The Lord of the Yanluo Palace was dead—struck down by Ye Fan, reduced to blood and bone, fallen at his feet!

Faced with this outcome, anyone would be horrified. A would-be emperor, someone on the verge of attaining the Dao—dead, just like that. How could it not be shattering?

As the Underworld’s overlord, one who had controlled the fate of all under heaven—a Congenital Yin Spirit—he had not been able to preside over his own life and death. He had stepped into the cycle of reincarnation.

The cosmos fell silent. Not even a crow could be heard. The people of the Underworld and the Phoenix Nest went cold from head to toe. Ye Fan already possessed combat power like this. With more time—with more years—who in the future would be able to check him?

Could it be that the legend that a Holy Body could never become an emperor was about to be broken? Just thinking about it made their scalps prickle!

“Woooo…”

The death nether spear trembled and pierced the void—vanishing from this place. Neither Ye Fan nor the Woodcutter Elder moved to stop it. They could not destroy it. To keep it nearby would require expending an imperial weapon to suppress it—which would be a disaster waiting to happen.

The Yanluo Lord was dead. The Underworld’s forces collapsed—cut down and routed by Ye Tong, Little Song, the One-Hearted Arrogant, Yang Xi, the bearded man, Mountain Phoenix, and the others. How could yin soldiers and combat slaves withstand them now? Their morale was shattered.

Dong!

In the distance, the Undying Empress faced the Old God in combat, her face a mask of fury and resentment. She did not accept this outcome—but if things continued this way, the result could not be changed.

Suddenly, from within her skull flew a small altar—ancient, simple, and sacred, radiating a weathered, primordial aura—rapidly expanding.

What was this? Everyone was momentarily dazed.

“The Immortal Phoenix Altar!” The Old God’s expression changed on the spot.

Everyone in the Divine Organization felt their hearts seize up. They were descendants of the Ancient Heavenly Court—naturally they had heard the legends. Every last one of them tensed up, filled with an almost fearful dread.

“Heavenly Emperor—show yourself. I know you are still in the mortal world. When that person suppressed us at the Zi Mountain, did you not intervene?” The Undying Empress spoke calmly.

Then she began to chant an incantation. Ancient symbols flew out one after another, branding themselves into the void—then flowing into that ancient altar.

The altar began to expand. When it reached ten zhang across it stopped, hovering in the cosmos—without luster or gleam, only faint traces of blood on its surface, and the flowing rhythm of the great Dao.

“This is the ancient Phoenix Altar where the Immortal Heavenly Emperor once attained enlightenment?!”

This was a spiritually awakened sacred object. It represented the laws and the Dao of a former supreme god. He had spent the greater part of his life seated atop it in contemplation. The altar carried extraordinary significance.

The gathered powerful went cold. The Undying Empress’s expression was so grave—as though she were addressing an ancient venerable seated upon the altar—as though someone were truly there.

And in some hazy, uncertain way, people also seemed to see a blurred silhouette seated there—utterly still—appearing atop the Phoenix Altar.

The sight was horrifying. Was the Heavenly Emperor still alive? Could he manifest in the world again? It was inconceivable.

“Heavenly Emperor, will you not emerge? I am about to die. Can you truly bear to watch?” The Undying Empress demanded.

Those words made the air even more unsettling. No wonder the Undying Empress had spoken of burying the entire cosmos—if the most terrifying Immortal Heavenly Emperor in all history were truly alive, he really could accomplish that.

But the Phoenix Altar remained as it was. No response. Even that blurred silhouette had faded entirely—no longer manifesting—only the imperial path laws silently flowing.

“Heavenly Emperor—why will you not appear? When the Wushi Great Emperor suppressed us at the Zi Mountain, did you not intervene? Can you truly be so heartless now?”

The Undying Empress spoke quietly. Those words were a thunderbolt. When had all of that happened? The Wushi Great Emperor had entered the Zi Mountain—had suppressed the Undying Empress—and had drawn out the Heavenly Emperor?

This… was shattering beyond belief.

