A cataract of lightning plunged downward without end, and this was only one corner of the sea of tribulation — vast and boundless, sweeping in great waves across an immeasurable expanse of star territory!

Ye Fan was facing the most terrifying ordeal of his life. He was fighting desperately to hold back the heavenly punishment, while at the same time remaining alert to the stirring in the depths of the sky above — where the aura of an ancient Emperor was spreading.

“You are on your own now, kid. There is nothing I can do to help. I can barely look after myself.” Long Ma called out from a distance, having been struck so thoroughly that its skin was split and its flesh was raw, its tendons and bones snapped in countless places, yet continuously reforging and rebuilding itself.

Long Ma looked over at the catastrophic devastation of Ye Fan’s tribulation and was profoundly shaken. It reasoned that if such a tribulation existed in this world, then whatever it was facing must be nothing by comparison — and that it could absolutely get through this. From a certain point of view, the pitiful spectacle of Ye Fan’s suffering greatly bolstered Long Ma’s resolve, and the shameless horse began to push forward with all its strength, sweeping aside every obstacle blocking its path to sainthood.

Boom!

Dark light surged in all directions, submerging the entire star region. The Divine Thunder of the Yin descended — greater than any tribulation that had come before, filling this entire region of space to the brim. Star after star was swallowed within it, and they exploded in rapid succession.

This was a supreme and absolute terror. Anyone who was attempting to attain sainthood and witnessed this scene would be left trembling with dread. If the heavens truly meant to allow a person to break through, why would they send down a tribulation of this magnitude?

This was the omen of one who was not accepted by heaven and earth — the heavens were doing everything within their power, pushing beyond all limits, raining down punishment in an effort to destroy the one who sought sainthood.

This bolt of the Divine Thunder of the Yin, shrouded in mists of immortal haze and radiating flickering dark light, completely obliterated Ye Fan — shattered his cauldron, cracked it through and through — and stood as the most devastating tribulation punishment he had yet endured.

Dong.

From within his body came a sound like the beating of a heavenly drum. Rays of golden divine radiance shot outward, and his shattered body, his severed bones — once again they reforged themselves, reconnected themselves, and were tempered into a unified whole.

Enduring the agony of being crushed to dust, Ye Fan re-refined the Myriad Origin Cauldron. He took the hundreds of ancient scripture characters he had obtained from within the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin and recited them aloud, driving them into the cracks on the cauldron’s surface — spreading densely throughout its interior — and then subjected them to the tempering of the Heavenly Tribulation.

The cauldron was extraordinary, forged from materials worthy only of a great Emperor, created for the purpose of casting a supreme Emperor’s weapon. Now it was being reforged and hammered ten thousand times over, growing ever more ancient and mysterious in appearance.

Rumble!

Yet another world-ending sea of lightning descended. Golden light blazed, illuminating the entire universe, as though a great explosion had erupted across the entire star region — the blinding light a million times more terrifying than the simultaneous burning death of countless suns and stars.

The Divine Thunder of the Yang had arrived. It blasted Ye Fan apart in a spray of blood and flesh. Even his saint-level physical body was left on the very edge of annihilation — his fetal bones shattered inch by inch, his meridians ruptured one by one, his blood spraying outward in all directions. It was a scene of utter devastation, not fit to be looked at.

Likewise, the cauldron cracked through once more, nearly reduced to pieces and fragments, rising and falling before Ye Fan’s brow as it teetered on the verge of flying apart in all directions.

Ye Fan activated his mysterious techniques, melting the fragments of his shattered body back into a unified whole. His blood surged with power; using the Word-Technique of the Scribe, he ensured his own indestructibility as his fetal bones were continuously cleansed and refined.

At the same time, he hammered the cauldron again and again, reforging it from scratch, driving the hundreds of ancient characters into its cracks over and over, merging them into its very substance as one.

This was an excruciating ordeal. The magnitude of the lightning tribulation, the ferocity of the heavenly punishment — all of it had surpassed Ye Fan’s expectations. He could no longer face this tribulation with the ease he had once known. The slightest lapse would mean the destruction of both his body and his soul.

Boom!

Then the Five Elements Heavenly Tribulation descended. Five beams of divine light swept down and shattered Ye Fan five times in succession, and the Myriad Origin Cauldron was likewise struck repeatedly, shaking violently and nearly split into four or five pieces.

