The Eight Trigrams diagram runs throughout the entire history of ancient China, with origins dating back to the very earliest times. How it was created and for what purpose remains a captivating mystery to this day.
People have once used it to prove and calculate the orbital velocities of celestial bodies, and even the creation of binary code in computing has been linked to it — making it a subject of profound mystery.
To this day, the vast and profound meaning contained within the ancient Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram has not been fully decoded, though people have ventured many bold conjectures and speculations.
Some have said it represents an unknown “momentum” — that one can use it to deduce and calculate the various possibilities of future events. Of course, only a perfect deduction can roughly calculate the “momentum” of what is to come; a single miscalculation and the entire reading collapses, rendered invalid.
Others have said it depicts the essence of the universe in the most concise manner possible, with every symbol representing the most fundamental of things.
Still others have boldly hypothesized that the Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram is related to space and time — that the eight trigram symbols represent coordinates of the starry sky, and that different arrangements and combinations correspond to different star regions.
Under this hypothesis, one could pinpoint the coordinates of any stellar domain in the universe, with the Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram serving as a gateway to the stars, capable of connecting wormholes.
According to this speculation, the Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram is a stable structure; if sufficient energy could be provided to establish the coordinates of a particular starfield and a complex, precise calculation were completed, the star gate could be opened.
However, this “complexity” is beyond imagination — it involves a strange “formation array,” one that has not yet been recognized and remains in the realm of conjecture and hypothesis.
The “formation array” itself is inherently connected to space, a frontier still far from being conquered, so mysterious and complex as to reach the absolute extreme.
One can well imagine just how elusive it would be to construct such a star gate — the Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram — and that it could not possibly be realized within any foreseeable stretch of time.
At this moment, Ye Fan and his companions were fortunate enough to witness the construction of the Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram once more. Anyone who had spent years speculating and researching the star gate would surely have been driven to frenzied excitement upon seeing this, for it was a testimony to something truly momentous.
Unfortunately, Ye Fan and the others had no such frame of mind. Their overwhelming sense of mortal danger consumed them, and all they wanted now was to escape this place as quickly as possible — for the shadow of death loomed over them at every moment.
A thousand meters away lay the ruins of the Great Thunder Sound Temple. Though it had fallen temporarily quiet, a wave of wretched, violent energy had already billowed outward in all directions, and a pair of blood-red eyes the size of lanterns stared unblinking in their direction from the darkness — an especially bone-chilling sight that made one’s heart tremble with dread.
In the sky above, the Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram had taken shape — dense and weighty as metal, as though cast from a hundred smelts of refined gold. Around it, space warped and light blurred. The eight trigram symbols corresponding to Qian, Kun, Xun, Dui, Gen, Zhen, Li, and Kan lit up in sequence, like a mysterious and ancient cipher flickering with light.
The eight trigram symbols had flashed hundreds upon thousands of times, cycling through countless complex arrangements and combinations, yet they had never managed to illuminate simultaneously. In the end they slowly dimmed once more, and the enormous Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram trembled, on the verge of collapsing.
“How can this be happening…”
Panic spread among the crowd. If the Ancient Star Path could not be opened, it meant death for all of them.
The luminous barrier enveloping the Five-Colored Altar had dimmed to near-darkness; only faint, feeble wisps of rosy light still drifted upward toward the Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram in the sky. When everyone saw this, they understood the reason at once.
“Constructing the Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram — or opening the star gate — requires a sufficient and stable supply of mysterious energy, but right now the energy is running out!”
“What do we do? Are we truly going to die here…”
Far away lurked the Ancestral Crocodile; close at hand were the small crocodiles. A net of death had already spread wide around them all.
Bang!
