Ten thousand mountains soared. Countless peaks stood in majestic grandeur. In the depths of that night, the Divine Spirit Valley blazed with light that shot into the heavens — brilliant and dazzling, like the divine furnace of an ancient celestial court burning in full.
Within the valley, battle cries shook the sky. Everywhere, blades and swords flashed in the air. This was a tragic song woven from blood and life, and many had fought to the point of madness.
Who could have imagined it — that an Ancient Primordial Royal Clan would come under attack? It had always been they who looked down upon all under heaven, who swept in all directions in great slaughter, who gazed down upon the world from on high.
And yet, in this cold moonlit night, a host of death gods had descended from the sky and struck directly at their domain — far beyond what any of them had anticipated.
“Splat!”
Blood poured like rain. It was a painting drenched in crimson — with one sweep of the war spear in Ye Fan’s hand, a mist of blood sprayed outward. A swathe of ancient living beings was cleaved through the waist, sent flying more than a dozen meters, dead bodies toppling in great heaps.
No words were exchanged. No tangled and convoluted reasoning to be had. There was only the life-and-death struggle — a blazing battle song written in blood and bone.
“Ahh…” The Fifth-Generation Source Heaven Master was like a man who had turned demon — he tilted his head toward the heavens and let out a great howl. He had fought to the point of frenzy, every strand of blood-red fur across his body rising upright, like an immortal crimson ape doing battle with that Ancestral King across the full depth of his cultivation.
Beneath his feet, a countless number of Source Heaven markings appeared, flickering with terrifying radiance, winding around him and stretching outward in every direction — shattering many ancient living beings as they spread.
In this moment, the eternally inviolable sacred earth of the Divine Spirit Valley had become the source of his power. Dragon energy, source force — like a hundred rivers converging into the sea — all poured toward him.
“Boom!”
One fist moved heaven!
Zhang Lin’s head of crimson hair surged like a tide, whipping wildly as he fought with vast, sweeping strikes — attacking and slaying this Ancient Primordial Ancestral King. He looked nothing like a Source Heaven Master — more like a battle-frenzied sage-warrior.
The arm this Ancient Primordial Ancestral King had lost had long since regrown. Dozens of pairs of wings spread wide behind him. Endless black demonic energy surged skyward as he howled and charged forward.
This was a clash at the level of a sage — between each strike of their fists and palms, traces of the great Dao erupted in blazing waves of Dao-light, accompanied by all manner of wondrous sounds. Each of their blows manifested the very beginning of the Dao, the source of universal law, and held within them the secret of creation — making this a terrifying war of the Dao itself.
“Pop!”
Like a heavenly blade cleaving through rotting wood — Zhang Lin brought both hands together in a seal, and a brilliant rainbow burst forth. It slashed apart the tangled web of Dao-traces and surged in close.
In that close-range clash, blood splattered — the radiance released by the double hand-seal nearly cleaved away half the Ancestral King’s body. Several pairs of divine wings were cut apart and fell away, divine feathers drifting through the air, each petal stained with blood.
Though this Ancient Primordial Ancestral King had taken severe wounds, it was indeed formidable. Its pair of massive claws tore through the Dao-light and drove forcefully inward — stabbing into Zhang Lin’s shoulders, nearly wrenching both his arms free.
Rotten blood erupted with a strange luminescence. Even the terrifying demonic claws of the Ancient Primordial Ancestral King were nearly corroded by it, and quickly withdrew.
This was a contest between life and death — a battle song of existence itself, interpreted in blood and bone, fought with the body, and hammered out through the clash of Dao principles.
To have become an Ancestral King of the Divine Spirit Valley, one was assuredly no docile creature. Truly enraged, scarcely anything in all the world could suppress such a being — like a demon, howling and running wild.
It found itself at a disadvantage in its battle with Zhang Lin, and could not accept it. It refused to believe this was truly one who stood beneath Wushi — how could a Human Clan’s great emperor still be alive at this age?
“Clang!”
A cold wind cleaved through the air. Ye Fan, gripping the black celestial war spear, came charging in anew — sweeping straight down like a bolt of black lightning, shattering every obstruction in its path.
“Pop!”
This Ancestral King opened its mouth and spat forth a Dao flower — seven petals, each one dazzling and beautiful, crystalline and luminous — and it held the black war spear at bay.
“Boom!”
Ye Fan’s left hand drove the war spear downward; his right fist, like a dragon’s head cresting the surface of a boundless golden sea, burst forth from the waves — carrying a sky-surging golden blood energy — and thundered toward this Ancestral King’s skull.
“Thud!”
A dull, heavy impact rang out. The Divine Spirit Valley shook violently — had the innate formation arrays not been in place, it would have collapsed entirely.
