Fighting brothers stand together; father and son face battle as one. Three of Ye Fan’s most powerful disciples appeared all at once, each one more forceful than the last, every one of them possessed of power that could shake heaven and earth.

Yang Xi — from his entire body, golden blood energy and scarlet-crimson radiance burst forth simultaneously, surging like the undulating swells of a vast and magnificent divine sea, shaking the boundless earth. This was the supreme expression of the Holy Body at its mightiest.

Hua Hua — with boundless Buddhist power, he stood in his place as countless bodhisattvas and ancient Buddhas chanted sutras, manifesting behind him, framing him at the very center of the world.

Ye Tong — with the Solar Body, every last inch of his flesh seemed to hold a blazing sun within it, dazzling and radiant, his entire being flowing with sacred light.

Over these years, they had long since become legendary throughout the starry sky, commanding awe among all clans — this was not mere boasting on their part, but genuine supreme power backing every word. The strength was real.

Three hundred years of warfare. All three had long since carved out illustrious names in the starry sky.

Now, as the three of them advanced, each step they set down sent heaven and earth roaring and trembling — three golden mountains, awe-inspiring in their might, divine power spreading across the sky without end.

Not even in the act of fighting itself — just the sight of that invincible bearing was enough to make people’s hearts quake. Each one of them was extraordinary. Moving together, they were like heaven collapsing and earth sinking, like three ancient war gods descended into the mortal world.

Halo after halo unfurled in ring after ring, linked together into a vast interlocking field, enshrouding all three of them within. The supreme surging auras buffeted so many onlookers that they could barely keep their footing, nearly toppling over.

Ye Fan’s three great disciples had taken the field — and the world trembled!

“Hegemon King — come and fight!” Yang Xi was the first to charge, taking on the contemporary lord of the Heaven-Dominating Blood lineage.

The Hegemon King — the most powerful figure of this bloodline in the current generation, with an invincible bearing. Confronted with a challenge from a younger generation, his gaze turned sharp and terrifying, violet light radiating an oppressive force.

Boom!

He took one step, and heaven and earth trembled. One palm came sweeping down, shattering empty space itself, driving straight at Yang Xi’s crown bone to obliterate his Immortal Platform.

The Hegemon King thought highly of only himself. Few in this entire world merited a place in his eyes. Faced with the disciple of his enemy, he had no desire to say anything further — only to destroy him swiftly and kill him where he stood.

On the other side, fire blazed to the sky. Ye Tong faced off against Cangyan. One was the Solar Body, carrying bloodline identical to that of the Solar Saint Emperor — supreme, at the pinnacle of power. The other was a born fire spirit, born of the will and sacred energy of heaven above, striding through fire, the supreme overlord of flame across the starry sky — not to be challenged.

Two such figures meeting in direct conflict sent fire roaring to the sky, scorching all four corners of the world and bringing all onlookers stumbling backward. The entire area became scorched earth and lava, with only two silhouettes booming and clashing within the inferno, locked in fierce, furious battle.

This did not look like a struggle among mortals — it looked like divine beings of the celestial realm in combat.

“Boundless be the compassion of the Buddha — and supreme be my master. Hey, you lot over there — which of you isn’t satisfied? Hop on over here. Big Brother Monk will see you off to paradise.”

When it was Hua Hua’s turn to take the stage, everything about it rang somehow off. Though his head was shaved, there was nothing of serene, majestic dignity about him whatsoever. He looked less like a monk and more like a bald man impersonating one.

He was casual to the point of being slovenly, with all the look of a lovable dunce, hollering at the crowd across from him — yet he was genuinely powerful, with ancient Buddhas and bodhisattvas manifesting in front of and behind him, the sutras of every heaven thundering!

What should have been sacred and tranquil, with the solemn dignity of a Buddha’s visage, was utterly undone by his own personality.

“Hey, you over there — yeah, you, come here! Weren’t you running your mouth just a moment ago? Don’t run! You wretch — come and see how the monk deals with you!” He threw open his long legs and charged forward at a flying sprint.

The other party’s nose nearly twisted sideways in fury. Hua Hua kept calling them “little kid,” over and over, without any thought as to who was actually older. The people across from him had white-streaked beards — they had spent most of their long lives in cultivation. They were old enough to be his great-grand-masters.

