“It’s time to go — to Fire Spirit Ravine, to watch the battle between these heaven-defying geniuses. In one hour, the great clash begins!”

“Quite right — let’s move quickly and secure a good vantage point. Let’s see who comes out on top in what may be the most attention-commanding battle the Eastern Wasteland has seen in years.”

The patrons of Changsheng Teahouse rose one after another. In the blink of an eye, more than half of them were gone, flying off into the distance — no one willing to miss the battle.

“This is truly exciting to anticipate. The one who may be Ye Fan’s disciple or successor is about to make a move.” Figures flickered through the sky, many of them with eyes bright and sharp, riding clouds toward a single destination.

Before long, the teahouse had grown quiet. Apart from the Divine Knight and the rest of their group, nearly everyone had departed without a trace.

“That child… has grown up.” A note of emotion crept into Ye Fan’s voice. When he had left, Tong Tong had still been a tender young child, often crying and shedding quiet tears alone while speaking to small animals.

More than ten years had passed. He had already become a distinguished talent of his generation — one capable of matching blows with the Holy Sons of various holy lands, his name rising to prominence.

“You’re not leaving yet? By the time you arrive, all the good viewing spots will be gone,” the teahouse servant helpfully pointed out.

“Very well — let’s set out too. Let’s go watch this battle of geniuses,” Ye Fan said.

“Ha ha!” Long Ma laughed loudly. Having just arrived in the Big Dipper Star Region and already about to witness Ye Fan’s disciple locked in fierce combat — this filled it with excitement.

“Is it truly my little older martial brother — whom I’ve never met — who is about to fight?” Zhang Qingyang’s eyes blazed with light. He was eagerly looking forward to this battle.

As they traveled, they passed large numbers of cultivators, among them quite a few from the ancient clans — their appearances strange and varied. Some had dog heads on human bodies, some bore divine wings, some resembled the Thunder God of legend — each different from the last.

“More than ten years have passed. The human Holy Body withdrew from the stage, and yet a disciple has emerged. I’d rather like to see whether he was born with three heads and six arms.”

“The human Holy Body made every ancient clan look wretched in his day. I almost look forward to his return — let him stir up another storm of events. I refuse to believe the Heavenly Emperor’s Son can’t cut him down!”

Many of the ancient clan powerhouses who passed by were clearly harboring no goodwill. In his time, Ye Fan had fought savagely through Heaven-Severing Mountain Range, doing battle with heroes from across the world — blood had run in rivers, staining the entire range red. Untold numbers of heroes had fallen, and the ancient clans had not forgotten.

“Better let it go. Just how powerful was Yuangu in his day — an eighth-generation descendant of the ancient emperor, with bloodline power that shook the heavens? He gave everything he had and still fell in battle in the end.”

All along the way, powerful lords of the ancient clans kept appearing, speaking and deliberating among themselves. The great decisive battle of years past was etched into their memories, still vivid as though it had never faded.

Fire Spirit Ravine was a site of ancient battles, located a hundred li to the west of Tianhen City.

In the center of this mountainous terrain ran a great chasm, stretching for tens of li in length. Nothing grew there — no matter what seeds were planted, no matter how they were watered, nothing would take root or sprout.

The soil of Fire Spirit Ravine was a reddish-brown, utterly barren and bare. Legend held that a fire spirit had once appeared here, supreme and unchallenged, ruling over the central region through endless ages.

Now, every mountain peak surrounding Fire Spirit Ravine was packed with people. This battle had drawn attention on a tremendous scale, drawing observers from every direction, hailed as a clash of kings among the younger generation.

“Are you certain — that this person called Ye Tong has a connection to the Holy Body? That he’s truly the Holy Body’s disciple or descendant?”

“You’re behind the times. I’ve seen this young man with my own eyes. As early as two years ago, he was led out for trial by that vile, ten-thousand-times-damned Black Emperor. He is absolutely connected to the Holy Body.”

Many people couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath. Ye Fan’s lineage had not been severed. In his time, he had carved out a formidable reputation that shook the Eastern Wasteland. After all these years, his great adversaries had never forgotten.

“Those years — truly unforgettable. Those world-shaking decisive battles, the震震震 of the entire world.” People’s thoughts drifted back: to Ye Fan breaking the curse, opposing heaven’s might on a moonlit night, his first emergence into prominence drawing the gaze of the entire world — it felt like only yesterday.

Later came his battles high above, his unstoppable march across the world — blood flowing like rivers, corpses stacked like mountains, the Five Regions shaking to their foundations. Those times seemed not so far gone.

