A curtain of demonic light stretched across the scorched earth. More precisely, it resembled firelight — dark red tinged with a black gleam, looking sinister and profoundly terrifying, warping the very void around it.
Within the flames, one human-shaped silhouette after another radiated blazing light — writhing, twisting, struggling in furious resistance.
What were these beings? Had they survived ten thousand tribulations without perishing, persisting since ancient times until this very day? It was enough to shake anyone’s mind.
Without question, this demonic light had existed since antiquity, never once extinguished. For how many tens of thousands of years had these humanoid beings remained bound here, struggling and howling — it was impossible not to be stunned.
Even Ye Fan was momentarily dazed. What living creature could survive for this long? By now, the answer seemed to be only one — immortals!
No wonder the first Great Sage to arrive here had cried out in shock, suspecting that these were immortals who had suffered some catastrophe.
“Do immortals truly exist in this world — could they have been bound here by someone? And what level of cultivation would that person need to have achieved?” The porcelain doll and the other young cultivators trembled as they spoke.
Had they not been standing inside Ye Fan’s golden sacred domain, they could never have withstood this pressure — their bodies would have long since exploded. Even an ordinary saint would rupture in the face of this demonic light. Only Great Sages could set foot in this place.
“What is Brother Daoist’s reading of this?” The Great Sage Huntuo spoke up, directing his question to Ye Fan.
As ever, time had left few marks on his face. He looked ordinary — dressed simply, not unlike a common old farmer of the human world, carrying an unpretentious, earthen air about him.
“They are certainly not immortals.” Ye Fan said.
On this side of the battlefield, there were eight or nine Great Sages in all — among them, elderly clan leaders of the ancient families, along with several from beyond the realm, representing the current pinnacle of the Northern Dipper. Before them, all living beings could only look up in reverence.
For Ye Fan’s arrival, they showed neither hostility nor warmth, only an even detachment, each standing apart. Beings of such stature had no need to subordinate themselves — everything they did could follow their own heart’s inclination, and they also possessed the power to back it. Knowing that Ye Fan possessed an emperor weapon, they dared not provoke him. As long as they kept their distance, all would be well.
Hearing Ye Fan’s conclusion, nearly everyone present nodded. Except for those who had just arrived and did not yet understand the situation, anyone who had observed this place at length would not believe those figures were immortals.
If a great emperor fell into fury, the heavens would crack, the earth would split, and all living beings would be annihilated — everything would be destroyed.
To say nothing of immortals: if a few truly were bound here and struggling in such rage, it would not merely be this scorched earth that would explode. This entire small world and all of Central Region would be torn apart.
So what truly lay before them? Each person present had their own answer. Some believed these were divine thoughts — an indestructible will given form here.
Others suspected they might be divine remnants, sealed here by some extraordinary force.
Without question, the second theory was a wild one. Generally, only existences at the level of an ancient emperor or great emperor could give rise to that kind of wicked spirit — to have several together in the same place was almost beyond imagining.
Ye Fan searched carefully and observed closely. He did not find any trace of the divine remnant that the Undying Heaven Emperor had once left behind, and found himself inclined toward the first theory.
“Roarrr—!”
From within the dark-red flames, roars rang out and echoed through the space, causing even the Great Sages to feel their blood surge and their bodies sway. Ye Fan quickly thickened his golden sacred domain to shield the young ones.
“What an overwhelming will — through endless ages, already worn down to its most feeble state, and still capable of this. It is truly terrifying.”
Everyone present sighed. These humanoid beings inspired dread. Even eroded to a fraction of their former strength, if they broke free, they would still be more than enough to send the Great Sages scrambling.
“In all likelihood, these were left by an ancient great emperor. No one else could possess a will powerful enough to leave such an imprint.” A Great Sage from beyond the realm spoke. He bore twelve pairs of golden wings, belonging to some unknown species of raptor.
Everyone nodded. If even these residual ripples were this powerful, they could only belong to a supreme being from the age of antiquity.
