Ye Fan awakened. Like a human-shaped true dragon rousing from an ancient slumber of ten thousand ages, he instantly radiated a powerful martial will — indestructible, reaching everywhere without limit.

His eyes were sharp as an immortal sword unsheathed, their brilliance fully exposed and dazzlingly radiant, cutting streaks of lightning through heaven and earth in every direction, overawing every single person present.

“He’s awake — what an overwhelmingly powerful martial will!” Many felt their hearts trembling, their spines turning cold, goosebumps rising all over their skin.

Wherever Ye Fan’s gaze swept, it rang out like a heavenly sword cleaving across the air, driving straight into people’s souls. Many felt their foreheads cracking, blood-streaked fissures forming, and they staggered backward.

Not one person failed to draw a sharp breath. Ye Fan had clearly succeeded — he had comprehended his own supreme great technique, and now possessed the strength to look down upon all the heroes of the world. This martial will of his shook the entire world.

On Pang Bo’s back, broken spear shafts and a black long saber were wedged between his blood-soaked bones; his whole body was drenched in blood. Yet at this moment, he burst out laughing, and the movement pulled at his wounds, sending fresh blood streaming down.

“He’s finally awake!” Long Ma let out a great roar as well. The pressure on him had been immense — from the very start of the battle until now, he was covered in wounds, and at this moment he was also facing the Sky-Devouring Beast, whose cultivation realm exceeded his own. He was completely exhausted, blood flowing without end.

It had truly been no easy matter. Ye Fan awakening at this critical juncture allowed those on his side who were gravely injured and on the verge of death to finally exhale, relieving some of the pressure.

For a sage comprehending the Dao, sitting in meditation for ten years is nothing remarkable, while a Great Sage might sit for a hundred years at a stretch. During that time, the spirit roams the great void, self and world both forgotten — only the Dao exists within one’s eyes, leaving no room for anything else.

This is also why cultivators who enter seclusion always choose tranquil places, far removed from the noise of the mortal world.

Especially in the case of deep-level Dao comprehension like Ye Fan’s — his heart dwelling within the realm of the Dao, his spirit soaring through the nine heavens — everything was forgotten. Even the crash of thunder in his ears could not rouse him. If someone had crept close and moved against him, he would have faced great peril.

Now, at last, he had awakened. For those on his side, this was enormous, wonderful news — but for his enemies, it was a disaster.

Ye Fan sat cross-legged beneath the Bodhi tree. Ten thousand leaves swayed and rustled with a soft, papery sound, as if an ancient scripture were being turned page by page, chanting timeless laws and Dao that spanned past, present, and future without cease.

Suddenly, a thread of golden blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the front of his robe — a startling sight that left many people momentarily dumbstruck.

“Ye Fan!” Ji Ziyue cried out in alarm, clenching her small fists tightly, filled with worry. She wanted to rush over, but was blocked by Sang Gu’s cold, mocking laugh.

“Ye Fan, what’s wrong?” Pang Bo asked urgently, deeply unsettled, fearful that something had gone wrong with him.

“The Four Extremes Great Completion — the Heavenly Emperor Fist is accomplished. Only the Dao injury remains,” Ye Fan replied inwardly, telling him not to worry.

Pang Bo let out a breath of relief, but still could not quite set his mind at ease. “Why is this happening?” he asked.

“There is no need for concern. The Dao injury has not deepened — it amounts to nothing and will not affect my combat strength. I will deal with it specifically when the time comes.” Ye Fan told him to relax.

The expressions of the Gold-Devouring Beast, the Bronze Ant King, and the others were quite vivid — they had been startled moments ago and showed signs of worry, but in an instant they relaxed, their brows smoothing, expressions of relief spreading across their faces.

“Heh, injured by the Great Dao — odds are his Dao comprehension failed!” someone gloated.

“He looks fierce, but it’s all bluster — strong on the outside, hollow within. He’s nothing but a paper tiger. Who wants to go take his head?” someone laughed heartily.

Despite all this talk, not a single person stepped forward. Everyone was watching the others, each afraid of being the one to kick an iron plate.

Ye Fan did not rise. Instead, he closed his eyes again, savoring the wondrous realm of comprehension he had just experienced. The gains from this session were truly immense — he had forged his own great technique. Protecting the teachings, protecting the Dao, and protecting the Way required powerful methods, and now that he had tempered the Emperor Fist — a peerless divine technique — he would be fearless. He felt a surging fighting spirit, ready to do battle across all nine heavens.

“Boom!”

In the distance, the Golden Snake Great Lord, who had been locked in a clash of ancestral artifacts with Ji Haoyue, was the first to make a move. He opened his mouth and let out a roar; wind swept up the remnants of cloud, and a sharp gale tore through the sky, sweeping toward the Bodhi tree.

