Ye Fan’s mind roared. What had happened in these twelve years? All the old friends of the past had fallen and been defeated… These words made the blood in his body surge like rolling thunder, and even his Origin Spirit shook violently.

At this moment, his gaze was terrifying, his eyes flashing like comets streaking through the void, desperate to learn the hidden truth behind these words. His black hair, disheveled, whipped wildly around his face as he sat cross-legged like a demon god.

“Brother Ye, restrain yourself.” Yan Yixi’s voice reached him through a sound transmission, and Li Tian patted his shoulder as well.

Ye Fan said nothing, sitting as still as a boulder, his eyes seeming to pierce through twelve years of time and space, returning to the past, standing once more beside those old friends, reliving that unforgettable era.

The bloody battle in the Southern Region, the flight and pursuit across the land, the storm rising again over the Divine City, the duel of Origin Techniques, surviving the Sacred Body’s curse by the narrowest of margins, entering the Taichu Forbidden Zone, venturing into the Immortal-Slaying Mountain, storming the Myriad Dragon Nest, roaming freely across the Central Continent, battling at the Qinling Immortal Pool and the Dragon Cave…

During that time, there had been moments of sacrificing oneself to save another, battles fought in despair, songs of grief soaked in blood, and scenes of touching warmth, of mutual support. They had walked through it all together, experienced it all together.

Those people, those events—unbearably clear, as though still right before his eyes.

Ji Ziyue smiling through tears, Li Heishui howling at the silver moon, Pang Bo recklessly gnawing on coffin planks, Tu Fei’s big mouth that could never change its ways, Xiao Nannan sweet and pitiable, the big black dog insatiably greedy… one scene after another, some warm, some heroic, some soaked in tears, some joyful—an unforgettable stretch of time.

Kill across the world!

These were the four words rumbling through Ye Fan’s heart. If these people truly no longer existed in this world, if they had met with disaster, he would kill across the world, cutting down every last enemy.

And yet, even if he did so, it would be hard to undo what had been done. His eyes turned cold as he sat cross-legged on the stone platform, listening to the discussions of those around him.

“It’s been over a decade, and these people’s lives are truly tough—they’ve managed to hold on until now.”

“They finally went quiet not long ago. I suppose they’re all dead by now. To survive this long while being hunted by such formidable pursuers already counts as a miracle.”

Those present spoke of these matters with sighs of admiration—a group of powerful figures, all formidable, yet in the end unable to hold on.

Li Xiaoman?!

Ye Fan’s eyes shot open at once. From the crowd’s conversation he had caught her name—she had apparently hunted down Li Heishui, Wu Zhongtian, and Jiang Huairen, and by everyone’s account it had been utterly terrifying.

At this moment, his blood surged upward. This woman was truly merciless—she had not even spared Pang Bo, someone from the same homeland, joining forces with Hua Yunfei and other powerful figures to drench the Eastern Wastes in blood.

Ye Fan said nothing, his knuckles clenched white, his expression colder still, as he gazed far into the distance, longing to charge over immediately and cut off their heads.

Hua Yunfei had achieved great things—twelve years ago he had become a common enemy of the world, hunted for a full eight years, surviving hundreds of near-death calamities, but in the end he had cultivated a supreme, ruthless technique, and now no one in the current world dared to hunt him down; many lived in fear of him.

This man, as elegant as a banished immortal, possessed a remarkable air of transcendence. Back then he had shown great restraint, and Ye Fan had always been wary of him, knowing he would surely rise. Now it came as no surprise—sooner or later there would be a reckoning between them.

“That woman named Li Xiaoman also cultivates the Heaven-Devouring Demonic Art, and beyond that, a secret method for summoning deities—utterly boundless in terror, likely no less than Hua Yunfei. Back then, how dazzling Pang Bo had been, surpassing his peers among the Sage Sons, but he nearly had his physical body seized by that summoned demonic spirit, his vitality drained, his essence gravely wounded, almost dying. It was because of that very battle that he began his path toward ruin—otherwise his potential would have been boundless.”

“Li Xiaoman…” Ye Fan spat out these three words, his clenched knuckles turning from white to blue, his expression utterly cold.

His heart burned with fury beyond containment. He knew Hua Yunfei would eventually turn ruthless and strike once he achieved great success, but he had never imagined that Li Xiaoman would go even further, striking even at Pang Bo, determined to slaughter every old friend who came from the same homeland.

This was a stone platform where many people sat cross-legged, discussing the Dao and debating the world’s powerful figures. Originally this topic was about to pass, since it could not be discussed in detail forever.

However, Yan Yixi and Li Tian knew that Ye Fan was desperate to learn of his old friends’ fates, so the two of them cleverly steered the conversation back to the subject.