“Brother Daoist, what do you make of this dark-red demonic light?” The Great Sage Huntuo asked Ye Fan — speaking entirely as one of equal standing, earnest and sincere.
Looking back to those earlier days, figures of this caliber had stood far above, so powerful that even cultivators at the Saint-King level had to keep their distance. To say nothing of Ye Fan back then, who had not yet reached sainthood.
Now everything was different. The humble young cultivator of yesterday had grown into someone capable of making even Great Sages wary — someone every one of them had to treat with care and gravity.
“It looks like blood that is burning.” Ye Fan said.
“Indeed. Several of us brothers came to this same conclusion. We came here specifically to confirm it.” The Great Sage Huntuo nodded.
The porcelain doll and the other young ones all held their breath, standing behind Ye Fan, listening attentively, not daring to interrupt. This was a conversation among beings from another world entirely — when would they ever normally get to witness something like this? That Ye Fan had brought the porcelain doll and the others here to broaden their experience was an act of pure indulgence.
Huntuo produced a paper-wrapped packet. When he opened it, the contents proved to be black earth — emanating an aura that made one’s hair stand on end. The foreign Great Sages reacted with startled unease and couldn’t help stepping back.
“It is said that this was formed when the blood of an ancient emperor spilled upon the soil. After the vital essence dispersed, it became what you see now.” The Great Sage Huntuo spoke, then gave a light command. A ribbon of light shot forth, carrying the black earth into the demonic flames ahead.
BOOM!
The entire world shuddered. Heaven and earth seemed to be collapsing. The dark-red flames erupted with ferocious intensity, burning even brighter than before.
But near that black earth, something extraordinary happened. It encountered a tremendous repulsive force — the dark-red flames actually liquefied in its vicinity, dissolving into wisps of blood mist that carried a murderous intent to shake ten thousand ages.
This was a clash between the residual blood of a great-emperor-level powerhouse and the ancient emperor’s blood-soaked earth!
Everyone involuntarily stepped back. They understood now: the theory was correct. What truly burned here was the blood of a great emperor.
“So these humanoid beings are the indestructible imprints contained within that blood?”
“Precisely. That is how it must be.”
Everyone marveled. The supreme beings of antiquity were overwhelmingly powerful — that even the imprints left behind by their residual blood could produce such terrifying ripples. Were their true forms to appear, just how fearsome would they be?
“Is there anyone willing to go inside and see what lies within?” The Great Sage Huntuo asked.
Silence immediately fell over the group. After all these years, not a single person had managed to enter. This demonic light blocked the way ahead, enough to strike terror into the soul. Who would dare take that risk? They could only observe and speculate from the outside.
“I have borrowed an emperor weapon for this occasion. I wish to venture inside and see for myself. Would anyone be willing to come along?” Huntuo said.
At those words, five or six Great Sages instantly moved away from him with synchronized swiftness, putting a good distance between themselves and him — as if warding off a plague.
Over all these years, the foreign Great Sages and others had come to understand this world well, and had made a thorough study of certain figures of note.
Their assessment of Huntuo was that he was a bringer of misfortune. The man had managed to get multiple Great Sages killed just by mediating peace negotiations — and he hadn’t even been trying. Either it was a coincidence, or he was born under an utterly calamitous star.
In truth, when one examined the historical cases, most people leaned toward the latter. He seemed to have been born carrying a baleful, wretched fate — yet in every instance, the resulting calamity seemed to fall upon those around him rather than himself, as though he shed his own share of misfortune onto others.
Scholars who had searched through ancient records claimed this was a special kind of fate: an innately inauspicious destiny that always, in the end, became someone else’s problem.
Great Sages naturally put no stock in such things. The stronger the cultivator, the greater their faith in themselves — how could they believe such baseless nonsense? Yet when one grim incident after another kept piling up without exception, they couldn’t help but regard him as a black crow.
Now, with an emperor weapon in hand, he was even more dangerous.
“It seems only this little friend and I see eye to eye.” Huntuo said, looking toward Ye Fan.
