“What incredible boldness — wanting to take the Archaic Sacred Body as a slave. Truly an eye-opener.” An old man in the tavern, slightly drunk, said this aloud.

Ji Biyue let out a laugh like silver bells. “Taking the Archaic Sacred Body as a slave — now there’s a fine idea. The more I think about it, the more tempted I am myself.”

Another middle-aged man drank a cup of wine and sighed: “Has the Archaic Sacred Body truly fallen so low? To think of its supreme bearing in days of old… How the world changes. Everything is so hard to foresee.”

Xia Jiuyou was young in years but remarkably cold in temperament, entirely without a boy’s innocence. He said coldly: “What of the Archaic Sacred Body? The strong prevail — it simply no longer suits this world. It can only become a slave.”

“Since ancient times, no one has dared to take an Archaic Sacred Body as a servant. This has never happened in all of history. To think that an invincible physique could truly be buried beneath the dust of the ages.”

In the tavern, many frowned at Xia Jiuyou — yet even they couldn’t help but sigh. It was an undeniable fact. The so-called Sacred Body was now a ruined body, unlikely to amount to anything.

“Little brother Xia, I also wish to take this Sacred Body as my slave — what do you say?” Ji Biyue smiled sweetly, like a green peony opening its petals to the rosy dawn.

Xia Jiuyou was only thirteen or fourteen — his lips red, his teeth bright, his eyes glittering like black gemstones. He was so beautiful that even women would envy him, yet his words were utterly forceful.

“I’ve already said it once: no one may contend with me. This Sacred Body is mine to claim. I will use his blood to refine divine medicine, and henceforth he will be my most loyal slave!”

“Young brother, you’re too overbearing. I’d also like to take him as a slave — how about this: to avoid any conflict between us, whichever of us captures him first gets to be his master. What do you say?” Ji Biyue smiled radiantly.

“Because of certain ties to your Ji Family’s forebears, I have no desire to come to open blows with you. Very well — whoever captures him first shall be his master.” Xia Jiuyou replied coldly.

The two spoke as if no one else were present, their brief exchange treating the matter like the disposition of some commodity, neither paying it much mind.

“And if it is I who captures him first?” said Li Rui, the top young powerhouse of Yao Guang Sacred Ground, stepping in. He held his heroic spirit inward, his eyes occasionally flickering with electric light.

With Ye Fan carrying the Myriad Things Mother Qi, Li Rui could not possibly hold back. Not acting would mean failing the “expectations” of certain Supreme Elders at Yao Guang — and this was his chance to become Sacred Son.

“Does Brother Li Rui also wish to take the Archaic Sacred Body as a slave?” Ji Biyue asked with a delicate smile.

“He abducted our Yao Guang’s Sacred Son and Sacred Daughter — naturally I must act, and bring him back to Yao Guang so our elders can deal with him.” Li Rui had no choice. He had to act — both publicly and personally, he was bound to capture or kill Ye Fan.

“I’ve heard of the Yao Guang Sacred Son, but who are you — and on what basis do you contend with me?” There was no denying it: Xia Jiuyou was young, but utterly commanding.

“This is one of Yao Guang’s four great young fighters. Three years ago he had already stepped into the Four Extremes secret realm — a once-in-a-generation genius of Yao Guang, with few peers among his contemporaries.” Tu Fei recited this unhurriedly. He wasn’t being kind — he was desperately hoping for the two sides to smash into each other like a comet and a meteor, producing a mutually destructive blaze.

Ye Fan smiled quietly from where he sat and said nothing.

“I only want to know one thing: is he stronger than Yao Guang’s Sacred Son?” Xia Jiuyou gave a cold snort.

Many in the tavern watched like spectators at a show. This white-robed boy — beautiful as a demon, looking down on everything and everyone, his arrogance surging to the heavens — they were all eagerly anticipating a fight.

Li Rui had come from Yao Guang Sacred Ground; he was steady and composed, and he didn’t respond — simply smiled calmly.

“If you’re not as strong as Yao Guang’s Sacred Son, then don’t contend with me. Leave now.” Xia Jiuyou toyed with his wine cup and said this indifferently.

“Young brother, don’t you think you’re being too overbearing? Just who did you train under?” Li Rui’s expression turned somewhat cold.

Even a mild-tempered person has limits; all the more so a genius who had been repeatedly belittled. If he continued to ignore it, that wouldn’t show magnanimity — it would show weakness, and it would damage Yao Guang’s prestige. The position of Sacred Son would be forever beyond his reach.