“He’s here!” someone cried out.

In the distance, a vast expanse of cloud and mist rolled forward, impossibly thick — like a cloud forged of divine gold, boundless and without edge. Upon it stood over a hundred silhouettes.

At the center was a young man of about twenty, his head adorned with a purple-gold crown, his body clad in chain armor — tall, with an air of martial sharpness about him.

“The people from Wanchu Holy Land have arrived! The young man at the very front is the heaven-defying genius they have devoted everything to cultivating over these many years — his name is Mo Xue.”

Mo Xue’s expression was placid and composed. His black hair fell loose about his shoulders, his bearing noble and vigorous, his eyes deep and fathomless. He stood at the very forefront of the cloud layer, an air of unassailable supremacy about him.

The cold light of his iron armor glinted and flickered; the purple-gold crown atop his head shone with brilliant radiance, great waves of Dao energy flowing through it, setting him apart as a figure far above the reach of ordinary people.

“That proud, martial bearing — word is he entered the Great Ability realm long ago. Two years ago, he defeated the Wanchu Holy Son from five hundred years prior. His power is supremely terrifying.”

Mo Xue stood upon the clouds, unmovable as a mountain. Strand after strand of Dao energy radiated from his physical body, faintly accompanied by lightning and thunder — these were Dao-marks born from having one’s cultivation recognized by heaven and earth, resonating with the nine heavens and ten lands.

Hummm!

Mo Xue moved then — with impossible speed. Cold light played across his armor, and above and below were awash in cold radiance. A great cleaving tear through the void fell downward, causing the sky itself to tremble.

His fingers pressed together into a blade. The power behind this single strike was boundless; even many of the sect masters present changed their expressions. This speed and force were rare in the world — even they would find it difficult to withstand.

Ye Tong’s entire body flickered with firelight. His eyes blazed with sunlike brilliance. He formed the Sun Divine Seal with his hands, and from his fingertip shot a beam of golden light — Sun Sword Qi, razor-sharp and unmatched.

Clang!

Fire-sparks burst in the void. The great cleaving tear of the void collided with the Sun Sword Qi and erupted in cascading light, like fireworks blooming — beautiful and breathtaking. Yet every person present changed color and silently marveled: these two were so young, and yet they wielded divine powers of this magnitude. If they were allowed to grow to maturity — what then?!

Crack!

Mo Xue let out a clear whistle and spat a mouthful of innate quintessential energy, transforming it into a wave of Dao ripples — one hundred and eight Sonic Sword-threads, which surged toward Ye Tong’s skull with sudden ferocity.

The entirety of the void rattled like ricepaper tearing apart; all the currents of air went wild and chaotic. Sand and stone flew from every mountain peak, and the ancient trees were reduced to powder.

Pop!

The Dao ripple sword-threads tore the void around them into a thousand fragments. How much worse, then, for a being of flesh and blood — anyone struck would be left in ruins.

Ye Tong faced the threat with composure. Both hands swept into motion, raising a golden circle that seemed shaped by heaven itself, sending a brilliant curtain of battle-qi surging outward to envelop him entirely.

The Dao ripples surged and crashed against the golden circle, but could not destroy it. Upon Ye Tong’s body, nothing took hold — every razor-sharp Sonic Sword-thread was blocked entirely.

“Ye Fan’s golden circle from years past has reappeared!” someone cried out in astonishment.

People had not forgotten the scene of Ye Fan manifesting the Taiji circle — ten thousand techniques incapable of touching his body, the golden circle raised — an image that had once awed an entire era.

Light and fire surged upward, solar sacred fire roaring and billowing. Ye Tong launched a fierce counterattack. Bathed in a blaze of light, as though the sun above had been born for him alone, he drew down one after another mysterious flame-force from the heavens.

He was the image of a fire god — towering flames erupting from within his body, scorching the void to molten ruin as they surged forward.

Mo Xue was forced to dodge and retreat. He produced a pitch-black fan and directed it toward the void, instantly extinguishing a vast stretch of flames — a chill that cut to the bone.

“The Yin-Tai Banana Fan!” someone cried out in recognition.

A fan of this kind was nearly impossible to find in the world. It was refined from banana leaves grown in places of supreme yin energy, combined with an innumerable array of rare precious metals and stones, at enormous expense. This was a secret treasure of the ancient age.

Mo Xue fanned again. The Yin-Tai Banana Fan sent waves of black mist rolling outward like blades of ice slashing into people’s souls — one’s spirit threatening to shatter, cold piercing to the marrow.

