Everyone had assumed Ye Fan was dead — yet after several months, he had reappeared and done something of such tremendous magnitude that once the news spread, it naturally set off an enormous wave of shock.

“With no support from anyone, the young man surnamed Ye stood alone against Dragon Transformation Secret Realm powerhouses and nailed Ji Hui to the wall in full view of the crowd — unbelievable!”

“Truly inconceivable. Months have now passed, and the Sacred Body has still not perished. Could it be that he’ll actually survive this?”

“This is an age of rising winds and surging currents. Kings are arising on all sides. Without the Ancient Sacred Body, it would feel incomplete. Even the heavens don’t want to claim him.”

People talked and speculated endlessly, and everyone was astonished. The Sacred Body’s powerful reemergence had set many hearts racing — even some of the great forces could no longer sit still.

The young generation was especially unsettled. Ye Fan was undeniably a great enemy — particularly to the young kings. This was deeply unwelcome news.

If the Sacred Body lived on, the kings would inevitably come to face him someday. Not one of them could claim with certainty to be able to suppress him absolutely — and that day would surely be a devastating and world-shaking battle.

But soon, reliable word spread: when Ye Fan departed, not only had a thread of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, but he had also coughed up three full mouthfuls of blood in a place where no one could see him.

“What?! He’s coughing up blood — what a sudden reversal!”

“He’s clearly gravely wounded. He hasn’t escaped the death trap at all. It really does seem like there’s no way back for him now…”

This news came as a great relief to many — because the prospect had genuinely weighed upon them. If the great completion Sacred Body emerged into the world again, many powerful forces would find themselves in a deeply uncomfortable position.

Others sighed. The Sacred Body had broken the curse that had persisted for tens of thousands of years — and yet his life was nearly spent. He had held the promise of becoming something comparable to the ancient great emperors — but with such a cruel fate, in the end he could not live.

Every kind of response could be found, and naturally there were those who gloated — laughing at the prospect of waiting for the Ancient Sacred Body to breathe his last and watching him vanish from this world.

“The heavens have decided to claim him. Not even the peerless Divine King’s heaven-defying intervention can change that. Half a year’s worth of life has burned away in just a few months — he has at most one month left.”

“For now, just don’t provoke him. He’s going to die anyway. There’s no need to fight with a dead man. He already cut down members of an ancient great family as if slicing vegetables — he’s already thrown caution to the wind. There’s nothing he won’t dare to do.”

Many people spoke this way — partly also out of wariness toward the peerless Divine King. When Ye Fan had swept through Ji Hui and the others, the Divine King Imprint had surged forward, and it had truly rattled many ancient figures.

Quite a few people privately cursed the Divine King’s unnaturally long life — yet not one of them knew that this imprint had been strengthened by Ye Fan using the Sacred Body’s unique fundamental essence. As for whether the Divine King truly still lived, Ye Fan himself had no idea.

Ye Fan heard these rumors circulating and smiled faintly to himself. “You’ll likely be disappointed. I have a way of making it just barely back from the brink, every time.”

As for how to “stay alive,” he had far too many reasons and pretexts at his disposal — all of which he could present to the world without a single flaw. Thinking of what might unfold in the days ahead, he could not help but smile.

The Ji Family’s senior figures acted immediately. Two Elder Patriarchs arrived at the small tavern and made a thorough investigation of everything that had happened.

Ye Fan had nearly come face to face with them. He felt a touch of regret — he would not be able to see Xiao Nannan for the time being. Though the Ji Family’s wariness of the Divine King Imprint meant they would most likely not make a move, he still had no desire to be in the same place as them.

He departed without haste, heading north. He believed there was one person who could take Zhang Wenchang in — a place well suited for him to live out his life in quiet and peace.

Along the way, he caught wind of a great deal of news — much of it concerning himself. Many people were talking about it, and his reemergence had truly stirred a great wave of turmoil.

At the same time, there was no shortage of news about the plans of the great holy lands and the Central Province’s supreme great sects to gather the divine medicines from the ancient forbidden land — rumor after rumor spreading through the air.

There was also much talk about the young kings of the Central Province and the peerless talents of the Eastern Wasteland. The Yin-Yang Sect’s “Sacred Son” had done battle with Ji Haoyue — and been made to vomit blood by the Divine King Body and driven off in retreat.

When Ye Huiling and Wang Chongxiao had clashed in a life-or-death duel, both had been ambushed by a mysterious figure. Their fates were now unknown — the two had vanished completely from sight.

