriptures.

Ye Fan was immediately startled. Even with reincarnation, it would be impossible for so many “spirits” to coexist. Could this person have been reborn through countless generations — every one of them a bodhisattva or ancient Buddha?

At this moment, his mind settled greatly. He murmured to himself: “I still do not believe in reincarnation. When a person dies, it is like a lamp going out — it cannot endure and transmigrate.”

He looked ahead and found multitudes of old monks and ancient Buddhas, belonging to different eras. The scriptures were like an ocean, the ancient incantations like a river, flowing on endlessly without end.

Ye Fan’s expression grew composed, his eyes deepening. With a single gaze he saw to the very end. Both hands moved, deducing the causes and effects of ages past — this was the heaven-defying art of observing antiquity.

Beneath a clear and bright sky, a three-year-old child fell into a subterranean chamber, inside which were stone Buddhas, a begging bowl, and rotting ancient scriptures. It was a Buddhist underground vault. On a stone platform lay a “Buddha’s crown bone” — struck by the falling child, it released a strange light that entered his sea of consciousness.

Not long after, the child was rescued and fell gravely ill, but from then on could recite scriptures and write incantations — the mind-cache phenomenon had occurred.

“I see. So that is how it all came about.” Ye Fan murmured to himself.

He withdrew from the child’s sea of consciousness. The next moment, he and the several gurus traced their way to the underground vault, where they found some remains of what had been there. Three years prior, after the child’s father had carried him out, nothing had been moved — it remained exactly as it was.

“A hidden treasure cache!” Several gurus immediately exclaimed in excitement. The Buddha’s crown bone had contained the Buddhist Daoist lineage, and at the instant the child fell, it had transferred into his sea of consciousness.

According to legend, Shakyamuni once used the karmic fire of an entire ancient star to refine his true body, forging a quasi-emperor physique, and in the process of this transformation, several fragments of bone were burned out — one of which was the top of his skull.

These bones subsequently became the most sacred relics of Buddhism, venerated by generations of eminent monks and great Buddhas, who would silently recite scriptures before them, and in so doing, they had come to bear the Daoist lineage of Buddhism as well.

Ye Fan took the Buddha’s crown-top bone in hand. It was heavy as it met his grasp, yet he felt no pressure from it — because generations of virtuous and sagely monks had faced it daily, and had long since refined away the quasi-emperor energy within it. Otherwise, no one could have approached it at all.

Now, it was simply a piece of Buddhist bone; all the scriptures it had contained had transferred into this child’s sea of consciousness.

“This is quite a fine material for refining weapons. If fashioned into a bone shield, it could block nearly any assault.”

Beside him, several gurus nearly collapsed in fright upon hearing his murmuring — this was Shakyamuni’s skull, something to be enshrined and revered, and yet he wanted to grind it into an ancient shield?

With all prior causes and subsequent effects now clear, this was no case of reincarnation — it was merely the transfer of a Buddhist hidden treasure cache, which could not prove the existence of a future life.

In this world, Ye Fan knew of only a handful of things capable of preserving one’s divine soul undying: the Medicinal King, divine marrow, the divine liquid contained within a fully developed Nine-Orifice Holy Spirit, a matured dragon loach, and the rarest of all — the immortality medicine!

Yet why did this child resemble the ancient Buddha from the other shore of the starry sky? This left him with no small measure of doubt.

“Life after life, age after age — sooner or later two people of identical appearance can be found. This is not worth making much of.” Ye Fan murmured to himself.

He was firmly convinced there was no reincarnation. The divine soul would always wither and perish in the end. If transmigration were possible, would that not mean every person’s body contained the immortality medicine? How could that possibly be so!

He used his powerful divine soul to enter the child’s sea of consciousness once more and examined it carefully several times over, confirming it bore no connection whatsoever to the ancient Buddha on the other shore of the starry sky — it was impossible for the ancient Buddha’s imprint to exist there.

“The ancient Buddha did me a great kindness. He said he had seen a certain future scene — I believe that moment was now. He wished me to bring this child back with me, so that the boundless Buddhist teachings hidden in his sea of consciousness could be transmitted.”

Ye Fan furrowed his brows. Such a young child was truly ill-suited to be brought to the other side of the starry sky — far too young. And how could his parents bear to part with him?

However, several gurus spoke on his behalf. The moment they suggested bringing the child away for cultivation, the pair of herdsman parents agreed at once, and with great joy at that.

They were devout Buddhists. The fact that their child had been able to recite ancient scriptures since early childhood filled them with deep pride, and they were willing to send him into the Buddhist order to cultivate. Most importantly, when the several gurus had come looking, they had demonstrated Buddhist teachings — in this age, that was akin to being divine figures.

The couple had other children and would not be left utterly lonely. Moreover, they believed that if this child could dwell perpetually before the Buddha, it would be a tremendous honor.

Ye Fan asked the child whether he was willing. What mattered most was still the child himself. Young though he was, he was deserving of respect — Ye Fan would not compel him.

“I am willing!” To his surprise, the six-year-old child answered without hesitation, expressing his willingness to go with him and cultivate.

Ye Fan sighed. At the other end of the starry sky, the old monk had expended every effort to help him before passing into the Dao, severing the mysterious shackles that had been upon him — truly he had seen the “fruit” of this day.

In the end, their entire group set out, making for Spiritual Mountain. Because the child had recited the complete incantation, the small stone Buddha within Little Pine’s bell radiated a resplendent light, pointing the way toward Spiritual Mountain.

This time, the road was brilliant and luminous, stretching out into the distance without a single break, leading toward a vast and towering mountain range, which they entered smoothly.

Spiritual Mountain!