“Hey, you’re no slouch, kid — but no matter how vast your divine powers, you can’t escape the monk’s palm. Ha-ha-ha! You wretch — come with me and guard my mountain gate.” This sounded less like a Buddhist son and more like some old demon cackling with a sinister laugh.

…

A great battle erupted, unavoidably, before long. The spectators were dizzy and dazzled by what they saw. The opponents out there were supreme cultivators who had descended from the Emperor’s Pass — and yet they were blocked, unable to break through those three gates of entry.

Everyone who watched trembled — not for any other reason, but simply because all three of those figures had come from under Ye Fan’s tutelage, and they all shared one master.

How supremely powerful must a teacher be, to have raised disciples like these? Every onlooker felt a wave of something close to alarm. Ye Fan himself had not lifted a hand — and yet a profound awe of him had taken root in every heart.

He had not even taught his disciples hand-in-hand; he had only passed on techniques, letting them freely forge their own paths. And yet these three had all soared to the heavens — every one of them an outstanding figure of peerless renown.

Nothing was a more potent display of authority than this. Three disciples beneath Ye Fan’s tutelage could already contend with the most peerless figures this world had to offer. What, then, would Ye Fan himself be?

On the battlefield, intensity raged and every manner of light flew!

Yang Xi moved like a human-shaped dragon, his strikes swift as lightning, his gaze blazing like two torches. He swung his leg in a sweeping arc to meet the Hegemon King’s palm, unleashing a burst of resplendent golden light.

He was confident — but not reckless. He called on every ounce of power he had to fight the Hegemon King, for this had once been the generational overlord who had fought his master, and the world had not seen his equal in all the years since.

Boom!

A massive burst of light erupted. Golden radiance and violet energy surged together, shaking the sky. A violet sun and a golden sun detonated as one, the entire area swept as though by a surging divine sea.

In the end, both separated. Yang Xi’s body was pushed back several steps — but he sustained no injuries. His leg was unharmed, and his entire frame was upright and powerful, like a true dragon waiting to strike again.

The crowd burst into uproar. Everyone knew Yang Xi was powerful, but no one had imagined he was powerful to this degree — relying not on skill or technique, but on sheer force to trade direct blows with a figure of the Hegemon King’s caliber, and come out unscathed.

For the Hegemon King as he was now was unstoppable, and finding a true opponent was nearly impossible. His path had been drenched in blood — he had made it here atop an endless pile of bones.

Many had witnessed it firsthand: he had torn apart one Great Saint after another with his bare hands, walking through the starry sky bathed in divine blood, his whole being oozing that savagery, radiating something demonic.

And now, Yang Xi had grown powerful enough to match him — to contend with this all-conquering, generation-dominating figure, to vie for supremacy — Ye Fan’s disciple truly inspired awe.

Boom!

The Hegemon King’s eyes were a terrifying shade of violet, without a trace of white, the pupils impossible to make out — only a violet razor edge remaining. He clenched his fist with force. A mist of violet energy steamed up, condensing into a bolt of violet lightning that came hurtling forward.

The Hegemon’s Fist!

This was a supreme fist technique, capable of matching the Six Paths Reincarnation Fist, capable of shattering all things in heaven and earth — the supreme secret art of the Heaven-Dominating Blood lineage.

Everyone was jolted. The Hegemon King was genuinely intent on killing — bringing out a fist technique of this caliber. This was the very secret art that had once drawn blood from Ye Fan himself. He had ultimately been suppressed and demolished by Ye Fan — but that only served to illustrate how terrifying this technique truly was.

“Ha!”

Yang Xi showed not the slightest fear. He clenched his right fist, golden light and crimson-scarlet radiance bursting forth together, and answered with a fist of his own — the Six Paths Reincarnation Fist!

This was the technique passed on to him through Ye Tong, who had taught it on Ye Fan’s behalf — most perfectly suited to the Holy Body lineage, of supreme and absolute power. Yang Xi had long since grasped it completely and made it entirely his own, cutting a path that suited him alone, reaching the very peak.

Beyond that, in years past Ye Fan had defeated the Hegemon King and taken the Hegemon Fist technique straight from his Primordial Spirit — meaning Yang Xi was no stranger to the Hegemon’s Fist either.

In this moment, the Six Paths Reincarnation Gates of Heaven and Earth opened wide. Six cosmic wheels spun in contest against that supreme lord’s devastating punch, shattering all things at once, reducing the entire area to a place of obliteration.

