“Ah, honored guests of the Heavenly Court — forgive us for the poor welcome.” A man stepped forward from behind the soldiers. Though he carried about him a faint aura of yin energy, he was otherwise little different from an ordinary person.

Everyone felt a chill. This was a body reborn from death — flesh that had given rise to new consciousness. Such a person was absolutely formidable, and must have had extraordinary origins in life. His standing within the Underworld would not be low.

“Is this how you treat honored guests — sealing off the Heavenly Court on all sides?” The newcomers wore expressions of displeasure. They had arrived at this important hub some days ago and had already thoroughly investigated the situation.

“As you well know, this form of transmission formation consumes enormous resources. We are merely covering our costs.” Though the ghost general’s face was pale and bloodless, he appeared quite refined — dabbing at his lips with a silk cloth, like an aristocratic vampire who dwelled perpetually in an ancient castle far from the sun.

“You must be martial uncle Zhang Qingyang. We received word that you were returning to the Heavenly Court.” The bald man stepped forward with a greeting, treating Zhang Qingyang and the three others with great respect. He introduced himself — he was one of the eight chief disciples of the Flower Flower sect, known as the Golden Vajra Buddha.

He made no acknowledgment of the Underworld man, instead briefing Zhang Qingyang and the others on the current situation. The Heavenly Court was being sealed off by the Underworld, and difficulties had arisen.

Upon learning Zhang Wenchang’s identity, the Golden Vajra Buddha and the others quickly performed a full ceremonial bow and said: “Greetings to grand-martial-uncle.”

Zhang Wenchang was speechless. These were disciples of Ye Fan’s disciples — in the blink of an eye, several hundred years had passed. A new generation had replaced the old, and the passage of time was relentless.

Having cultivated to this point, Ye Fan and Zhang Wenchang’s generation were already more than five hundred years old.

“Ah, how embarrassing — you’ve quite overlooked me. I am, after all, a ghost general of the Underworld, commanding one side.” The man tossed aside the silk cloth in his hand, his expression cooling somewhat.

“Who would dare disregard the Underworld — we wish to return to the Heavenly Court. We seek to borrow this route. Could you open the transmission formation?” Golden Vajra Buddha said.

“Hmm — one hundred catties of Grand Luo Silver Essence will suffice.” The pale ghost general spoke, a warm smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

“This goes too far.” Behind them, a monk’s staff connected by iron rings shook in the hands of a shaved-head ascetic, his brows upturned in fury.

“Let’s speak reasonably. We are all people of standing. Without the divine materials, this road truly cannot be walked — or how about this: remain here a few days and help the Underworld with a few matters, working off the debt?” The ghost general’s smile grew even more brilliant.

Smack!

A straw sandal flew through the air. A wandering ascetic monk standing behind Golden Vajra Buddha kicked off one sandal and hurled it straight at the ghost general’s brilliant face. “Stepping on your face.”

He was direct. Faced with someone this self-important, the ascetic monk’s simple roughness was quite effective — leaving the other’s brilliant smile frozen on his face, turning cold and hard as stone.

“You don’t know who I am, do you? First son of the Nine-Son Ghost Mother — most favored child of the sect. Those of the Heavenly Court who wish to pass through shall each leave behind one arm!” He tore away all pretense completely.

Everyone in the area retreated. The grudge between Ye Fan and the Underworld was known to all — in those early days he had killed disciples of the Long-Life Celestial Master and the Seven Chaos Lords at the First Emperor Pass.

Setting that aside entirely: in his later years, the Holy Body was destined to be bound in a life-and-death struggle with the Underworld — they were natural-born mortal enemies by the very nature of existence!

The battle that followed was inevitable — it ignited like a spark to kindling. The ghost general was formidable, and Golden Vajra Buddha was no ordinary powerful cultivator. The two clashed in fierce contest.

In the end, Zhang Qingyang made his move. From his mouth he expelled a jade cauldron — from within it, the power of faith poured down like a waterfall, completely flooding the entire area.

“Ahhh…”

The ghost general screamed in agony. He was a yin spirit — deeply vulnerable to something like this. His entire body burst into flames.

Zhang Qingyang was not of particularly great strength — but his mastery of the power of faith had reached a state of divine perfection. He understood well its overwhelming effect of suppression against yin spirits.

“Such a small measure of faith-power — trying to stir up trouble in a domain under the Underworld’s dominion.” A woman’s commanding voice rang out.

The Mother of Nine-Son Ghosts had arrived — nine spectral blue flames wreathing her entire body, seated aloft on a golden throne of jade, a phoenix crown upon her head, her full head of green hair billowing freely, eighteen yin hands extending from her body.

Golden Vajra Buddha and the others went pale. They had come to investigate the situation of the blockade — they had not anticipated encountering this level of Underworld commander. This one was absolutely a Great Sage.

