The corpse of the Quasi-Emperor soared into the depths of the cosmos — head piercing the nine heavens above, feet treading the nine abysses below, with suns and moons and stars orbiting in circles. A single opening of the mouth brought forth a cascade of stars.

Such a scene stunned the mortal world. Anyone who laid eyes upon it would feel their legs turn to water, courage and spirit alike chilled to the bone.

That dense black hair rivaled a river of stars in its immensity, while the bronze-toned physique, having endured tens of thousands of years — or more — had not decayed, still radiating a luminous sheen.

“The Quasi-Emperor’s divine weapon — where is it concealed?” Though the Golden Crow was trembling, it was also overwhelmed with excitement, eyes fixed intently upon the corpse.

It would be an incomparably precious divine object — perhaps one that could grant a glimpse into the supreme mysteries of Dao-proving, for this magnificent and towering corpse had perished in the very act of attempting to prove its Dao.

Ye Fan, too, was acutely aware of the extraordinary importance of this place. It was a priceless find. A Quasi-Emperor had fallen here — it must have condensed the deepest mysteries of heaven and earth. Any who harbored aspirations of proving their Dao would surely go mad for it.

Was it truly a corpse, or was it a manifestation formed from Dao patterns? Why did it appear so real — that bloodstained face, those tightly closed eyes, the infinite depth of time and desolation within them — as though life had left it not long ago?

Primordial mist coiled around it; the Quasi-Emperor’s corpse stood as though creation had begun and failed, ending a life at the very moment of descent from the most glorious pinnacle into the abyss.

“Hmm, more people have arrived.” Ye Fan noticed that yet another wave of those pursuing him had caught up — all concealed in the shadows, not daring to act rashly.

For this place was simply too dreadful. Even ancient saints who came here felt their courage falter — and yet not a single person turned and left, for every one of them understood the incalculable worth of this location.

BOOM!

Suddenly, a tremendous thunderclap erupted through heaven and earth — powerful enough to send the souls of ancient saints nearly flying from their bodies. Complexions turned ashen; bodies shook.

The colossal Quasi-Emperor corpse moved. All the infinite Dao patterns began to withdraw inward; its body started to contract, slowly converging toward a single point.

Was it about to dissolve into the Dao?

The entire star region began to tremble, releasing a myriad of ancient and desolate energy. The enormous corpse grew increasingly indistinct as all Dao laws and divine patterns drew inward, converging toward a single point — the frontal bone, which was to say, the Immortal Platform.

“It truly is the Dao law manifestation — not the true body of the Quasi-Emperor!” The Golden Crow said with a rattling tremble. Though it was an ancient saint, it could not endure this fluctuation. Its entire body split and cracked, and it let out a cry of pain, transforming into a beam of golden light and shooting far away.

Ye Fan too retreated in silence, withdrawing from this place to quietly observe from afar. The Dao law manifestation left behind by this Quasi-Emperor was truly terrifying. Even the normally surging aura it emitted was not something an ordinary person could bear.

The rumbling of the great Dao shook the ancient star region. In a trance, it was as if the sound had traveled from the very dawn of the universe, shaking the heavens and jolting the earth awake — leaving anyone who heard it on the verge of awakening to the Dao.

Ye Fan sat cross-legged within the mother ship, listening attentively, centering his mind and spirit to perceive the insights before him, further consolidating his own Dao foundation and contemplating the Dao patterns impressed upon this universe.

“BOOM!”

At last, with one final thunderous crash, the enormous Quasi-Emperor corpse dimmed. Ten million Dao patterns all merged into those gleaming white frontal bones of the corpse.

Though that place had shattered — drenched in blood — it remained the master of the Dao and became the final resting place where all converged.

At last the Quasi-Emperor vanished. He dispersed into strands of Dao light that scattered across the universe, while the most breathtaking beam from within the frontal bones — brilliant as a river of stars — shot directly into the ancient star above his head.

That star had once been a wellspring of life, but his failed attempt to prove his Dao had brought it to its end. It had become a dead star, with not the faintest trace of vitality remaining.

The universe fell quiet once more, returning utterly to lifeless silence — not the slightest sound, nothing but darkness and cold, with not a single anomaly left behind.

Only that ancient star which had once been a wellspring of life showed something strange — recording the desolation of a bygone age, narrating a great catastrophe from ancient times.

Flash!