For Ye Fan alone had not moved. Everyone else had sidled eight hundred zhang away, and even the elderly clan leaders of the ancient families had ultimately chosen to keep their respectful distance. Ye Fan was left speechless.
The porcelain doll was on the verge of tears, biting her lip, tugging desperately at the corner of Ye Fan’s robe, begging him not to agree. Over the years, even the children had heard of Huntuo’s glorious legend — it resounded like thunder in their ears.
Ye Fan smiled and said, “All right. I am willing to make this journey.”
At those words, the young people’s faces went stark white one by one. They truly had no desire to be anywhere near this bringer of ruin — he had cursed even Great Sages to their deaths, and their own little lives were far more fragile.
“Good. The demonic light over there is nearly extinguished. We shall enter from that point.” Huntuo said.
Ye Fan walked behind him, keeping a certain distance. After all, this was an elder of the ancient clans — a figure of extreme power, and now with an emperor weapon in hand, caution was warranted.
Of course, he was not particularly afraid. He also had an emperor weapon of his own. In the worst case, he could slip away. There was nothing to fear.
On this side, the demonic light was indeed almost spent — only scattered clusters of weak flames still flickered and danced, yet they still blocked the way ahead without breaking.
It had burned for tens of thousands of years. Perhaps hundreds of thousands. That this blood had not yet run dry was, in itself, enough to speak to how terrifying it was. No one could afford to be careless.
The bringer-of-ruin Huntuo produced the emperor weapon — a gourd of deep teal, looking as though it had grown from a genuine living plant rather than been forged, its mouth emitting wisps of primordial chaos energy.
It was the ancestral vessel of the Primordial Lake — the supreme emperor weapon of the Primal Emperor, renowned across all realms.
Holding it, Huntuo radiated a gentle light. He stepped through the void, moving toward the depths of the forbidden zone, weaving around the flames and the humanoid imprints.
Ye Fan observed this, then produced the battered green bronze cauldron and suspended it above his head, grasped his immortal sword, and followed. The porcelain doll and the others were both anxious and eager. Ye Fan cast a technique on them, shrinking them all down so they fit in his palm.
Behind them, every Great Sage’s eyes blazed with brilliant light, fixed upon the green bronze cauldron. This was the legendary vessel of immortal ascension — left behind by the Revered Emperor. Every single one of them coveted it.
But none dared make a move. This was a killing star — one who had nearly leveled Mount Sumeru entirely. Unless one was absolutely certain, who would dare act?
The dark-red flames were terrifying, carrying world-shaking destructive power. Even the green bronze cauldron was forced to emit light — for this was imperial blood burning, even if the vital essence had almost entirely dissipated.
Huntuo and Ye Fan, one in front and the other behind, passed through the demonic light zone without any serious mishap and were on the verge of breaking free of the dark-red flames, having avoided every humanoid imprint.
During this passage, the porcelain doll whispered quietly, “Uncle Ye Fan, he’s managed to get people killed just by mediating peace talks. Going inside with him like this — could it turn out even worse? They say he’s the reincarnation of a bringer of ruin.”
She had transmitted this through divine thought, yet Huntuo was no ordinary figure — he perceived it completely. He turned around and revealed a tender smile. “What an adorable little child — perfectly carved from jade. She reminds me of my granddaughter from long ago. In the Northern Dipper, I will watch over you from now on.”
The porcelain doll’s face went instantly sheet-white at those words. Her lips quivered on the verge of tears. “I didn’t hear anything. I heard nothing at all. Please, please do not speak to me!”
“Heh heh…” Ye Fan laughed and laughed.
They passed through that region safely, arriving at the deepest part of the forbidden zone. In that instant, they sensed an even more terrifying aura — and at that moment, the green bronze cauldron blazed forth with radiance many times brighter than before.
“This is—” Even Huntuo was stunned, his eyes going wide.
“Is this the ending?” Ye Fan’s entire body of golden blood surged and seethed as he stared in awe at what lay before him.