A water-blue star lay before them — beautiful and crystalline, like a blue diamond set within the starry sky. Various space vessels drifted in and out around it, streaking by like aurora lights, brilliantly vivid.

Ye Fan stood in the outer reaches of space, quietly gazing down. The sun and moon shuttled past like a weaver’s shuttle, time flew like an arrow — more than six thousand years had already passed. Looking back now — what had been gained, and what had been lost?

All these years, he had been on distant star battlefields. What sort of years had those been?

Both Zhang Wenchang and Pang Bo had returned more than once. Zhang Wenchang came back without fail after every tribulation, saying in his own words that each was a kind of rebirth, and he had to come see.

Pang Bo, meanwhile, had brought his own descendants and let them experience their ancestral homeland, treating it as an important journey in the course of their lives.

Ye Fan — in the past he had been too cautious. His enemies had been too powerful, and he had feared drawing the fires of war to this place, restraining that impulse and that feeling to return for a long time.

Later, when he became peerless above heaven and earth, this concern should have no longer applied — yet the inertia of all those years kept him still, and he had never come back, right up until today.

“I’ll go down first — you all take your time.” Long Ma said, kicking up a trail of lightning and charging down toward the star below.

Ye Fan and the others descended as well. In a flash of flowing light, they appeared atop a mountain peak — spiritual energy suffused the air, and humanity had continued to develop. The environment of today’s Earth had greatly improved, making it well-suited for the cultivation of the Dao.

Of course, this was also related to the ninety-nine Dragon Mountains beginning to let their essence energy overflow outward — that was the fundamental cause.

“I’ll go on ahead.” After returning to Earth, Zhang Wenchang fell very quiet. He said little, and departed alone.

Back when he had set out into the starry sky, his wife had been with child — he had been unable to stay by her side, and this was the regret of his life. He later learned that his wife had met a good man, and for this he could only weep bitterly from the far side of the starry sky — and then, quietly, gaze in that direction and send his silent blessing.

There were many ancient arrays on Earth. After more than six thousand years, people had come to understand that this land was far grander than they had imagined, and were now able to use scientific means to uncover some of the history sealed away within its mountains and rivers.

The civilization here was now advanced — not only was there dazzling science and technology, but cultivators also moved among the people, long since accepted by the world.

“Master! Martial Uncle!”

When Ye Fan and Pang Bo arrived at the overseas Penglai Immortal Island, a white-haired elder of an immortal demeanor and a young face came flying over, bowing in deep respect — it was Zhan Yifan, Ye Fan’s registered disciple from years past.

More than six thousand years having passed, he had already been a Great Sage for many years. Yet he had ultimately not been able to withstand the passage of time, and had grown this old.

By comparison, Ye Fan still looked young, his blood energy vigorous, appearing to be around twenty years old — time had left not a trace upon him.

This place had become the foundation of the Heavenly Court on Earth. The island was vast, like a continent, yet it did not reveal itself to the world of ordinary life and was difficult for outsiders to find.

Many disciples looked over with peculiar expressions, for Ye Fan was far too young — looking far more boyish than their own founder Zhan Yifan — and the contrast was striking, almost strange.

“Why haven’t you come over? This is your true founding ancestor!” Zhan Yifan said.

Penglai was shaken. Countless disciples came rushing over — tens of thousands of them. Today’s Heavenly Court had become the most powerful lineage on Earth, without equal.

They had long since known: their founding ancestor had become an emperor in the universe, called the Heavenly Emperor, peerless above heaven and earth. Yet they had never laid eyes on him, and had never received word of his return.

Today Ye Fan descended suddenly, triggering a great quake across the island. Disciples who were out training in distant places, upon hearing the news, all rushed back in the first moment — filled with indescribable excitement.

“Master!”

The next moment, You Weiyue and Yan Xiaoyu — the immortal couple of Penglai Island — roused themselves from deep seclusion and came out to pay their respects. Like Zhan Yifan, they were both registered disciples of Ye Fan, gifted beyond the ordinary, and had made several journeys to the Heavenly Court’s main base deep in the starry sky.

