“Something is off about this place—why is there so much fog?” the Great Black Dog muttered.
The gray mist hung thick as a wall, obscuring the landscape. The Five-Colored Altar loomed far ahead, pressing down through the leaden haze like a weight upon the chest. The place was utterly lifeless—not a single blade of grass, nothing but bare rock and earth.
They walked forward together. In this vast emptiness, only their footsteps could be heard, as though they had reached the very edge of heaven and earth—a place stripped of vitality, where no living thing could be found.
The Five-Colored Altar came into view. The ages had not toppled it. Through the mist, faint and indistinct, it stood upon the mountainside, each five-colored stone a page of history.
“Don’t come any closer,” Ye Fan said, turning to face the group with a trace of sorrow. “When the Five-Colored Altar is activated, there will be powerful energy fluctuations that could injure you.”
The moment of parting had come. It would leave an unforgettable mark upon them all—he was crossing the stellar void, and those he had met and befriended in this life might never be seen again. The distances were simply too vast.
Against the immensity of the universe, human beings were truly insignificant. Even across countless lifetimes, one could only travel a small distance through the cold and desolate cosmos, measured in light-years—enough to fill any heart with a sense of its own smallness.
Farewell. They waved in silence. What more was there to say at a moment like this? This parting might last a lifetime.
Qi Luo, the Monkey, Dongfang Ye—one by one they stepped forward and clapped Ye Fan and Pang Bo firmly on the shoulders. The Great Black Dog said his farewells in his own particular way, opening his great jaws and biting down hard, nearly earning himself a slap from Ye Fan.
Ji Ziyue’s tears fell. She gazed quietly at Ye Fan, smoothed his clothing with her hands, smiled, and gave a gentle wave. Crystalline teardrops slid down her porcelain cheeks.
Ye Fan reached out and wiped the tears from her face. Then he turned away. Parting needed no excess of sorrow or words—everything was understood without saying. He and Pang Bo strode off into the depths of the mist.
Heaven and earth fell silent. Only the sound of their footsteps remained as the gray fog swirled around them and the Five-Colored Altar drew ever closer. Neither man spoke on that walk—Pang Bo especially had not said a single word since entering this area.
Ye Fan thought of the Divine Calculator. In his prophecy, no one had appeared walking alongside him on this road. The ancient Buddha he had encountered in the Western Desert had not mentioned it either. The unease had never left him. He walked shoulder to shoulder with Pang Bo, the Cauldron of Myriad Things’ Maternal Qi hovering above his head and the Divine Whip in his hand, guarding against any accident in this place.
The Five-Colored Altar—they had arrived!
Ye Fan’s heart surged. He turned for one last look at Ji Ziyue and the others. Through the haze he could make out several blurred figures waving at him. He waved back.
But when he turned again, he froze. Pang Bo was gone—vanished into thin air.
“Pang Bo!”
Ye Fan shouted. He activated the Movement Technique, transforming into a streak of light that raced through the area. He cast his powerful divine sense outward, searching for any trace.
There was nothing. Pang Bo was as though he had never existed—not a single wisp of his aura could be found. He was neither alive nor dead, his body nowhere to be seen. The strangeness of it defied description.
This made no sense. Ye Fan’s divine sense was extraordinarily powerful. For a person to vanish without a sound was impossible—unless that person was a Saint.
Cold sweat began to trickle down his back. What had happened? How had Pang Bo disappeared so silently, as though he had dissolved into the gray mist?
“What happened?” Qi Luo, the Monkey, and the others heard the shout and all came rushing over.
Ji Ziyue was deeply alarmed, her bright eyes fixed on Ye Fan. The others too had sensed that something was wrong. How could a living person simply vanish in the space of a single glance?
“Don’t worry,” the Old Blind Man said. “He is safe—no danger has come to him.” He produced a soul lamp; its flame burned vigorously, leaping and dancing.
Before they had entered this place, the Old Blind Man had insisted that each person light one of these lamps—a precaution against being separated and unable to know one another’s fate. Now it had proven its worth.
“Can we use it to find him?” Ye Fan asked.
“No. It can only tell us that he is well. It cannot be used to locate him,” the Old Blind Man replied.
None of them could make sense of it. Why had Pang Bo suddenly disappeared? The soul lamp showed he was unharmed—so where had he gone?
“Let us search. But no one is to act alone,” Qi Luo instructed. Aside from himself, the others paired off and spread out in all directions. The place felt wrong. They brought out the Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar, the Netherworld Soul-Suppressing Pagoda, and the Spiked Wolf Club.
“Pang Bo!”
Ye Fan called again, but the silence swallowed his voice. This place was utterly still. Apart from the gray mist, there was nothing.
After a full circuit, they found no sign of Pang Bo and had no idea where he could be.
“Let me cast a divination,” the Old Blind Man said, raising his hand and scattering several tortoise shells that arranged themselves into a strange formation.
“He is due east!”
They set off at once, heading quickly in that direction—but the trail led away from this place, as though pointing toward the edge of this small world.
