The Eastern Desolation lies to the east of the great land. Named for its vast wilderness of forests and marshes, it stretches across a territory so immense — spanning an unknown number of tens of thousands of li — that an ordinary person could walk for a thousand lifetimes and never reach its end.

Ye Fan’s consecutive assault on eighteen of the Celestial Emperor’s Son’s strongholds had shaken the world in a single night. All five regions fell into upheaval. The entire world’s gaze converged upon the Eastern Desolation, and every cultivator fixed their eyes upon it.

This was an achievement unheard of in over a decade. Such ferocious decisiveness left people breathless with awe. An iron-and-blood slaughter that swept away great numbers of the Eight Divine Generals’ descendants left even the ancient clans reeling — and then increasingly troubled.

Just who was this? His audacity was staggering. Did he intend to pierce the very heavens?

The Undying Celestial Emperor had once reigned supreme over all under heaven. In his time, he had the Eight Divine Generals at his side — towering over the nine heavens and ten earths, each division capable of pacifying all lands and warring against the divine beings beyond the realm. They were invincible wherever they marched.

When this divine sovereign passed away and was buried, the Eight Divine Generals descended into the earth alongside him. Their descendants had since settled across the land and, while the long passage of ages had worn them considerably down, they remained a force that could not be ignored.

Now, someone dared to challenge this force. Even the ancient clans were caught off guard. The Celestial Emperor’s Son was no lone wanderer — even as a remnant force, even as descendants of what once was, they were enough to awe the Eastern Desolation.

Ye Fan moved through it all killing at every step, and when it was done, he brushed off his sleeves and departed without a backward glance. He now stood on a small light boat, drifting downstream along a great river. Apes cried and tigers roared on both banks; towering mountains soared on either side. His expression was serene and composed — not a trace of killing energy upon him.

That day and night, he had no idea how many of the Eight Divine Generals’ descendants he had killed. Blood had dyed his body entirely crimson. Even the dark-gold spear had grown savage, wreathed in a haze of murderous light.

Beneath his feet lay the bodies of hundreds — perhaps thousands. Even he had grown weary of killing. A world of blood. Bones scattering in every direction. It was a nightmare for everyone involved, killer and victim alike.

Now at last, he had broken free of it. He could well imagine the Celestial Emperor’s Son in an apoplectic fury, chest ready to burst — the loss of thirteen Dao-Severing experts was an incalculable blow.

The gibbons cry on both banks without cease; the light boat has already passed ten thousand mountains. This little flat-bottomed boat was a simple bamboo raft. On it sat a jar of wine and a few small dishes. Ye Fan poured for himself and drank alone.

The great river ran swift and fierce, carving its way through towering peaks and vast ravines, pressing forward unceasingly. It wound through endless wilderness for tens of thousands of li, with scarcely a human habitation in sight along the banks — only birds in flight and wild beasts prowling the shore.

By now they had entered the Southern Region. The current gradually slowed. Leaving the great wilderness behind, he passed into areas where human figures could be found. Now and then he could make out large vessels sailing the river.

Ye Fan continued southward. He knew the Celestial Emperor’s Son must be ready to explode — the man was very likely scheming at that very moment, plotting to hunt down his enemy across the entire world. Ye Fan was content to watch him rage, and so he wandered at leisure.

He had just come through a round of slaughter and needed time to recover. He would wait calmly for his opponent to move, then strike like thunder at the critical moment. If he could cut down the Celestial Emperor’s Son in a single decisive blow once the man finally showed himself — all the better.

Southern Region. Qingxia City.

The scenery here was gorgeous and enchanting, as beautiful as a painting. It was a place that had long nurtured talent and beauty. Many immortal poems had their origins here.

Within the city was a beautiful lake. Every night the lake blazed with lights. Pleasure boats drifted in great numbers across its surface, frequented by young and gifted visitors from afar. It was a land of enchantment — talented men cut dashing figures, lovely women moved with grace — and no shortage of beautiful stories had been born here.

Of course, among those who came here for diversion were also cultivators of every sort. Qingxia City was one of the ten great cities of the Southern Region, a sacred land for cultivation, and many wandering Dao practitioners lingered about its streets.

Another night had fallen. Pleasure boats packed the lake — row upon row, cluster upon cluster — each one a floating castle of light, all of them blazing with lanterns. The sound of stringed instruments drifted without end, and laughter, toasts, and singing floated out at intervals.

This was a land of tenderness, and also a proving ground for the ambitious. Outstanding talents often came here, and naturally, unconventional contests of strength were never far behind.

Ye Fan drifted downstream. At a small tributary, he turned off the main river and entered Qingxia City, his bamboo raft gliding into the storied Lakelight. Before him stretched a fleet of lavishly adorned boats.

“We won’t be too late, will we?” A few cultivators hurried past, flying toward a great ship in the distance, apparently rushing to some very important gathering.

“In all these years, the cultivators of our Southern Region have kept a low profile. A gathering like this doesn’t happen often — it’s not to be missed.” Someone was discussing it in hushed tones, moving in the same direction as the others.