Everyone’s ears rang. They could not believe what they had heard. How had the Heavenly Emperor and the Wushi Great Emperor once clashed? What had been the outcome?

The Wushi Great Emperor—the most dominant emperor in all of antiquity—who had suppressed the nine heavens and ten earths, who had found no one he could not overcome, who had been unrivaled and undefeated his entire life, who made even life forbidden zones fall silent in his presence. Even the Underworld, with its inheritance spanning ten thousand ages, had chosen to keep its head down before the Wushi Great Emperor—sealing itself in immortal treasures rather than daring to oppose him.

And the Immortal Heavenly Emperor needed no further introduction—one who had shaken all of antiquity and set records for all eternity!

No one could have anticipated it: the Wushi Great Emperor had an encounter of such magnitude—clashing with the most supreme Heavenly Emperor of the ancient world. Life or death, victory or defeat—everyone wanted to know.

“Too terrifying—the Wushi Great Emperor’s life story still cannot be fully known even now!” People sighed.

But upon the altar, the blurred silhouette had vanished completely—its laws drawn inward. Nothing emerged. The Immortal Heavenly Emperor had not appeared.

“How cruel of you, Heavenly Emperor!” The Undying Empress lamented, feeling unbearable bitterness, unacceptable futility. Even her most powerful hidden trump card could not be played—she could not summon him—and she was plunged into despair.

The Heavenly Emperor was merciless. He had devoted himself entirely to the Dao—nothing in this world could become his bond. Even his Eight Division Generals and their followers all knew this—and in that moment, they felt a chill rise within them.

“Or perhaps—you fought the Wushi Great Emperor and fell in defeat? Impossible. I know you are still alive, still in the mortal world!”

With those words, the room went cold once more—even souls were trembling. What kind of staggering news was this? The Immortal Heavenly Emperor was still alive!

In this moment, all sound ceased. Every heart was flooded with a towering wave that could not be calmed. What kind of age was this?

“Long live the supreme and immortal divine lord! The Heavenly Emperor is undying—his endless life can be seen! In this life, we vow to honor our oath, and fight to the death for our emperor!”

Suddenly, the followers of the Eight Division Generals and many supreme ancient clans erupted in a great chorus—like mountains crashing into seas—filled with confidence, blood pounding, deeply stirred.

Everyone in the Divine Organization went pale. This was the worst possible outcome. Without the imperial lord, who could still suppress the Immortal Heavenly Emperor? He was considered the most terrifying being in all of history—setting aside the supreme imperial lord, how many could stand against him?

Especially in this age. If the Immortal Heavenly Emperor returned, it would signal the end of the Ancient Heavenly Court’s descendants—even with heirs, it would be impossible to reverse heaven.

“Just because she says he’s alive doesn’t make him so. He died long ago,” the Old God said.

And Ye Fan and the Woodcutter Elder, unmoved, advanced. Whether the Heavenly Emperor lived or not was irrelevant. Right now, the Empress had to be killed. No path of escape would be left for her.

“Heavenly Emperor—will you still not appear? I refuse to believe you are dead. Could the Wushi Great Emperor truly be so fearsome? Have you been locked in a stalemate with him even until now, with no moment to spare?” The Undying Empress cried out. Her hair flew. She was unwilling—she did not want this kind of ending.

But the Phoenix Altar was still. Nothing emerged.

Slap!

She drove a palm down onto the altar with force—heavy, striking hard. But it did not shatter.

Now her position was dire. Ye Fan and the Woodcutter Elder each carried an imperial weapon, advancing from either side—surrounding her, sealing off every avenue of retreat. The outcome could be foreseen. There was little room for doubt.

Boom!

From deep within the cosmos, a brilliant radiance suddenly erupted. Spacetime shards scattered in all directions, revealing fragment after fragment of broken images: a young man in silver robes atop a white horse—bearing beyond compare—was locked in the most glorious battle of his life.

He wanted to slay an emperor—cut down a supreme being. If he succeeded, it would shake ten thousand ages of heaven!