This was a clash of physical bodies. The Ancestral King’s Dao-marked claw streamed with blood, then began to rupture — first the flesh peeling away, then the bone fracturing.
“Splat!”
In the end, this Ancestral King’s claw simply could not withstand that sea-like tide of golden blood energy — it detonated. White bone fragments and vivid red blood flew through the air, a sight almost too shocking to witness.
Light blazed from its body. A rumbling celestial sound erupted. One wave of Dao-traces after another surged upward, like an ancient god singing in full voice, shaking the heavens and earth.
Ye Fan pulled back. He possessed no sage-level comprehension of divine law, nor power at that tier. This primordial Dao-light and divine law were in a class beyond comparison — lethal to him.
“Splat!”
He charged toward another side. The iron war spear swept horizontally — who in all the world could withstand a blow from a sage-level physical shell? One sweep carved through a swathe of them. Magical treasures, flying swords, secret arts — none of it mattered. With sheer power, he crushed and slaughtered all!
Blood streamed, shattered bone flew, flesh and blood sprayed in every direction — a terrifying scene.
At the same moment, the Fifth-Generation Source Heaven Master once again engaged that Ancient Primordial Ancestral King in great battle, holding the upper hand — and from time to time, letting demonic blood fly, staining the ground red.
“Ahh…”
Zhang Lin had descended into frenzy. Life was fading. When dawn came, he would turn to ash — gone forever.
“Boom!”
The divine valley and the mountain ranges in all four directions became saturated with dragon energy. Every ancient Dao-marking of the Source Heaven Lineage manifested in full — blazing as bright as day, the interwoven patterns spread across and covered the vault of heaven.
It was as though heaven itself was aiding him. Though his body was covered in red fur and his face was fierce and savage, a divine aura flowed from him, his entire form shimmering with brilliant radiance.
“Crash!”
Immortal-Sealing Six-Lock Seal!
Without divine source, and without a stone vessel, he performed it with his bare hands alone — merging this profound principle with the Dao itself, releasing a misty, boundless light that swept outward.
Every manner of Dao principle belonging to this Ancient Primordial Ancestral King, its boundless divine power — all of it was sealed and forced to flow backward, causing it to suffer the backlash of its own power. It cried out and flew backward.
“Crash!”
The Fifth-Generation Source Heaven Master stepped forward. From midair, a kick — spinning with ferocious force — nearly shattered the Ancestral King into pieces. It flew high into the air, blood flowing endlessly, more than a dozen bones broken.
Beneath the cold and desolate moon, in the distance upon a solitary cliff, a white-clad beauty played a transverse flute. The notes floated like a lament, mournful and heartbreakingly beautiful. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she played — a celestial melody — her heart as though carved with blades, her innermost depths torn apart.
Yang Yi knew: this was the last night she would ever see Zhang Lin. The last time she would ever behold his bearing that looked down upon all under heaven. Once this night had passed — when dawn came — all would turn to smoke. They would meet no more.
She watched in a trance, the flute’s melody drifting and winding, slicing through the cold and desolate night sky, curling and hovering over the entire battlefield — like weeping, like pleading.
As if in a dream, she seemed to see again that Zhang Lin of ten thousand years ago — brimming with heroic spirit — on the day he became Source Heaven Master, when sages from every holy land came in procession to offer their congratulations.
The great gamble in the Divine City. The battle over ancient mines. The sealing of forbidden zones. Standing alone against enemies from all ten directions — his bearing proud and unyielding, as though walking through a land with no one in it.
In an instant, all of it turned to nothing. A man of extraordinary talent met ill fortune in his later years, and the heroic bearing he once possessed would never return.
And yet now — old and marked by that ill fortune, half-demon and half-human, his body coated in red fur — that indomitable spirit remained. He would give his last measure of strength to suppress the Divine Spirit Valley and restore peace to the Human Clan.
This final battle — and then he would drift away with the wind. This was the Source Heaven Master’s life!
Yang Yi’s vision blurred with tears. The jade flute rested at her lips. A mournful song took shape in her grief, drifting through the night sky, carrying to places very far away.
Zhang Lin roared with a frenzied howl, his blood-red fur whipping and surging. He was no longer the figure of soaring heroic spirit he had once been — now there was only this ugliness — and yet his heroic bearing still overshadowed the world.
The source arts of the Source Heaven Lineage, in his hands, were not merely the art of seeking source stones and deciphering their contents — they had become a method of war and sage-level offense, for doing battle with Ancestral Kings, pressing down upon them with absolute advantage.
“Splat!”
Everywhere throughout the valley, markings crisscrossed and shone upon each other. He had become the central immortal deity of this place — striking like lightning, he landed a blow squarely on half the Ancient Primordial Ancestral King’s body, all but shattering it to ruin.
“Boom!”
