The Life Spring gurgled, its liquid crystal-clear and luminous, mist swirling, immortal rosy clouds spilling out in every direction — this was a place naturally connected to the Dao, one where comprehending the Dao and studying the arts came naturally.
The sea’s surface was calm and serene, yet undercurrents surged beneath. Ye Fan was drawing forth wisps of killing intent contained within the Life Spring, attempting to use it to refine the Bodhi seed.
This seed had already sprouted a tender shoot, over an inch tall, emerald green and glistening with dew, fresh as morning rosy clouds, yet it exhaled a vast ocean’s worth of life-essence. Though barely an inch tall, it was so vast and unfathomably profound that it left people in awe — an undying immortal medicine could not be measured by ordinary standards.
“No good, I need to hurry!” Ye Fan’s expression changed. He’d discovered a frightening fact — that extremely faint, indistinct will within the Bodhi seed had grown somewhat stronger as the seed took root and sprouted.
This was a terrifying omen. If the seed grew into a true ancient Bodhi tree, wouldn’t that mean the will within it would truly grow in strength as well?!
The will, suspected to belong to Sakyamuni or the Great Emperor Amitabha Buddha — if it truly nourished itself and grew powerful, it could spell disaster for Ye Fan.
This was a will that had undergone nirvana!
First, Ye Fan sealed off all directions, cutting off the supply of essence, preventing the seed from absorbing the Life Spring’s refined energies, to avoid it growing too rapidly.
Then he quickly began refining the Life Spring — not to extract its refined essence, but to draw out wisps of black mist from within it, the aura of the four slaying swords.
The black mist was laden with peerless killing intent; though only the faintest, weakest wisps, it was still terrifying.
Ye Fan circulated the Weapon Character Mantra, treating the Bodhi seed as a piece of divine iron to be forged and smelted, using the four swords’ killing aura as flame, tempering it through countless refinements, grinding it down.
This proved effective. The will within the seed seemed to sense the danger and grew somewhat more alert, a surge of Great Dao energy suddenly emanating outward, chilling to behold.
“This… is far too defiant of heaven!” Long Ma and the others were shaken.
That will was so faint as to be almost negligible, yet it could produce such a terrifying spread of Dao-marks — if its true owner ever truly descended, who in this world could stand against them?
“All of you, come help me!” Ye Fan called out.
Without further prompting, Pang Bo and the Twelve Saints were already seated cross-legged, refining the crystalline, immortal-liquid-like Life Spring, drawing out wisp after wisp of black mist, killing intent piercing to the bone.
Ye Fan guided them carefully — even the weakest sword-energy could not be taken lightly, for it was something released by an emperor’s weapon.
“The Four Immortal-Slaying Swords are too powerful — the killing intent they release is exactly what’s needed to grind down this indistinct will of unclear origin.” Pang Bo could not stop thinking of the four swords, though he still dared not take them for himself.
He had already come to accept reality — truly no one in this world could move the four slaying swords; anyone who tried would surely die. Only by obtaining the formation diagram could the four swords recognize a master.
This process lasted a full half month. The indistinct will, though worn down somewhat, still refused to be extinguished — it seemed to be drawing sustenance from the Bodhi tree itself, recovering there.
Everyone found this deeply troubling. It was so faint, weaker than even an ant’s will, and yet it simply could not be eliminated — this left them feeling a deep sense of dread.
More than once they found themselves wondering — if the true master of this will were ever to appear in person, just how powerful would he be? Could he really be a Great Emperor?!
“No good, we need to use the four slaying swords directly.” Ye Fan said.
Of course, he wasn’t recklessly going to provoke the immortal swords — after all, these were terrifying weapons capable of striking the Spirit-Refining Pot flying deep into the universe; the slightest misstep could send stars and moons crashing down. Far too dangerous.
Ye Fan, holding the ghost lamp, slowly approached the slaying swords, seeing clearly now the immortal-slaying scenes upon the dark-red blades, with the image of ten thousand spirits laid low as corpses carved on the back of the blade, chilling one to the very marrow.
The closer he came, the thicker the killing intent grew, and the black mist they extracted grew steadily more potent, used to grind away at the indistinct will.
In the end, they were utterly horrified — a visible wisp of sword-energy leaked from the four slaying swords, flowing directly toward the Bodhi seed, an aura as though heaven would split and the great universe would be destroyed, rushing toward them.
Yet this terrifying killing intent was actually absorbed by the Bodhi seed — to be precise, resisted by that faint will — which simply defied all reason.
