The blue-green copper lamp flickered, its flame bright and clear. Within it, a tiny An Miaoyi sat cross-legged, reciting sutras within the firelight — solemn and sacred.

An Miaoyi herself wore a serene expression, clothed in white robes that drifted gently around her, making her appear lofty and otherworldly, as though she might ascend on the rosy clouds and become an immortal, untouched by the mortal world.

She seemed like a different person — ever more elusive and ethereal, somehow difficult to draw close to. Her smile was peaceful, yet carried a trace of distance.

Ye Fan gazed at her, and it was only when he saw the silhouette seated within the ancient bronze lamp that he felt a sense of closeness. He said softly, “Miaoyi.”

“Go.” Within the blue lamp, that familiar and intimate smile was utterly unchanged, and she waved a hand to him.

“Farewell — until we meet again.” An Miaoyi herself also spoke, then turned and departed. She moved like a celestial being, gliding through the air, heading in the direction of Lanto Monastery.

Ye Fan stood transfixed for a very long time without moving.

When the first rays of dawn broke through, he finally rose and departed. In the Western Desert, he could feel the mysterious faith-power every day. He wished to observe Mount Sumeru from afar, and had no plans to leave immediately.

The Western Desert had several great ancient sites — the Hanging Monastery, Lanto Monastery, the Divine Glow Monastery, and others — all of which were renowned for holding the highest secrets of Buddhism, revered throughout the world.

Ye Fan traveled on foot, following a path past Lanto Monastery and heading toward the heart of this vast land, absorbing the atmosphere of this Buddhist earth, observing strand after strand of sacred faith-light, and deepening his inner comprehension.

One day later, Ye Fan passed by a ruined hall. The place had been reduced to rubble, scorched and charred.

“How could someone have destroyed a temple in this Western Land?” He was somewhat surprised. The small temple was not large, and did not occupy much ground. He swept away the ashes to reveal a dozen or so corpses.

“Qingling Monastery — isn’t this one of the places where Miaoyi once cultivated?” Ye Fan couldn’t help but furrow his brow. This small temple had been destroyed no more than half a month ago.

An Miaoyi had set out from Ahan Ancient Monastery and traveled through various places in the Western Desert, having undertaken silent cultivation in many ancient temples before finally settling at Lanto Monastery. This was just one of those temples — she had mentioned it to him once before.

“Reverse the flow, trace back to the source — the Ancient Reversal Art!”

Ye Fan gave a soft shout. His gaze blazed with light, and his forehead bone shimmered like a crystal mirror, shining its light upon the broken walls and crumbled ruins.

This was a mysterious technique he had cultivated on Earth. He had once obtained an incomplete Veda Sutra at an ancient Dao ground, penetrated its wondrous principles, and from that gained this mysterious art — capable of recreating scenes from the past.

Ye Fan’s forehead bone emitted light, shining it across the rubble and scattering it over the bodies. He traced back the events of more than ten days prior, and in a moment his body gave a violent tremor.

“Wang Teng!”

His pupils blazed with intensity, sharp as blades. It was Wang Teng who had done this. There was no need for further elaboration — he knew what this person intended. To take revenge on him, Wang Teng had resorted to any and every means, and had wiped out an entire temple’s worth of people.

“He knows I’m back. He understands he’s no match for me, so he has gone after An Miaoyi — silencing an entire temple’s worth of people.”

Ye Fan moved like the wind, swift and rapid, hurrying to another small temple An Miaoyi had mentioned. This ancient temple was intact, having suffered no attack.

“It seems the people of the first temple must have discovered his treacherous intentions, so they were silenced.”

He dared not delay and went directly to Lanto Monastery, where he learned in secret that An Miaoyi had returned safely and had not been harmed.

“Wang Teng. It is time to settle this.”

Ye Fan concealed himself within the sacred mountain, keeping watch over everything here. He was certain Wang Teng would appear — it was only a matter of when.

Several days later, An Miaoyi went out, heading to the Divine Glow Monastery to study a Buddhist method there.

Ye Fan did not reveal himself. Using the Heaven’s Court assassination technique, he concealed himself within the void and followed all the way — he felt the time had come for Wang Teng to make his move.

Sure enough, after traveling several thousand kilometers, a golden ancient war chariot came rumbling forward, radiating light that pierced the heavens, accompanied by a true dragon, a divine phoenix, a white tiger, and a black tortoise, all surrounding it at the center.

This ancient chariot was golden from end to end, blazing with ten thousand zhang of radiance. The figure standing atop it seemed like the Heavenly Emperor on patrol — descended into the mortal world.

Wang Teng’s black hair hung loose. He was tall and powerfully built, his gaze carrying a cold and piercing edge. He held a golden holy sword in his hand, cutting off the path ahead. The divine radiance shooting from the sword’s edge stretched hundreds of zhang in length and swept toward An Miaoyi.