“What a pity — Junior Sister Huang Tiannu has entered nirvana.” You Weiyue sighed softly.

People are born, age, fall ill, and die — cultivators are no exception. Even among the few of them here, it was likely that within a thousand years they too would follow in the same steps, with no way to reverse it.

“Junior Sister Xu Ye as well…” Yan Xiaoyu said quietly, aware that the woman in question had been the daughter of Master’s beloved from his time in the mortal world.

“I already knew.” Ye Fan breathed softly.

So many years had passed — Xu Qiong could not possibly still be in the mortal world, having long since turned to dust. This was something no force could overturn.

And Xu Qiong’s daughter, Xu Ye — who had once been so young and lively, the little demoness in Xiao Song’s eyes — had later also walked the path of cultivation, yet after more than six thousand years had finally entered nirvana on this island.

Two thousand years ago, when Xiao Song received the news, he had wept bitterly. During his days on Earth, he and Xu Ye had been the closest of friends.

Xiao Song was now sealed away and could not come here — yet he too would no doubt be deeply moved.

The things of the mortal world — everything had dissolved away into the passage of time. The friends and family of those earlier days in the mortal world were all long gone. Ye Fan could only breathe a slow, heavy sigh.

Pang Bo patted him on the shoulder but said nothing. Pang Bo had returned several times himself and gone to seek out the descendants of his parents and elder brother — and had found those visits full of sorrow as well.

“Master, this way please.” Zhan Yifan said.

They walked into a garden of tombs behind Penglai Immortal Island. Here stood an ancient grave — old in years, yet kept in constant care, with flowering plants fragrant all around it and snowy maples growing thick.

These were his parents’ graves. Zhan Yifan and the others had moved them here, for thousands of years had passed, seas had become mulberry fields, the outside world had changed day by day, and the changes were too great.

“I’d like a moment alone.” Ye Fan said to everyone. Though he had long since been told that his parents’ graves were here, and his cultivation was deep beyond measure — his eyes still blurred with tears.

Everyone withdrew and did not disturb him further.

Ye Fan sat alone before the graves, and no one could hear what he murmured in a low voice. Those who watched his back from a distance simply felt that he seemed very alone — and so he remained through the entire night, without moving once.

Only at midday did he finally rise and walk to another grave beside the first, on which the characters “Xu Ye” were carved. Unable to help himself, he gently touched them, and stood there for a long while.

When Ye Fan walked out of the garden of tombs, those watching could not read his expression clearly — they could only sense that he was very forlorn, though the violent storm of emotion after great grief that they had imagined was not visible.

Only Pang Bo understood: those days of mortal life were more precious to Ye Fan than anything else — and yet they had been lost, and could never come again.

In the following days, Ye Fan gave several of his disciples insights into the deeper levels of the Dao, then took his leave. He wished to walk alone for a while.

Dragon and Tiger Mountain, Gequ Mountain, the Zhongnan Mountains, Mount Emei — all these places bore the traces of Ye Fan’s footsteps. Yet it was nearly impossible to find a single old acquaintance in the world any longer — the sect masters of those earlier days had all entered nirvana long ago and gone to the Western heavens.

The Taoist recluse Rìqi Daoren, the Kunlun Sect Master Xuechen, the Immortal Sword Sect Master, and others had all later broken into the Saint realm — but in the end had departed on the crane, going west.

Ye Fan walked into the mortal world — in the heart of the city, skyscrapers rose in dense rows, one after another climbing skyward, while in the distance the environment was beautiful, gardens laid out in orderly fashion, and ships flew through the sky from time to time, trailing arcs of colored light.

This was no longer the city he had been familiar with. It had changed enormously. He came to the outskirts and found not even a fragment of the old days.

Ye Fan passed through several of the old places, and then suddenly stopped. In the distance, in a quiet villa district, a familiar fluctuation was caught by his senses. He walked toward it.

“It’s you…” The door opened, revealing a beautiful face, looking at Ye Fan standing on the lawn.