“Why ask all that? You just want to test me, don’t you? Go ahead and make your move.” The white-robed boy Xia Jiuyou was very direct.

“You’re far too arrogant,” Li Rui said, shaking his head.

“Why be so hypocritical? Do what you want to do. Since you can’t bring yourself to act without an excuse, let me strike you first.”

With that, the white-robed boy Xia Jiuyou moved — true to his word, completely direct, without a single superfluous word.

He raised a hand and pressed forward. His slender, elegant fingers were like jade carved from white mutton-fat nephrite — more flawless and beautiful than any woman’s hands.

In that instant, many felt a jolt of alarm, as if the air had been sucked from their lungs. An immense pressure bore down, making it hard to breathe.

With a brush of his jade fingers, Xia Jiuyou swept out an iron stele. Its surface shimmered with markings, suffused with the aura of the Dao — immensely powerful — and it came crashing down, aiming to suppress Li Rui.

Everyone was astonished. This was no ordinary weapon; it was a “Dao Stele” that the white-robed boy had condensed from divine force — and he produced it with an ease and naturalness that suggested he had simply struck out at random.

Boom!

Li Rui raised both hands skyward, bracing the stele and stopping it from falling — but his expression changed. The stele alarmed him; the pressure made both his arms go numb.

Crack!

The markings on the stele flashed and blazed with brilliance. The breath of the Dao spread through the air like rippling water, and the stele grew heavier still.

Snap!

The floorboards beneath Li Rui’s feet fractured like a spider’s web spreading outward. He was about to be pushed down into the floor below, the pressure upon him unimaginably vast.

Suddenly, a dazzling sacred light erupted. Li Rui’s body became a field of holiness, as if a blazing sacred flame were burning across his flesh — and in one surge, he pushed the Dao Stele up and away.

“That is… the Primordial Sacred Light Technique — said to be impervious to all techniques, the strongest defensive secret method in the Eastern Wasteland!”

“Li Rui has obtained that inheritance — could it truly be that he’s about to replace the Yao Guang Sacred Son?”

Many were shaken. This secret method was a transmission that Yao Guang kept from all outsiders; among the younger generation, typically only one or two would ever learn it, and it remained in the hands of the previous generation.

“Soaring to the azure heavens above, descending to the Yellow Springs below…”

Xia Jiuyou murmured softly. More markings appeared on the Dao Stele, as if they had woven together the fabric of Dao and Truth. With a deep, reverberating hum it trembled — like the true great Dao divine stele manifesting itself.

It wasn’t just Li Rui in the middle of it all — even the bystanders felt an enormous pressure. Many nearby nearly sat down on the floor.

Crack!

The floorboards fractured again. Li Rui’s brow furrowed — he felt the situation turning very bad. This white-robed boy truly had the capital to back up his arrogance.

Clang!

Without warning, divine light blazed so intensely that everyone shut their eyes — they could not look directly at it. A sacred sword flashed down and sent the Dao Stele spinning aside.

A man in yellow appeared at the head of the stairs — young, vigorous and brilliant in bearing, yet very composed. His sacred sword flashed once, then vanished back into his body. It had been he who intervened.

“Who are you, daring to strike at me?” The white-robed boy Xia Jiuyou’s eyes radiated cold light.

“Dayin — Xiang Yifei.” The man in yellow gave his name.

Everyone present was startled. When that sacred sword had shone a moment ago — bright as a heaven-sent divine blade cutting across the sky — some had already suspected. Now it was confirmed.

The Dayin Sacred Sword was extraordinarily transcendent: at its ultimate peak, it could sever all things and evolve countless small worlds within the myriad heavens.

“So you’re from the Dayin Sacred Ground. Are you looking to fight me?” Xia Jiuyou asked. Young as he was, his presence was overpowering.

The Dayin Sacred Ground had never produced a great emperor, nor did it possess any weapons of the extreme path — yet it was renowned throughout the Eastern Wasteland as one of the most powerful forces.

The very name “Dayin” represented the process of the evolution of heaven and earth; to dare take such a name, they were naturally extraordinary. They modeled themselves on nature and possessed all manner of unfathomable divine arts.

In truth, Dayin Sacred Ground was older than many of the other Sacred Grounds — one of the oldest inheritances in the Eastern Wasteland, its depths unfathomable.

Xiang Yifei came from this Sacred Ground, and naturally carried the weight of power and mystery. No one dared underestimate him. He said: “I merely wish to be a peacemaker — I have no desire to see you two fight to the death.”

“Does fighting him require that I risk my life?” Xia Jiuyou smiled coldly, showing no mercy.