“There’s absolutely something wrong with this seed, and it’s a monumental problem!” Pang Bo felt a chill run down his spine.
However mighty the killing intent of the four swords, though only the faintest wisp had flowed through, it hadn’t instantly destroyed that will — which alone spoke volumes.
For such a will to remain attached to a person permanently would undoubtedly pose a tremendous threat — even Sage-King-level power couldn’t eliminate it, a situation far more dire than they had imagined.
“Again!”
Ye Fan pressed forward, drawing more sword-energy toward them. The four dark-red slaying swords seemed almost ready to revive; in their ears rang the sound of all beings weeping in anguish, gods and demons wailing in sorrow, the bloody scene of immortal-slaying replaying as if real!
“The Four Immortal-Slaying Swords are too terrifying — they haven’t even truly revived, and just lying there produces such a horrifying scene.” Pang Bo sighed at length, longing to hold them in his own hands.
“Hmm!”
A resonant tremor sounded from within the Bodhi seed, followed by a great swell of Buddhist chanting, as if a solemn ancient Buddha were reciting scripture, vast Dao-waves spreading outward.
Clearly, this had provoked a wisp of killing intent from the four slaying swords — the black sword-energy rushing toward them grew somewhat thicker, terrifying Long Ma and the others; a single misstep, and being struck by it, they would likely be annihilated in both body and spirit.
Ye Fan brought out the broken green cauldron, sheltering everyone within it, himself included — otherwise it would have been far too dangerous.
A magnificent ancient structure emerged — the Great Thunderclap Monastery, so vivid and real, with the ancient Mount Sumeru appearing as well, suppressing the eternal blue heavens, Buddhist chants shaking the nine heavens and ten earths.
“This… it’s clearly only the faintest, most indistinct wisp of will — how can it be so powerful?!” The Golden Lion thought of his own ancestor’s past, his heart uneasy.
“Clang!”
One of the slaying swords gave a soft ring, a faint beam of rosy light flying out — that was an unrivaled power of slaughter, once capable of cutting down the heroes and talents of its own age.
This single resonant tone echoed across the heavens, as if it made the great universe itself tremble, before sinking into the seed and colliding with that indistinct will.
A soft sound rang out, a wisp of smoke and rosy light shattering and vanishing — the indistinct will dissolved into nothing, extinguished by one of the dark-red slaying swords, becoming a thing of the past.
Ye Fan let out a long breath, quickly retreating with the ghost lamp in hand — that killing intent had been far too terrifying; even sheltered within the green cauldron he had felt as if his bones would shatter and his body split apart, his primordial spirit nearly cut down as well.
It had to be understood — the four slaying swords hadn’t even been directed at them, and yet that aura alone had been unbearable.
Pang Bo sighed. “The Four Immortal-Slaying Swords truly must be the mightiest killing weapons of all time, ancient or modern — could the bloody immortal-slaying scenes carved upon their blades actually be real?!”
Just as the indistinct will within the Bodhi seed was ground into extinction, within a vast wilderness on the ancient Amitabha star region, inside an ancient temple buried beneath weeds, a stone statue’s forehead-bone cracked open with a sharp sound.
And upon the statue’s shoulder, a golden fierce bird abruptly opened its eyes, its golden pupils blazing brighter than lightning, tearing through tens of thousands of miles of mountains and rivers in an instant!
Looking closer, this was the Golden-Winged Ancient Heavenly Peng — though only a foot long, perched upon the stone statue’s shoulder, gleaming brilliantly, possessing the imposing bearing of one who could strike down the sun and moon.
Time flowed on, three years passing swiftly by. During this period, the Sea of Bitterness grew ever more terrifying, drawing countless experts to venture in.
Hundreds of races, tens of thousands of cultivators — and this counted only those qualified to enter the sea itself; on the shores of the black ocean, there were far more still.
Among them, the number of Great Sages and young supremes had grown even greater than before, as people from ever more distant and vast star regions arrived, seeking to claim the Tree of Life, to seize the emperor’s weapon — experts poured into the ancient mythical realm in great numbers.
Bloodshed became unavoidable, far more brutal than before — fighting over ancient vessels, plundering the treasures of various clans, dark and tragic events unfolding every single day.
During this time, the Great Sage Grey Flood Dragon, the Golden Toad, the Heavenly Dog, and the others — who had long played the hawk, only to finally have their own eyes plucked out — while dealing with a junior, had run afoul of several Great Sages from that ancient region, and for three years had been relentlessly hunted, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.