More than a dozen of the small crocodiles had already bored through the luminous barrier and begun attacking the group. The divine relics — the incense burner, the vajra pestle, the bronze bell, the fish drum — all blazed with blinding radiance in rapid succession, holding back the onslaught of the divine crocodiles. Yet the force behind those impacts was extraordinary, sending those struck stumbling involuntarily backward.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Outside the Five-Colored Altar, the ground was a dense carpet of scales — countless divine crocodiles by the tens of thousands hammering relentlessly at the luminous barrier. More shattering sounds rang out, and in just a brief moment, over a hundred of the small crocodiles had successfully broken through.
These creatures, small in appearance yet hideously savage, were terrifying beyond measure. They could fly through the air and burrow through the earth, and each divine crocodile was like a piercing sword — penetrating power pushed to its extreme.
“We can’t keep this up. If we go on defending passively like this, we’ll eventually die here.” Pang Bo bellowed. The bronze plaque of the Great Thunder Sound Temple vibrated incessantly, radiating ten thousand beams of brilliant light that formed a curtain of radiance, shielding three or four people within. It could provide temporary safety for now, but no one could say what would happen if this dragged on much longer.
“Stay put for now — let me go out and test the waters first.” Ye Fan instructed Pang Bo, and then he himself stepped away from passive defense, gripping the ancient lamp and striding forward.
Dozens of divine crocodiles instantly came boring toward him. Dozens of dark streaks of light moved like bolts of lightning — fast and ferocious to the utmost — hammering into the luminous barrier emanating from the ancient lamp like nails being driven in, straining to force their way through.
Whoosh!
Ye Fan waited calmly until the dozens of divine crocodiles had closed in on him, and then with great force blew toward the wick of the ancient lamp. Instantly, a blazing torrent of light erupted skyward. Within a radius of five or six meters around him, flames raged in a boundless flood — that area was entirely consumed by divine fire.
A scorched, acrid stench immediately spread through the air, and agonized shrieks rose and fell one after another. When the flames slowly receded, Ye Fan stood immaculate, not a speck of dust upon him, wreathed in streams of pure, lustrous radiance — like a banished immortal who had come treading upon moonlight. Yet all around him lay a ground littered with scales; nearly all the dozens of divine crocodiles had been burned to death.
A few of the hideous creatures that had narrowly escaped the calamity were charred almost to a crisp, their bodies covered in burns and no longer whole. They glared at Ye Fan from a distance with venomous malice, emitting low, rumbling cries that sent chills running through one’s body.
“Yes! Burn them all!” Pang Bo cheered from behind. He was about to charge over and join the slaughter — but he was seized tight by the three people at his side. Three ashen, bloodless faces stared back at him; these three had no divine relics of their own, and without the protection of the Great Thunder Sound Temple’s bronze plaque, they would certainly die.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The sound of shattering rang out once more. This time, a full five or six hundred divine crocodiles broke through the luminous barrier and came pouring in. Every one of them was fearsome; their small bodies seemed to concentrate demonic power, their cold fangs gleaming with icy light, their eyes wickedly sinister and terrifying. Without the slightest fear of death, they swarmed forward and began circling Ye Fan continuously.
“It’s no good — Ye Fan can’t handle this many ‘black nails’ alone. I have to go help him.” Pang Bo made to move forward again.
“But… what about us?” The three people beside him looked at Pang Bo with pallid faces, their expressions nearly pleading.
“I’m not about to let you die, of course.” Pang Bo turned to look at Wang Ziwen, Liu Yunzhi, and the others behind him. “You protect these three. I’m going to help Ye Fan — and it would be best if a few more people join as well. Staying on the defensive like this is simply not a viable strategy.”
“All right, I’ll go with you.” Zhou Yi stepped forward.
Pang Bo had never warmed to Zhou Yi, thinking him too calculating and deep, but he could not deny that this refined, graceful man showed a certain courage at the critical moment.
At this point, the seemingly gentle and bookish Wang Ziwen also stepped forward, saying to the people behind him: “Have one or two more follow along. The divine relics that remain will be enough to protect everyone else — though the women should stay back.”
Facing creatures as vicious and ferocious-looking as these, women’s naturally more delicate constitutions meant they might go weak in the knees the moment they stepped up; even with Buddhist instruments in hand, they might not be able to contribute much.