Within that gale was a Dao diagram formed from runes — rolling with thunderous sound, pressing downward in suppression. It was not an especially powerful attack, probing rather than striking in earnest.

Ye Fan opened his eyes. His gaze remained sharp as ever. A flash of radiant light burst from between his brows, releasing a sword beam that split the Dao diagram cleanly in two on the spot.

This display of combat strength made many onlookers furrow their brows. It was hard to judge — he seemed to be at the eighth or ninth level of the Sacred King realm, yet also appeared to be no higher than the sixth level.

“He has made some gains, and his combat strength has surged — but he has not crossed the tribulation, which is why he appears unstable. This is the best moment to kill him.” Sang Gu saw through the situation with a single glance.

“Kill!”

Upon hearing these words, the assembled heroes rose together, all moving at once to attack and press forward. Among them were naturally those who wanted to kill Ye Fan and seize his flesh, blood, and soul — such as the Sky-Devouring Beast, Sang Gu, and the Golden Snake Great Lord.

But the greater number had their eyes on the Bodhi tree itself. What cultivator would not covet such a divine medicine? In the midst of this chaos, as long as one could rush close enough — not even needing to take the whole tree, just breaking off a single branch would be enough.

This was a genuine immortality medicine, and it could also aid in Dao comprehension. Its value was beyond measure, enough to drive even Great Sages to madness. Otherwise, why would so many have mustered their forces to assault the Divine Realm?

The Corpse Sovereign chanted spectral incantations, his eyes cold and dark. He was among the most fearsome present — only a single step from becoming a Great Sage — and his personal appearance now spurred a whole crowd on, launching them into a frenzied charge.

There was only one Bodhi tree. Even shattered, there was not enough to go around — only those who struck first would take anything.

“Ribbit!” A deep, resonant croak rang out like a thunderclap, and the Nine-Eyed Jade Toad manifested.

“A pack of useless fools!” At the same time, a cold voice rang out, and a Celestial Roc appeared — its entire body shining like poured gold, breathtakingly brilliant.

The Ancient Golden Roc had arrived. It spread its wings and soared through the air, faster than anyone present. Said to be capable of ascending ninety thousand li in a single instant, its enormous golden wings beat up a ferocious gale, sending many people flying.

Its eyes were sharp and cold, sweeping over every single person present. It even contemplated striking at the Corpse Sovereign, transforming into a streak of golden light and charging forward — its divine speed reaching an extreme, looking down on all heroes with utter disdain.

Many moved to intercept it, but none could touch it. The Ancient Golden Roc was the first to reach the Bodhi sacred tree. It dove downward, extending a pair of enormous golden talons, on the verge of ripping the tree out by its roots.

A supremely powerful martial will surged skyward, transforming into a golden long river that violently sent it flying — this was the golden blood energy that erupted from Ye Fan’s crown.

Everyone’s heart turned cold with dread.

The Ancient Golden Roc flew into a fury. In every age — whether in the myths of the most ancient times or in the present world — the Great Roc had always been untamed and arrogant, refusing to be bound by the rules of heaven and earth, never willing to bow its head.

Now that it had been struck, rather than retreating, it pressed forward. Its brilliant golden wings shattered the sky as it dove downward, opening its beak wide to swallow Ye Fan whole where he sat beneath the Bodhi tree.

That golden beak was sharper than any heavenly saber, pulverizing the firmament. Once opened wide, it could devour all things — not just Ye Fan, but an entire ancient land could be swallowed into it.

Yet the Bodhi tree swayed, flickering with jade-green light. Ye Fan remained cross-legged where he sat without moving an inch, still as a great boulder.

A terrifying transformation was taking place. The Ancient Golden Roc, whose golden wings blotted out the sky and pressed down over the heavens, dove downward — yet its body grew smaller and smaller. Not of its own volition — it was being compressed by a martial will.

The Ancient Golden Roc, which had measured tens of thousands of zhang in height, descended, and in the end was reduced to a single foot in length. It could not swallow Ye Fan at all, and both its golden talons and beak were sealed shut.

It let out a furious screech, unable to break free, and fell straight down, wrapped in a gentle Dao light, landing on Ye Fan’s shoulder.

Ye Fan sat there cross-legged, chanting true scriptures. His immortal platform shone, ten thousand strands of Dao markings flowing, bathing and refining the Golden-Winged Celestial Roc. No matter how it beat its wings, no matter how it cried out, it could never break free.

Everyone was stunned. This was a Golden-Winged Great Roc — the most ferocious of creatures, possessing one of the most formidable ancient bloodlines in existence — and it had been subdued like this, reduced to the appearance of some ordinary bird.