Ye Fan was struck to the absolute limit again and again, time after time. Any ordinary person would have been reduced to ash by any single one of these blows — such a series of strikes had not been witnessed in countless ages. This was the greatest punishment the heavens could deliver to one who aspired to walk the Emperor’s Path.

Boom!

Another great tribulation — blinding lightning filling the sky, boundless and without end. He clenched his teeth and endured, yet he feared that the cauldron would be destroyed in the process, and his path to Dao would be broken.

Crack!

Then the most terrifying thing finally happened. The Myriad Origin Cauldron shattered — piece after piece of it drifting through the cosmic void, surrounding him at the center, its luster extinguished.

“How can this be?” Ye Fan murmured bitterly. The primordial essence of the Myriad Origin — the cauldron’s source material — was a rarity of rarities in the world. It had been sought out by the Ruthless Great Emperor himself; who could say from which region of the star sea it had been obtained. Truly an immortal object, indestructible — and yet it had shattered like this.

Lightning cascaded in countless layers; ten billion strands of divine light rained down with a thunderous clanging that rang out upon the shattered fragments, producing a resonant chorus, and from them flowed trace upon trace of mysterious, subtle energy.

Ye Fan’s body split open. He himself was destroyed once more by the lightning tribulation — bones grinding and groaning, blood spraying outward in all directions, splattering onto the fragments of the cauldron.

Clang!

As his blood fell upon them, every piece of the cauldron blazed with light, sending sword energy soaring to the heavens, slashing through the sky, shattering the immortal lightning — booming and rumbling, shaking the entire celestial vault.

“This is…”

Ye Fan was astonished. The cauldron had not died. A fierce fighting spirit was pulsing within it — this… was only the beginning. A path of transformation — struggling, striving — had begun right here and now.

The lightning descended without end. Though the cauldron fragments continued to shatter at times, breaking into ever smaller pieces, Ye Fan was no longer so deeply troubled.

For it had occurred to him that there was a possibility — the Dao Sutra recorded a method for refining “a single artifact,” one that underwent the ultimate transformation within the Saint’s Tribulation, a process of Dao dissolution and rebirth that would give rise to a “divine spirit” within the vessel.

This was the cauldron’s self-destruction and rebirth — a manifestation of its desire to transform!

His blood mingled with the cauldron fragments and trembled together, letting out a resonant roar. Every shard of the cauldron sent sword energy soaring to pierce through the sea of lightning, ringing out with a clear, unyielding sound — defiant and unwilling, fighting against the tribulation.

Again and again Ye Fan’s body was unmade, his blood drenching the cauldron fragments until they were soaked crimson, imbuing them with ever greater spiritual awareness. They chimed softly and continuously, as though murmuring to themselves.

This was an agonizing trial. Every minute and every second, Ye Fan endured the heavenly punishment of being crushed to powder — his flesh, his shattered bones, and the cauldron fragments all blending together.

“Cast my Dao. Cast my cauldron.”

Though he suffered a pain that no ordinary person could bear, every time he was reforged anew, his eyes grew brighter. The hundreds of ancient characters flew out ceaselessly, sinking into the shattered cauldron fragments and merging within them.

These were the ancient scriptures from within the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin — scriptures that Ye Fan had never been able to fully comprehend to this day, for they belonged to a level of understanding beyond his current realm, cryptic and impenetrable.

Yet even without being able to grasp their meaning, they could not halt his progress. He had been doing this since the day he first forged the Myriad Origin Cauldron — unceasingly driving these scripture passages into the cauldron, subtly and gradually, allowing it to transform over time.

Especially on the other shore of the star sea, during the great tribulation of the Three Immortal Severings of the Dao, he had recited this scripture and hammered the Myriad Origin Cauldron, undergoing the tribulation alongside it.

He might not understand the secrets of this scripture, but he had persisted without pause, allowing his cauldron to absorb it, to be struck by those hundreds of ancient characters again and again, the imprint seared into his one and only path-to-Dao artifact.

Boom, boom, boom!

The ninefold great tribulation descended. Nine bolts of light in nine different colors struck down, destroying all things. Countless stars exploded and shattered. Everything within the region covered by the Heavenly Tribulation was plunged into great destruction.

Ye Fan let out a long cry. The golden figure within his brow surged forth and, alongside his physical body, was subjected to this final baptism — until at last it too could hold on no longer and slowly began to fragment.

This was a catastrophe. The destruction of the spirit meant the death of the person. The physical body could be destroyed and reforged, but if the primordial spirit was ever obliterated, all would most likely be lost beyond any recovery.

