The golden ancient war chariot rumbled forward — its surface scarred with blade marks and sword holes, like an ancient emperor’s chariot setting out on a grand procession, carrying an aura of domineering authority. Around it, true dragons and divine phoenixes rose together, their cries shaking the nine heavens, light surging skyward.

Jiang Huairen was furious to the point of being unable to speak. The golden ancient war chariot had charged straight through, sending him staggering with his hair in complete disarray, his skull nearly crushed under its wheels.

Even that little prodigy hadn’t bothered to spare him a glance — standing atop the chariot, looking down at him from above, speaking those words with such unbridled arrogance.

“Wait for me inside!” That was Wang Chong’s final word. The golden ancient war chariot was too fast — it vanished in a flash.

In the distance, on another path, Ye Fan’s eyes glimmered with shifting light. He murmured: “The Martial Way Heavenly Eye!”

Wang Teng had cultivated the Martial Way Heavenly Eye — something even more fearsome than his own Source Heavenly Divine Eye. It could see through all illusions and clearly discern the truth and falsehood of any deadly ground.

Most terrifying of all was that in the midst of battle, the Heavenly Eye could perceive every single opening in an opponent. That made it utterly horrifying. Some who had cultivated the Heavenly Eye to completion could even perceive the movements of others as slow as a crawling snail — nearly standing still.

“That person is very powerful. But my brother says he is not yet the number one in the world.” The Ji Family’s little moon said as she caught up to Ye Fan, her black hair streaming behind her, eyes full of life and spirit, her face of flawless jade — playful and gentle all at once.

The hundred sects and schools had all come. Large numbers of powerful cultivators entered. The dragon-vein geomancers, with their sharp and discerning eyes, had deduced routes that overlapped perfectly with the eight safe paths Ye Fan had mapped out.

“The Central Emperor has arrived.”

Outside, a stir ran through the crowd. Many began to speak of it at once. A man with hair hanging loose as a waterfall walked at an unhurried pace — steady as a mountain, vast as a great peak — making his way step by step along one of the safe paths into the immortal grounds.

Nine thousand years ago, he had already been a supreme Emperor-Sovereign. Now, even the leaders of various great factions felt a creeping unease upon laying eyes on him. Though his physical age appeared no more than twenty, his cultivation was simply there — towering above all the rest, looking down on the heroes of the age.

“Little Ye Fan, is it really alright for us to go in like this? Won’t Wang Teng make trouble for you?” Ji Ziyue murmured quietly.

“It doesn’t matter. In a place like this, his brother and he won’t be able to run wild.” Ye Fan paid it no mind.

“The Yao Guang Holy Son has come as well.” The Ji Family’s little moon pointed toward another direction and said softly: “My brother says the Yao Guang Holy Son is far more powerful than the world imagines.”

On that path, the Yao Guang Holy Sovereign walked with wide, flowing sleeves. Behind him followed a young man bathed in divine radiance — like the Son of the Sun God himself.

Beside them, Yao Xi also kept pace — her long skirt trailing the ground, graceful and beautiful as a celestial being from the Moon Palace, gliding forward with light, delicate steps.

Something stirred in Ye Fan’s heart. He said: “It seems the Yao Guang Holy Son can now hold his own independently. Otherwise, the Yao Guang Holy Sovereign would not dare bring him to a place like this.”

The people of the Four Undying Divine Dynasties had all entered as well. Several princes were particularly striking — with the gait of dragons and the bearing of tigers, following in the footsteps of their elder generation.

After the elderly monks of the Western Desert stepped in, the powerful figures of the Southern Ridge arrived as well — not only human battle-sovereigns, but several great demon sovereigns too. From ancient times, the south had always been home to great demons.

“There won’t be any shortage of fierce contention here.”

People from all Five Great Regions had come. The birthplace of the Azure Emperor was truly no ordinary place — this time it had stirred the hearts of a great many.

“It was deduced by the Divine Oracle. Without him, there’s no way this many people could have found it.” Ji Ziyue disclosed this secret in a low voice.

“This Divine Oracle again — what exactly is his background?” Ye Fan grew suspicious. Two years ago, the Divine Oracle’s senior disciple had helped the Yin-Yang Sect calculate his location. If he hadn’t reclaimed the God-Slaying Whip, he would likely have been hunted without end.

By this point, they had entered the central region of the immortal grounds, standing on the open space between the Immortal Ascension Pool and the ancient lair — where shadowy figures were gathering in considerable numbers.