A shadow of light hurtled toward the ancient star at extreme speed, evidently a saint, intent on searching that ancient celestial body for its supreme hidden secrets.

Ye Fan had just begun to move when he stopped himself. Someone else had arrived first, surging from the depths of the cosmos with a cry, their divine sense overwhelming.

This was undeniably a powerhouse — tall and lean, with white hair cascading down, a black sword strapped across the back. They arrived in an instant; their overwhelming aura was deeply oppressive.

They entered the ancient star first. In the moment of that cold, sweeping gaze across the cosmos as they turned to look back, it caused a wave of suffocating pressure — as if one had plunged into an icy cellar.

Ye Fan’s mind stirred. This was a supremely terrifying figure — and not one of those hunting him. Where had they come from? How had they appeared so suddenly?

Precisely because of this, he did not act rashly. This was simply too dreadful. This was an unfamiliar star region, one that had long since become a wasteland. How could a powerhouse be traversing this place?

To walk alone through the cosmos — this was undeniably an incomparably world-shaking figure. Without the strength to dare such a thing, one would never attempt it!

Ye Fan was certain he had never seen this person before. Yet the Golden Crow, the mountain demon, and the others who had come hunting him did not know that — they assumed this person had come from the Big Dipper like themselves, following the trail of clues Ye Fan had left in the cosmos, here for the Verdant Copper Cauldron and the life of the Human Sacred Physique.

Whoosh!

The Golden Crow also moved — rushing toward the dead star, turning into a bolt of golden lightning, arriving in an instant.

Seven or eight figures surged forward, descending upon that colossal ancient star. All of them were searching for the Quasi-Emperor’s divine weapon and other relics upon the ancient star.

A living ancient domain of such extraordinary size might well have produced a great emperor of old. If any imperial weapon had been left behind, that would be even more terrifying.

This might be a divine opportunity of the highest order. Every single person harbored that belief — that finding an immortal weapon or ancient scripture could allow an entire clan to rise to prominence and flourish for tens of thousands of years.

Ye Fan also arrived, though he did not descend. He used the cosmic mother ship to scan everything below, watching all of these people intently.

Mountains had collapsed, vast seas had dried, ancient caves lay cracked and silent, broken walls and ruins everywhere — this was a place of utter desolation. Nothing remained; not a single blade of grass grew, with barren earth extending without boundary.

The Dao that the Quasi-Emperor of that time had sought to prove was peculiar beyond anything ever heard. It had never been told that a failed attempt to prove one’s Dao could drag an entire ancient star along. The Dao he had cultivated was truly extraordinary and unusual.

Ye Fan scanned carefully with the cosmic mother ship and finally discovered a single point of brightness on the ancient star — the only anomaly present. There stood a stone stele — towering ten thousand zhang in height!

It was carved from a single crystal stone, planted into the ground. Beside it rose a mountain of equal height — immense and grand in scale.

This ancient star had once had many towering great peaks, but all had collapsed. Only this one mountain had survived intact.

“No — the shape of this mountain looks so strange. This looks like a great tomb!” Ye Fan was stunned.

A stone stele ten thousand zhang high, a great tomb ten thousand zhang tall — what grandeur and magnificence, enough to shake the soul.

Yet having already witnessed the scene imprinted upon this void when the Quasi-Emperor perished, the sight before him now did not shake Ye Fan quite as much. He quickly steadied himself.

The great tomb was a deep crimson throughout — as though it had been soaked in blood, drenched by the blood of countless living beings, producing this terrifying appearance. Even the soil near it had turned a dark color, heavy with Yin energy.

The white-haired figure was not old — no more than thirty years of age in appearance — standing silently before the colossal stone stele, motionless and without a word.

The mountain demon, the colossus, and the others spread out across different areas to search. Finding nothing, they all eventually drew close to the great tomb.

The mountain demon’s body was gaunt and withered, with eerie green light gleaming in its hollow eye sockets. It murmured quietly, “This great tomb contains spatial formations within. The interior must be vast — could it be the burial site of an ancient great emperor? There must be a divine treasury within.”

It climbed upon the great tomb, descending onto its surface, searching for an entrance.

Yet at that very moment, it became aware of a pair of cold eyes fixed upon it — like daggers driven into its heart, staring at it with chilling indifference.