Observers in the distance all stumbled backward. The grass and trees on every mountain peak froze instantly, then crumbled into black powder, incapable of withstanding the cold.

Ye Tong’s pupils contracted sharply at the sight. His opponent had clearly prepared thoroughly to counter his solar sacred power — yet he was not afraid.

He raised one hand toward the sun above, and aimed the other at his enemy. Rumbling thunder rang out continuously; clearly visible, a torrent of blazing light fell from the sky in great swaths.

This was a breathtaking display of ambition!

Ye Tong was using the sun itself as a “great weapon” — channeling the descended firelight, which blotted out the sky, into the top of his skull, then transforming it into primordial sacred power and driving it toward Mo Xue.

Splat!

Point meeting point — fierce opposition. Mo Xue used the Yin-Tai Banana Fan to resist the solar sacred fire, and the two forces alternated between searing heat and freezing cold, with enormous swings in temperature.

In the surrounding mountain terrain, many great boulders liquefied into magma one moment and solidified again the next, then were shattered by the frost — a terrifying spectacle.

They say water and fire show no mercy — when these two forces clashed, the result was nothing short of catastrophe. Two extremes in opposition, each collision shattering the sky.

“Calamity — total calamity!” Many lesser cultivators had never witnessed a spectacle of this magnitude; faces going white as snow, they couldn’t help but cry out in fright.

The scene at this moment was truly overwhelming. Ye Tong was wielding the sun itself as a weapon, cascading sheets of fire blanketing the sky — the heavens had been transformed entirely into an ocean of flame.

All of that blazing light finally converged into a river, entering Ye Tong’s skull, and then driving forward toward the Wanchu Holy Son with overwhelming force.

Even the Yin-Tai Banana Fan, that precious secret artifact, was struggling to endure — cracking and splintering sounds rang out as crack after crack appeared along its black surface, nearly burned through and split apart.

“Ye Fan’s disciple is remarkable — with grand ambition, using celestial bodies like the sun and moon as weapons in his hands. Truly astonishing!”

Many of the older generation stared wide-eyed. Though the temperature around them blazed fiercely, having reduced more than a dozen mountains to lava, a chill ran up all of their spines.

In the distance, Ye Fan smiled and nodded. More than ten years had passed, and that child who used to weep had truly grown — fully capable of standing on his own. This kind of imposing might came as a surprise even to him. The achievements ahead were without limit.

“A grand heart and great ambition — that is what makes a path that reaches far.” The Divine Knight spoke.

Mo Xue let out a great shout, and actually put away the Yin-Tai Banana Fan. He spread all ten fingers wide and shot ten bolts of electric light, cleaving through the long sky.

Everyone was taken aback — he had put away a powerful secret treasure to fight bare-handed. Was he not throwing away his strengths and clinging to his weaknesses?

But Ye Fan frowned, and two brilliant beams of light shot from his eyes. He murmured to himself: “No wonder he dares battle someone with the Sun Sacred Emperor bloodline — he possesses a very rare constitution of his own. He’s not simple.”

Only a few people sensed the anomaly. Those ten bolts of electric light were extraordinary — within them coursed threads of terrifying energy that weighed heavily on the spirit.

Boom!

At last, the electric light detonated. Where it clashed with the towering firelight, it held its own without falling behind — it could even extinguish swaths of sacred flame.

“What is this — Chaos Lightning!” someone cried out.

Most of those present stared wide-eyed with disbelief. At his age, he dared to refine Chaos itself? Even seasoned elders would not dare attempt it.

Ye Tong’s expression grew grave. He unleashed sweeping, expansive attacks, driving the vast flames to suppress Mo Xue — the sun above cascading thousands upon thousands of curtains of waterfall-like light downward.

In this moment, Mo Xue was supremely terrifying — it was as though he had become a divine being, lightning crackling and thunder rolling from every inch of his body, every pore discharging electric arcs.

This was no ordinary lightning. It was Chaos Lightning — rarely seen even within heavenly tribulations, a strikingly devastating assault when it fell.

Everyone stood stupefied. What was Mo Xue’s origin — how could he wield Chaos in this manner? Every move he made sent Chaos Lightning scattering, a form of attack that was, among his peers, nothing short of transcendent.

“Is this… the constitution Wanchu has been seeking?”

“How many tens of thousands of years has it been? Wanchu Holy Land has searched and searched. Could it be that they have finally found the legendary constitution they sought?”

