The imperial jade in Ye Fan’s hand was faintly warm. He tucked it away carefully, cast one last glance back at Xuanyue Grotto, and then vanished below the horizon.

When he returned to Qingxia, he found that even entering seclusion was impossible. The Lihuo Sect, the Luoxia Sect, and Seven Star Pavilion were all growing restless — it looked as though any of them might strike at any moment.

Qingxia had only just fallen to him, and now these factions wanted to come pluck the fruit — to seize it from him midway. He found the whole thing deeply irritating.

“Disciples of Lihuo Sect have come to pay their respects at the mountain,” a Qingxia disciple reported.

“Drive them out,” Ye Fan said flatly, before the three elders could get a word in.

“But — it’s the head disciple of the Lihuo Sect master. Should… should they really be driven out?” The disciples hesitated and looked toward Qingxia’s three elders.

“The head disciple, is it? Impressive indeed. Turn them away. Tell them we’re not receiving guests.” Ye Fan waved his hand.

“That may not sit well…” The three elders rose together and patiently explained: “Lihuo Sect is quite aggressive — no less formidable than Xuanyue Grotto.”

“Don’t tell me they also have an ancient monster like a Supreme Patriarch lurking around,” Ye Fan said, looking at the three of them.

One of the elders gave a bitter smile. “They do, in fact — two of them. Eight years ago, they were already cultivators at the third tier of the divine palace realm.”

“Not just one — two of them could leap out at once?” Ye Fan felt at a loss for words. He had barely stabilized things with Xuanyue Grotto, and now Lihuo Sect was on the doorstep.

“Head disciple of Lihuo Sect master, Du Chengkun, requests an audience.” A drifting voice carried from the mountain gate, reaching all the way to the main peak of Qingxia.

“They truly take advantage of Qingxia’s weakness — every single one of them daring to behave this way. To send one’s voice directly from the mountain gate, disrupting Qingxia’s peace…” The three elders were furious.

For a sect, this was an act of profound discourtesy. First it had been Li Youran; now it was Du Chengkun — transmitting their voices so presumptuously was open contempt for Qingxia.

“They’ve seen clearly through us — naturally they’re no longer cautious,” Ye Fan said with a cold smirk, his expression then shifting to one of puzzlement. “Every sect around you has such predatory ambitions. With cultivators at the third tier of the divine palace realm backing them, I honestly wonder how you managed to survive this long.”

“Qingxia also had such a cultivator.”

“What?” Ye Fan was taken aback.

“Several months ago, he suffered Qi deviation and passed away in seated meditation.” An elder gave a helpless, bitter smile.

“So — had I arrived even a step earlier, my chances might have been quite grim?” Ye Fan rubbed his chin. He had, it seemed, somewhat underestimated Qingxia.

“Head disciple of Lihuo Sect master, Du Chengkun, requests an audience.” The voice drifted again — noticeably closer now.

“Let him in,” Ye Fan said coldly, then stood. “I’m going to call a friend.”

A moment later, he reappeared wearing the guise of the scoundrel Daoist Duan De.

The three elders of Qingxia exchanged glances, each opening their mouths as though to say something — but none of them did.

Before long, the head disciple of Lihuo Sect arrived at the foot of Qingxia’s main peak. Rather than climbing the steps, he flew straight up. It was an attitude of moving through an uninhabited place — another form of contempt. Had the sect been truly powerful, a visitor would never have dared fly freely within another sect’s grounds.

Arriving atop the main peak, Du Chengkun offered no junior’s courtesy. He cupped his hands in a perfunctory gesture and said, “Greetings to the senior Elders. My master has sent me with a letter, to be delivered personally into the hands of your sect master.”

“Our sect master is in seclusion. The letter may be left here — we will pass it along,” a Qingxia elder said in a low, firm voice.

“That will not do. The matter is of great importance. My master has repeatedly instructed that the letter must be handed directly to Qingxia’s sect master,” Du Chengkun shook his head.

“Is there not an identical outcome if we pass it along? This is Qingxia — our sect master is in seclusion. Are you expecting him to emerge specially for your sake?” One of the Qingxia elders darkened, feeling deeply displeased.

Du Chengkun’s face wore a trace of arrogance. “These are letters for the sect master — naturally they must be received by your sect master personally. No one else will do.”

“Enough talk!” Ye Fan said with a cold laugh, and reached out with one enormous hand — which expanded to the size of a millstone and came slapping down.