“You…” Li Rui’s anger flared; his black hair whipped around him.

Xiang Yifei of Dayin Sacred Ground smiled mildly. “Young brother, you appear no more than thirteen or fourteen — yet you are a heaven-blessed talent, and your future achievements will be without limit. Only, your temper may be a touch too grand.”

The temperament the white-robed boy had put on display was something everyone in the room had gotten a full taste of by now — almost more than people could stand. It was precisely because of his forcefulness that they had overlooked his age; only at this moment did it truly dawn on them.

At this age, already capable of contending with the disciples of the great Sacred Grounds — this was something almost shocking. He was truly a rare wonder, a marvel even among geniuses.

“Standing out in youth doesn’t mean one will be extraordinary in adulthood. Aren’t there enough examples of this in ancient history?”

“In the Eastern Wasteland’s past, there were peerless geniuses who entered the Four Extremes secret realm at eight or nine years old — and what became of them in the end? They all faded into the common crowd.”

Some who couldn’t stomach Xia Jiuyou’s arrogance spoke up in rebuttal.

“Still better than all of you, who faded into the common crowd from the moment you were born.” The white-robed boy Xia Jiuyou’s arrogance remained unchanged; he smiled coldly and swept his gaze across everyone.

Many were left speechless. This boy had no restraints whatsoever, carrying the air of someone willing to make an enemy of the whole world.

At this moment, even Ye Fan found himself wanting to extend a finger — though whether it would be a thumbs-up or a different finger entirely, that was hard to say.

“Most of the peerless geniuses of antiquity did in fact grow to fulfill their promise. Those who met with misfortune were, in the end, the minority.” One of the gray-robed old servants behind the white-robed boy said this with perfect composure.

The crowd fell silent. Xia Jiuyou — how old was he? Barely thirteen or fourteen. Yet he could already overpower a Four Extremes cultivator. If this one was allowed to grow and mature… he was simply a freak of nature!

“Boundless Heavenly Venerable!”

A melodious Daoist invocation rang out, like music from the immortal realm washing over one’s soul. A young girl dressed as a Daoist priestess had appeared — no one knew when — at the head of the staircase.

Her figure was slender; her bearing transcended the mundane. She gave people a uniquely peculiar impression: she stood plainly before them — no mist swirled around her, no immortal light veiled her body — yet somehow, her face could not be clearly seen.

She was like a beautiful silhouette from the Moon Palace, or a lone orchid growing on a sheer cliff’s edge — as if she had merged with the Dao itself. No one could fathom her depth, and no one could make out her true face.

“A disciple of the Dao Yi Sacred Ground!” someone cried out in surprise.

Ye Fan’s heart also gave a jump. He had a deep personal appreciation for this young girl Daoist’s power and transcendence. During the breaking open of Licheng’s ancient tomb, with her exquisite, heaven-sent voice, she had chanted the four words “Boundless Heavenly Venerable” — and in doing so, had purified several thousand Yin spirits and Yin warhorses in one stroke.

“Sister from Dao Yi Sacred Ground, please — come this way.” Ji Biyue laughed sweetly, swayed her supple waist, walked over, and drew the young girl Daoist aside.

Ye Fan and Tu Fei exchanged a glance. Something was clearly off about this situation. In all likelihood, someone really was trying to set up the two great Sacred Grounds, just as they were — and had coincidentally brought all these powerful figures together to serve as witnesses and create momentum.

“What’s the use of so many people coming? You’d all do well to leave now. None of you have the slightest chance.” Xia Jiuyou swept his gaze over everyone. Even if the whole world stood against him, he didn’t care in the least.

“Aren’t you afraid of being beaten to death by the Archaic Sacred Body, all on your own?” Tu Fei’s expression was unfriendly. He had no particular inhibitions — as the descendant of a great bandit, he had picked fights even with the peerless Yao Guang Sacred Son of the younger generation.

“The Archaic Sacred Body? That’s nothing more than a slave I intend to keep. If he dares show me any disrespect, I’ll slap him to ash.”

Tu Fei wanted to smack him. Xia Jiuyou could say whatever else he liked — but he kept talking about slaves, and it made Tu Fei’s palms itch.

To say nothing of Ye Fan — he was rapping quietly on the tabletop, very much wanting to give this white-robed boy a proper beating.

“From you two, starting now — leave immediately!” Xia Jiuyou addressed Ye Fan and Tu Fei, who were closest to him. He wanted to “clear the room” — drive away all the cultivators.

“And you think you’re in a position to make the two of us leave?!”