Ye Fan looked back, two sharp beams of divine light shooting from his pupils, like golden lightning tearing through the void. Those in the mountains and rivers who had been watching felt their bodies turn ice-cold, all retreating.
He began carving formation arrays, using his heart’s blood to inscribe them, arranging them upon the mountain peaks and boulders, rune after rune flickering, moving like dragons and serpents coiling around the mountain, radiant with divine brilliance, carrying a living vital energy.
This was no longer a simple formation deployment—it was imbuing it with essence, spirit, and energy, as if creating life itself, awakening a divine will, giving the mountains, rivers, and ancient tomb their own consciousness.
“I’ve already heard—the Hegemon was thoroughly defeated at your hands. Truly satisfying, well fought! Seeing his ‘number one under heaven’ attitude was always irritating,” Pang Bo said from within the great tomb.
Ye Fan recounted the course of the battle, but his hands did not stop—a dragon-shaped curved line was carved, dividing the mountains and rivers into two parts, a Tai Chi divine form built into the vast wilderness.
Almost instantly, this place began to glow, absorbing the essence of heaven and earth, Yin and Yang’s twin sacred powers colliding, able to be used to strike against the tomb’s entrance.
This was the Origin Heaven Formation that Ye Fan had improved upon—these days he had thought deeply on source arts, combining insights from the vast Yin-Yang divine formation of the ancient Heavenly Court, gaining considerable understanding.
For a moment, the mountains and rivers rang and trembled, wind and thunder roared, dragon-and-serpent-like runes traveling across the mountain peaks, gleaming brightly, transforming this place entirely.
Pang Bo spoke of some things that happened after falling into the mausoleum—originally, because a peerless Sacred Spirit had ascended the Dao and torn open a crack, he had been able to enter the tomb. It could be called a narrow escape from death nine times over; if not for the Chaos Ancient Emperor Talisman that Ye Fan had given him back then, he would long since have turned to dust.
That ancient talisman had blocked disaster for him, dying in his place a full four times.
Ye Fan nodded, then pondered. Before long, he would use the might of his fellow hero to shatter this place—the Chaos Ancient Emperor Talisman had limited uses remaining, and could no longer be considered so reliable.
“Pang Bo, listen carefully…” He transmitted his thoughts through divine sense, informing him of the Zhe Character Secret, telling him to spend these next few days pondering it deeply, to guard against any eventuality.
“A peerless divine technique!” Pang Bo exclaimed in admiration. Over all these years he hadn’t spent his time idly—in the Eternal Star Region he had opened the Green Emperor’s Divine Vault, obtaining fortune that could be called unparalleled.
Within it were not only ancient evolutionary divine liquids, but also several hand-written notes and booklets, containing understanding and evolution of the Dao, as well as some special scriptural annotations.
“Having such a wondrous technique is too profound—mastering it is equivalent to possessing half an immortal body. We can go venture into those Golden Ancient Paths, contending for fortune against the Great Demon God, Human King, Goddess, Emperor Tian, Green Poetry Immortal Maiden, and the others,” Pang Bo said, quite absorbed, before long already savoring the unmatched wonders of the Zhe Character Secret.
Venturing deep into the starry sky, breaking into the human race’s sacred city ancient path was no longer the main focus—this could no longer satisfy the trial requirements of some young prodigies. They had begun turning their attention to certain abandoned wondrous lands.
The so-called Golden Ancient Paths were extremely dangerous divine sites, long since abandoned by cultivators—once part of the ancient path, but now overgrown with thorns, nearly derelict.
The Star Ruins could be considered a segment of the Golden Ancient Path. Someone had ventured in to undergo trials, inadvertently triggering the ancient Emperor’s mausoleum, causing it to manifest in the world, becoming a gathering place for stirring events, sweeping away its former desolation, growing lively.
The Golden Ancient Path was actually one hidden realm after another, extremely ancient, filled with mist, gradually abandoned over the long river of time, ancient star regions from the Primordial Age.