During these three years, the interior of the ancient Celestial Venerable’s Life Spring remained peaceful and serene; whirlpools of essence continually appeared, as the two divine medicines continued to grow.
The Qilin divine medicine, wreathed in purple energy, its roots and stem strong, anchored within the void, drawing in the Life Spring’s essence, had grown nine leaves, each one crystal-clear and radiant, shaped like a purple Qilin.
It took only two years to grow to a height of one foot, after which its height ceased to change further — only the essence it contained grew ever more abundant, like a purple divine sea rising and swelling.
For an undying medicine to reach maturity would require at least several thousand years of time. The Qilin medicine, having sprouted branches and leaves, had taken on its basic form, no longer growing wildly.
Even in this place — the ancient Celestial Venerable’s own Life Spring — providing the most ideal growing conditions a divine medicine could need, it still could not mature in just a few years.
Even if the timeline could be shortened somewhat, it couldn’t be shortened too dramatically. By their estimation, it would take at the very least several hundred years — provided these conditions remained unchanged throughout.
Green leaves swayed, rustling with sound, jade-green light flickering, wisps of Great Dao radiance drifting down — the Bodhi tree now resembled a piece of carved jade, entirely green and glistening, brilliant emerald throughout.
It was said this tree could, in time, tower into the clouds; for now it remained a sapling, standing at precisely sixteen feet in height — an intriguingly subtle number.
Beneath the Bodhi tree, Ye Fan had sat cross-legged, unmoving, for three full years, comprehending the Dao, forging his own path, determined to walk a road different from any other.
Beneath the Bodhi tree, a man sat with eyes closed, still as bedrock, possessing an extraordinary aura, wisps of Great Dao opportunity streaming from his body, spreading outward into the distance.
The Twelve Saints, too, cultivated beneath the Bodhi tree, but none remained motionless for three whole years as he did; everyone had gained tremendously — this was truly a pure land for comprehending the Dao.
Finally, Ye Fan stirred. From within his body came the sound of a grand Great Dao chant, scriptures resonating on their own, sounding beneath the Bodhi tree — an auspicious sign of attaining the Dao, various forms of Dao-light dancing about.
Ye Fan’s Wheel Sea radiated immortal splendor, extending outward, like a great bell tolling — he was expanding his Dao, forging his own path.
Pang Bo, Long Ma, the Scorpion, and the others were startled, their faces showing shock — that immortal radiance billowed outward, not stirring the Dao Palace sacred ground, but extending instead toward his four limbs.
The instant Ye Fan opened his eyes, two golden lightning bolts tore through the void — his Wheel Sea sacred ground transformed into a Taiji Immortal Chart, brilliantly radiant, like a blazing sun.
This was originally the primordial origin point of the human body, and now, ray upon ray of light extended toward his four limbs — this place was the wellspring of divine power.
Upon Ye Fan’s four limbs, ancient characters appeared one after another, each as if arriving from across primordial time and space, imprinted upon the four extremities of his body, the sound of scripture ringing without end.
At first, the Azure Dragon, Vermilion Bird, White Tiger, and Black Tortoise appeared, corresponding to his body’s four extremities, fusing and smelting together with them, gaining a power capable of holding up the heavens and destroying the earth, terrifying beyond measure.
Various chaotic lightning bolts danced about, transforming into ancient talismans one by one, imprinted upon his four limbs. His entire body seemed like a god or demon, his flesh glowing brilliantly, his thick black hair whipping about wildly.
Then, everything came to a stop. That wildness faded, the sharp divine light in his eyes turning inward, Great Dao scriptures manifesting, carved upon his body’s four extremities, densely packed, before finally converging into one, an aura of Great Dao simplicity spreading through the air.
BOOM!
The next moment, another transformation occurred — Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water now corresponded to his four extremities, thunder roaring through the world, chaos boundless, as if this place had become the primordial ancient world itself.
Ye Fan’s four limbs trembled, wind and thunder surging, scriptures resonating on their own, the grand sound of the Dao ringing without cease. His four limbs moved in unison, as if opening up the heavens and splitting the earth, as though he meant to pry open this ancient realm.
Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water turned and rotated, merging with his body’s four extremities, chaotic mist swirling thick — he had pried open this world, truly as if reopening an entire realm.
“This is his scripture — he hasn’t entered the Dao Palace, yet he’s cultivated the four extremities first, and even before reaching completion, he’s already manifesting profound mysteries like this — remarkable!” The Twelve Saints all exclaimed in shock.