“Why is this ancient star so strange?” Long Ma exclaimed in surprise. The ground was riddled with enormous holes everywhere — even the stone mountains in the distance were the same, pockmarked and honeycombed.

Everyone present couldn’t help but show expressions of bewilderment. This entire region was far too strange, pitted with massive craters in every direction, as though it had been pelted by a meteor shower — nothing but deep pits and gaping holes throughout.

“Something is off. These shouldn’t have been carved out by meteorite impacts. They look more like burrow-tunnels dug by some kind of creature. But for them to cover such an enormous area is truly extraordinary.”

When they gazed out as far as the eye could see, they discovered that vast swaths of this planet looked exactly the same — nearly half of the ancient star had been reduced to this state, and no one could fathom why.

“Let’s not worry about that for now. First, let’s locate the Five-Colored Altar. The sooner we leave this place, the better. Perhaps the next destination will finally bring us to the Big Dipper Star Region.”

They split up to search. Teleportation arrays of this scale, capable of bridging star regions, were extraordinarily rare and were typically protected by formation arrays — without the right secret arts, there would be no finding them.

“Trouble — the Five-Colored Divine Altar has been moved. It’s not here anymore.”

They had found the ancient formation array, but it had been destroyed. The area was riddled with pits, with a vast stretch of cave tunnels cutting through it; the Dao markings and patterns were all fragmented and incomplete. The array had been annihilated.

Their expressions all changed. A sense of foreboding settled over them. An desolate star like this offered no foundation for survival — to be stranded here would be to walk a dead man’s road.

“Who took the Five-Colored Altar away?” They were all gripped with unease. This was no good omen. The thought of being trapped on a dead star cast a shadow of worry across all their faces.

“Let’s split up and search. My instinct says this star isn’t simple — those strange holes look like something burrowed its way out.”

They began moving in separate directions, each surging toward a different quadrant, extending their powerful divine senses to conduct a sweeping, methodical search — seeking any glimmer of hope for survival.

It was impossible not to feel the smallness of individual strength in moments like these. To be stranded on a desolate star was to have one’s path forward severed — one might die adrift in the cosmic void.

Only by reaching the realm of a Sage was there even a whisper of possibility for traveling through the cosmos. Without that, one was forever an ant, incapable of crossing the stellar expanse by one’s own power.

Bzzzzt!

Suddenly, Ye Fan heard the sound of beating wings — sharp and grating, like a sword quivering faintly, with faint fluctuations of power capable of piercing metal and splitting stone radiating outward.

A razor-keen beam of divine light slashed down from the night sky. He caught sight of a creature resembling a winged dragon, its body several meters long, diving from above with a dazzling blade of light spewing from its maw.

Boom!

Ye Fan extended one finger. A blazing torrent of golden light shot out, immediately boring through the creature’s brow. It died on the spot, its corpse tumbling down from the heights.

But things did not end there — the sound of beating wings above the clouds continued without pause, and then identical creatures descended in a blotting swarm: tens and hundreds of winged-dragon-like beings, spitting cascades of light-blades that slashed downward.

“Everyone, converge!” Ye Fan bellowed. He feared that Zhang Qingyang and Long Yuxuan might be caught alone and cut down by these unknown creatures — their numbers defied estimation.

“Break through — all of you!”

Ye Fan let out a quiet shout. Light blazed from his brow, and a great cauldron flew out — vast and primordial in its presence — soaring directly upward to strike the sky. In an instant, flesh and blood erupted in every direction; several hundred winged-dragon creatures were all reduced to blood mist, slaughtered in mid-air.

The Divine Knight, Zhang Qingyang, and the others converged on his position. They gathered together and gazed up at the heavens, maintaining careful vigilance — because there was surely far more to come.

They were now certain: the reason this ancient star was so thoroughly honeycombed and pitted had everything to do with these creatures. Nearly half the star had been hollowed out. The sheer scale of it was almost unimaginable.

