The great wind swept across the ancient battlefield, and the Blood Crow’s enormous body carried Ye Fan into the distance, stirring up towering waves. The powerful sensed something and stood atop the mountain peaks, gazing at the sky.
Upon the Blood Crow’s back, that silhouette was not particularly clear — one might even say it was blurred — yet like a boulder, it conveyed a kind of unyielding, immovable hardness.
Like a meteor crashing into the vast ocean, tremendous waves swept across the boundless heavens and earth. Some of the supreme powerhouses within the Immortal Ascension Battlefield caught sight of it, their gazes filled with astonishment.
Many were left in shock, and some were also puzzled. Was it truly that person? People could not be certain.
One hundred and fifty years ago, a man had appeared who looked exactly like the White-Robed Divine King. It had caused a great uproar, but was later proven to be false — someone had harbored ulterior motives.
“I feel that this time it must be real. No particular reason — only a genuine feeling. This battlefield is about to witness an earth-shattering upheaval!”
“Even ancient supreme beings were buried in the starry sky. How did he manage to survive? I believe some people will not be able to sit still any longer. What an enormous surprise this truly is!”
The Blood Crow crossed the vast sky, leaving the regions it passed through in a clamor. No one could remain calm, and many gazes, solidified into substance, shot upward into the high heavens.
Some were stunned, some were agitated — the reactions varied greatly.
Those who harbored enmity and hostility ground their teeth, dark clouds rising in their hearts. The human race’s Holy Body had appeared suddenly like a great mountain, instantly pressing down on many people until they could hardly breathe. They felt that this was absolutely a towering peak on the path of the Emperor’s Road — one that would be incredibly difficult to pass.
There were also those who rejoiced, and some were even moved to tears.
In years past, when the dark chaos swept across heaven and earth, the achievements of the human race’s Holy Body could not be erased. Though some people with malicious intent had obscured some of his glory, they still could not hide the truth.
Ye Fan had shed the last drop of his blood and was buried in the eternal void, never able to return — this had deeply moved many later generations of powerful experts. They had never laid eyes on Ye Fan, yet they had heard his legends and held him in their hearts. Now, hearing someone whisper and speculate that he might have appeared alive, they were naturally shaken and stirred with excitement. To them, that person was a living miracle and an eternal monument.
The great wind rose — the ancient battlefield was far from calm!
“Did I… bring you trouble?” The Blood Crow hesitated, its words carrying reverence and a measure of self-reproach. By crossing the sky so openly, without the slightest concealment, Ye Fan’s true self had certainly been seen by some of the most powerful beings.
“It is nothing,” Ye Fan said, neither joyful nor troubled, gazing at the magnificent rivers and mountains below, watching the boundless land without any particular expression.
The Blood Crow had naturally heard of Ye Fan’s past deeds. Though it was of the demon race — a fierce and savage bird, always proud, never bowing to the laws of the world — upon learning of Ye Fan’s identity, it felt a sense of reverence.
In those days, the human race’s Holy Body was far inferior to a supreme being in terms of cultivation, yet he had rushed in like a moth to a flame, writing the meaning of fearlessness and unyielding spirit with blood and bone. Armed with his Great Accomplishment Holy Body and the Green Bronze Cauldron, he had fought a supreme being and made that supreme being’s blood spill across the starry sky. This was simply something an ordinary person could never have done.
At that time, there were no shortage of Great Sages throughout the cosmos, yet how many could be like Ye Fan — daring to sacrifice so much, to stain the heavens and earth with blood, to march forward with death in their hearts, to wound a supreme being while fully knowing they would be buried in the cosmos? Not a step backward. That required a kind of courage.
The Blood Crow’s feathers stood on end, and waves of blood-red energy rose around it, blocking the view of the onlookers below. It feared that more and more terrifying powerhouses would fix their eyes on Ye Fan.
Ye Fan remained silent and spoke little. Seeing the Blood Crow act this way, he said nothing more and let it do as it wished.