She was a woman. Though her features still appeared relatively young, every strand of her hair had long since turned snow-white. She stared at him blankly for a moment, then came to herself, and smiled: “You came back too.”

She was Lin Jia — one of those who had crossed the starry sky together with him in those years past, reaching the other shore. She had later gained a great opportunity and taken the Woodcutter Elder as her master. When the Dao Palace was absorbed into the Heavenly Court, she had left.

White hair, red-cheeked complexion — in truth, if not for her great strength and the divine techniques with which she preserved her appearance, she too should have aged by now.

Lin Jia invited Ye Fan inside and brewed a light cup of green tea, placing it on the table before him. This gave him a start, sending him into distant memories.

Back then, he had liked to brew a cup of light tea, sit by the window, and read various books — it had been a kind of pleasure. Many years had passed, and he had nearly forgotten how that feeling had been.

“You’re nostalgic — you still live in the same city as before.” Ye Fan finally spoke.

“I’ve grown tired. I only want to live quietly, to see this life through to its end. Some of the beautiful memories of the old days are worth remembering.” Lin Jia said.

In the words “I’ve grown tired,” she expressed her true state of heart — weary of everything in the starry sky, and so she had come back, re-immersing herself in this city.

The Woodcutter Elder had two disciples: one was Lin Jia, and the other was Zhou Yi. They had chosen different paths.

Zhou Yi had not submitted, continuing to push upward with unbroken spirit. He had broken into the quasi-emperor realm many years ago. He had devoted himself to studying the Zhou Yi Eight Trigrams and other such arts, and today his strength was profound beyond measure, with a formidable name across the starry sky.

With the dissolution of the Dao Palace organization, he had not joined the Heavenly Court, choosing instead to strive by his own efforts — hoping to reach the absolute pinnacle and fight his way into the realm of Great Emperors.

Yet more than six thousand years had passed, and he too had grown old. Even now, he stood gazing at his homeland from somewhere in the starry sky, a few threads of snow-white threaded into his hair.

“I’m not the only one who came back — Yi Yi has grown tired too. And Kai De — his heart is still young even if his body has aged; he’s become a God of Light in the Western world.” Lin Jia smiled.

At that very moment, Long Ma was sauntering through the Western world, paying a visit to the Temple of Light — making a great clamor.

“I’ll tell you what, Blondie — first you ran off from Mount Sumeru, fine. Then after joining the Heavenly Court you ran off again. And now you’ve gone and set yourself up as a divine authority — you really do want to compete with that god you’re always talking about, don’t you?”

Long Ma was guzzling wine freely, trading cups with Kai De in a deep-space divine temple of light. Around them, a number of celestial beings from the winged clan — angels — waited upon them, all exchanging glances at one another, truly uncertain what divine origin this being had — that their master deity would personally keep him company. He looked, by any reckoning, like a great demon.

Back in the villa district, Lin Jia breathed a soft sigh: “More than six thousand years have passed. I wonder how many of the people from those days are still left.”

Ye Fan thought back. There had been thirty-some people back then. Of those who remained to this day, truly not many — he said: “Besides you and I, there are still Zhou Yi, Kai De, Pang Bo, Zhang Ziling, Liu Yiyi, Zhang Wenchang, Wang Ziwen, and Li Xiaoman.”

Lin Jia sighed, then suddenly said: “What if we gathered everyone together once more — on Mount Tai? I’ve always felt as though I’m living in a great dream, and I truly want to wake from it.”

Ye Fan reached out with his divine sense and invited Pang Bo and Zhang Wenchang. Both felt a peculiar stirring in their hearts — but in the end both agreed to Lin Jia’s proposal.

“Shall we summon everyone in from the starry sky?” Zhang Wenchang said.

Several days later, on the summit of Mount Tai — the morning sun first rising, clouds and mist billowing, rosy clouds spreading wide — it appeared as though they were in a realm of immortals. Nearly six thousand five hundred years apart, the same people stood here once more.

They raised their faces and looked at the sky, as if waiting for something.