Swish.

A blue lamp appeared, hovering at An Miaoyi’s shoulder. It emitted a soft and gentle radiance that formed a curtain of light, shielding her body.

“You are… Wang Teng. I never thought that the one who was once the exalted Northern Emperor would fall to such a state. Is it because you feel you have no hope of killing Ye Fan in this lifetime that you’ve come to lay hands on me?” An Miaoyi spoke softly.

For one who had once been among the foremost of the young generation of the human race — a child favored by heaven — to conduct himself in such a way was undoubtedly a fall into degradation, a loss of the heart that seeks the Dao.

“Haha… Hahaha…” Wang Teng burst into loud laughter. His hair flew wild. There was rage in it, and murderous intent — cold and glacial, his pupils like two deep, dark abysses.

“What a pity. The Northern Emperor of old has come to such a state — it moves one to lament. One of the foremost young talents in the world has finally fallen into ruin, unable to rise again, never to recover that undefeated brilliance.” An Miaoyi murmured softly.

“Yes, I’ve been defeated again. In that battle in the Eastern Desolation, a mysterious figure’s single spear thrust shook all under heaven and forced me to retreat. I know it was Ye Fan. I am no match for him.” Wang Teng’s expression was cold and ruthless. “He led tens of thousands of iron cavalry and destroyed my Northern Plains Wang Family. This great hatred I will repay no matter what in this life. If I cannot kill him, I will begin with his women — and make him suffer for the rest of his life!”

Wang Teng said this in a grim and sinister tone. Both pupils were filled with light of intense hatred — nearly mad. The hand gripping the golden holy sword trembled slightly, and half his body was convulsing.

“You only see the destruction of the Wang Family — why do you not speak of the arrogance and contempt your clan displayed in those days? If your family had not gone to exterminate a branch of the Southern Ridge barbarian tribes, and had not colluded with the ancient clans to hunt Ye Fan and his friends down to the last, how would it have come to this? Buddhism speaks of cause and effect — everything was decided long ago.” An Miaoyi said.

“What cause and effect, what heavenly Dao — none of it matters to me now. I want you dead. I want Ye Fan to suffer for the rest of his life. If I cannot kill him, I will torment him in spirit — and give him no peace throughout his entire existence!”

Wang Teng’s eyes were full of bloodshot veins, turning a crimson red. His killing intent was boundless. Even the golden ancient war chariot became shrouded in a blood mist — demonic and sinister beyond compare.

An Miaoyi shook her head. The Northern Emperor of today had long since lost the stunning brilliance of his former self. His state of mind had crumbled — he had truly been broken beyond recovery. No matter how high his cultivation might climb, he would never attain the Dao.

“Kill!”

Wang Teng struck, engaging An Miaoyi in fierce combat. Holding his golden holy sword, he cleaved downward with great force. The ancient war chariot also rumbled forward, crushing everything in its path — mountain peaks and ancient veins alike reduced to dust. His battle spirit soared to the clouds, and his demonic energy was boundless.

An Miaoyi struck back, dissolving his assault with Buddhist methods, countering his attacks blow for blow in continuous combat.

“An Miaoyi, you cannot escape today! I will send your head to the Eastern Desolation, and listen to him wail — watch his rage consume him, see his grief and fury, and his powerlessness to change anything!”

“You are not the last. I will hunt down every person connected to him, slaying them one by one. Your skulls will become my collection!”

“Ye Fan, I will make you grieve! I look forward to seeing you torn apart with sorrow — Hahaha!” Wang Teng had gone mad — laughing and crying at once, his attacks like a storm of wind and rain. His sword energy manifested in a thousand variations, his assault never ceasing.

Boom.

Suddenly, a golden fist shattered the void and appeared without warning, sending Wang Teng and his ancient war chariot crashing away in a single blow and making him cough up great mouthfuls of blood.

Ye Fan stepped out from the void, one step at a time, holding a black spear in his hand. He released no great aura from his body — yet Wang Teng’s face changed color on the spot.

“You… it’s you. You set this trap deliberately, waiting here for me!”

“To settle the cause and effect between us!” Ye Fan pressed forward. At this point among his generation he could be said to be all-conquering, looking down over all eight desolations. He had slain even the Heaven Prince — to say nothing of a mere Wang Teng.

Just as Ye Tong had said — aside from Emperor’s Son-level figures, his great enemies lay in the starry sky. On this ancient star, the peers who could match him were nearly gone.

“Miaoyi, go. I’ll take his head and settle all unfinished affairs of the past.” Ye Fan said.

An Miaoyi stepped back and cleared the battlefield for him. She was certain — even if several Wang Tengs came together, they would be no match for Ye Fan. His Dao heart was already shattered. What could he possibly have left?

“Wang Teng. Within thirty exchanges I will finish you cleanly. Show whatever ability you have.” Ye Fan said. The aura he radiated already reflected that invincible conviction within his heart.