Many were shaken, and speculating that if the guess was not wrong, then Wanchu Holy Land had truly turned its bitterness to sweetness — they had found a “celestial seedling.”

“That’s right — he is very possibly a Chaos Constitution!” someone said in a grave voice.

Wanchu — with this name as the foundation of their teachings, one can interpret part of their doctrine: at the very beginning of heaven and earth, the ten thousand things were first born, originating from Chaos.

Their ancient scriptures spoke of certain secret arts of the age of Chaos — extraordinarily profound and complex, and within them lay secrets of the very beginning of heaven and earth.

To cultivate these scriptural teachings to their ultimate form was extraordinarily difficult, however — unless one was innately aligned with Chaos, resonant with the primordial breath of all things’ beginnings, the highest achievement could never be reached.

Yet such a person was almost impossible to find. Over all these years, they had never once encountered a single one. This sect had never produced a truly unrivaled powerhouse.

And now — it appeared they had found one.

“Truly unimaginable — that such a constitution could exist in this world. No wonder: Wanchu Holy Land was so confident it sent its disciple to challenge the Holy Body’s successor.”

People could not help but comment.

Clang!

Light blazed from Mo Xue’s brow. A small sword a few inches long shot out, slashing directly toward Ye Tong — supremely sharp and keen, ten thousand strands of Chaos energy draping downward, profoundly terrifying.

Ye Tong let out a long cry. From his brow flew a fire-red Sun Bell that crashed into the Dao Sword — between them erupted blazing radiance that swept in every direction, like fireworks detonating, beautiful and radiant. Yet every person present changed color, their admiration silent and profound: both were so young, and yet they wielded divine powers of this magnitude. What would these two become when they matured?

Clang!

The resonant sound of a great bell filled heaven and earth. The fire-red bell body blazed with light, rapidly expanding, and hung above Ye Tong’s head — swaying gently and ringing.

And across from him, Mo Xue stood with sword in hand — the great sword in his grasp was fully tens of zhang in length. He stood like a divine warrior, his divine might awe-inspiring.

This sword had been forged from Chaos Stone, innately capable of drawing Chaos energy to itself, its surface covered in inscribed runes — transformed into a shocking Dao Sword!

He let out a great roar and slashed downward with the Chaos Sword in hand, sweeping through all six directions and eight extremes. His hair flew wild, his eyes radiating overwhelming power — an air of swallowing mountains and rivers.

Clang!

Ye Tong withstood it head-on. The great bell above his head was also forged of divine material — cast from Daluo Silver Essence — but by now it had been dyed red by fire, blazing and dazzling.

The tens-of-zhang great sword cleaved down onto the Sun Bell, and light and fire erupted thousands of zhang high. Simultaneously, wave after wave of bell-shock radiated outward, sweeping across the Eight Wastelands. Fire Spirit Ravine was instantly reduced to a desert, while distant mountains continued to collapse one after another.

Mo Xue’s eyes turned fierce. His hair intertwined with Chaos as his body burst into a ring of Chaos light, resisting the most terrifying solar sacred power. He gripped the stone sword with both hands, unleashing sweeping, expansive strikes — the longer the battle went, the more powerful he grew.

Ye Tong, too, was fighting with his full fire. Since entering the world, he had never encountered any real obstacle. At this moment, a divine sun manifested, and he stood within it, casting brilliance in all four directions.

“The Wanchu Holy Son has a Chaos Constitution, and yet this Ye Tong is not falling behind — even pressing down with superior force. What constitution does he carry?”

“Need you even ask? Watch how he wields the solar sacred fire as though directing his own arm, every inch of flesh glowing — most likely it is the bloodline power of a solar divine being!”

At this moment, Ye Tong stood within a golden sun, like a young deity — inhaling and exhaling the essential qi of the Eight Wastelands, each strike surging with boundless momentum. The bell resonated solemnly, carrying a force like the opening of heaven and earth.

And Mo Xue was equally formidable — enveloped in Chaos light, like a god of war. He held a great sword dozens of zhang long and slashed in every direction, heaven and earth crumbling around him.

Bell and sword clashed, the resonant sounds ear-shattering. Chaos qi spread everywhere, fire surged to the heavens, and the entire area boiled with the heat of the battle.

“Every generation gives rise to its own talents, each commanding the winds for a few centuries!”

Jiang Yifei — patriarch of the Jiang Family, whose depth of cultivation no one had been able to fathom — let out a quiet sigh. His white robes were pristine as snow, his eyes deep and fathomless. Those were the very words he spoke.