Boom!

Blazing, scorching light. Endless radiance. Rampaging across the earth. Two silhouettes were both sent tumbling through the air.

The Hegemon King came to a halt like a hurled javelin, planting himself upon the ground. But his fist was bleeding. His tiger’s mouth had burst open, violet blood flowing in a striking stream, carrying with it a strange and demonic energy.

On the other side, Yang Xi staggered — yet ultimately steadied himself. His palm and fingers had flesh turned over and bone laid bare. Two of his fingers were broken off, twisted and deformed. And yet he had held on. To a series of cracking sounds, his broken bones reconnected, his flesh mended and healed, restoring itself.

Strong enough to be evenly matched. Where the two met, Yang Xi had the absolute strength to protect himself, and could engage in a full decisive battle.

“Hegemon King — the name is well earned!” Yang Xi said, and he meant it.

Yet the moment those words left his mouth, the Hegemon King’s expression darkened to its lowest depths. Had Ye Fan said these words, perhaps it would have been one thing — but this was his enemy’s disciple.

Boom!

The Hegemon King’s hair stood on end. His aura abruptly soared by a massive degree. Behind him, nine great divine forms faintly appeared, unaffected by the suppression of this place.

“You think I’m afraid of you?!” Yang Xi said coldly. Behind him, the Holy Body’s extraordinary phenomena manifested: an azure dragon, a vermilion bird, a roc — all taking wing together to guard him below.

The Hegemon King had made up his mind to kill. He intended to end Yang Xi’s life here and now. If he allowed this to drag on, even if he won, his lifelong reputation would be utterly ruined.

Boom!

On the other side, Ye Tong’s battle with Cangyan raged on. Though the Fire Spirit’s Dao cultivation was higher, before the Solar Body it seemed to be naturally countered — fettered and constrained at every turn.

This result left onlookers stunned. This was Fire Spirit Cangyan — with a Dao cultivation that had come to within a hairsbreadth of the half-step Emperor realm, sufficient to look down upon all the world.

And yet Ye Tong was peerless under heaven, his entire body erupting with blazing, radiant light, like a god from a mythological age taking the field — growing more formidable with each exchange, without fear of anything.

Cangyan’s expression was one of detached coldness. Though it sensed that it had a few techniques capable of eliminating Ye Tong, putting them into use would cost it a price paid in blood. The longer the battle continued, the more icy it felt within. This was a junior — one who had cultivated for how many years compared to it, how many generations beneath it in seniority. If it could not vanquish this junior in one thunderous, decisive stroke, it might as well have lost.

But it truly could not break through. Ye Tong was too powerful. Cloaked in his divine halo, ranging across the battlefield — heaven and earth trembled in his wake, and nothing could contend with him.

The Fire Spirit found itself unable to shake him. In a trance, the sound of primordial ritual chanting came to it — and it saw, behind Ye Tong, a vast and boundless battlefield. Ten thousand living beings were bowing in worship to the Human Emperor. The Fire Spirit was profoundly shaken — as though it were facing the Solar Saint Emperor himself, not the Solar Saint Emperor’s descendant Ye Tong.

“Three disciples under one master — each one more monstrous than the last. From this point on, even if the Holy Body Ye Fan never raises a hand again, his disciples alone are enough to sweep away every enemy.”

“That’s not all — these are not all of his disciples. I’ve heard there’s a brilliantly gifted second disciple who has not yet come out into the world. One can only imagine how fearsome that one must be.”

The entire area was in an uproar. Whether among those who were hostile or those who had come in reverence, shock was universal — evidently this was a terrifying truth.

The Ye Fan lineage had now truly risen. Even without him, these few disciples alone were enough to carry the Heavenly Court to greatness and to stand supreme in the mortal world.

Anyone could see that a disciple of this caliber — any single one of them — would be sufficient to inherit the mantle and carry the legacy to brilliant new heights. And yet several such disciples had appeared all at once. This was simply defiance of heaven itself.

At this point, nothing more needed to be said. The disciples were this formidable — how much more so the master? Everyone began to imagine what Ye Fan would be like, if his Dao power were still intact.

What is true strength? Oneself standing unshakeable as a mountain — while one’s disciples take the field and settle everything. This showed a thing or two. This, and only this, is true and supreme authority.