Ye Fan sat silently at the back of the stone platform, listening quietly to the crowd’s various accounts.

Northern Emperor Wang Teng was not dead!

This news struck Ye Fan like a blow, bringing a ripple of emotion to his cold face—it was indeed somewhat beyond his expectation.

“Is this person truly so strong?” Li Tian, noticing his change of expression, could not help asking in a low voice.

“Twelve years ago, he could overpower rulers of every faction, making the masters of the great sacred grounds wary of him. He was called the Northern Emperor, and among the top five of the younger generation of that time, he was certain to hold a place.”

“He was already this powerful twelve years ago?!” Li Tian was startled.

Ye Fan nodded. Back then he had relied purely on the Black Gourd to burn Wang Teng alive—he had not defeated him through true strength.

In that battle, the Northern Emperor had been utterly humiliated, possessing the strength to look down upon the world yet unable to use it, proud and defiant before all, but ultimately crushed to death beneath the bronze coffin and the black gourd.

Had it truly come down to a real contest, even back then, counting even the older generation, few could have suppressed him—that remained one of the great regrets of his life.

“In the present world, if there is one person who most hopes for the Sacred Body’s return, it is none other than Wang Teng. After that battle he was revived by relying on an ancient emperor’s war chariot, and for twelve years he has never let go of his resentment.”

“In that battle, the Northern Emperor was truly humiliated to the extreme—otherwise, judging by his true strength, who in the world could suppress him?”

“Shh, keep your voice down. Anyone who dares call him Northern Emperor now invites disaster upon themselves.”

Ye Fan fell into silence, listening to their accounts. The Northern Emperor’s fortune had not diminished but had grown even more prosperous—twelve years ago he had actually obtained another form of inheritance within an ancient hall personally built by the Void Emperor of the Ji Family.

The inheritance of chaos and ancient times, along with a suspected inheritance of the Void—one person bearing the scriptures of two ancient emperors at once. This truly was a rare occurrence, past or present.

Ye Fan understood clearly that his killing of Wang Teng that day had not been due to his true strength. Somewhere on that distant northern grassland, a terrifying enemy who once dominated the world was waiting for his return—there would surely be an earth-shattering battle.

Li Tian sucked in his breath upon hearing this. Yan Yixi continued to steer the conversation so that Ye Fan could learn the details, could fully understand the fates of his old friends.

The Northern Plains Wang Family had deep ties with the Primordial Race. When they hunted down Li Heishui and the others, they had colluded with the Primordial Race to strike. Someone had personally witnessed Zi Tiandu of the Divine Spirit Valley killing Wu Zhongtian and casting him off Eagle Cliff, his blood staining the rock face.

“The Wang Family… I will pay a visit to the Northern Plains.” Ye Fan murmured to himself.

Speaking of the Primordial Royal Clan, someone mentioned the legends surrounding them—Huangxu Dao, the Heavenly Emperor’s Son, Yuangu, Huo Qizi, Shencan Daoren, and others.

Yuangu had once hunted down Pang Bo, hoping to obtain the Nine Slashes of the Demon Emperor. Had it not been for the Monkey’s intervention, the consequences would have been unimaginable. But the Monkey had thus been dragged into the conflict, falling out with the Undying Heavenly Emperor’s Son and Yuangu, suffering repeated great calamities, and his life and death remained unknown to this day.

Ye Fan also learned, unexpectedly, that the truth of Pang Bo seizing control of his body and suppressing the one who had tried to possess him had been exposed. Most of the Demon Race held complicated feelings toward him—important figures, out of old sentiment, did not strike at him nor reclaim the ancient scripture, but they no longer offered him protection either.

Chi Long Daoren and the Peacock King, mindful of old ties, had saved his life several times, but this had not changed the outcome.

“Who else struck at them?” Li Tian asked on Ye Fan’s behalf, sucking in his breath, feeling that the enemies Ye Fan would have to face were beyond terrifying, and numerous.

The great sect of the Central Continent—the Yin-Yang Sect—with its ancient lineage, had once produced an invincible human sage who had slain divine beings from beyond the realm. They too had struck.

Beyond that, a mysterious woman, clad in white as pure as snow, of unparalleled elegance, her face unseen, terrifying beyond measure, had also struck, hunting Ye Fan’s old friends.

“Who is this woman?” Ye Fan was taken aback. He thought for a long while but could not recall having offended such a woman.

Moreover, he learned to his surprise that this woman was so mysterious and strange that she had even tried to kill Li Xiaoman, having fought her once, though the outcome remained unknown.