“Look — what is that?!” Long Yuxuan pointed toward the distant edge of the sky.

The mist there was impossibly thick, oppressive even against the backdrop of a star-lit night — rolling in like a mountain flood, robbing the air of breath.

“A massive warship?!”

At the horizon’s edge, an enormous shadow spread across the sky in every direction, blotting out the stars. In moments it was before them — dark and crushing and immense, enough to make one’s blood run cold.

“It’s a vast island — and it’s airborne, capable of flight!”

Calling it an island wasn’t quite right either. Perhaps it was better described as a floating continent — like a divine realm enthroned on high, able to look down upon everything beneath it.

Bzzzzt!

The sound of beating wings filled the night sky, and a swarm of tens of thousands of winged-dragon-like creatures dove downward in unison, all deploying their techniques simultaneously — lightning crackled, storms raged, and sword-light danced in every direction.

Any single one of these creatures posed little threat; even Zhang Qingyang and Long Yuxuan could hold their own against them individually. But with this many converging together, the sheer volume became overwhelming. Even an elephant can be brought low by enough ants.

“Stand back — I’ll handle it!”

Long Ma’s four hooves left the ground, launching upward toward the heavens. It opened its maw and unleashed a thunderous roar, a towering inferno surging skyward. When a Dao-severing sovereign went berserk, the results were terrifying to behold — a vast swath of “winged dragons” plummeted, raining down thick and dense as dumplings boiling in a pot.

The sky blazed with firelight, and wave after wave of roasting-meat fragrance spread through the air. Long Ma galloped in every direction without equal, fighting in mid-air with unstoppable ferocity. Nearly ten thousand creatures were all but completely wiped out.

“Something’s wrong,” Ye Fan muttered, brow furrowed, eyes fixed on that floating continent in the sky. The more he studied it, the more it looked like a mother hive.

Sure enough — a piercing shriek rang out across the land. In an instant the earth’s crust seethed with life; brilliant lights erupted upward, and creature after creature burst out from below ground.

“We have a problem — this entire ancient star is infested with these monsters. There are too many. No matter how many we kill, we can’t run out of them!”

These winged-dragon-like creatures had all been dormant, but now every last one of them was awakening from the depths of the planet’s crust, each scrambling over the others in a frenzied rush to swarm Ye Fan and his companions.

“How many are there? They’re everywhere, above and below!” Even Long Ma’s confidence began to waver.

This was no longer a matter of tens of thousands — they were simply uncountable. The numbers were staggering: beneath the crust, and pouring from the enormous continent in the sky above, wave after wave of dark clouds surged forward, blotting out the heavens.

“Humans — how rare. After all these years, we meet again.” A powerful ripple of divine intent emanated from that vast floating landmass.

Then a torrent of five-colored “winged dragons” burst forth — far stronger than any before, and numbering in the tens of thousands.

Ye Fan quickly placed Hua Hua into his spatial artifact. Together with the others, he vaulted into the air, fighting with everything he had. There was no path to survival except to kill through them all.

Splat!

The Dragon Knight fought savagely in every direction, his spear living up to the name “dragon-slaying lance” — flying and striking in all directions, each thrust sending another wave of powerful creatures plummeting, sprays of blood blooming without end.

Long Ma fought desperately as well, slaying tens of thousands of “winged dragons” — it was drenched in blood from head to hoof — and still they could not be finished, for their numbers were dizzying.

“All of you — die!”

Long Ma opened its mouth and spat out a bronze bowl: a damaged sacred weapon obtained at Spirit Mountain. This ancient weapon held extraordinary destructive power, carrying within it the imposing might of a Sage. In an instant, over a hundred thousand winged dragons were reduced to bloody pulp, exterminated in mid-air.

However, blazing light of every color shot up from the floating continent above. Seven dragon-shaped creatures leaped forward, their bodies radiating seven-colored radiance, and together they activated a powerful forbidden weapon, driving it downward in a devastating strike.