Yet not one person dared to act rashly. The closer one drew to the center, the more potentially lethal the ground became. Everyone was waiting for the dragon-vein geomancers and Ouyang Ye’s group from the Eastern Wasteland to reach their conclusions.

Having arrived here, Ye Fan was completely at ease. He had been studying this place for over a month — he understood it more thoroughly than the several dragon-vein geomancers or any other remarkable figure present. He had long since seen through everything here.

“You really dared to come in — if you fall into the Dragon Lair and die some miserable death, don’t come blaming anyone else.” Wang Chong spotted Jiang Huairen, Wu Zhongtian, and Pang Bo and laughed coldly, over and over.

They were not standing together — positioned at different points — yet they had stopped advancing. Ye Fan had perceived something amiss and told them not to move rashly.

“That little brat is so insufferably arrogant. I really want to slap him twice.” Li Heishui cursed. They slowly gathered together.

“The main problem is that his brother is too powerful. Even the senior generation won’t easily provoke him. His future accomplishments are beyond imagining.” Liu Kou sighed.

“Damn it. I’m just waiting for Little Ye Fan’s Holy Physique to reach full mastery — then we’ll beat them to death. This eleven-year-old kid really should be strangled.” Jiang Huairen said, his hair still in complete disarray, his hairpin having fallen out earlier.

“What — still not convinced?” Wang Chong laughed coldly and provokingly, standing atop the golden war chariot and looking down at them.

At this moment, Wang Teng was nowhere nearby — he had actually gone to stand alongside those sect leaders and other top figures, conversing with them. He genuinely had the standing to do so.

“What are you being so arrogant about? If your brother weren’t here, many people would dare to kill you with a single finger.” Someone transmitted a voice — coming now from the left, now from the right — with no way to tell who it was.

Pang Bo knew trouble was brewing. Someone was stirring up conflict, trying to pin the blame on their group and provoke a fierce clash.

“Who said that?!” Wang Chong was not large in stature, but his hostility ran deep. He swept his gaze in all directions, then finally fixed it on Jiang Huairen and the others.

BOOM!

Suddenly, from far away, an earth-shaking collision rang out — two supreme figures had actually exchanged blows. The shockwave swept out, sending many people flying through the air.

Several who were sent tumbling into the dangerous zones were immediately dissolved by the “Heaven’s Gorge” into blood and pus — not even a single hair remained of them.

Wang Teng and the Central Emperor had clashed. No one had anticipated that these two would come into conflict in a place like this. A single exchange had caused every sect leader present to change color.

“How did these two end up facing off?”

Everyone was deeply astonished — especially those who knew something of the House of Extraordinary Talents. Over the past two or more years, the Northern Emperor had been in closed-door cultivation the entire time. Some said he was training a peculiar technique, and he had never once come into conflict with the Central Emperor.

Yet people knew that a battle between the two was inevitable — it could not be avoided forever. The Northern Emperor had apparently been restraining himself, unwilling to cross blades too early with someone who had already been making his name resound through the world nine thousand years ago.

“Just now, the Northern Emperor stepped forward — it seems he said something, and the Central Emperor refused. No one knows why the two of them suddenly struck at each other.” said one nearby sect-leader-level figure — who had only caught a rough glimpse without knowing what the two supreme dragon-phoenix figures had said to each other.

Across this expanse of heaven and earth, the cries of dragons and phoenixes rang out. Wang Teng’s entire body was shrouded in divine light — radiance surging torrentially, flooding the entire region. Every move he made brought true dragons and divine phoenixes soaring in tandem, crying out in harmony above his head, making him look like nothing less than the Emperor of Heaven descended into the mortal world.

Not a single person present — especially the various sect leaders, who were the rulers of the contemporary world, their authority and combat power immense — could keep their composure. In their hearts, each felt an overwhelming pressure.

The Central Emperor’s black hair was unbound, his bearing heroic and imposing. Each of his strikes was broad and open, vast and unconstrained, without soaring divine radiance — yet carrying a power that transmuted the rotten into the miraculous.

With each exchange between the two, the ten directions shook violently. Many people could not even keep their footing — they were swept up into the heights. Even those half-step supreme masters could only fall back.

Were it not for this ground being uniquely extraordinary and enduring, the boundless mountain ranges would long since have been reduced to dust. Their power was absolute — a single pointed finger could collapse a mountain range.

“The bearing of a Heavenly Emperor! The momentum of a Sacred Sovereign!”

The crowd cried out in amazement. These two were incomparably powerful — rarely seen across the ages. So young, yet already of such achievement — they looked down on the senior sect-leader-level figures.