“You are arrogant!” Wang Teng’s eyes were bloodshot — like two pools of cold, crimson depths. Once revered as the Northern Emperor, when had he ever been looked down upon like this?

His hatred for Ye Fan was as vast and boundless as the Eastern Sea. His first defeat, his first shattered body, his first experience of pain and shame — all of it had its origin in Ye Fan. The memory was etched into his bones. The great hatred could not be dissolved.

“Ahhh!” Wang Teng went berserk. He raised his golden battle sword and cleaved downward, while from the golden ancient war chariot, many phantoms burst forth — a true dragon, a divine phoenix, and more, all charging together to destroy the enemy.

Hum.

Facing these Dao traces, Ye Fan was simple and direct — a single strike. With one hand he wielded the black spear, swung it forward, and swept through ten thousand soldiers.

Crack.

Every form of light and shadow — sword radiance, divine phoenix imprints, and all the rest — shattered completely. Nothing could withstand the force of his devastating assault.

Swish.

Ye Fan thrust with the spear. The dark gold spear shot forth like a black dragon ascending to the sky, cleaving through the void and splitting the heavens. No matter how all-encompassing the battle aura of the ancient war chariot might be, it could not stop him.

“Ahh!” Wang Teng cried out.

The cold spear tip shook aside the golden battle sword, and an unparalleled burst of spear radiance pierced forward, drilling through his chest — a blood-soaked hole as thick as an arm, glistening from front to back, appeared in his body.

“You are already trembling with fear inside. You are even more worthless than I imagined. Within ten exchanges, I will take your life!” Ye Fan leveled the black spear at his brow from a distance.

“Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill — after a hundred defeats, I have forged a Demon Fetus. Awaken for me — I shall become invincible under heaven!”

Wang Teng screamed madly. His expression twisted grotesquely, and dark demonic patterns rose on his face one after another. From the crown of his skull, a dark light surged — terrible and boundless beyond measure.

In that instant, he transformed into a Demon Fetus. Black markings appeared across his forehead bone, as though an ancient great demon king had been resurrected — he had grown many times more powerful!

“What inheritance did you truly obtain in the Ji Family’s ancestral hall that year? I suspect that did not belong to the Void Great Emperor at all.” Ye Fan asked.

“Haha… Hahaha! Know that I, Wang Teng, first obtained the inheritance of the Disorder Ancient Great Emperor, and then the secret arts of the Undying Mountain’s Ancient Emperor. Heaven has favored me with a fortune that defies the natural order. I am destined to be invincible in this life — none of you can obstruct my path!”

He had truly gone mad. His eyes were blood-red. He screamed and roared, savagely launching his attack on Ye Fan.

“Disorder Ancient Inheritance — Eternal Exile!”

The void was torn open. He sought to send Ye Fan crashing into the boundless dimensional space, burying him forever in an unknown time and space.

“Even back then, you could not deal with me using this technique — what use is it now!?” Ye Fan seemed to stand within eternity itself, his own being imperishable and invincible. He penetrated the void and could not be exiled.

Crack.

He thrust forward with his spear, and blood splattered. Wang Teng had dodged a fraction too slowly — one of his arms became a smear of bloody mist and went flying.

Now Ye Fan bore the momentum of invincibility. In combat against him, every single blow was vast and majestic, and any move he employed suppressed Wang Teng entirely.

“I am not resigned! I was born bearing the great fortune of heaven and earth. By what right do you contend with me? I possess the Nine Secret Arts. I have two volumes of the Great Emperor’s ancient scriptures. I will kill you!” He had gone mad. The demonic markings on his forehead grew even denser as he pressed forward in his assault.

Ye Fan’s heart gave a sudden shock. He finally understood why Wang Teng had been unable to rise after his fall — to be precise, he now knew why Wang Teng could have revived. This was no longer purely Wang Teng. Something was parasitizing his body. The so-called Demon Fetus was by no means Wang Teng himself.

The Northern Emperor had been demonized. He could no longer control himself — this must be… another strand of energy occupying his body and wreaking havoc within.

A chill surged through Ye Fan’s heart. He absolutely could not let this person go. He had to kill him clean. He shouted aloud: “Demon Fetus — surrender your head!”

The two engaged in fierce combat. Ye Fan unleashed his invincible battle spirit. After the seventh exchange, he sent the golden ancient war chariot flying with a single punch. Then the sharp tip of his weapon swept past — Wang Teng’s blood-stained head went flying off at an angle.

Crack.

Ye Fan pursued it. With one thrust he drove his spear through the skull, pinning it atop the dark gold spear tip. Blood dripped down in a line.

“Speak your every secret!”

“Haha… I am Wang Teng. No — I am an imprint left behind by the Undying Mountain’s invincible sovereign. You cannot kill me. Hahaha…”