BOOM!

Blinding brilliance lit up the entire ancient star, white as snow spread across the land, like ten suns detonating simultaneously. The shockwave of energy rippled outward and condensed into an incomparable sword-qi that cleaved downward.

Clang!

The bronze bowl trembled, then cracked with a sharp, brittle sound — a massive fissure appeared across its surface, nearly splitting it in two. This was clearly a forbidden weapon left behind by an ancient Sage, and it had inflicted genuine damage upon the incomplete Buddhist vessel.

Splat!

Long Ma coughed up a mouthful of blood, sustaining heavy injuries. The forbidden weapon’s destructive power was supreme, and it had paid a steep price.

“Humans — I have been waiting for you a long time. Have you come for this altar?”

A nine-colored dragon-shaped creature appeared in the sky — far larger than the rest, looming like a small mountain as it stood atop the floating continent. It was undeniably a supremely powerful Dao-severing sovereign.

Between its claws, a Five-Colored Altar drifted and floated, radiating five-colored radiance — the very ancient stellar teleportation array that Ye Fan and his companions had been searching for.

“Shall we cooperate? Tell me the method to activate this formation array, and I will provide the altar. We leave together.” This was clearly the queen of the hive — and all the winged dragons filling the sky were her subjects.

Ye Fan indicated his willingness to negotiate, composed and unafraid. He had the Divine Knight and the others wait where they were, and ascended alone.

“Do you know how to open this altar?” the most powerful dragon-shaped creature asked.

“Naturally.” Ye Fan studied the altar and determined it was undamaged. The reason it could no longer be activated was simply that several of the stones had grown dim, their stored power depleted. He wasn’t worried — he carried five-colored stones of this type on his person, and could draw upon their unique spatial energy and channel it into the altar.

“In that case — you will stay!” The dragon-shaped creature said coldly, producing an even more powerful forbidden weapon and driving it downward to kill him. It wanted to destroy Ye Fan’s physical body and keep only his primordial spirit.

However, light flickered in an instant, and that Ye Fan vanished. This was the miraculous art of “One Qi Transforming into Three Purities.” Ye Fan had released this wisp of pure energy beforehand; his true body had already ascended onto the floating continent, where he brought his cauldron crashing down with tremendous force!

BOOM!

Since severing the Dao, he had not encountered a truly formidable foe. This time he drove the Myriad Phenomena Cauldron with his full might — divine power surging, boundless and vast — and on the spot reduced that vast continent-like mother hive to four scattered pieces.

In that instant, countless creatures were reduced to pools of blood, falling in swaths, staining the entire sky crimson.

The destruction of this nest was like disturbing a hornets’ nest — above and below, every direction was filled with powerful winged-dragon-like species, all of them shrieking, eyes blazing red, converging in pursuit of Ye Fan from every direction.

“Move — into the outer reaches!”

Ye Fan felt the situation turning grim. These creatures were inexhaustible — the masses below the crust and those from the sky converging together had become an ocean, swallowing them entirely.

Fortunately, he, the Divine Knight, and Long Ma were powerful enough to carve a path of blood through the swarm, breaking free from the planet and escaping into the outer reaches before finally shaking off their pursuers.

“This is absurd — there are just too many. Unless we destroy the entire ancient star, there’s simply no end to killing them. What in the world are these things?” Long Ma raged.

The Divine Knight said: “There are records of these in ancient texts. They are Ant Dragons — creatures of tremendous vitality, with an extraordinarily fast breeding rate comparable to ants. Their survival environment is vastly different from that of humans; they directly devour minerals and raw ore to sustain themselves.”

“Though this planet is relatively small, they have consumed nearly half of it. That’s still nothing short of outrageous — there’s no telling how many generations they’ve survived.”

“Their numbers are too vast — the entire ancient star is infested with these creatures. We simply cannot kill them all. Our only option is to target the strongest among them and seize the altar from their grasp.”