Therefore, it could also be called the Primordial Golden Secret Realm. As for even more distant secret realms, they could be called the Mythical Golden Ancient Path, or Mythical Secret Realm.
“Wait a few days—I’ll rescue you!” Ye Fan, having finished setting up the Origin Heaven Divine Formation, warned Pang Bo to be careful—these next few days would likely bring great changes.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Us brothers still need to venture across the world together, to see the Divine Race, and the Emperor’s City where the ancient Heavenly Court resides,” Pang Bo said boisterously.
They had their brief exchange, briefly recounting each other’s experiences, without a long discussion, because Ye Fan needed to go monitor the situation with the Emperor’s corpse and the Yellow Springs, guarding against sudden changes.
Yunmiao Continent floated in the universe, drifting for who knew how many years. Though it was a land steeped in Yin, it had been bathed in the essence of sun and moon, its surface holding countless heavenly treasures and earthly wonders.
This was a strange celestial body—not a star, but a continent, existing this way in the universe, somewhat bizarre. However, within the Star Ruins, this was nothing unusual; here was the burial ground of stars, with many fragments of ancient continents, different from other star regions.
A yellowish great river cascaded down, flowing toward the distance, without vitality, without any sense of hope, a deathly aura pervading, making the entire star-land appear desolate and withered.
This great river flowed out from the void, as if without a source, falling out of thin air, the yellow waters carrying a soul-snatching, spirit-seizing power like corpse fluid.
It lay adjacent to Yunmiao Continent, not very far away. Some speculated that the true Emperor’s tomb was hidden within the void, and now, having cracked open, seeped through the void, the Yellow Springs flowing out.
Ye Fan observed for a long time, not approaching at first, because this was different from the Yellow Springs water he had seen in places of extreme Yin—it carried a demonic, evil power.
Even before approaching, a person’s body would show signs of dissolving, transforming into the Dao—it seemed to contain an immense power of destruction. In recent days, many cultivators had ventured to explore, and all had turned to dust as a result.
Ye Fan fully deployed his source arts, opening his Divine Eye, gazing through the void, vaguely as if truly seeing a great tomb, suspended in the void of the universe, imperial energy magnificent there.
Yet in another blink, it was empty and hazy, nothing there at all, only a deathly stillness, not even the faintest sound to be heard.
Seemingly real, seemingly illusory—no one could see the true form of the ancient Emperor’s tomb; there was only a tomb-shape sketched out based on speculation from traces of the Dao, not necessarily true.
Ye Fan frowned. Even his Origin Heaven Eye could not see through it—one could imagine how extraordinary the Emperor corpse’s burial site was, defying common sense. Even though the Emperor had passed, his imperial blood and immortal bones still commanded awe, unable to be defiled.
Ye Fan attempted to draw closer, wanting to go further than others, yet his whole body’s hair stood on end, sensing a chilling killing intent, cold to the very marrow of his bones.
“Seal!”
Ye Fan shouted softly, his hands gently sweeping, one inexplicable trajectory after another appearing, stirring up brilliant divine radiance dancing about, Dao patterns branding into the void, stabilizing the starry sky, dissolving the killing intent.
Source arts at this level were no longer the deployment of a single technique or method. Ye Fan spread all ten fingers, immortal radiance shooting out in all directions, six golden formation arrays forming in succession, protecting him within. And rune after rune spread out, approaching the Yellow Springs, surveying the true state of this dead land.
This was the manifestation of source arts, divine patterns forming sheets, transforming into brilliant rivers, flowing across the star region, weaving out one strange source-Dao symbol after another.
Ye Fan’s expression turned grave—some places indeed could not be explored, even a source arts master as powerful as himself could not grasp it clearly; this exceeded the scope of source arts he had mastered.
This was the burial ground of an ancient Emperor—any divine technique was useless here, unable to penetrate deeper; the void cut off everything, only the yellow great river flowing on unchanging.
Suddenly, his scalp tightened, a needle-like pain stabbing him. Ye Fan gasped a cold breath, quickly retreating.
