Beneath the blood-red setting sun, withered vines coiled around a green boulder. Forest birds returned to their nests; fallen leaves drifted down. Silence and stillness.

The Mad Old Man lay on the great blue-green boulder, facing the setting sun. In his aged eyes was boundless longing, and at the same time a look of sorrow. Two streams of tears stood out starkly on his old face.

This was by rights an earth-shaking, invincible powerhouse — one who had already been without equal in the Eastern Desolation six thousand years ago — yet now he lay curled here, his withered, emaciated body trembling faintly, inspiring sympathy and pity in the heart.

“Senior…” Ye Fan walked forward and crouched before the great boulder, gazing at the Mad Old Man. He felt compassion in his heart, yet did not know how to help this old man.

The Mad Old Man raised his head and glanced at him, then turned his gaze back toward the red sun about to sink below the horizon. It was as though everything in the world could not draw his attention — only that blood-red sun could capture his entire spirit.

“That year, the setting sun was like blood, and Tianxuan ran with blood. That day, all things withered, and Tianxuan fell…”

The Mad Old Man had lived so many ages yet continued to shed tears without cease. His aged eyes had grown utterly clouded.

“Senior, what is past cannot be undone. The dead are gone. Try to let go.” Ye Fan offered gentle counsel.

Suddenly, the setting sun vanished entirely, sinking behind the mountain peaks.

In the very instant the blood-red sun disappeared, two beams of dazzling light suddenly shot from the Mad Old Man’s eyes — piercing through the void. The sorrow in his gaze was entirely withdrawn, and he sat bolt upright.

He seemed a completely different person — like an unrivalled sword drawn from its sheath, every edge laid bare. The entire ridge fell silent; every bird and beast trembled with fear.

Ye Fan felt the overwhelming pressure. Had he not possessed a physical body surpassing spiritual treasures, his bones and sinews would likely already have snapped. From this close distance, the Mad Old Man was like a towering mountain, and the immense pressure flowing from him was beyond imagination.

“Their aura…” He fixed his gaze on Ye Fan, then suddenly seized Ye Fan’s arm. His eyes instantly deepened.

Ye Fan shivered all over. This mad old man was too terrifying. That kind of pressure rendered him utterly unable to struggle — it surpassed every cultivator he had ever encountered.

He suddenly thought of the Forbidden Zone of Ancient Desolation — the Tianxuan Holy Maiden — the endless white bones on nine holy mountains — those desolate slaves. The “they” the Mad Old Man spoke of most likely referred to these.

Yet more than a full year had already passed. The aura from those events should have been completely washed clean from his body. That the Mad Old Man could still sense it — this terrifying spiritual perception made one’s blood run cold.

The Mad Old Man swept a hand across his body. In an instant, the image of the Tianxuan Holy Maiden materialized — standing vividly in the air, bright-eyed and beautiful, her figure light and graceful, her bearing like finest jade — supremely beautiful and utterly lifelike, as though she had a soul.

Ye Fan stared with wide eyes. What manner of divine ability was this? A single gentle sweep calling forth a living image — truly something never heard of, never seen before.

The Mad Old Man swept again. Endless white bones — dense and countless — appeared on the ridge, presenting the skeletal remains he had seen that day on the nine holy mountains, every single one of them.

Suddenly the Mad Old Man clutched his own head and let out a long, agonized howl — like a lone wolf crying in desolation.

“Ha ha ha ha…” In the end he threw his head back and laughed wildly, on the verge of frenzy.

He who does not become an immortal falls into madness!

He wept one moment and laughed the next — just as he had been when they first met — emotions out of control. It made one feel pity mingled with sorrow.

The Tianxuan Holy Maiden was dignified and beautiful, peerless among all women — one who made even the stars and moon pale in comparison — standing in the air.

The endless white bones exhaled a dark, ghostly chill, as though truly descending upon this place, rotating around the Mad Old Man. The scene was deeply strange, making one’s hair stand on end.