The Blood Crow had come from a very distant ancient star domain, far separated from the human race’s ancient road. Over all these years, though it had heard of Ye Fan’s deeds, it knew nothing of his old companions.
For the cosmos was simply too vast. Even to reign supreme within one domain, or even govern several star domains, did not necessarily mean one would be known in lands far, far away.
Ye Fan was known because of the blood-soaked battles three hundred years ago.
“Let me think… there is a man named Pang Bo. I believe he must be connected to you. He is a Great Sage of great renown among my demon race. More than a hundred years ago, he made a tremendous stir — in his rage, he slaughtered across a million li, all to hunt down and execute those who had slandered you.”
In the end, after reflection, the Blood Crow only mentioned Pang Bo, and even then without much detail. The two places were simply too far apart — it had only caught some rumors.
“How is he?” Ye Fan asked, worry evident in his voice.
“He certainly did not come out the worse. Sharp and forceful — he killed until blood flowed like rivers across an entire domain and exterminated more than one lineage,” the Blood Crow sighed.
They traveled together toward the northwest.
Behind them, violent tremors came from within several light gates, and numerous supremely powerful figures received reports. Their expressions grew solemn.
Though the news had not been confirmed and left room for doubt, it still warranted vigilance. Someone who had once traded blows with a supreme being and survived — how terrifying would such a person be?
Setting aside everything else, the experience of that single battle alone would be more than enough to benefit him for a lifetime, silencing many powerful experts.
Such a person — if he had truly returned alive — would inevitably block the paths of many. Like a demonic mountain, he would stand in the way ahead, impossible to scale.
No weakling had made it to this place, and they quickly thought of a question: why had Ye Fan not appeared for three hundred years? He must have paid an unimaginable price to survive with such difficulty. Perhaps he was not as terrifying as imagined, and that in all likelihood was a fact.
Several days passed, and the light gates stabilized, connecting the two realms. This freed many outstanding heroes of astonishing origin — those who reigned supreme in their own domains — from having to personally guard the light gates themselves.
In those regions, one encampment after another appeared, and mountain gate after mountain gate was established. With so many different lineages — equivalent to dozens upon hundreds of great sects — taking root here, they had now formally set down their foundations.
On one mountain peak, the light gate had stabilized and taken full shape. There was no longer any need to suppress or guard it. Magnificent palaces stood there, like towering heavenly halls of grand proportions. Within one of the main halls, what should have been resplendent with gold and jade was at this moment shrouded in total darkness, like a fathomlessly deep black hole.
Glimpsed faintly within, at the very top of the great hall, a Dao treasure vase floated up and down. It was precisely this vessel that had devoured all light, plunging the hall into darkness.
That treasure vase was covered in inscribed talismanic seals — ancient and vast, as though it bore an entire world within it, rather than being something as simple as a mere vessel.
This was no ordinary magic treasure. It was a Great Dao symbol that had formed after a person had cultivated the Dao to the utmost extreme. It had now taken on this shape, manifesting here in tangible form. It was so dense and solid that it seemed like the most terrifying physical Dao treasure in existence.
Beneath the Dao treasure vase sat a cross-legged figure. He was so terrifyingly powerful that even in this world, his cultivation had not been severed — he had been able to form a true Great Dao talisman, which had taken the shape of a black vase.
Clearly, this person’s cultivation had reached the extreme pinnacle of a certain realm. Otherwise, such a frightening manifestation would have been impossible.
In that moment, he suddenly opened his eyes — like two bolts of lightning, they tore through the void. Within their radiance, one could catch a fleeting, indistinct glimpse of his facial features.
His black hair hung loose and thick. His appearance was extraordinarily striking, and his bearing was imposing — at a single glance, one could tell he was someone exceptional, surpassing his entire generation.
“Is it truly him?” His words carried no rise or fall, utterly calm.
“It should not be false. Several individuals who had once exchanged blows with him displayed intense emotional fluctuations — their abnormal reactions were detected by others.” Within the great hall, there were others present, but all deferred to the man beneath the Dao treasure vase.
“How strong is he?”