Beyond this, the Yin-Yang Sect’s “Yin Woman” had appeared, paid a visit to the Yao Guang Holy Land, and exchanged pointers with Yao Xi. Who had come out ahead, no one on the outside could say.

The Taixuan Sect possessed one hundred and eight main peaks — representing one hundred and eight kinds of inheritances — and was thriving in full glory, counted among the most powerful factions beneath the level of a holy land.

Viewed from a distance, it was as though one hundred and eight great dragons were soaring through the sky — a panorama of grandeur and splendor.

In this region, even the Ji Family and the Yao Guang Holy Land were wary of the Taixuan Sect, and under ordinary circumstances would never provoke them — making conflicts all but impossible.

Ye Fan moved without sound or trace, slipping inside and making his way to Zhuo Peak.

The peak was as it had always been — utterly unlike any other main peak. Tangled weeds overgrew the ground, old vines clung to withered trees, crumbling walls stood beside ruined houses, and the entire place exuded a feeling of lonely desolation.

“Wasn’t Zhuo Peak supposed to be flourishing? Why does it look like this again?” Ye Fan wondered inwardly.

“You’ve returned.” A calm, even voice sounded close to his ear. Ye Fan was startled — he had concealed his aura entirely, yet the moment he drew near Zhuo Peak, the old man Li Ruoyu had already sensed him.

On Zhuo Peak, an old man in gray robes stood with a tranquil expression — utterly ordinary in appearance, with none of the lofty transcendence one might expect of a great figure, and nothing resembling the bearing of someone who had soared above the mundane world.

“I pay my respects to Senior!” Ye Fan launched himself to the top of Zhuo Peak in an instant and bowed deeply in greeting. This old man had shown him great kindness — and the All-Script Secret he had gained traced its origin to this very place.

“Rise. I’ve heard all about your affairs. Stay here on Zhuo Peak.” The old man did not speak in great volume. He stood before an ancient hall on the verge of collapse, looking nothing at all like a cultivator.

Inside and outside the ancient hall, weeds grew thick. Not far away stood a withered old tree upon which nine crows called out with rasping cries — yet the scene carried no sense of ill omen.

These crows were the precious treasures of Zhuo Peak — “divine manifestations” born of the peak’s supreme weapon, their power extraordinary. An ordinary person would never have imagined it.

Ye Fan concealed nothing, speaking in detail of everything that had transpired over the past year and more. He concluded by mentioning Zhang Wenchang, explaining the reason for his visit — he hoped to ask the old man to take him in.

“Have him come out,” Li Ruoyu said.

Ye Fan brought out the Pure Jade Bottle. In a flash of light, Zhang Wenchang appeared on Zhuo Peak. For a moment he was disoriented and somewhat dazed.

“Wake up — don’t just stand there.” Ye Fan laughed and gave him a light push, prompting him to bow in greeting to Li Ruoyu.

“Ye Fan — I’ve finally seen you again…” The instant Zhang Wenchang came back to himself, his expression was deeply moved — nothing like the dead, vacant look he had worn for so long.

He was utterly exhausted by this world. These past years had left him utterly hollowed out. He was ill-suited for cultivation, and he thought of the past constantly. Thoughts of leaving this world had even crossed his mind. His world was a place of unrelenting gray.

“Don’t worry. Everything is going to change.” Ye Fan clapped him on the shoulder and spoke words of comfort. “In a little while, we’ll get completely drunk together.”

Li Ruoyu looked at Zhang Wenchang for a moment. “His spiritual roots are indeed poor.”

Zhang Wenchang already understood why Ye Fan had brought him here. Hearing this, he let out a sigh. “I’ve disappointed you.”

“Why would I be disappointed?” Li Ruoyu shook his head. “When I look at you, I seem to see my past self.”

“Why would you say that?” A look of incomprehension spread across Zhang Wenchang’s vacant face.

Ye Fan smiled to himself. During his time at the Taixuan Sect, he had heard people speak of it: Li Ruoyu had possessed no innate talent — his spiritual roots were extremely poor, and every main peak had refused to take him as a disciple. In the end, he had come to the declining Zhuo Peak.

He was a man who had achieved greatness only with time. In his first hundred years, he had not even matched the disciples of the other main peaks. Only when he later comprehended the natural Dao of Zhuo Peak had he shaken all one hundred and eight main peaks to their core.

“I spent several hundred empty years here before I achieved anything. Your spiritual roots are the same as mine — not particularly gifted. But that doesn’t matter,” Li Ruoyu said.

“Do spiritual roots really not matter?” Zhang Wenchang was lost in thought, staring blankly.