“I despise the name ‘Heavenly Court.’ Before sweeping away the divine organization, it would be best to first eradicate the Heavenly Court.” The Ghost Mother said coldly.

Zhang Qingyang, Long Yuxuan, Zhang Wenchang, and all the others changed color. This woman was formidable — beyond ordinarily fearsome. Her entire body pulsed with rings of ghostly divine force, her cultivation deep and profound — a top-tier powerhouse among the Great Sages.

“You needn’t wait for me to act myself. Come forward and end yourselves. Of course, don’t damage your bodies too much — I still need them to refine ghost soldiers and ghost generals.” The Ghost Mother said with cold venom.

But when she looked at Zhang Wenchang, her expression turned to dissatisfaction. “Too weak. You may simply die.” She pointed one finger and sent it forward, intending to reduce him to dust and ash.

“Arrogance beyond all measure. Do you truly believe yourself a supreme being, capable of standing over all creation? That is my martial uncle — how dare you lay a hand on him?!”

A great shout rang out from the sky, followed by golden light surging like a vast ocean, cutting across the heavens and sending the Ghost Mother flying outward — she coughed great mouthfuls of blood, the bones across her entire body snapping and cracking.

A figure descended from the sky — like a golden god of war, upright and powerful, his entire body wreathed in divine rings, radiating supreme martial magnificence.

“Yang Xi pays respects to martial uncle.” He bowed in greeting.

The crowd was in an uproar. Many present shuddered inwardly. Yang Xi — who was Yang Xi? He was a disciple of the Holy Body Ye Fan, the one most like him in nature, also possessing the Holy Body.

Over these twenty years, who had stood against him? When Ye Fan did not emerge, Yang Xi fought in his place — sweeping across all creation. His most celebrated battle was three years ago when he had cleaved the Hegemon King on the spot, bathed in the Hegemon’s blood in a frenzy, shaking the star-sky.

“Greetings to both martial brothers.” Yang Xi then turned and paid his respects to Zhang Qingyang and Long Yuxuan.

“You — trespassed into the Underworld’s frontier!” the Ghost Mother said.

“Get out,” Yang Xi said in a single word — and the shockwave sent her coughing blood again, staggering and retreating.

He understood that no matter what, he was no match for Yang Xi. After all, this was a man who had cleaved the Hegemon King — a king whose power shook the star-sky — on the spot. Below the level of would-be emperor, none stood equal to him.

And according to rumor, this Holy Body was not far from breaking through to would-be emperorship either — he could make that step at any time.

“I dislike threats.” Yang Xi raised one hand and pressed it forward.

“No!” the Ghost Mother cried out.

But she was utterly powerless to resist. A vast golden palm came pressing down — reducing her directly to a spray of blood-mist, shattered bones flying in all directions, before igniting in flame. Body and spirit both obliterated.

“Will this cause problems?” Long Yuxuan said.

After all, the Underworld was a colossal power. Provoking them would be a world-shaking, incomparable upheaval — and could bring enormous trouble.

“It’s fine. Master said — we do not provoke them without cause. But if they bully our Heavenly Court, kill without hesitation.” Yang Xi said, flashing a row of snow-white teeth.

The Underworld soldiers who had been so arrogant only moments ago — every single one was now pale and shaking, having never imagined the people they’d provoked would have such formidable backing. And that strange rarity they had mocked turned out to be a contemporary and friend of Ye Fan — just the thought made one’s scalp crawl.

Some trembled so severely under the pressure of Yang Xi’s aura that they slumped to the ground on the spot, unable to stop the shaking of their bodies.

It appeared on the surface to be only a minor skirmish — yet a great storm was about to rise.

Within the Heavenly Court, Ye Fan looked at one bodhi leaf after another and stood in silence — the deep green between his fingertips was heavy. It bore a prayer carved across five hundred years, a looking-back across five hundred years — the power of an era’s worth of time inscribed within it.

At last, the bodhi leaves dissolved into a rain of light and disappeared from his hands, leaving him briefly dazed.

He did not know how much time passed before he finally turned, walking toward the deepest part of the Heavenly Court. There, a bodhi sacred tree now grew — already more than ten zhang tall, lush and dripping green.

“Father!”

A small child called out in a soft, milky voice, tottering forward with unsteady steps, swaying side to side as she ran — she looked about one year old, a delicate, pink little girl.

“Slowly — little Zi, don’t rush.” Xiao Nannan, who looked no more than two or three years old herself, was nevertheless acting the part of a little adult — watching over and looking after this adorable, clumsy little one.

The night was dark. The bodhi tree was glowing. Ye Fan turned, a face full of gentle warmth, and crouched down — flicking little Zi’s nose lightly, then patting Xiao Nannan on the head.