The Undying Empress saw it. Her expression grew even more sorrowful. Tears slid down her face. Her voice trembled: “Ning Fei!” She called out the First Divine General’s name.

In the distance, that silhouette disappeared—it was only a fragment of spacetime. Not a real person.

“Farewell, Ning Fei. To have missed each other in the Primordial Age, and yet to meet again in this world—I have no more regrets. If we can meet again in the next life, I am willing to become a flower, blooming at your side!”

The Undying Empress cried out in a voice of grief—then burst into laughter. Crystalline teardrops rolled and scattered. An overwhelming killing intent radiated from her. Even the war drum in her hands seemed on the verge of being beaten to pieces.

From between her brows, streams of blood began to flow—and then they transformed into a small and exquisite phoenix bird, crystalline and glistening, entirely crimson. It spread its wings and soared, radiating an aura that filled everyone with dread.

Everyone went rigid. They felt the aura of an ancient supreme being.

In the midst of all this, the Undying Empress removed a silver hairpin from her head—which turned out to be a small silver war halberd—and released it into the void, murmuring softly: “Farewell. Meet again in the next life.”

Boom!

The small silver war halberd suddenly exploded—burning into a blaze of brilliant light, cleaving open the cosmos, shooting off into the distance.

This jolted everyone—including the Undying Empress herself, who was startled!

A silver path unfurled, extending from the deepest reaches of the cosmos to this place. A white celestial horse trod the sky road and came, stirring a hurricane across the cosmos—shattering many stars.

The First Divine General appeared—still as before, looking down upon the mortal world, his silver war halberd horizontal across the nine heavens, clad in silver robes, transcendent and otherworldly. He came on horseback, towering above all gods—as though he were on the verge of soaring beyond the mortal world.

His war halberd struck once—tearing open a path through the encirclement—sending the Old God flying with its shockwave. Clang! It clashed once more with the Cyan Emperor’s weapon in a direct exchange. The celestial horse was like a dragon, entering the battlefield. Two supreme-level powerhouses could not stop him—not even a single step!

In this moment, he was like a god descended from heaven—peerless, unrivaled. White horse, silver robes, moving across these heavens and this earth—no opponent existed.

The Undying Empress wept without ceasing. In this final moment, only this person had come to save her—and she could not stop the silent, wracking grief. She thought back to the Primordial Age—and everything was filled with bitterness and regret.

The First Divine General, Ning Fei, took the Undying Empress onto the horse’s back and turned to break through—his martial spirit shaking the ocean of the cosmos.

The Old God raised the imperial lord’s war horn and made his move. The Woodcutter Elder furrowed his brow and said: “We cannot stop him. He has already fallen in battle. This is only his indestructible obsession—his unrelenting will to take away the one he has sworn to protect. Until his wish is fulfilled, he will not disperse.”

“Ning Fei…!” The Undying Empress, upon hearing those words, cried out in terror. Her hands reached up to touch the silver-robed young man’s face. Her crystalline fingers trembled. Her entire body shook.

“You’re dead… You’ll never come back. You can no longer stand guard at my side. I… I hate this. Ning Fei—come back to life!” The Undying Empress screamed in anguish. Her breathtaking face was written with despair. Within her heart was boundless grief and sorrow.

The silver-robed young man did not speak. His entire body burned with silver light. The celestial horse beneath him was the same—man and mount, sacred as gods—carrying that woman away.

“Ning Fei—I don’t want you to die. If only you would come back to life, I am willing to put everything down and go with you!” The Undying Empress screamed in terror.

But it was only an indestructible primal soul’s obsession. Though he still looked peerless in bearing—as glorious as ever—there was no longer any response.

The Undying Empress’s flawless, transcendent face slowly twisted with hatred. She could not accept this. She was filled with grief and anguish.

Ye Fan’s Demon Jar That Devours the Heaven hovered above—rising and falling. He stepped forward, one step at a time. Though he had witnessed a tragic scene—this sorrowful ending weighed even on his own heart—he would not stop. The Undying Empress had to be kept here!