Clang!
Pang Bo swung the Great Thunder Sound Temple’s bronze plaque into motion, bringing it crashing down hard onto the Five-Colored Altar. A wave of violent force surged forward in a torrent, a raging tide condensed from brilliant light, rolling outward seven or eight meters and instantly engulfing a swath of divine crocodiles.
The dying shrieks of those trapped within made one’s scalp prickle — like a horde of malevolent spirits being incinerated — as wisps of white smoke rose and charred remains blanketed the ground, filling the air with the thick smell of burning.
This was a wide-range attack — unlike the first time he had faced a single divine crocodile alone, where he could not match its speed. Now with so many of the vicious creatures surging toward him all at once, swinging the bronze plaque freely could crush dozens or even a hundred at a time.
Clang…
A melodious ringing sound arose, like an ancient temple bell echoing from deep within a mountain — evoking a sense of serene, far-reaching stillness. In Wang Ziwen’s hands, the cracked and broken bronze bell radiated layer upon layer of golden light, sending out ripples visible to the naked eye. They appeared gentle, like waves on water — but when they made contact with the divine crocodiles surging forward, they transformed into a butcher’s blade: each golden ripple could cleave a divine crocodile in two.
Pft! Pft! Pft! The sound rang out without cease. In the blink of an eye, dozens of divine crocodiles were severed, spilling pools of blood across the ground — a blood-soaked scene that struck deep into the heart with dread.
Yet the countless divine crocodiles pressed forward without the slightest fear of death. Nearly a thousand of the small crocodiles had by now poured in, a dense, seething mass. Dark streaks of light crisscrossed in every direction, weaving together into a great reaper’s net of death.
Bang!
Zhou Yi continuously swung and smashed with the purple-gold alms bowl, sweeping out a broad swath of Buddhist radiance that crushed endless scales underfoot. The ground was left strewn with a thick carpet of corpses, too wretched a sight to behold — many of the small crocodiles had been ground into pulp, blood and mud indistinguishable.
This was a scene of extraordinary carnage. Fighting for their lives, all of them had thrown caution to the wind. Blood quickly dyed the altar crimson; a sharp, metallic smell of gore permeated the air, and a faint bloody mist drifted upward, like a scene from the realm of the Asuras.
“Aah—!”
“Aah—!”
At this moment, two agonized screams rang out in rapid succession from behind. Two classmates collapsed into pools of blood, their skulls riddled with bloody holes, their bodies crawling with ugly small crocodiles, dark scales bristling all over them.
A wave of grief swept through the group. Life and death were not in their own hands; for all their desperate struggle, two more classmates had perished in agony.
These two had shared a single divine relic between them, but just moments before, a full three or four hundred divine crocodiles had surged toward them in a frenzy, the impact of their collective onslaught enormous — sending both of them flying. The Buddhist instrument slipped from their grasp and fell to one side, and in an instant the two were swamped by the small crocodiles and died on the spot.
“Don’t let go, even in death!” Lin Jia cried out, urging everyone to hold on.
Many had already been sent tumbling and rolling about by the impacts, and since they were sharing their Buddhist instruments with others, their movements were constrained — leaving them in extreme danger.
“Aah—!”
“Aah—!”
Two more screams rang out — a man and a woman. They fell into pools of blood, drenched in crimson, a sight too wretched to look upon, eyes wide open, dying without peace.
Those in the rear quickly gathered together, mounting a combined defense while simultaneously launching attacks, jointly wielding the divine relics to hack at the divine crocodiles. The situation was finally stabilized for the time being.
“Kill!” Liu Yunzhi’s face had gone somewhat pale. He was gloomy by nature and not particularly bold — but even he, in this moment, gripped the vajra treasure pestle and charged forward.