“Have you perhaps loved and abandoned someone…” Li Tian offered this well-meaning suggestion, though no matter how one looked at it, it invited a beating.

“Wherever the cold wind blows, hang your talk there instead.” Then he thought of Li Heishui, Wu Zhongtian, Liu Kou, and the others—hadn’t their grandfathers, the Thirteen Great Bandits of the Northern Region, come forward to protect them?

“With the two great ancient assassin god-dynasties emerging, even the Thirteen Great Bandits of the Northern Region are powerless…”

Hell and the Mortal Realm—the two great ancient assassin god-dynasties—no longer concealed themselves, finally emerging in this chaotic age. Their generations of divine sons and daughters, said to be able to slay every king, had ancient palaces built from the skulls of various royal bodies, with the skins of primordial sages as carpets.

This generation’s Mortal Realm and Hell, their divine son and daughter, had shocked every sect, upholding their ancestors’ will, seeking to prove the Dao through slaughter.

If ranking the foremost figures of the younger generation, they would surely be counted among them, yet few among those present dared even mention them—one could imagine the extent of the dread they inspired.

Li Heishui’s grandfather—the Eighth Great Bandit, Li Heng—had died in battle on a desolate mountain in the Northern Region, nailed to the cliff face with a spear by an old assassin of the Hell dynasty.

Liu Kou’s grandfather—the Sixth Great Bandit, Liu Feng—had bled across the Divine City, pierced through the crown of his skull by a sword wielded by an old assassin of the Mortal Realm, dying without closing his eyes.

Hearing this, Ye Fan ground his teeth to powder, his fists clenched tight. Even among the Thirteen Great Bandits some had fallen—no wonder their descendants’ lives could not be guaranteed.

“Most importantly, the foremost among the Thirteen Great Bandits, that most mysterious ancient undying figure, is rumored to have entered a state of transcendent stillness. Some say he is in closed-door cultivation, striving to break through to a realm ordinary people cannot even imagine, having buried himself alive—likely unable to emerge for a century. One source of great deterrence has thus diminished.”

“Did anyone else strike?” Yan Yixi asked, helping Ye Fan learn everything thoroughly.

With so many enemies already, one would think there could be no more—yet in truth there were, and they were incredibly powerful.

This was a group of mysterious people who had never revealed their identities, who had once gone to the Taixuan Sect in the Southern Region to kill an obscure figure—Zhang Wenchang. Later, people learned that he was someone closely connected to the Sacred Body.

The Taixuan Sect had at first thought a great enemy had descended; many experts died, until Li Ruoyu of Zhuofeng stepped in and drove back the formidable foes.

“Truly unimaginable—Li Ruoyu of Zhuofeng has reached such a terrifying realm. He rivals the great sages of ancient times with great abilities, yet he is merely a mortal body—and still so astonishing.”

Sitting in seclusion for centuries, mediocre in talent, yet finally soaring to greatness—Li Ruoyu was a cultivator of great wisdom and great perseverance.

Hearing this, Ye Fan let out a long breath—Zhang Wenchang was safe—but he quickly grew alert once more.

That group of mysterious people had also once ambushed Liu Yiyi as she left the Jade Pool. Though they had not succeeded, it still gravely illustrated the danger.

“Who are they—who are these people? Could they be old classmates? It shouldn’t be so. They have no reason to turn against us; they shouldn’t be trying to kill these two…” Doubt rose in Ye Fan’s heart.

Surrounded by enemies on every side, cold gazes piercing through one after another—Ye Fan seemed to already sense it. He knew a great and endless war was coming, and he would walk a path of a blood-soaked warrior, with countless blood and bone along the way.

“Do you know, this time some tribe in the southern mountains of Nanling is facing great disaster. The experts of the Northern Plains Wang Family are going to wipe them out.” someone said.

Dongfang Ye, this wild man, was on good terms with Pang Bo and the others. Over the past decade or so they had gone through many near-death calamities together, and this had implicated the small tribe he belonged to.

“I’ve heard something about it—could it really be true?”

“It’s no lie. I heard the Wang Family already set out long ago; by now they’ve likely already struck. Didn’t you notice fewer people came to today’s Spirit Medicine Gathering than in previous days? Those with sharp ears for news have all gone to watch the spectacle.”

“Let’s go, kill some people!”

Ye Fan shot to his feet, his expression turning icy cold. This news made his blood boil with fury—he had heard that Dongfang Ye might have died in battle, and now his own clansmen were being bullied at their very doorstep. How could he not be enraged?

“So the great slaughter is about to begin in Nanling?” Li Tian said.

“Wherever I stand, that place becomes a battlefield!” Ye Fan’s killing intent pierced through the nine heavens.