Many people nodded involuntarily. The Ye Tong and Mo Xue before them were, without question, heaven-defying geniuses such as come along once in many tens of thousands of years. Their rise was like Ye Fan’s own era — when he stood alongside the Holy Son of Yao Guang, the Huang Xu Dao, Huo Qizi, and the rest.

“Truly worthy of being the Holy Body’s disciple — equally fearless against the world. Even the Holy Son that Wanchu poured everything into cultivating cannot overcome him.”

“I seem to glimpse a second Ye Fan rising into the world!”

An elder among the older generation sighed.

Clang!

The Chaos Stone Sword and the Sun Divine Bell collided. Each strike carried the force of law, weaving a web of interlocking patterns that branded themselves upon the dome of the sky.

After several hundred exchanges, Ye Tong let out a clear cry. Fire blazed to the heavens. With a single hand he seized the great bell and accelerated its expansion rapidly — like an entire mountain pressing down.

The solar divine blood within his body seethed, releasing a sound like mountains collapsing and seas roaring — brave and unmatched, his entire mane of hair rising and dancing.

Mo Xue’s expression changed. He raised his sword and slashed upward to resist that descending bell. The great sword, tens of zhang in length, strained to hold back the falling mass. His brows and lashes were lifted high, and with a single shout he shattered mountains and rivers!

Hummm!

The great bell resonated and thundered. Its bell-shocks were ring upon ring of mysterious ripples, transformed into the most terrifying waves of Dao force that surged in every direction, reducing mountains to ash.

And within the bell itself was even more fearsome still — bell-shocks like an ocean and a tide, fire-colored ripples densely packed, all transformed into runes that flooded the interior of this great bell.

Mo Xue let out a sharp cry. His entire body burst into radiance, holding up a curtain of Chaos light. The stone sword in his hand slashed with full force, intent on shattering this great bell.

But it was far too difficult. Ye Tong’s divine might was awe-inspiring. His hair flew wild, solar sacred light illuminating heaven and earth, standing within a ring of golden brilliant sun — he struck the bell ceaselessly, his Dao deep as the sea, human and bell as one — unshakeable.

Mo Xue charged downward, trying to escape through the bell’s mouth. But the great bell had no fixed size — it continued to expand without limit, perpetually keeping him inside, resonating and ringing as though its sound had reverberated across ten thousand ages!

“Too terrifying — I feel as though I’m witnessing Ye Fan returned to this world. His disciple possesses that same invincible bearing, equally unstoppable!”

People changed color. Even the spines of many sect masters ran cold. They could honestly say — they could not withstand an assault like this.

Ye Tong struck the bell with mighty force — though refined and handsome in appearance, in this moment his eyes blazed with brilliance. He carried the bearing of one who yields to none, sovereign above all!

His dense mane of hair fell in wild disorder, carrying a kind of ferocity — and for the first time, beginning to reveal the bone-deep character of one who looks down upon all under heaven.

Crack!

Inside the fire-red great bell, the Chaos sword fractured inch by inch. Under the relentless bell-shocks it was reduced to powder, and all the surrounding Chaos light was dispersed. Mo Xue’s disheveled hair hung loose as blood poured from his mouth in a great stream. Enveloped within the mountain-sized bell body, his strength was spent — he was pounded until blood and fluids streamed from his mouth and nose, the Chaos light enveloping his body collapsing into ruin.

Bang!

In the end, he struck out in desperate fury — the sea of Chaos within his body detonated, blasting the great bell high into the air. He flew out horizontally, breaking free from the bell body.

Mo Xue’s eyes were sharp and penetrating. He fixed a long gaze on Ye Tong, then surged rapidly back toward the Wanchu Holy Land’s assembled forces. The moment he returned, he fell straight backward, collapsing to the ground. Every pore of his body was bleeding.

“What — the Wanchu Holy Son has been utterly defeated!”

“Ye Tong has won! His power is truly astonishing — worthy of being the Holy Body’s disciple. This invincible bearing is passed down in an unbroken line!”

People couldn’t help but sigh.

Then, suddenly — several enormous hands appeared one after another, blotting out the sky and pressing down toward Ye Tong in the center of the field. They meant to reduce him to a bloody pulp — to crush a heaven-defying genius before he could ever blossom.

In the distance, Ye Fan’s sword-sharp brows shot up instantly. His eyes blazed with blinding intensity — like celestial swords unsheathed — and two cold flashes of lightning crackled in the void. He murmured to himself:

“Dare to touch my disciple — none of you want to live.”