In Buddhist legend, the vajra pestle is a supremely powerful sacred object for protecting the Dharma — shattering enemies as easily as crumbling clay chickens and pottery dogs, indestructible, symbolizing invincibility, the staff wielded by the sacred ones who possess the true nature of Buddha.
Arcs of lightning danced and radiance blazed. Around Liu Yunzhi, divine light stabbed at the eyes. The vajra treasure pestle swept across in a broad arc — like sweeping through ten thousand soldiers — instantly leaving the ground littered with pools of blood and endless fragments of shattered scales, an entire swath of divine crocodiles ground to nothing.
The might of the vajra treasure pestle was plain for all to see!
Just then, the foreigner Kai De also came charging in, his mouth rattling off a torrent of words in his native language without pause, flailing away at random with a battered wooden fish drum.
“God is merciful…” he bellowed — yet his hands showed no such mercy. The tattered wooden fish drum looked ready to fall apart at any moment, yet it possessed a mysterious and formidable divine power.
Carved into it were three bodhisattva figures, which at this moment all manifested as luminous forms, emerging and swirling around Kai De, sweeping away the divine crocodiles in every direction.
“Lord, are these angels you have sent? Come quickly and slay these demons from hell!” At this moment of extreme tension, the foreigner’s Chinese suddenly became remarkably fluent as he hollered on and on.
“Hey, foreign blondie — you’re holding a Buddhist artifact, quit spouting nonsense…” Pang Bo, even in this life-and-death moment, somehow found himself amused.
After another outburst of foreign chatter, Kai De said: “God has said — all beings are equal, my Lord is compassionate, bodhisattvas are angels…”
“Ah, get out of here with your God — ‘all beings are equal, the Buddha is compassionate’ is what the Buddha said, you hear me?!”
The exchange between the two lent a strangely incongruous atmosphere to this altar so suffused with the scent of death.
The blood spilled upon the altar transformed into points of crimson light, breaking through the luminous barrier and drifting upward into the sky, converging toward the already-unstable Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram — causing the star gate that had been on the verge of collapse to flicker back to brilliance.
Everyone had clearly noticed this development, and excitement immediately showed on their faces.
“Kill — the more we kill, the better! These divine crocodiles are the descendants of an unparalleled great demon, and by their very nature they carry divine blood in their bodies and divine power concentrated within. Passing through the altar, that can be converted into the mysterious energy the Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram requires.”
“That’s right — this Five-Colored Stone Altar is a sacrificial platform by nature. In that distant past, the possibility of a blood sacrifice must surely have been taken into account.”
The Taiji Eight Trigrams diagram in the sky grew ever clearer and more dazzling, as though cast and refined from pure metal, its radiance flashing without cease. The eight symbols of the trigrams flickered and glimmered, cycling through their complex sequence of changes countless times — and were on the verge of lighting up all at once, ready to open the Ancient Star Path.
Boom!
But it was precisely at this moment that an overwhelming wave of violent energy erupted from the Great Thunder Sound Temple. The earth completely split apart, and a colossal entity surged skyward — shaking the very vault of heaven!
In almost the same instant, everyone felt as though their souls were about to leave their bodies. All of them nearly crumpled where they stood upon the altar.
Two enormous blood-red eyes the size of lanterns, in the darkness, drawing closer from far away, rapidly bearing down!
“That is the Ancestral Crocodile from legend — the one personally suppressed beneath the Great Thunder Sound Temple by the Buddha himself! Now that it has broken free, who in this world can possibly contain it again?!”
Everyone felt as though they had been plunged into an ice cellar, overcome with complete and utter despair. Even if bodhisattvas truly manifested, they might not be able to subdue such a supremely monstrous demon — unless the Buddha himself appeared in person.
Could it be that in this final moment, they would truly be claimed by this demon from legend, their lives forfeit here?
Clang!
At this very moment, the enormous ancient bronze coffin on the Five-Colored Altar suddenly emitted a single trembling metallic tone. The two lantern-like blood-red eyes in the distance instantly froze — as though startled and uncertain — and advanced no further.