“Father… hold me.” Little Zi had difficulty walking even now, and her speech was not yet entirely clear — she looked fragile and new to the world.

At birth she had been extraordinary — immediately able to run and jump — but Ye Fan had placed a seal on her, fearing that if her cultivation was too rapid it might bring hidden dangers later.

Ye Fan gathered the restless little one who was already trying to climb up him into his arms and gently patted her, guiding her into sleep.

Not long after, Ji Ziyue came — taking the soft, pink little girl from his arms with boundless tenderness and walking toward the distant palace.

Beneath the bodhi tree, Ye Fan stood in silent contemplation, gazing at the stars.

Xiao Nannan sat obediently beside him, murmuring softly: “What is big brother thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about how to become stronger.”

“Nannan will help big brother. Those bad people won’t dare come. There’s nothing to fear.” The little girl said with innocent certainty. She had already dimly come to understand her significance to the Heavenly Court — that even without doing anything, she could hold in check even the most terrifying of beings like the Lord Emperor.

“Big brother’s heart is in great pain. Someone left me a letter in the mortal world through the power of vow — and I have at last learned where she is. I must go break into the Underworld.” Ye Fan murmured softly.

“I’ll go with big brother.” Xiao Nannan blinked her large eyes, tilting her head up with innocent earnestness.

“That won’t do. You cannot leave the Heavenly Court — too many eyes are watching.” Ye Fan shook his head.

“I don’t know if I can return from this. To leave like this would be too irresponsible. Yet if I don’t go, my heart burns like fire. I need power. I need a divine way of fighting at the level of a supreme being. I need the Holy Body — fully achieved!”

“I must create a technique — and achieve full mastery in the shortest time possible!” Ye Fan stood, his gaze resolute.

That night, Ye Fan listened as Zhang Qingyang spoke of the wondrous uses of spiritual force, and the possibility of rebirth through reincarnation.

“Blood preserved through the bodies of later generations — refined and nurtured cycle after cycle — the divine sense taking form, seated in the hearts of all living beings.” Ye Fan murmured to himself — this was the result of his further deductions.

“Master — be wary of these people. There may truly be a next life. In the future, unimaginable enemies may emerge.” Zhang Qingyang said.

“My Dao lies in this life — I seek no life to come. In this world, without equal — shattering all that stands before me.” Ye Fan said with unwavering conviction.

Two days later, Yang Xi came before the bodhi tree to report, lowering his voice: “Master — I accidentally killed the Ghost Mother.”

Ye Fan nodded to show he understood.

Yang Xi did not leave. He added: “I also accidentally killed the Ghost Mother’s master.”

“Others may not provoke me, but I shall not provoke others first.” Ye Fan said.

“I was also still somewhat accidentally careless, and killed the master of the Ghost Mother’s master.”

“But if others push and press without stopping — there is no need to swallow the humiliation and endure.” Ye Fan said again.

“Yes — so I also killed one of their founding ancestors.” Yang Xi said with a sheepish look.

Ye Fan was left without words.

Yet Yang Xi still would not leave.

“What else?” Ye Fan asked.

“I also killed a Ghost Marshal. It is almost certain that he was on the verge of becoming a would-be emperor — a future pillar of the Underworld.”

Ye Fan could not help but ask: “Just how many people did you kill in the end?”

“After I went out, they ambushed me. Kill one small one, and a big one comes. In total, I killed one hundred and eight ghost generals of the Underworld.” Yang Xi said with an uneasy look.

Ye Fan was shaken by this news. He could well imagine how the outside world must be in uproar — those were one hundred and eight ghost generals of the Underworld. This was equivalent to one hundred and eight stars being swept clear, for they had lost the ones who kept them sealed.

In truth, it was precisely as Ye Fan had anticipated. The Underworld’s most outstanding young talents had surrounded and hunted Yang Xi — inflicting damage upon him — and in his fury he had swept straight through, cutting down everyone in his path and toppling the banners of one hundred and eight of the Underworld’s stellar domains.

“Is there anything else being concealed?” Ye Fan asked him.

“The Underworld’s Prince of Darkness, Son of Yama, and Prison-Suppressing Son have all emerged — seeking to kill me.”

These three were the Underworld’s candidates for the next generation of leadership. In the future one of them would become the Master of the Underworld — their identities shockingly exalted.

“And how did it turn out?” Ye Fan asked.

“The Son of Yama was killed by my martial brother Ye Tong.” Yang Xi answered honestly.

Ye Tong had become a would-be emperor ten years ago. His power was unfathomable — at the same level as the Ancient Emperor’s children. His name now resounded throughout the cosmos, known by all as the reincarnation of the Solar Saint Emperor.