Ye Fan glanced up in surprise. Ahead, above the magnificent city, faint glimmers of rosy light dotted the air. Floating above the city was an actual island. Many cultivators climbed up from their boats, registered below, then all soared upward, landing upon it.

Qingxia City’s name rang out across the Southern Region and even enjoyed some renown in the Eastern Desolation. As one of the most beautiful sights in the region, the Lakelight was naturally the sort of place cultivators would come to establish something remarkable. A floating island suspended in the sky was perfectly in keeping with its character.

Ye Fan abandoned his bamboo raft and smoothly ascended to the floating divine island. A good number of ancient-style buildings were scattered across it — ornately carved and painted beams, gently burbling springs, pavilions and terraces arranged throughout, strange rocks piled artfully about, and trees growing lush and full.

In the moonlight, the island was tranquil and serene, as if wrapped in a layer of pristine white gauze. A fair number of people were already seated.

This had not been a deliberately organized gathering. It had come about simply because a few remarkable talents were planning a small reunion, and from there the news had spread, drawing many cultivators in.

“The Marquis in Purple has truly come. He’s risen sharply in recent years, sweeping all before him in the Southern Region. Some say he could become the next Divine King.”

A crowd exclaimed in admiration, all turning to look at a stone platform ahead. Standing there was a young man dressed in violet robes, no more than his mid-twenties in age. His expression held no visible anger, yet it radiated an innate authority — something very particular in his bearing.

“He’s a disciple of the Carefree Sect. The speed of his rise exceeded everyone’s predictions. In the Southern Region today, he is without question a talent of the age!” someone praised admiringly.

Ye Fan paused at that, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. The Carefree Sect was indeed a formidable institution — comparable to the Grand Mystery Sect where Hua Yunfei had belonged, and second only to the Holy Lands in terms of power among the major factions.

In those earlier years, among the younger generation, the standouts of the Southern Region — beyond Ji Haoyue, Hua Yunfei, and the Holy Son of Yao Guang — had included Ji Biyue and a few others such as Li Youyou of the Carefree Sect.

He had not imagined that in the years since, a new generation had risen. This Marquis in Purple was completely unknown to him.

“Li Qingzhou is here too!” someone exclaimed. “He may well become Yao Guang’s foremost Holy Son of this generation. His momentum over the past few years has been absolutely staggering — he has swept all rivals aside without a single defeat.”

Between a pair of pavilion pillars, a young man with a radiant countenance stood wearing a smile of quiet warmth. His entire being seemed to shimmer with a haze of sacred light. Dressed in moon-white robes, he appeared utterly transcendent under the moon’s glow — as if he belonged to another world entirely.

“This person is incomparably powerful. He has defeated every last rival of Yao Guang’s current generation and is said to be in no way inferior to the former Holy Son of Yao Guang.”

Many spoke in hushed tones. Women in particular had their beautiful eyes flickering with bright light as they gazed at Li Qingzhou.

“Word has it he’s a disciple personally taught by the Sovereign of Yao Guang herself. Look — even his manner carries a resemblance to hers. The depths of his ability are immeasurable. Even if he doesn’t become the foremost figure in the Eastern Desolation, he won’t be far from it.”

It was clear that people regarded Li Qingzhou with exceptional interest, for the reputation of his master was known throughout the world.

Ye Fan studied him carefully and found that this young man’s bearing closely resembled that of the former Holy Son of Yao Guang — a quality that seemed to transcend the ordinary and enter the sacred. Even his individual strands of hair seemed to give off a faint glow. His cultivation, for someone of his age, was enough to astonish the world.

“Truly remarkable,” he murmured quietly to himself. “Yao Guang has raised an exceptional disciple.”

“His greatness goes without saying — and no wonder, when you consider who his master is. The only human being capable of standing against the ancient emperors’ sons, a supreme sovereign without peer. In an era when the saints have not revealed themselves, one could say she reigns unmatched beneath heaven!” someone sighed.

“Indeed. The former Holy Son of Yao Guang — now the Sovereign of Yao Guang. Truly a talent unequaled across ten thousand ages. To have cultivated to this level, to stand on equal footing with the ancient emperors’ own children — it is nothing short of a miracle!” All those present could not help but be moved.

“Throughout all of history, she is the only one who ever dared to take the name Yao Guang as her own. Her path to becoming an Emperor has never wavered — her resolve is iron.” People spoke of her with reverence.

Once the Holy Son of Yao Guang — now the Sovereign of Yao Guang. Ten years ago, she had changed her name, and from that day forward was known simply as Yao Guang.

Had it been anyone else, the move would have drawn only mockery, and the elders and senior figures of her Holy Land would certainly have risen in fierce opposition. But when she made this decision, not a single soul dared say a word against it. All agreed it suited her perfectly.

“Yao Guang.” Ye Fan lifted his cup and drank, seated on a stone block, beneath the moon and amid the pine grove, listening to the soft murmur of flowing water as he quietly observed everyone present.