Thud!

It was a devastating blow. The palm came crashing down, and Du Chengkun was sent tumbling flat onto the ground, multiple bones throughout his body shattered.

“Who are you — how dare you strike me?! Know that I come representing Lihuo — are you trying to start a war between our two sects?!” Du Chengkun crawled back to his feet with difficulty, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His arrogance had dimmed somewhat, but he still spoke with considerable bravado.

“I am the humble Daoist Duan De!” Ye Fan announced himself.

“Where have you come from, and why did you strike without cause?” Du Chengkun stood upright, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and his brows drew together sharply. As head disciple of Lihuo Sect, he was proud and lofty — when had he ever suffered such humiliation?

“Go back and tell your sect master: my master is a guest at Qingxia and does not wish to be bothered by small fry. Unless you have cultivated to the third Secret Realm — the Four Extremes — do not come to throw your life away.”

Ye Fan swung his palm again — the millstone-sized hand came sweeping down once more, sending Du Chengkun flying off the main peak of Qingxia.

He had been channeling the Nine Secrets Combat Holy Method during the strike, and the injuries he inflicted on Du Chengkun were of a very particular nature. If Du Chengkun examined them, he would surely be greatly shaken.

“Daoist Duan De, this is rather…” The elders of Qingxia were truly speechless. This one was even more reckless than the young demon king himself — he’d sent the head disciple of the Lihuo Sect master flying. They were inviting tremendous enmity.

“It’s fine. The more you bow and scrape, the more they’ll attack,” Ye Fan said coldly. “I am certain that after they examine Du Chengkun’s injuries, they won’t dare come.”

“Report — disciples of Seven Star Pavilion and Luoxia Sect request an audience.”

“Let them in,” Ye Fan said with a wave.

“Daoist Master, surely you’re not going to…” The three elders asked in hushed tones.

Just as they had feared, Ye Fan called both visitors in — and immediately gave them each a thorough thrashing, slapping them senseless until they howled like ghosts and wept like gods, bones cracked and tendons snapped, before driving them out of Qingxia.

“This…” The disciples of Qingxia looked at one another in stunned silence. Which Daoist temple had this fellow come from? He was absolutely terrifying.

“If I don’t give them a beating, I can’t get this fury out of my chest. They actually thought they were Sacred Sons — coming to lecture me with their pointing fingers. Leaving their lives intact is already generous enough.”

“Daoist Master, you are too… direct. This is going to cause a serious disaster.” The three elders were inwardly shaking.

“I am beating them precisely in order to resolve the problem.”

Ye Fan had no other option. If he showed any weakness at all, he was certain Qingxia would be destroyed immediately. Others played the pig to eat the tiger; he had no choice but to play the tiger and eat the pig. By presenting himself as sufficiently terrifying, and by invoking the fiction of a nonexistent master, he could hold them at bay for the time being.

“This humble Daoist will depart to invite some friends to assist us. I will be gone for about half a month. I’m confident they won’t dare attack in that time.”

“If you leave like this, Daoist Master…” The Qingxia people were somewhat at a loss.

“It’s fine — you can rest easy. I’ll pay a visit to those three sects and keep them intimidated.”

That very day, Ye Fan left again. He went in turn to Lihuo Sect, Seven Star Pavilion, and Luoxia Sect — all very conspicuously, adopting the air of a Sacred Ground heir.

Naturally, he didn’t dare actually enter. He only strolled back and forth outside each mountain gate, unwilling to take unnecessary risks — if one of those old monsters caught him inside, it would be a catastrophe.

Even so, it was enough to leave all three factions deeply uneasy, wondering whether Qingxia might truly have a third Secret Realm cultivator stationed there — otherwise, why would this shameless Daoist dare to be so bold?

Before entering seclusion, Ye Fan traveled to Pingyan City. He needed to learn about the movements of the Yaochi Sacred Woman, for fear of missing his chance.

He unexpectedly discovered that the Yaochi Sacred Woman had been passing through one city after another, and might soon be returning to Yaochi.

“Everything is happening at once…” Ye Fan was somewhat distressed. If he entered seclusion, he would likely miss this opportunity.

After more careful inquiries, some claimed this was a rumor and entirely false. Others said, in truth, the Yaochi Sacred Woman seemed very likely to be heading to the vicinity of the Taichu Ancient Mine.

“What is she going to the Taichu Ancient Mine for? Which piece of news is true?” Ye Fan couldn’t determine which to believe.