In the void from which the Yellow Springs flowed, a flower abruptly appeared, like a human face, terrifyingly pale, all seven orifices present, its brows and eyes blurred.
It was rooted in the starry sky, without leaves, entirely pale white all over, only petals showing, accompanying the Yellow Springs, that human-face-like shape, along with the weeping expression upon it, sent chills down the spine.
Ye Fan retreated, moving away from the Yellow Springs, then flew toward the ancient Yunmiao Continent. This place had also changed, no longer enveloped by the essence of heaven and earth as before, seeming to lack vitality as well.
Accompanied by an ominous aura, making people hesitant to approach carelessly, Ye Fan walked cautiously, silently measuring, employing source arts upon the actual land, to deduce the Emperor’s mausoleum.
He wandered amid supremely deadly killing intent, roughly making a full circuit, his heart surging with waves of shock. Without observing the burial ground within the void, just from observing this tangible ancient continent alone, he had already gained some extraordinary clues.
“Amid eternal despair… there is great hope of life.”
Ye Fan was nearly at a loss, arriving at this conclusion, feeling it quite contradictory—this was clearly an Emperor’s mausoleum, so how could it display such an opportunity?
He withdrew from the ancient continent, standing in the cold starry sky, looking down, then pondered carefully, silently deducing with his source arts.
One continent, two continents… Ye Fan, upon a miniaturized divine disc, connected the dozen or so most important continents within the Star Ruins with lines, marking their positions.
He pieced together the ancient continents one by one, then separated them again, moving along a specific trajectory, slowly revealing the current pattern.
“These are a dozen or so death lands, each a desolate place harboring death and hiding Yin energy, perfect for burying corpses!”
Yet upon careful observation, he arrived at another conclusion. These dozen or so ancient continents were also so many hidden dragons—viewed individually, they were all burial grounds, but separated and moved along a specific trajectory, they were equivalent to dragon corpses swallowing spirit essence, holding great hope of life.
“The Dragon Corpse Ascending to Heaven.” Ye Fan’s heart shook—he had actually glimpsed a clue.
The dozen or so ancient continents all carried imperial energy—some held coffins buried within, some had formation arrays laid out, and some contained objects the Emperor had used in life; these were all empty tombs.
The dozen or so “dragon corpses” absorbed heavenly essence, exhaling wisps of vital energy, spreading toward the high heavens, converging at a single point within the void, seemingly signifying a transcendence.
“Could it be that these dozen or so ancient continents each nurture heavenly essence, ultimately ascending to heaven, the true acupoint of enlightenment transcending above them, creating something within the void, holding great hope of life?!”
Without a doubt, that stretch of void where the Yellow Springs flowed should be the acupoint of enlightenment transcending above the dozen or so dragon corpses, everything converging there.
Ye Fan was stunned—dying is dying, so what was this meant to achieve? Could this be some eerie hidden realm created for the sake of eternal life?
Suddenly, his brow between the eyes lit up, the cauldron on his immortal platform giving a soft ring—something within the cauldron was pushing against it, trying to break free.
Ye Fan’s thoughts moved, opening his own cauldron. An ancient lamp instantly floated out, suspended before him, emitting a green light, illuminating the ancient land of the Star Ruins.
This lamp had a human body and a ghost face, mysterious origins. After the battle with the Hegemon ended, Ye Fan had once asked Daoist Qing Huang about it in the Fiftieth City, and was told this was very likely a relic of the Spiritual Treasure Heavenly Venerable from the age of myth.
“All heavens sing distantly, ten thousand Emperors set forth rites, rivers and seas fall silent, mountains and peaks hide the clouds, sun and moon halt their scenery…” From within the bronze lamp came the sound of scripture chanting—it was precisely the Scripture of Salvation, its voice not loud, yet piercing through the starry sky.
Ye Fan was startled—he had once doubted the use of the Scripture of Salvation, normally of no great use, not knowing why it had been passed down through the ages, undying. Yet now, his heart pounded violently, as if he had grasped onto some clue—could it truly be as he suspected, that this was meant to suppress some eternal-life calamity?