Men and women, young and old — with weeping and laughter both. No small number of celestial soldiers and heavenly generals joined in as well, war drums thundering, surging forward in a rush, such that Huahua’s bald head nearly got shattered by a few magical treasures.
“Damn it, you’re really hitting me — Amitabha, blast it — my head!” Huahua glared in fury.
“Hum!”
Another heap of magical treasures came crashing down — like dumping garbage, great in quantity and seemingly of no great value. One of them struck his head with a clang, like iron being hammered, ringing with a metallic vibration. Huahua immediately lurched sideways, dizzy and dazed, flying into a rage. Whether it was the Black Sovereign, or the Dual Sovereign of Silver and Blood who had delivered that blow — one of them was responsible.
“Ye Fan — is it really you? My good brother, you’re still alive!” Li Heishui shouted and was the first to throw himself forward, for his retreat mountain peak was adjacent to this very place.
As for the fastest in speed — that was the Holy Emperor’s Son. He flipped down from the vault of heaven in a single somersault, let out a long cry, and seized Ye Fan by the shoulders. In the midst of profound grief and joy alike, he looked at Ye Fan and thought of Ji Zi — of those three supreme talents who had fought side by side, now one fewer. Tears gathered in his eyes.
“I knew it — you could definitely survive, and you would come back to see us again!” Dongfang Ye, bare-chested, his powerful physique on full display, shouted loudly and came striding over like a giant, the earth trembling with each step. He drove his fist hard into Ye Fan.
After such dramatic highs and lows, after a separation of three hundred years — though they were all laughing now, the eyes of each and every one held glistening tears. To be alive and reunited again was truly no small thing.
“As long as you’ve come back alive… as long as you’ve come back alive!” The old assassin Qi Luo’s voice trembled as he repeated himself.
Tears streamed from Ye Fan’s eyes. So many people — grieving for him, sorrowful for him, now overjoyed for him. Even their words trembled, afraid it might all be a great dream. How could he not be moved?
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. He turned to look — the Black Sovereign was baring its great white teeth at him, expressing its greeting in its own particular way, delivering a bite from its dark mouth. Yet no matter how one looked at it, there was something distinctly opportunistic about it — as though it were trying to steal holy blood.
“Why are your muscles so tensed up? How is there not a single drop of blood?” True enough — the dog of villainous character spoke the truth of the matter, then fixed its eyes with burning intensity, leaning in with an expression of keen eagerness. “You disappeared for so many years — did you fall into some immortal’s cave dwelling? As the Victorious Fighting Holy Emperor wisely said: treasures in hand, the world is mine. Brothers meeting again — split it fifty-fifty, no discounts!”
The Monkey’s forehead was immediately covered in dark lines. Since when had his old father ever said such a thing?!
The Black Sovereign’s shamelessness had reached a certain pinnacle. Unhurried, it squeezed forward, and one great black paw swatted sideways, nearly pressing the inconveniently positioned bald Huahua flat beneath its foot.
“What the — #@$%@#…” Huahua lifted that great black paw off his bald head, cursing and invoking calamities in his heart without end — yet from his mouth he could only chant the Buddha’s name, for this dog-of-a-senior-uncle was truly someone he could not afford to offend.
“Divine Son — I knew it. You would definitely be able to live on. Heaven has eyes.” Little Sparrow smiled even as she wept, speaking softly.
In the Village of the Heavens, everyone had come. All of them were old acquaintances.
Yet those many celestial soldiers and generals recruited over these past three hundred years were already dumbstruck. Who was this person? Were they dreaming? Had the lord of the Celestial Court, Ye Fan, not already died in battle three hundred years ago — known to all the world?
“Is it really him — the one our Celestial Court lost in battle those years ago?”
The crowd erupted in uproar. The celestial soldiers and generals all felt it was beyond comprehension. Nothing could be more astonishing than this — yet the person standing before them truly looked identical to that stone statue.
“Ye Fan…” Ji Ziyue’s face was covered in tears. Barefoot — her crystalline white jade feet bare — she stumbled and staggered forward, rushing toward him.
Tears blurred her eyes. She still remembered that day — Ye Fan managing a strained smile as he bid her farewell, then resolutely charging toward the starry sky.
He had left with such decisiveness. Knowing full well he was going to his death, he had still gone. His silhouette was very upright. He had not looked back — yet she had seen in it so much unwillingness to part.
Thinking on it now, he must have known at the time that if he turned back, he might not be able to stop himself from staying. And so he had been that decisive, that seemingly heartless — leaving without turning back, on a road of no return.