“If one has truly awakened, all of heaven and earth can be made to serve you — what do your own spiritual roots amount to then?” Li Ruoyu answered with perfect calm.

Even Ye Fan, who had not spoken, was astonished. He had long since sensed it: the old man’s cultivation had reached extraordinary depths, his comprehension of the natural Dao penetrating to its very essence — unfathomable in extent.

Though Zhuo Peak appeared desolate and decrepit, if one felt it with true sensitivity, one would discover that it secretly harmonized with the principles of heaven and earth — life and death in mutual dependence, rise and fall coexisting — permeated by a Dao energy of returning to the natural and the true.

“Would you be willing to take me as your disciple?” Zhang Wenchang was uncertain, disbelieving. Over these past years, he had suffered constant humiliation from fellow disciples, and nothing had gone right for him. His will for cultivation had long since died — and yet thoughts of leaving this world had taken root.

“Your heart is as large as your world. Don’t forever confine yourself to your own gray and lightless world.” When Li Ruoyu finished speaking, he pressed a single finger to Zhang Wenchang’s brow.

All at once, the old man’s expression changed dramatically. Then he stared at Zhang Wenchang and Ye Fan for a long, silent moment before sighing: “A civilization from beyond the stars… the two of you…”

Ye Fan understood in an instant. The old man had perceived everything — had come to know that they had come from the other side of the stellar void. This was no longer a secret. The Ji Family’s upper echelons had learned of it as well.

“Your past, your experiences — such rare and extraordinary richness. The world of your heart is so vast and boundless. You ought to have confidence in yourself. Let us be teacher and friend to each other alike.” Li Ruoyu was visibly moved, and spoke these words with great feeling.

Zhang Wenchang quickly bowed deeply in the formal manner to express his acceptance as a disciple of Zhuo Peak.

Li Ruoyu was deeply moved, saying that if Zhang Wenchang were to one day achieve great things, today’s moment of clarity would have had a great deal to do with it. He offered Zhang Wenchang words of encouragement, telling him that as long as he persevered, his spiritual roots need not be an obstacle.

Restoring Zhang Wenchang’s original appearance was no challenge — Ye Fan’s own abilities were more than sufficient. But he took out a sacred fruit instead, helping Zhang Wenchang refine and absorb it into his body, to be reborn and utterly remade.

Ye Fan also took out another fruit to present to Li Ruoyu as repayment for his great kindness — but the old man shook his head and declined, unwilling to accept it. “I have no need of it,” he said.

Though Ye Fan had gathered a great many sacred fruits, he still felt they might not be enough — saving both the Divine King and young Tingting would require piecing together a complete Immortal Medicine.

In the end, he pressed ten jin of the divine spring water upon the old man, insisting on sending it as a gift and refusing to take it back.

“What?! Elder Ma Yun has passed into nirvana?” On Zhuo Peak, as Ye Fan and Zhang Wenchang drank and spoke of past events, this piece of news reached him — and now he understood why Zhang Wenchang had fallen into such desolation.

He was filled with a deep sorrow. A cultivator’s fate was fickle — life, death, illness, and age were forces no human effort could resist. The same day came for everyone, unless one attained true immortality. And had even the ancient great emperors of old managed that?

Ye Fan took Zhang Wenchang for a walk around the area surrounding Zhuo Peak, letting him familiarize himself with the place. Then he prepared to leave and go find Xiao Nannan.

“Isn’t that Li Xiaoman?” Zhang Wenchang said in surprise, pointing at a white-robed young woman flying through the sky in the distance.

Ye Fan nodded without a word. Li Xiaoman was a disciple of Star Peak — he had known this all along. He had no inclination, however, to go over and say hello.

“Junior Sister — that person over there is your old friend Ye Fan!”

“That’s right — it’s the Sacred Body everyone has been talking about. I never would have thought that he once spent time at our Taixuan Sect, and now he’s stirred up such incredible turmoil!”

“Senior Brother Hua’s brilliance is truly extraordinary. He enjoys inviting others to discuss and exchange insights on the Dao. This time he’s invited a young king from the Central Province, along with several peerless talents. If he knew the Sacred Body had appeared here, he’d certainly extend an invitation.”

Three young women around Li Xiaoman all spoke up at once. They came to a stop, and one of them said, “I’ll go tell Senior Brother Hua Yunfei.” With that, she flew off.

Li Xiaoman turned and cast a glance back at Ye Fan and Zhang Wenchang. She descended to the ground and spoke in a calm voice: “It’s been a long time.”

Ye Fan smiled and walked over with Zhang Wenchang, coming to a stop below Star Peak, looking at this woman who was so familiar and yet faintly strange.