This Ancient Primordial Ancestral King let out a howl of fury. Every wing behind it trembled, sending out ripple after ripple of Dao sound — deafening as ten thousand horses galloping in charge.
It had been pushed to its limit. To have been suppressed like this throughout — in all the countless years it had lived, this was the first time. It began its fierce and furious counterattack.
“Crash!”
Zhang Lin turned his hand. From between his fingers, streams of light poured and flowed downward. He descended like a deity. His right hand pressed downward. Source Heaven Dao markings surfaced.
Like struck by heavenly lightning, the Ancient Primordial Ancestral King reeled — that hand dense with source markings, like the right hand of a god, carried a strange and inexplicable power. With one single slap, the Ancestral King was sent tumbling, its body fracturing and cracking.
“Ahh…” It could not hold back the cry. Behind it, its divine wings crumbled apart. Feathers stained with blood drifted and scattered across the heavens.
“Boom!”
Suddenly, the earth collapsed. The other ancient king finally made its move — surging upward from within the earth’s veins, carrying a power that inverted the natural order. Within its palm it manifested an entire world — within that world, primordial thunder roared and creation unfolded, annihilating all things.
It intended to execute the Source Heaven Master in a single stroke. This was an even more powerful Ancestral King — possessing immeasurable divine power — and its emergence caused both Zhang Lin and Ye Fan’s expressions to shift.
This was an ancient Ancestral King, withered with age — its frame hunched, its purple hair hanging loose. Behind it grew forty-nine pairs of divine wings. Dozens upon dozens of divine halos ringed it in layers.
Its frame was gaunt and bony, and yet its eyes were sharp and clear, its bearing vigorous. When it spoke, its voice rang out firm as a bronze bell: “You come from Zishan — you are Zhang Lin, beneath Wushi?”
“Indeed. Zhang Lin, beneath Wushi. Acting in accordance with the great emperor’s decree, I come today to suppress and destroy the Divine Spirit Valley, and to restore peace to the Human Clan!” Zhang Lin’s words rang out, clear and resolute as steel.
Then he turned to Ye Fan and said, “Time is precious. Cut through them.”
Ye Fan nodded. With one sweep of the war spear, death gods appeared in every direction and quarter — surrounding the Divine Spirit Valley on all sides. They were the subordinates of the Undying Heavenly Emperor, their physical shells frightening one and all, toppling the strong and cutting down every enemy in their path.
“From ancient times until this day, never has any member of the Human Clan dared to march against the Divine Spirit Valley. Yet you have come — and none of you shall leave. Let us see how you intend to wreak slaughter in every direction!”
The elder Ancestral King who had emerged let out a great roar. The voice of the Heavenly Dao sounded out. From its forty-nine pairs of divine wings, one ancient character after another shook free, suppressing all ten directions.
“What is there that cannot be killed?” Zhang Lin replied. His hands slowly traced through the air. “Today, right before your eyes, I will kill that other ancient king!”
“Ahh…”
Suddenly, the Ancestral King that had been wounded earlier let out a great cry. Like a puppet under someone else’s control, it moved against its own will, hanging suspended across the sky, unable to govern itself.
Across its entire body were the divine markings of the Source Heaven Lineage — dense and interlocking, fracturing rapidly. In the battle just before, the Source Heaven Master had poured streams of source energy into it, weaving the divine source markings of the Source Dao throughout its body.
“Ahh…”
It cried out, struggling with all its might — but it could not move. It was as though something had pinned it to the void. The other, even more terrifying Ancestral King struck out — but it was not able to save it.
Zhang Lin unfurled a supreme source technique. Like a blade resolving a source stone, he made light, slicing motions through the air — and across the body of this Ancestral King, one after another, flowers of blood bloomed and burst open. It was being disassembled.
This was a peerless secret technique of the Source Dao — a technique that, during the course of battle, had already seeded the Dao-traces of the Source within the enemy’s body. Now they were triggered — like cutting through rotting stone.
“Ahh…”
One final cry. The Ancestral King’s body collapsed, torn apart in four directions.
Ye Fan stepped in immediately. Golden battle energy across his entire body surged and boiled, engulfing the entire Divine Spirit Valley. With one fist, he smashed the flying severed head into a pulp.
Upon the distant cliff, Yang Yi could no longer restrain herself. Tears streamed down endlessly. To see the Source Heaven Master — his heroic bearing no longer what it once was — still ironclad and unyielding, as he had always been — her heart was carved as though by blades. Why did he have only one night left to live?
“I will never see you again…” she choked through her tears.
At first the flute melody was like a lament, like weeping. Then suddenly it soared — bold and stirring. To die on the battlefield, to have one’s bones buried amid the blaze of blades — this was a hero’s end. There is always a final curtain. She played out a battle song — weeping as she played, playing as she bid farewell.