Beside them, Ye Fan felt as though he had been transported back to the Forbidden Zone of Ancient Desolation, once again encountering the peerlessly beautiful Tianxuan Holy Maiden and those skeletal remains.

The Mad Old Man let out a low, muffled roar. Then he suddenly raised his head and looked directly at the Tianxuan Holy Maiden and those white bones. His eyes blazed with two dazzling beams of light, and in the sky he inscribed the character “Dao.”

Afterward, he raised his head and stood tall. Both hands moved slowly yet forcefully in sweeping strokes, and all the figures were imprinted in the void — becoming one enormous image.

Within it: white bones without end, a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. At the center stood the Tianxuan Holy Maiden in white robes purer than snow, her black hair flowing like a waterfall — vivid and lifelike, as though possessed of a soul.

“This is…” Behind him, Ye Fan’s heart was shaken. Using the void as a canvas, branding spiritual resonance — such a technique had never been heard of, never seen before. To witness it with his own eyes today was truly staggering.

The Mad Old Man’s hands swept, and a breath of Dao flowed through his movements. With a ringing sound like metal striking metal, he inscribed on that image the character “Immortal.”

Brilliant radiance blazed!

That character “Immortal” seemed to possess a strange, mesmerizing power. It illuminated all the figures within the image until they dimmed and faded — until at last it seemed as though only “Immortal” remained, with some faint ghostly shadows around it. Even the Tianxuan Holy Maiden at the very center grew indistinct.

The image flowed with a hazy, dream-like aura. The Dao resonance within “Immortal” was boundless — giving the feeling that the Dao was without limit, flowing in accordance with nature.

The Mad Old Man extended one finger and pressed it against his own forehead.

The enormous image in the sky transformed into a brand and surged into his skull. His face cycled through expressions of joy, anger, grief, and delight in rapid succession.

Ye Fan’s heart went cold. What was the Mad Old Man doing?

Clang!

On the Mad Old Man’s forehead, that brand surfaced. The images within grew dimmer and dimmer, until only the radiant, blazing character “Immortal” remained.

Is he erasing the past — or is he carving it into an even deeper memory? Ye Fan was inwardly astonished. Such a technique was beyond all reckoning.

It was a long while before the Mad Old Man finally grew calm.

Slap!

He lightly struck the great blue-green boulder with his palm. Immediately a hazy halo of light shimmered forth, and from it emerged a mysterious diagram — obscure and cryptic as ghost-scrawl, extremely difficult to read.

Without question, in this moment he was lucid — this was no random striking.

Ye Fan’s heart jolted. He focused his eyes and gathered divine light in his gaze. The hazy halo glimmered on the boulder’s surface, abstruse and impenetrable.

Strangely familiar — he had a powerful sense that he had seen this before.

“The mysterious footwork!”

Ye Fan was greatly startled. This diagram was composed of intricate Dao markings — profoundly subtle and impenetrably obscure. He had once committed the Mad Old Man’s footwork to memory, but compared to these complete Dao markings, what he had was vastly inferior. This was the true mysterious footwork.

Ye Fan’s heart was filled with astonishment and doubt. The Mad Old Man had taken one diagram from him, and now returned a diagram to him — seemingly wishing to settle the debt between them.

There was no time for further thought. He concentrated his entire spirit and committed this mysterious carved diagram to memory. The hazy halo poured into his eyes and transformed into a pattern, carved upon his heart.

This secret diagram was extraordinarily profound and complex. After Ye Fan cycled through it just once, he immediately felt the world spinning around him. His realm was too low — he simply could not comprehend the most abstruse Dao markings.

This footwork must be a supreme secret art! He was inwardly astonished.

Just then, the boulder crumbled to dust — reduced to fine powder — leaving nothing behind.

The Mad Old Man rose to his full height and walked into the depths of the ridge. Ye Fan was filled with wonder and followed behind. This old man — though half-mad — had his moments of lucidity. His coming to Tai Xuan must have a reason.

This was a stretch of wild, desolate mountains — more desolate even than Zhuo Peak itself — but it was not a main peak, and no disciples of Tai Xuan Sect were here at all.