Yet they found themselves hesitating, held back by the fear of accidentally destroying the altar while targeting the Ant Dragon Kings.

“These Ant Dragons have been breeding on this ancient star for who knows how many tens of thousands of years. Several of them have definitely severed the Dao, and they hold forbidden weapons left behind by ancient Sages. They’re genuinely difficult to deal with.”

Ye Fan thought for a moment, then said: “Let’s use the power of mind stored within my cauldron against them.”

With that, he inverted the Myriad Phenomena Cauldron. Inside it lay an endless reservoir of faith energy that cascaded outward like a great waterfall, flowing down toward the relatively small ancient star below.

BOOM!

Like a boundless sea descending upon the land — for those who venerated the Celestial Court, this was the purest of sacred power. But for all others, it was karmic fire!

When all of the faith energy came down, the surface below transformed into a sea of flame. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of divine insects let out shrieking howls as each was reduced to a blazing torch!

“While they’re in chaos — take out the Ant Dragon Kings!”

They dove back down once more. Ye Fan drew out his black arrows and fired them in rapid succession, cutting down several of the great leaders while contending with the Sage’s forbidden weapons.

Without the dense swarms of divine insects blocking the way, facing the several great leaders directly was considerably easier — and yet it still consumed so much energy that the sun and moon seemed dimmed. This was not a contest of individual strength; this was a battle of sacred artifacts against forbidden weapons!

One side held back for fear of destroying the altar; the other wielded terrifying forbidden weapons. The resulting grinding war reduced heaven and earth to ruin, filling the air with ghostly howls and divine wails — the battle burned white-hot.

Though forbidden weapons were limited in their number of activations, each use consuming part of the artifact’s remaining lifespan, they remained profoundly fearsome, their destructive power unparalleled.

Long Ma’s bronze bowl was nearly shattered, leaving it howling in frustration and agony, yearning to slaughter every last Insect King down to the bone.

Relying on the extraordinary power of Ye Fan’s black arrows — with their devastatingly high lethality — two forbidden weapons had already been destroyed. Had they not been wary of damaging the altar, the objective might well have been achieved by now.

“The Insect King’s forbidden weapon is far too terrifying — it was personally refined by an ancient Sage, more lethal than even an ordinary sacred weapon,” the Divine Knight said, brow furrowed. Having fought for so long, even he bore heavy wounds.

In the end, all the forbidden weapons were destroyed.

At the critical moment, Ye Fan merged his primordial spirit with the Dao — time and heaven and earth seemed to freeze. A golden little figure holding the cauldron emerged and flew forward, and beneath the Insect King’s disbelieving gaze, Ye Fan killed it where it stood.

This was a forbidden technique he had deployed before: after achieving the Divine Form, he merged his primordial spirit with the Dao, embraced the cauldron and became the Unity of Escape — transcending the mortal realm, capable of achieving a brief freezing of time.

The Five-Colored Altar was reclaimed — almost destroyed by the Insect King in a fit of furious humiliation. But they had finally obtained the stellar teleportation array, as they had set out to do.

The ancient star had nearly been leveled. After days of bitter, grinding war, Ye Fan and his companions had at last achieved their goal.

“Time to move on!”

Yet the next destination disappointed them once again — it was not the Big Dipper Ancient Star Region. They had arrived on yet another dead star.

And over the following half year, they traversed only eight or nine ancient stars, each one bringing a brutal, costly battle that consumed enormous time. Their hearts grew heavy with the weight of it all — most of this path seemed to lead toward the ancient star known as “Ascending to Immortality.”

“Alas…” Ye Fan let out a long sigh.

Then, on one particular day, they stepped onto the Five-Colored Altar in silence and emerged into another world. The moment Ye Fan’s feet touched solid ground, his expression jolted — and he cried out in disbelief:

“The Undying Mountain!”