He had not expected that this former great rival of his had risen to such heights of prestige — not only having formally claimed the name, but having established a dominant aura poised to reign supreme over all the Eastern Desolation, sweeping all five regions without a peer.

“I’ve heard that Yao Guang’s divine maiden Yao Xi ran away twelve years ago — left the Yao Guang Holy Land and disappeared. Don’t know if it’s true.” Just then, someone mentioned this.

“Yes, I’ve heard the same. That luminous jewel of the Southern Region once entranced countless outstanding men. Countless were willing to prostrate themselves before her. Strange that she would flee.”

“Yao Guang’s name shakes all under heaven. She’s become the Sovereign of an entire Holy Land — Yao Xi should have been overjoyed. What could have driven things to this point?”

“I once heard… when Yao Xi fled, she said that the Yao Guang Holy Land was like an ancient dried-out tree — that a mysterious sect had taken root within it and was growing from it, having been born from it in secret… and that it would overturn the Holy Land entirely.”

“Indeed, that rumor has circulated. And they say the emergence of the Dragon-Pattern Black Gold Imperial Cauldron on a stormy night of thunder and rain also carries secrets of its own — that it wasn’t as simple as the Yao Guang sages venerating and refining it over fifty thousand years.”

“Hush — keep your voice down! Don’t say such things carelessly, or you’ll bring disaster upon yourself!”

Only a few people exchanged brief whispers before quickly falling silent, none daring to continue — but Ye Fan’s heart stirred greatly at what he had heard.

“Look — Ji Zi has arrived! He’s the most mysterious figure in the Southern Region right now. Someone reportedly saw an elder of the Ji Family bow to him respectfully — and yet he appears to be only in his mid-twenties. It’s utterly baffling.”

From a distance, a man approached. He appeared utterly plain and ordinary — nothing remarkable in his bearing. Even his looks were entirely average: the sort of face one would look at and immediately forget.

And yet Ye Fan felt a jolt in his chest. This man was anything but simple. Even Ye Fan could not help but look at him again and again. This was no ordinary mortal flesh!

“What a strange name — Ji Zi. No battle record to speak of, no notable achievements. Hard to understand what puts him in the same class as the Marquis in Purple and Li Qingzhou.”

“He’s plain-looking, with nothing outstanding about him — his bones don’t even appear to be exceptional. How is it that someone saw a living fossil of the ancient era treat him with courtesy and deference?” Several people were visibly puzzled.

“It’s precisely because a Ji Family living fossil was courteous and deferential to him that he ended up being placed alongside prodigies like the Marquis in Purple and Li Qingzhou. Otherwise, who would know who he is?” someone replied with a dismissive laugh.

Ye Fan paid no attention to the surrounding chatter. He studied Ji Zi quietly, and could not suppress the astonishment within him. This was absolutely no ordinary person. His cultivation was terrifyingly profound — what looked like calm and plainness was in truth a state of having merged with the void itself. It was a sign of having comprehended the Void Scripture to its ultimate pinnacle of sublimation!

Could the legend actually be true? Has such a figure truly come into the world?! He couldn’t help but ask himself inwardly.

Whoosh!

At that very moment, Ji Zi turned his head and glanced in Ye Fan’s direction. His expression remained as still as ever — plain, unremarkable — but deep within those eyes, Ye Fan caught a brief flicker of surprise.

“Just as I thought,” Ye Fan told himself, even more certain now. “This is no ordinary mortal. A spiritual awareness this powerful and acute — it can only belong to someone world-shaking.”

Ji Zi’s arrival attracted almost no attention from those present. Hardly anyone looked at him. No one thought him worthy of particular regard.

“I’ve heard that two great figures — Ji Biyue and Li Youyou — are also expected to come. And there’s even talk that a prominent figure from the Central Region, the Wind Clan’s divine maiden, might also make it.”

“Who knows if any of that is true? I’ve also heard that the Sovereign of Yao Guang will attend — but there are rumors she has already left this world.”

“My master will be here,” Li Qingzhou said suddenly.

The crowd couldn’t help but be stunned. They stared at him in disbelief, scarcely able to take in what he had just said. Could Yao Guang, who stood supreme over the Eastern Desolation, truly still be in this world?

Suddenly, a great commotion broke out outside. Several cultivators flew up onto the divine island. In the brilliant white moonlight, their chests heaved violently as they brought extraordinary news.

“Everyone here should know by now — a mysterious, invincible figure struck by night against eighteen of the Celestial Emperor’s Son’s strongholds, sweeping away the descendants of the Eight Divine Generals. And now, something even greater has happened. A Half-Saint has crossed into the South, swearing to kill this person!”

“The ancient clan’s Celestial Emperor’s Son has issued a kill order. He has tracked down the trail — this person is somewhere in the Southern Region. He intends to cross over personally and cut down this world-shaking individual.”

In an instant, the divine island erupted into chaos. Everyone understood: the Southern Region was about to boil over. Countless great figures were converging all at once.

After so many years, Yao Guang — and the Celestial Emperor’s Son — were both about to show their faces!