“It seems I have no choice but to go see for myself.” Whatever it took, he refused to miss this opportunity.

The safest approach was to be invited by the Yaochi Sacred Woman because of his skill in identifying source stones. Any other way — sneaking in after the fact — would be far too likely to expose him.

Ye Fan moved like the wind and, several days later, arrived at an ancient city known as Kunyun, nine hundred thousand li away, where the Yaochi Sacred Woman had already traveled.

Kunyun was situated in a harsh and barren land. The oasis there was not large, but it was steeped in legend — the local inhabitants all believed that an ancient divine being was watching over them.

The Yaochi Sacred Woman had already been stationed here for more than half a month without departing, which baffled everyone. No one could understand what it was about Kunyun Ancient City that held her.

By now, her entourage had grown to a staggering degree. Many talented young men had followed her along the way, and their numbers kept swelling.

One had to say — the Yaochi Sacred Woman’s allure was truly immense. The Jiang Family, the Ji Family, and Yao Guang all had young scions following in her wake, and even a prince of the Central Continent had come.

“Nonsense — I’ve heard the Central Continent has no Sacred Grounds, but it does have imperial dynasties that have endured for hundreds of thousands of years. A man enfeoffed as a prince there is no ordinary figure. You’re telling me such a man would travel from the Central Continent all the way to the Northern Region of the Eastern Wilderness for a woman?” Ye Fan shook his head, not quite believing it.

He was already inside Kunyun Ancient City. The cultivator who had spoken those words glanced at him. “I say, Fat Daoist, your news is rather out of date.”

“How so?”

“It’s absolutely true. The prince didn’t make the journey from the Central Continent specifically for her — but it’s close enough. He was originally supposed to appear at a Sacred City in the Northern Region, but ended up following her all the way here because of the Yaochi Sacred Woman.”

Ye Fan rubbed his chin. Did the Yaochi Sacred Woman truly hold that kind of allure? How beautiful could she possibly be, that Sacred Sons from the great Sacred Grounds and princes from imperial dynasties that had endured for hundreds of thousands of years would all follow in her wake? He genuinely couldn’t fathom it.

“She’s just a woman, isn’t she?” he muttered.

“Fat Daoist Master, you are a man of the cloth — you cannot appreciate such things. But if you were to lay eyes on the Yaochi Sacred Woman’s true appearance, I suspect you’d renounce your vows on the spot.”

“I, the Daoist Master, am not so easily swayed. Even if the Jade Empress herself descended from the Nine Heavens, I would regard her as nothing more than an ordinary woman — I’d never put her on a pedestal.”

“The Daoist fellow makes a fair point,” a young man with a face full of thick stubble spoke up nearby. “She’s just a Sacred Woman — when I’m in a good mood someday, I’ll just grab her and make her a concubine.”

One look and Ye Fan knew — this man was unmistakably a bandit’s descendant. The lawless spirit was far too strong. He was likely the offspring of some great outlaw.

Everyone nearby immediately scattered with a rush, leaving only the bearded man and Ye Fan.

“I say, Daoist fellow, you speak my language. What say we find a place and knock back a couple?” The bearded young man extended an invitation.

Being called “Daoist fellow,” Ye Fan could only nod — he was playing the role of Duan De, after all.

The two of them climbed to an upstairs room of a tavern, ordered food and drink, and the bearded man said, “Let’s eat first — I have some friends coming shortly. They’ll order when they get here.”

The bearded young man was enormously forthright. He and Ye Fan clinked their large bowls together and drained eighteen of them straight through — all strong spirits.

“Satisfying!” He wiped the drops from the corner of his mouth and laughed loudly. “I say, you’re a Daoist — how is it that you’re eating pig’s knuckle and roasted mutton without a second thought? Truly a wine-and-meat monk. By the way, I haven’t asked your name yet.”

“I am the humble Daoist Duan De, Daoist title Wuliang,” Ye Fan replied.

“The Daoist Master and I are truly kindred spirits — not only does your face look somewhat familiar, even your name rings a bell,” the bearded young man said. He was powerfully built, with the eyes of a leopard and the frame of a bear, and he laughed as he introduced himself: “My name is Wu Zhongtian.”

Ye Fan’s heart gave an immediate jolt. Wasn’t the fifth-ranked great outlaw of the Northern Region someone called Wu Dao? This roguish and imposing fellow was in all likelihood truly a descendant of that great outlaw.