Just as before — a vast expanse of dried and withered land, bereft of vitality. Everything had wilted. Ancient temples sat in succession, utterly silent, permeated with the stillness of death.

The several gurus were boundlessly overcome with emotion, never having imagined they would one day truly ascend to this place. This was a primordial sanctuary that had existed long before Shakyamuni himself — supreme and unparalleled.

Ye Fan, the holy knight, Little Pine, Long Ma, Zhang Qingyang, Long Yuxuan, and the child named “Huahua” were all far from calm. Standing at the mountain’s summit, they gazed out over a vast and boundless sea of peaks and mountains.

One sacred temple after another, one stretch of ancient architecture after another — grand and magnificent, bearing the glory of Buddhism’s primordial era, witnessing the passage of countless events from ages past.

A pity that the sacred spring had now run dry, the grass and trees had withered, and the former flourishing abundance was no more. But no one dared underestimate this place, for they sensed a vast and surging undulation, gestating within the mountain’s body and within its structures — the pure power of faith and devotion gathered through countless ages.

Before long, they split up and went their separate ways, searching through this primordial sanctuary. This place was a treasure ground.

Ye Fan’s goal was simple — to seek out star coordinates. Yet he found nothing of the sort no matter where he looked. He entered one ancient structure after another in search of scripture repositories, but some areas had powerful restrictive formations in place.

Long Ma wished it could turn the entire place upside down and dig three feet into the earth. It searched everywhere for Buddhist treasures, and though it glimpsed some secret implements, none satisfied it.

There were no world-shaking sacred weapons — when the Buddhist order withdrew, they had taken all the most important items with them. Nevertheless, there were some precious objects remaining that were far from ordinary.

Several gurus stood before a stone wall and obtained certain secret techniques and ancient incantations from it, each of them overjoyed.

The holy knight stood before a bas-relief in quiet contemplation. He sensed a powerful force of principles and unexpectedly achieved an enlightenment right there, motionless — and no one disturbed him.

Zhang Qingyang and Long Yuxuan, among the cliff inscriptions and steles, transcribed the traces of what appeared to be secret technique Dao markings, carefully organizing them.

Long Ma let out a long neigh, finally locating a damaged alms bowl — a sacred weapon once used by a sage — and was immediately overjoyed. The five-colored sacred tree obtained at Penglai had been confiscated by Ye Fan and left there as a pillar for the sect, much to Long Ma’s dissatisfaction. But now it had finally obtained another artifact.

The child Huahua had a strong affinity for Buddhism. Before long, he found a partial scripture, which caught Ye Fan’s attention — it was the Veda, incomparably ancient, a text that had even inspired Shakyamuni himself.

Though it was only a single scroll, its value was beyond estimation. Ye Fan had once obtained a scroll of it in India, and it was from this that he had derived insights to deduce techniques such as the Art of Observing Antiquity.

He stood there, studying it carefully for a long time, then closed his eyes and contemplated for a great length of time. Only after several hours did he open his eyes again.

Suddenly, everyone heard Little Pine’s cry. Ye Fan was the first to dash over. Though Spiritual Mountain held no particular traps or killing formations, there were a great many powerful restrictive arrays. He was afraid something might happen to the little one.

The little purple creature had been exploring for treasures while holding the small stone Buddha. Its gains were plentiful, for wherever important artifacts lay, the small stone Buddha would radiate a glowing light. Even Long Ma’s alms bowl had been “borrowed” from Little Pine’s hands through shameless persistence.

At this moment, it had discovered a bronze incense burner, nearly rotted through, yet emitting an intensely rich fragrance — one that made those who breathed it feel as though they might rise on the rosy clouds to the heavens.

Moreover, it was shaking violently, as though some living creature was within, which left Little Pine so astonished and hesitant that it dared not approach.

This was because Ye Fan had long since instructed it that in this place, it must never take risks under any circumstances. If it encountered anything strange, it must call for him, to avoid accidents.

Long Ma, the holy knight, and the several gurus were also startled. They all came rushing over, and the moment they laid eyes on the bronze burner, everyone was greatly astonished.

“This burner is a sacred weapon, but it has been destroyed — its treasure energy is gone, and the divine spirit it contained within has perished.” This was the holy knight’s conclusion.

Ye Fan nodded, a look of gravity crossing his face. This had been a sacred weapon, and to think it had been ruined this way — truly a pity.

“Could this be a Demon-Refining Furnace?” Zhang Qingyang spoke up. As a young Celestial Master of the Central Lands Daoist order, he was well versed in such ancient implements.

“There’s text nearby…” The child Huahua said, pointing at a stone stele not far away. It was densely covered with writing, as though recording something of the utmost importance.

Ye Fan, the holy knight, and the others could not recognize any of it, for it was in Sanskrit — all ancient characters, utterly incomprehensible.

Several gurus stepped forward and studied it carefully, their expressions growing solemn, for these were foundational glyphs — the most primordial Dao traces of Sanskrit — abstruse and difficult to decipher.

Fortunately, they had all applied themselves seriously to such study and could broadly identify these ancient scripts from the primordial era. When they had deciphered more than half of it, their expressions changed at once.

“This is a secret inscription carved by eminent monks of later generations before they evacuated Spiritual Mountain. It records the secret of this bronze furnace.” One of the gurus said solemnly.

“Read on. Let us hear what it says.”

One of the gurus’ expression was shocked as he said: “This is an ancient furnace personally sealed by Shakyamuni!”

At that very moment, the furnace shook again, as if some living creature was about to break out — leaving everyone in stunned astonishment.

An entire sacred weapon’s spiritual energy had been consumed, and even the divine spirit within it had died. What in the world could be inside?