“Ah…”

Ye Fan let out a long cry, filled with unwillingness. His Saint’s Tribulation was proving so extraordinarily difficult to survive. He refused to succumb to eternal stillness like this — he had to push through.

The Word-Technique of the Scribe was set in motion. After the golden figure had fragmented into piece after piece, it was once again pulled together by a powerful force, reforging itself and emitting boundless light.

“My body is indestructible, enduring ten thousand tribulations without end…”

He recited scripture aloud, steeling his Dao and ensuring his conviction did not waver, his will iron-firm. The golden figure blazed ever more brilliantly, and at last this ordeal was overcome.

Of course, this was only one of the intermediate tribulations. Many more hardships lay ahead — yet Ye Fan had found hope, and he was confident now that he could endure.

One bolt, two bolts… a number of seas of lightning beyond counting descended, one after another, each different from the last. By the end, the golden figure had been shattered multiple times, only to be arduously condensed back together again and again into a complete whole.

No one knew whether it had been a hundred tribulations or a thousand. Ye Fan could no longer feel pain. All that filled his ears was a sound of the Dao resonating — and in this moment, a strange transformation had taken place within him.

Flesh and blood, shattered bones, the fractured golden figure, and the pieces of the shattered cauldron had all merged together, rising and falling within the sea of lightning, being tempered and forged.

He was casting a cauldron — melting his scattered flesh and blood, his primordial spirit, and the fragments of the Myriad Origin’s essence into a unified whole, subjecting them to a process of refinement that left onlookers dumbstruck.

The cauldron is me. I am the cauldron.

In this moment, there was nothing else. Only the resonance of the Dao filled everything — only a cauldron of flesh and blood, draped in the primordial energy of all things, rising and falling, looking mysterious beyond all measure.

This strange cauldron withstood the Heavenly Tribulation, achieving a moment of eternal stillness — imperishable and undying in the cosmic void.

Blood, bone, flesh, fragmented primordial spirit, and cauldron shards had merged into one. To forge oneself into a cauldron, to become a part of it — if ordinary people knew of this, they would certainly be dumbstruck, utterly unable to comprehend it.

Yet it was truly happening in this moment, in all its profundity.

The divine resonance of the great Dao thundered and rang out. Ye Fan sensed something, and found himself thinking involuntarily of a saying widely circulated in the world: Ultimate-level weapons of war are a form of continuation — a different kind of continuation — of an ancient Emperor’s life.

This saying was not wrong. An Emperor had passed on. The primordial spirit had been extinguished. Yet within the Emperor’s weapon remained a divine radiance of the Emperor’s spirit — an immortal light capable of illuminating all ages — which never faded.

In the same moment, Ye Fan came to understand. The path he had walked — at least some of it — the ancient Emperors must have walked before him. The true Emperor’s Path was trodden underfoot by the invincible. Different in its particulars, yet connected at its core.

Boom!

A violent tremor erupted. This was a catastrophic disaster — the most terrifying great tribulation of all. The energy of Chaos boiled and surged, sweeping across the star sea. A boundless divine Chaos Tribulation descended.

It shattered the calm, pierced through the sea of lightning, and blasted the cauldron apart. The balance and indestructibility that Ye Fan had achieved were broken.

And this time, the cauldron shards were reduced to fine powder — ground into dust — and together with flesh, blood, and primordial spirit, all of it was nearly ground into light and scattered across the Chaos.

This was the most devastating moment of all. This tribulation represented annihilation. The heavens seemed to want to destroy everything — to reduce the one who stubbornly pressed forward on the Emperor’s Path to floating dust, to dissolving smoke.

Yet within this destruction, there was also a force of new life — cutting through the vast Chaos, radiating down from the depths of the celestial vault. This was a power of hope.

Ye Fan felt no fear, no agitation. In this final moment between life and death, he grew calm. He had endured so many tribulations, hovering between death and life, and had done everything he could. Even if he were destroyed, he had nothing to resent — for he had given everything.

“I can get through this.”

In that moment, this thought arose within him. He had a premonition — after the divine Chaos Tribulation, there would be another kind of tribulation: the Creation of Heaven and Earth.

“The Creation of Heaven and Earth represents the end of destruction and the birth of all things. Both the cauldron and I will be reborn.”

Ye Fan’s will grew ever more resolute. The cauldron had become powder, his primordial spirit and body were in tatters — yet the hope of life pulsed within it all, on the verge of a fundamental transformation.