“You… what do you intend to do?” A formidable saint-level powerhouse — one who looked down upon the world — and yet now, locked in that gaze, it trembled. Body and heart alike shook with fear.

Clang — a sharp, clear vibration rang out. The cold, white-haired figure drew the black heavy sword from its back and, from ten thousand zhang away, brought it cleaving downward.

The mountain demon erupted in fury. It circulated its divine power, summoned its Dao weapons, and attacked with everything it had to block the blow.

But it was futile.

The black heavy sword fell. Its Dao weapons, divine patterns, secret arts — all collapsed. Its body was split cleanly in two. Sacred blood ran in rivulets; its primordial spirit was extinguished. The two halves of its bloodied corpse toppled and fell at the base of the great tomb.

Powerful — terrifying — merciless… Ye Fan rapidly formed his assessment. This person was an extreme and supremely dangerous figure!

A single sword strike — and a saint-level mountain demon had been split down the middle, as casually as swatting a mosquito, as trivial as nothing.

Before long, the sound of breaking air reached him again. Four saint-level figures converged from different directions, descending upon the dark crimson great tomb, also intent on exploration.

Yet what awaited them was another dragon-like metal resonance — the cold and merciless white-haired man drew the black longsword again, and swept it in a horizontal arc.

“Ah…!”

Cries rang out simultaneously. All four ancient saints were cut in two at the waist — upper halves separated from lower — blood flowing freely, the sight horrific beyond description. Not one of them could withstand even a single blow.

Soon their wails ceased, for after the sword stroke, their bodies split and their primordial spirits shattered as well. They died without ceremony.

Ye Fan was outside, watching through the mother ship. He saw everything with perfect clarity and drew in a sharp, cold breath. He instantly elevated this person’s danger rating to five stars.

A single sword — four ancient saints dead simultaneously.

“This tomb buries the grief and sorrow of an entire ancient star — countless billions of living beings all interred within. Is this a place for the likes of you to tread upon?” Cold words drifted outward like a mournful wind. The voice was pitiless and untouchable — far beyond reach.

Before long, a golden light split open the void and descended upon the site. The Golden Crow appeared, gripping the Quasi-Emperor’s single golden divine feather with great care.

As it rounded the back of the great tomb and came face to face with the white-haired figure, its heart seized up at once. “Friend, who are you?”

“God.” The white-haired powerhouse uttered only this single word — frigid, yet carrying a sovereign authority, gazing down upon the world.

“God?” The Golden Crow swallowed hard, involuntarily taking several steps backward. Fear stirred in its heart. A person who spoke this way was either an incomparably terrifying existence or profoundly arrogant — dangerous either way.

From beyond, Ye Fan witnessed this exchange and felt a chill run through him. That word — “God” — was deeply peculiar, calling to mind an organization he had heard of in the Eternal Star Domain.

“They hunt down every powerhouse who sets foot on the ancient star roads of the cosmos — extraordinarily terrifying!” This was the description of the organization called “God” from among the nine pieces of information left behind by Ji Haoyue.

Furthermore, the people of Eternal Main Star turned pale at the mere mention of God — they feared them greatly.

Given his performance in the Eternal Star Domain — destroying saint-level mother ships, holding his own against ancient saints — when that organization first encountered him, they had put him to the test before ultimately stating they wished him to join.

This was undeniably a mysterious, powerful, and terrifying organization. And the figure before him had declared themselves to be God outright. Was there some connection?

The powerful Golden Crow had clearly sensed that something was wrong. It turned and made to leave — but the white-haired man’s cold gaze fell upon it, and instantly it was frozen to the spot. Boundless killing intent flooded its body, as though ten thousand heavenly swords had been pressed to it from all sides. It dared not move a single muscle.

God made their move — not to kill, but to reach out and drag the Golden Crow in from over ten thousand zhang away, binding it in their grip. The Golden Crow cried out, struggling violently, but it was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot — completely futile.

God pressed a finger to the Golden Crow’s forehead and began reading its memories, murmuring to themselves: “From the Big Dipper — that saves me considerable effort. I was just heading there to shatter the path to immortality.”

“Puff!”

The moment God released their hand, the Golden Crow had barely shot skyward when the Quasi-Emperor divine feather it was clutching suddenly reversed direction, splitting it in two.

A flash of golden light descended to the ground. A single golden feather came to rest in God’s hand. They murmured quietly: “A Quasi-Emperor.”