With every move Wang Teng made, true dragons, divine phoenixes, white tigers, and black tortoises appeared around him — divine light surging forth, resonating with the nine heavens, the sky ablaze with radiance. Nine true dragons, nine divine phoenixes, nine white tigers, nine black tortoises — standing guard at the four corners, forming the Four Symbols of Heaven and Earth, golden light billowing, encircling him at the center. It was as if the Emperor of Heaven had descended.

The Central Emperor was no less extraordinary — like the Sacred Sovereign of remote antiquity reborn, commanding and supreme in dignity. His every movement and gesture was grand and unrestrained; the techniques he employed were aligned and balanced, yet held within them the power to refine and absorb heaven and earth.

No radiance surrounded him — yet he gave the impression of setting all the stars of the heavens in motion, filling everyone with the sense that they could not stand against him. It was as though a great human emperor had crossed ten thousand ages to stand before them.

“My brother will definitely win — among the young generation, he is the undisputed number one in the world!” Wang Chong clenched his fists.

In truth, every sect leader present was deeply troubled. Who could say with confidence they could defeat Wang Teng? Throughout all of history and the present day, how many people of this age had achieved such things?

Jiang Huairen was thoroughly displeased. Earlier, the golden ancient war chariot had nearly caved his skull in — he had lost his wooden hairpin, his hair now hanging down in a mess. He said with a cold sneer: “I hope the Central Emperor beats him to death.”

Though he kept his voice down, Wang Chong’s ears were sharp and caught every word. He snapped around at once. “You’re looking for death!”

“You little brat — you are far too arrogant!” Wu Zhongtian and the others erupted. They were all descendants of great outlaws, people who had always done as they pleased. Never had they been spoken to like this.

“All of you want to die? I’ll grant that wish!” Wang Chong leaped down from the golden war chariot and bore down on them. Behind him, two ancient creatures followed — one covered all over in gold-colored scales, the other as though cast from pure silver.

Jiang Huairen, Wu Zhongtian, and Li Heishui, though enraged, were forced to acknowledge it: Wang Chong was genuinely powerful — worthy of being Wang Teng’s younger brother. Not yet twelve years old, and already a perfected cultivator at the Eighth Dragon Transformation — the youngest prodigy in the House of Extraordinary Talents.

“You dead bandits — I’ve heard you’re old friends with that Ye Fan. I’ve been wanting to deal with you for a long time!” Wang Chong laughed coldly. With the two ancient creatures at his side, he had no fear of losing the upper hand.

Pang Bo walked forward and said with a derisive smile: “Little brat — do you think you’ve turned into your brother? You don’t have the standing to say those things yet.”

“I don’t have the standing? In a moment, I’ll stomp every last one of you into the ground and throw you into the Dragon Lair to feed the red-furred creatures.” Wang Chong was small in stature, but his words were sharp as blades. He stood on a boulder of green stone, looking down at the group. “The person I encountered in Qin City must have been Ye Fan in disguise. Tell him to get out here — this time I’m going to pinch him to death.”

He gestured to the two ancient creatures to prepare for battle, scanning in all directions, trying to flush Ye Fan out.

In the distance, Wang Teng and the Central Emperor fought on — drawing the gaze of the overwhelming majority of those present. Yet a good number of people had noticed the disturbance here.

“Not very big, but quite the mouth on him — arrogance through the roof.” A voice rang out. Then the void shook violently, and one enormous foot — stretching a full ten feet in length, swallowed in golden light — came stamping down from high above.

BOOM!

Smoke and dust surged into the sky. The earth shook with violence. Wang Chong let out a startled cry — yet he had absolutely no way to dodge. That golden foot came pressing down and pinned him beneath it.

Ye Fan smiled coldly. He had used a single dharma-form divine ability — standing there like a golden war god made manifest, heroic and towering, rising ten zhang into the air.

Everyone present was astonished. Wang Teng was not far away, yet someone had dared to act like this — crushing his younger brother underfoot with a single stomp.

“Ye Fan…” Wang Chong cried out. He could scarcely believe it. His brother was right there — and yet Ye Fan had truly stepped forward and stamped him into the ground.

“It’s Ye Fan — the Eastern Wasteland prodigy who disappeared more than two years ago!” Many people were shocked.

Among the younger generation present, the Yao Guang Holy Son, Yao Xi, the Great Xia Crown Prince, the Jade Pool Holy Maiden, the second most beautiful woman of the Central Continent — the Moon Spirit Princess — and many others all turned to look.

Even the various sect-leader-level figures were taken aback. The Northern Emperor was right there, nearby — yet Ye Fan had dared to do this. It was beyond what anyone had anticipated.