The fourth great outlaw was the Azure Serpent King — a supremely powerful figure of renown among the demon race. The seventh great outlaw was Tu Tian, who wielded an extreme path weapon left behind by an ancient Great Emperor.

Wu Dao ranked fifth, sandwiched between the two. His power could be said to reach the sky — and his descendants would surely be extraordinary. Indeed, Ye Fan could already sense the unfathomable depth of the man before him. His bold, magnanimous character made him someone worth befriending.

Sure enough, before long, his suspicion was confirmed.

Tu Fei came up the tavern stairs, and behind him followed several powerfully built young men — all of whom Ye Fan had seen before at the Yaochi Immortal Stone Workshop in Pingyan City.

All descendants of great outlaws — this was a gathering of little bandits, none of them decent folk. In terms of capability, they were not much inferior to the Sacred Sons.

“I say, who is this Daoist Master? I’ve never seen him before,” one of the group asked.

Tu Fei took a long pull from his bowl and also asked, “Brother Zhongtian, who is this Daoist? Make an introduction.”

It was clear that Wu Zhongtian held a certain degree of prestige among them. He drained a large bowl of wine before introducing Ye Fan: “I only just met this Daoist Master — we seemed to recognize each other from somewhere, we have a certain affinity. His name is Duan De, Daoist title Wuliang.”

“Funny — the name does ring a bell to me too,” Tu Fei murmured.

Ye Fan silently thought: this is bizarre — can that scoundrel Daoist really have this wide a network? He’s already made a name for himself in the Southern Region, but can he really have connections stretching all the way here to the Northern Region too?

If so, that truly was something remarkable. The distances involved were vast — crossing them required passage through domain gates controlled by the Sacred Grounds.

“Brother Zhongtian, the name Duan De — the more I think about it, the more familiar it sounds. I remember about eight or nine years ago you were cursing someone by that name,” another outlaw’s descendant murmured nearby.

Wu Zhongtian seemed to recall something. His round eyes went wide on the spot. He fixed Ye Fan with a stare and said furiously, “I knew your face looked familiar — now I remember, you bastard!”

“Have we met?” Ye Fan felt a sense of impending disaster. He hadn’t been handed a black pot by the shameless Daoist yet, but it looked like he was about to take the fall for the scoundrel Daoist first.

“I may not have seen you in person, but I’ve seen your portrait — I burned your bones to ash in effigy. I’d recognize your ashes! You shameless, gutless Daoist — you really have some nerve! You even dared rob my great-grandfather’s grave! My grandfather said — if we ever catch you, we’ll suppress you in the Taichu Ancient Mine and leave you there!” Wu Zhongtian was practically exploding with fury, his pointing finger trembling as he shouted.

Ye Fan’s mouth twitched. This scoundrel Daoist was an absolute menace — how could he have provoked literally everyone? He’d even dug up the fifth great outlaw’s ancestral grave. He truly was shoveling dirt right onto the head of that ancestor.

“I say, gentlemen — this has absolutely nothing to do with me…” Ye Fan protested his innocence. This was an enormous black pot and he absolutely refused to carry it. He cursed Duan De silently — truly, what a wretched act.

Wu Zhongtian was absolutely furious. Seemed familiar — thought they were kindred spirits — invited this bastard to eat great mouthfuls of meat and drink great bowls of wine — and now it turns out they have old grievances! He slammed the table repeatedly, making it crack and pop.

“I say, you scoundrel Daoist, that was genuinely too rotten of you — even if Zhongtian’s ancestor was a great and powerful figure, you can’t just go robbing his grave. Word of this getting out — what becomes of Wu Dao’s reputation as the fifth great outlaw?” Tu Fei added fuel to the fire from the sideline.

Far away at the edge of the world, in some nameless ruin, the rotund Daoist Duan De sneezed three times in a row and cursed, “Who’s putting a hex on me — don’t let me find out who you are, or I’ll make you pay!”

At this moment, Ye Fan was entirely at a loss. The scoundrel Daoist had truly committed crimes beyond counting. Watching this pack of little bandits looking ready to skin him alive, he frantically explained: “I am not Duan De — I have an unsettled score with him myself!”

He had no choice but to reveal his true form. Any further delay and these bandits would surely tear him apart.

“A genius? I say — can you be for real? In our line of work, when has someone like you — a complete all-rounder — ever shown up before…?”