They walked some ten li or so when the Mad Old Man suddenly stamped his foot. A short mountain ahead, perhaps a hundred meters tall, split apart — as though a god had cleaved it with an enormous axe.

Behind him, Ye Fan stared with wide eyes. Such power in a single stamp was truly terrifying.

The short mountain split in two, like a pair of great gates thrown open. The Mad Old Man walked straight through.

Inside was misty and indistinct — like a mysterious realm unto itself — entirely a separate space.

“Who goes there — how dare you intrude into Tai Xuan’s forbidden ground!” A shout suddenly rang out.

Ye Fan stopped at this threshold, not daring to advance. Several figures flew out from that misty space to block the Mad Old Man.

One after another, resplendent beams of light surged forward — powerful iron seals, sky-covering nets… all manner of formidable spiritual treasures radiating terrifying energy fluctuations.

But with a single sweep of his sleeve, the Mad Old Man reduced every one of them to powder. There was not a shred of suspense. All the radiance was annihilated — simply and carelessly, as effortless as strolling through a garden.

The seven or eight figures who had just charged out from the mist, upon seeing this, were all filled with terror. But before they could make any further response, the Mad Old Man gave a light shout, and every one of them was knocked unconscious — collapsing to the ground.

These individuals were all white-haired, white-bearded old men — clearly elders of Tai Xuan Sect. Yet before the Mad Old Man they were no different from ants.

Ye Fan’s heart went cold. If the Mad Old Man wished to kill — even a great power like Tai Xuan Sect would become a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. In the Eastern Desolation, there was likely not a single person who could stop him.

The Mad Old Man strode forward and went straight into the mist ahead. Ye Fan was filled with wonder. Seeing that the old men had all fainted away, he had no further hesitation — and charged forward in great strides.

The mist dispersed. A sky full of stars appeared — and he emerged into a mountain valley.

Here stood an enormous altar covered with many Dao markings, and many ancient characters marking out the various regions of the Eastern Desolation.

A domain gate!

Ye Fan’s heart leapt — the two words “domain gate” flashed through his mind immediately. This must be Tai Xuan Sect’s most important site — the domain gate!

If I can provide enough source-crystals to activate the Dao markings, I can traverse the void from here! Ye Fan thought this and charged forward in great strides. If he could traverse to the other end of the Eastern Desolation from here, it would fulfill one of his greatest wishes.

The regions where Tai Xuan Sect, the Ji Family, and Yao Guang Holy Land were located belonged to the southern part of the Eastern Desolation, whereas the Yaochi Holy Land was at the northern tip. Just how great the distance was between north and south, no one could say with certainty.

At such a distance, even cultivators who could ride the rainbow would require years of effort — truly vexing. Without domain gates, the entire Eastern Desolation would be impossible to travel across. The territory was simply too vast.

In this region, apart from the Ji Family and Yao Guang Holy Land, it was Tai Xuan Sect that wielded the greatest power.

Yet they were ultimately not a holy land. The Dao markings they had inscribed could at the farthest reach only the middle portion of the Eastern Desolation — they could not extend to the northernmost tip.

After mounting the altar, the Mad Old Man did not make use of the existing markings. Instead he set to work himself, rapidly inscribing immeasurably complex patterns — the entire altar cracking and groaning beneath his hands.

He merely wished to make use of the vast reserves of source-crystal energy stored here. As for the Dao markings — those he could inscribe himself. The Mad Old Man had come to Tai Xuan Sect to traverse the void!

Where exactly did he intend to go? Ye Fan was greatly curious and desperately wanted to know the answer.

I should leave Tai Xuan Sect — but should I traverse the void together with the Mad Old Man?

Ye Fan’s heart wavered. A figure of such world-surpassing caliber truly inspired the urge to follow him. But who knew where the Mad Old Man intended to go? If he ended up at the Forbidden Zone of Ancient Desolation, or the Primal Ancient Mine, or some other zone of deadly peril — the consequences would be unthinkable.

A living fossil such as this — the places he frequented were simply not places that could be gauged by ordinary reasoning.