A quarter hour later, the Old Blind Man cast another divination. The hexagram showed the position had moved even farther. He said, “He has left the ancestral temple and gone traveling far away.”
“Why would he do that?” the group asked, unable to understand. How had Pang Bo slipped away so silently without a word to any of them?
“Guard me while I cast a greater divination,” the Old Blind Man said. He produced a handful of tortoise shells white as jade—each one an ancient artifact, worn smooth until it gleamed—and cast them to the ground with a clatter. He furrowed his brow for a long while before speaking: “He is already several million li away.”
The group stood slack-jawed. That distance could only mean he had crossed the stellar void—how else could he have traveled so far so quickly?
“No—it is tens of millions of li now. He appears to be heading toward the Eastern Desolation,” the Old Blind Man added.
“That far? Has Pang Bo lost his mind? What is he doing?” the Black Emperor snarled.
“I refuse to accept this,” Ye Fan said, turning back toward the distant stretch of mist. “Let me go in and see what this place is hiding.” He moved to re-enter.
“Has anyone noticed,” Ji Ziyue said thoughtfully, “that Pang Bo was very quiet just now—from before we even entered this area? Could he have sensed something? And if so, why didn’t he tell us?”
The others all felt a chill. She was right. Pang Bo had been strangely subdued, not saying a single word.
Ye Fan strode back into the mist and returned to the Five-Colored Altar—and then he suddenly stiffened. His senses detected several powerful auras rushing toward him with killing intent.
Boom!
The Ancient Clan had appeared. They too regarded the Five-Colored Altar as a supreme prize—it was said that in the distant primordial age, they had all come from beyond this domain, and now they came to seize it.
Splat!
Ye Fan’s eyes turned frigid. He threw a single punch that reduced one figure to a rain of blood on the spot. A Hierarch-level cultivator died where he stood.
“Stop him!” the others cried. They had been attempting to carry off the Five-Colored Altar. Had Ye Fan and his companions arrived any later, the altar would have been taken.
“You court death!”
The Monkey, Dongfang Ye, and the rest all attacked together. When Qi Luo struck, even the kings who had severed the Dao could only meet a bitter end here. A few screams later, the attackers were all dead.
Ye Fan leaped skyward. Terrifying fluctuations erupted nearby as two Great Perfection Sovereigns from the Divine Assassin Courts reappeared, wielding holy weapons and lunging to kill.
Boom!
Ye Fan shook the Cauldron. The Maternal Qi of Myriad Things descended from above his head, and nine-colored flames surged out like a vast ocean, burning half the sky until it caved in, leaving a sprawling black void.
But those very flames drew others, as people well understood the importance of the Five-Colored Altar. Waves of powerful cultivators came rushing in to contend for it.
Clang!
Qi Luo struck out, pursuing the Great Perfection Sovereign as killing intent flooded the air and the gray mist seemed to boil.
“The altar is incomplete!”
Ye Fan’s heart turned cold as he climbed atop the Five-Colored Altar. From below, nothing had seemed wrong—but now he saw that what stood here was only a corner of the whole. The main body of the altar appeared to have been violently cut away, and it was not a recent occurrence. By the ancient look of the fractures, it had happened in primordial times.
Two figures descended from the sky. Huo Lin’er, with her beautiful blue hair, bright eyes, gleaming teeth, and sweet smile, landed on the altar together with her elder brother, Huo Qizi.
“How is it, Brother Ye?” Huo Lin’er said with a light laugh. “I told you I was right. An elder ancestor-king of my clan, in his final moments before passing, saw a vision of the two of us standing side by side on the Five-Colored Altar in battle. It has come true. And the altar should soon be made complete again—it will be repaired.”
Boom!
From all directions, a massive wave of powerful fighters appeared—identities concealed, true faces hidden—all intent on seizing the altar. They attacked the three on the platform simultaneously.
By a considerable margin, the majority of the killing intent was directed at Ye Fan. He could make out that among them were ancient elder assassination kings from the Divine Assassin Courts, Dao-severing powerhouses from the Ancient Clan, and opportunists looking to profit from the chaos.
Ye Fan unleashed a slaughter. His divine manifestation appeared—a Immortal King striding across nine heavens, holding a green lotus and sweeping it outward—and dozens of bodies were broken apart, blood spilling in great gouts to stain the altar crimson.
“Kill!”
Battle cries shook the sky. This had become the main battlefield. Once fighting broke out, every faction threw itself in completely, and powerful cultivators surged in from all sides.
“Do they really think our holy weapons and emperor weapons are just for decoration?” Below the altar, Dongfang Ye and the others smiled coldly. The Netherworld Soul-Suppressing Pagoda and the Spiked Wolf Club rose together, and in an instant, bodies were heaped in piles—a single strike was enough to reduce countless people to ash.
Boom!
Suddenly, the might of a supreme emperor weapon reappeared. A terrifying black-gold cauldron hung motionless in the distance, and from its mouth a great dragon flew out.
Clang!
The Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar rang and trembled. It lifted of its own accord, its lid flying open, its mouth deep as a bottomless pit—and it swallowed the black dragon whole in a single instant.
Ji Ziyue soared upward and descended onto the Five-Colored Altar, standing shoulder to shoulder with Ye Fan as they faced their many enemies together.
“Don’t worry, Sister Ziyue,” Huo Lin’er laughed lightly, joining the fight as bodies began to pile up across the altar and blood flew in all directions.
Qi Luo, Duan De, and the Great Black Dog too took flight and landed on the altar. With the Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar protecting them, no one dared approach further—every enemy fell back like a receding tide.
Boom!
Only the dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron proved unstoppable, still pressing its attack. Immortal light erupted from its mouth as it awakened, its terrifying might rising like a collapsing stellar domain—heaven itself seemed on the verge of destruction.
The Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar hung in the air, radiant mist cascading from it—not just dark light, but something more, like a butterfly breaking free of its cocoon. The presence within was on the verge of manifesting as a living Great Emperor. Nine-colored divine light pulsed and churned within it, holding the black-gold cauldron at bay.
Rumble!
Then, like a tidal wave, a sound arose. Nine scarlet banners descended from the sky, carrying with them an aura of annihilation—enough to flatten the entire altar and reduce it to dust.
“This is… something from the lineage of the Undying Celestial Emperor!” Ye Fan was shaken. He had once obtained eighty-one great banners of a similar kind, carrying a comparable aura.
“Son of the Celestial Emperor—do you intend to use this forbidden weapon to bury us all?” Huo Qizi, who had been silent until now, revealed a bone-chilling killing intent and fixed his cold gaze on the distant sky.
“That is a transcendent forbidden weapon of unparalleled power!” Duan De shuddered and quickly had the Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar shield everyone, temporarily setting aside the confrontation with the dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron.
Boom!
A forbidden weapon could only be used a handful of times, yet its power was peerless—and this was something from the lineage of the Undying Celestial Emperor, making it all the more terrifying. Were it not for the emperor weapon, nothing else could have withstood it.
Without suspense, the nine great banners were shattered by the Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar, dissolving into a crimson haze that scattered across the heavens and earth. But the might of the dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron surged even higher in that same moment—seizing the opening, an immortal fetus manifested from within its mouth and dove downward.
“We are in trouble!” Duan De cried. This was a supreme emperor weapon reviving and delivering a prepared strike—the devastation would be immeasurable.
“It doesn’t matter,” Qi Luo said, utterly composed. “The Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar is peerless through all ages. It does not need to revive—it can fight on its own.”
And indeed, a sigh issued from within the jar. Immortal light erupted in boundless waves like a great surging river rushing skyward, stopping the immortal fetus in its tracks.
Boom!
Like a vast sea bursting its banks, overwhelming pressure descended from another direction. A terrifying beam of light locked onto the dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron as an ancient mirror floated into view.
“Elder Brother…” Ji Ziyue called out.
The Divine King, Ji Haoyue, appeared. He had been watching over his younger sister from the very beginning—even while claiming precious immortal treasures from the ancient palace on behalf of their clan, he had never relaxed his vigilance.
Now he finally acted. A great sea of jade-green surged, and a bright full moon rose in the sky—his divine manifestation. An ancient mirror hung in the void above his head, and from it a terrifying beam of light shot toward the dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron.
His hair was thick and black, his battle spirit shaking the heavens. Every inch of him radiated the bearing of a generation’s Divine King, supreme over all.
By now, many could foresee the path ahead for Ji Haoyue. His future was without limit—his divine body would blaze brilliantly across the Eastern Desolation, writing its own legend.
This was supreme emperor-level immortal might. The ancient mirror left behind by the Void Emperor was of heaven-defying power. That beam of light leveled everything in its path—enough to destroy a great sect. No body of flesh could withstand it unless a Great Emperor himself returned to life.
The dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron rang and trembled. Dragon roars rang out—clear and piercing, shaking the nine heavens above and the nine depths below—as ten thousand strands of immortal light burst from it to block that world-destroying strike.
Boom!
More than half of this small world collapsed in an instant. The sky above fused with the outside world, and terrifying voids of deep space spread outward at an alarming rate.
Everyone was aghast. This was the power of annihilation. If it continued, not only this place would be destroyed—the Central State itself would be in peril.
Clang!
The Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar trembled and rose above Ye Fan’s head. He strode forward through the void, pressing ahead, channeling strands of immortal might—joining Ji Haoyue in suppressing the black-gold cauldron.
“This is disaster. The Central State is finished. Three emperor weapons reviving at once—this is an emperor’s battle. A conflict of this magnitude could destroy this entire continent!” The faces of many Hierarch-level cultivators went pale with terror.
Everything had happened so suddenly. Moments ago, the factions had still been holding themselves in check—now this had erupted without warning. The dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron, the Void Mirror, and the Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar—if these three truly clashed without restraint, any single one of them could sink a landmass spanning several million li.