As time passed, the Ancient Golden Roc fell quiet. Its form reduced to a single foot in length, it stood upon Ye Fan’s shoulder and ceased its struggle. It had submitted.

“Comprehending the Dao beneath the Bodhi tree, subduing the Peacock Great Wisdom King — no, today it is… the Golden-Winged Great Roc!” Pang Bo stared slack-jawed, thinking of the Buddhist legend. He genuinely felt the parallel was uncanny.

Just then, Ye Fan rose to his full height. A powerful aura swept out in all directions, washing over everyone present. The world was vast and filled with nothing but enemies — yet his expression was calm, utterly without fear.

The Golden-Winged Great Roc was quiet, standing on his shoulder with brilliant eyes, looking down upon all the assembled heroes with supreme contempt, ready to tear out and kill at any moment. This outcome left everyone shaken, afraid — and at a complete loss for words.

“Are all of you here to kill me?” Ye Fan’s words were not loud, yet they fell like a dark enchantment, making every single person’s soul tremble.

The crowd fell back. The Golden-Winged Great Roc King was incomparably powerful — the outstanding one among them all — yet it had been subdued in an instant. Who among them dared step forward and court death?

“We… bear you no ill will. We only wish to obtain a single branch of the Bodhi tree.” The person at the very front forced himself to speak.

Ye Fan paid no attention to that. His eyes locked onto the Gold-Devouring Beast, the Bronze Ant King, and the others who stood in the front ranks — sweeping past these old adversaries one by one, his killing intent completely unconcealed.

He had not crossed the heavenly tribulation, yet his true combat strength had already been achieved. He had reversed and cut against the Great Dao, requiring no acknowledgment from heaven and earth — something those outside did not yet know. He swept his gaze across all eight directions, his aura devouring mountains and rivers, pressing down on everyone until they could barely breathe.

“What do you want?” the Gold-Devouring Beast demanded. Even its indestructible golden-metal body felt suppressed under this pressure, on the verge of collapsing.

“To kill you.” Ye Fan’s words were calm, simple, and direct.

“You dare challenge so many of us alone? Are you not afraid of dying in vain?!” the Bronze Ant King also shouted, inciting the assembled heroes to strike together.

“Watch me dare!”

Ye Fan spoke, then vanished from where he stood, transforming into a boundless torrent of golden light surging forward — or perhaps it could better be called a hurricane, for it was so violently savage that it swept through heaven and earth above and below, like a tempest passing through.

The people directly ahead were sent flying one after another, blood streaming from every orifice, livers and gall nearly bursting from their chests. Not one of them held their color — every single person’s scalp went numb. This display of might was soul-shaking.

“You—!” The Gold-Devouring Beast turned pale with shock and mustered everything it had to resist.

But a surge of primordial chaos energy came flooding forward. It never saw Ye Fan’s full body — only a pair of fists appearing, their pressure overawing the entire cosmos, shattering all things into dust!

“Pff!”

The Gold-Devouring Beast let out a great cry as its body crumbled apart, its peculiar blood spraying everywhere. It was nearly in despair — it had not even clearly seen its enemy before being blasted apart in the void.

Clang!

Dragon-pattern black gold rang and vibrated within its body, surging up and transforming into a venomous spike that shot forward — and with a ringing tremor, it was caught between two golden fingers and held utterly motionless.

“Everyone — this person has become invincible! He has touched the forbidden domain! Strike him all at once and kill him!” the Gold-Devouring Beast screamed in a frenzy, filled with terror.

Pfft!

The only response was a fist. After a single blow, the Gold-Devouring Beast’s already shattered body turned to dust, and even its primordial spirit dissolved into smoke — both body and soul annihilated completely.

Beside it, the Bronze Ant King was terror-stricken, its face white as snow, trembling almost uncontrollably, and fled for its life.

But within the chaos, a figure walked toward it — appearing very slow, yet covering entire mountain ranges with each step, stars and moon shifting position, its speed far beyond anything rational. It seemed not to have moved at all, yet it appeared directly in front of the Bronze Ant King.

Primordial chaos mist surged, and a fist appeared — supremely dominant above and below the heavens. However renowned the Bronze Ant King was for its world-shaking divine strength, its bronze head and iron arms — at this moment it was punched straight through, blood shooting up dozens of meters into the air.

No ancient treasure could withstand it. The Bronze Ant King’s lifetime collection — more than thirty weapons, secret treasures, and the like — were all reduced to powder by a single strike of the Emperor Fist, incinerated to ash and scattered to nothing.

Blood splashed high, the Bronze Ant King’s expression froze, and its skull exploded. Then the chaos energy dispersed, and Ye Fan’s figure receded into the distance, leaving behind only the ant king’s shattered bones and blood.