And so it had been. He had walked a solitary path destined to blaze like fireworks — ultimately releasing himself into the cosmos, his body destroyed and his bones shattered, his blood splattered across the supreme battleground.
A farewell of three hundred years — a farewell that had seemed forever. He had bet his life, leaving her to grieve through the nights, weeping before the waning moon. Every night when the stars were out had been a night when she gazed upward, believing Ye Fan was there on the far shore of the starry sky — silently watching, struggling with all his might, fighting his way back from the darkness, destined to meet her again.
Three hundred years passed in a dream — and now they had truly met again. She feared it was an illusion, like all those nights when she would wake from dreams, only to find the pillow wet with tear-stains, the same cold loneliness beside her.
“It’s not a dream — it’s not a dream. It’s real. This time it must be real.” She trembled, murmuring softly. Her pallid face, her bloodless fingers — she lightly touched Ye Fan’s face.
“It’s me… I’ve come back,” Ye Fan grasped that cold and slender hand.
Ji Ziyue gently touched Ye Fan’s face. Having confirmed it was no dream, she finally broke into loud, unrestrained weeping — enough to make hearts ache.
Everyone welcomed Ye Fan into the Celestial Court. This celestial region was now vast, an ancient continent existing since time immemorial floating in the cosmos, with star after star blazing brilliantly.
The Village of the Heavens bore no further resemblance to a village. Now there were floating islands one after another — fragrant flowers and singing birds, cascading waterfalls and flowing streams, silver rays of light descending from the divine islands down onto the earth below.
The scenery here was beautiful, yet not without its solemnity. Those celestial palaces, those great sweeping palace complexes — towering and magnificent.
Boom!
A great cauldron descended. All things began at their origin; primordial energy stirred anew. Dark-yellow light cascaded downward, enveloping the space above Ye Fan’s head, giving him an inexplicable aura.
The Myriad Things Mother Qi Cauldron appeared. It hummed and trembled, rising and sinking above Ye Fan’s head, expressing the grief and joy of a three-hundred-year separation.
Ye Fan was astonished. Everyone revealed expressions of shock as well — for within the mouth of the cauldron, crystalline liquid was flowing, strand by strand and stream by stream, as heavy as rivers of stars.
“This is an inexhaustible power of faith!”
Many were stunned — even they had not noticed this before.
Only the Black Sovereign, Qi Luo, and a handful of others had ever seen it: in the deep of night, the great burial mound would become translucent, like a diamond, drawing in wisps of light from the starry sky.
In an instant, everyone understood what was happening. In the aftermath of that great blood battle, many throughout the starry cosmos had been reflecting on the valor of the heroes who had died in it — inevitably producing vast and surging waves of concentrated thought-energy.
And in former times, whenever Ye Fan handled the power of faith, he had always channeled it directly into the cauldron. Whenever there was feeling, it was gathered in there.
For three hundred years, unceasingly and without end — whenever anyone spoke his name and produced thought-energy, it had crossed the starry sky and been buried within the cauldron.
This was a cauldron filled to the brim with concentrated thought-energy, surging like a vast ocean, crystalline like diamonds and water alike. And still it had not ceased — each day unseen thought-energy continued flowing in, accumulating ever more.
“This — is half a step ahead!” The Black Sovereign exclaimed in wonder.
After every supreme being achieved the Dao, their names would shake the cosmos across all eight directions, revered and sung of by all races. Inevitably they would gather inexhaustible thought-energy and pour it into artifacts, making them reach the heavens and communicate with the divine. Thought-energy could also be absorbed into one’s own body, with endless wondrous uses.
As for how the Great Emperors had ultimately handled the power of faith — that differed from individual to individual, and was difficult to speak clearly on.
Ye Fan had not yet achieved the Dao, yet already possessed a not-insignificant power of faith. This could be said to be an early advance of half a step — and though he was unwilling to draw upon such power, it was still better than having nothing.
Ye Fan had returned alive. The news seemed to sprout wings and fly into the distance, shaking the starry sky — all four directions were alarmed!
And before the One True Road, word was finally transmitted out from the imperial gates as well — confirming the rumor precisely, leaving powerful beings across all regions struck speechless with shock.
“Alive — he has appeared!”
Ye Fan’s name was being passed around everywhere. His living reappearance in the mortal world now made people feel it was beyond all comprehension — this was a miracle!
In his great battle against a supreme being, his body had detonated. Gleaming white bone fragments streaked with blood had scattered in all directions — after the battle, people had captured such genuine branded imprints from the vast cosmos.
This could not have been false — so how had he lived again? Uproar spread everywhere, discussion overflowed everywhere. The only possible conclusion was that Ye Fan had truly defied the heavens.