“He should not have broken through that shackle. He has nothing to do with a Quasi-Emperor.” Another person answered. They had indeed put in considerable effort, analyzing the traces of battle Ye Fan had left behind to arrive at this judgment.
“Senior Brother, should we report this to our master immediately?”
The man seated beneath the Dao treasure vase remained cross-legged in the darkness, his gaze commanding and intimidating. He heard the question and replied with cold indifference: “Master is engaged in a fierce struggle within the Emperor’s Gate on the other side of the light gate — contending for the insights and secret volumes of those immortal scriptures. Whether it is the Divine Lord, Yin Tiande, Zhang Bairen, or the others, not one of them is easy to deal with. In the short term, he has no way to divert his attention.”
This was precisely the landing ground of Yao Guang’s lineage, and the man at the center was Mo Wentian — the strongest disciple under Yao Guang — whose cultivation was said to approach Yao Guang’s own.
“Jin Chanzi, the Nine Tribulations Daoist, the Overlord, the Great Might Sacred Spirit, and others have also returned through the passage between the two realms, because it is rumored that some immortal scriptures may have been left behind by an Emperor Lord — texts that the world has never before seen or circulated. To obtain them does not necessarily require overwhelming battle prowess, but rather the genuine ability to comprehend the mysteries left behind by the Emperor Lord, and only then would one be able to glimpse the true scriptures.”
“Taichu and the Emperor King have yet to manifest — no one knows where they are.”
“Is it truly unnecessary to go and summon our master? That is Holy Body Ye Fan — three hundred years ago, he shook an entire era!” Someone from Yao Guang’s lineage spoke up.
“It is not necessary!” Mo Wentian shook his head. His gaze burned like a torch, and his strength was frightening enough to unsettle people. “The human race’s Holy Body fell in battle three hundred years ago,” he said, “buried in the cosmos with the supreme glory of having traded blows with a supreme being. He is deserving of respect.” Then his tone turned cold. “Three hundred years later, the world holds no more Holy Body Ye Fan of the human race. Someone is impersonating a fallen hero. Not only us — many across the Immortal Ascension Battlefield will fight for the honor and glory of Senior Ye Fan. The name of a hero cannot be stained, and many great lords will make every effort to cut down this impersonator.”
“But he truly is Holy Body Ye Fan,” someone murmured.
Mo Wentian revealed a row of snow-white teeth and said with a cold and eerie smile: “Three hundred years later, there is no longer a Holy Body Ye Fan of the human race!”
“He is very strong,” someone else said.
“But he is not yet a Quasi-Emperor!” Mo Wentian spoke with cold and merciless detachment. “The stronger a person is, the more worthy of anticipation they become. Believe in this — many factions will use him to temper their own people. They will go to war with him, and ‘of their own accord’ will fight to cut him down in the name of Senior Ye Fan’s memory!”
“I think it would still be better to report to our master. He may not agree with this approach…” Someone objected, but upon seeing Mo Wentian’s cold indifference, fell silent.
“Master missed the opportunity to fight Senior Ye Fan, and that is indeed a pity. But Senior Ye Fan still has a disciple named Yang Xi, who is also a Holy Body. I will challenge him in a decisive duel, continuing the battle of the previous generation — who is weaker and who is stronger will be determined through our contest.” Mo Wentian spoke calmly but with a trace of cold edge, then added: “He must be somewhere in the Immortal Ascension Battlefield. I look forward to encountering him. That encounter will also mark the final conclusion of the battle between our master and Senior Ye Fan!”
Not everyone was like Mo Wentian of Yao Guang’s lineage. Some of the rising powerhouses were now searching for Ye Fan with reverence in their hearts, wishing only to meet him once.
“Senior Ye Fan, where are you?”
Some, though their resolve had been firm as they came to contend on the Emperor’s Road, now began to waver — all because of Ye Fan’s appearance. They wished to seek an audience with him and follow in his footsteps.
However, just as Mo Wentian had said, there were other factions whose people firmly believed that three hundred years later, there was no longer a Holy Body Ye Fan. Many were rushing from all four directions, converging toward a single region.