Moonlight flowed like water. The starlight blazed in splendor. Ye Fan and Ji Ziyue strolled through the Celestial Court — upon the clouds and mists, magnificent jade towers and celestial halls stood erect everywhere, appearing especially ethereal and alive.
“The evening banquet is starting!”
Huahua’s rough, broken-gong voice rang out from the distance, startling countless birds. He had activated the Dragon’s Roar and Tiger’s Howl technique, shaking every corner of the Celestial Court.
The princes and princesses of the Great Xia arrived. Jiang Yifei came. Wu Zhongtian, Jiang Huairen, and the few surviving members of the Thirteen Great Bandits made their appearance. Little Tingting came flying over urgently. The Human Demon’s old grandfather appeared. The Holy Maiden of the Jade Lake hurried in…
Too many people — too numerous to count. Over the course of several days, news spread throughout all regions, and many old acquaintances crossed the starry cosmos to come.
The twelve saints who had once followed Ye Fan — those who had survived — currently held supreme authority in their respective regions. Almost all of them occupied solitary stretches of starry sky, opening up territories, forming the most powerful contingent within the Celestial Court.
Long Ma let out a roar, calling everyone to gather once more at the first opportunity. Together they crossed the starry sky and arrived — each one of them already bearing a name of great renown.
Long Ma, for instance, had directly proclaimed itself king in one region. It had once joined forces with the Black Sovereign to scheme against and defeat countless powerful enemies, and had even joined forces with Duan De to dig up endless great burial mounds.
Its renown carried with it a certain degree of resentment from others.
Another formidable figure was the Great Roc King — also enthroned as a divine king of one part of the Celestial Court in one region, with battle power that astonished the world. In the year when Ye Fan had comprehended the Dao beneath the Bodhi Tree, this great roc had perched upon Ye Fan’s shoulder, gaining enlightenment from the experience — and had created the Great Roc King Fist. Now it sighed that across the starry sky there was no worthy adversary.
“Come, come — taste this wild dragon I hunted. The meat is delicious and the juices rich — truly the ultimate delicacy in the human world!” Dongfang Ye, bare-chested, was roasting a flood dragon three hundred zhang in length over the flames of Dao Fire. He had liberally applied spirit treasures of the Heavenly Venerable’s life-spring divine liquid to it — now it was roasted to a golden, glistening sheen, its fragrance wafting out and making mouths water.
“A pity — there’s too little of it. Not even enough to pick between my teeth,” the old Human Demon grandfather muttered.
Everyone turned to stone.
Many had come here to gather, yet compared to three hundred years prior, there were still some who were missing. That great upheaval had claimed too many lives — the Thirteen Great Bandits had nearly been wiped out entirely, with only two or three remaining.
And among the outstanding talents of that era — many were missing, far too many. Quite a few would never be able to appear again; even some sacred grounds had been permanently removed from existence.
“Come — taste my dragon loach broth. Guaranteed to be the greatest nourishment in the mortal world!” Long Ma called out.
The dragon loach: shaped like a true dragon yet only a foot or so in length, imbued with the essence of heaven and earth. It was a greatly nourishing remedy — refined together with certain divine herbs, it could extend one’s life by hundreds of years. It was, without question, one of the rarest and most precious things in the world.
The expression of the Holy Maiden of the Jade Lake stiffened slightly. Not long ago, someone had broken into the new site of the Jade Lake — failing to steal any of the flat peaches, they had taken a dragon loach instead. Now at last the true culprit had surfaced.
“Ugh, hey — I didn’t steal it. I sourced it from Duan De. I’m innocent. I traded a cultivation method of the Long Ma clan and half an ancient scripture of the Demon Emperor to get it.” Long Ma explained.
The Black Sovereign — which had once joined forces with Duan De in schemes of ill repute, having participated in more than a few major affairs — felt a stab of guilt, and changed the subject. Its eyes fixed on Blood Crow, who had come back from the imperial gate with Ye Fan, and it said: “I’ll say — this duck is excellent. Feathers this red, like burning coals — certainly a sacred item for replenishing blood and nourishing one’s complexion.”
Blood Crow was furious. This was a crow, not a duck — and besides, as a Great Sage, how had it ended up being discussed as a food ingredient? It nearly caused a scene right then and there.
“Xiao Nannan is hungry — where is her big brother…”
Just then, a little girl of about three years of age came toddling over — holding a cloth doll, rubbing her large eyes in a dazed stupor. She was delicate and exquisite as a porcelain doll.
It was none other than Xiao Nannan. Everyone turned to stone — and the Black Sovereign in particular let out a great shout before charging forward at full speed.