This small coffin was immensely heavy — like a miniature cosmos, carrying within it the aura of an entire world. Ye Fan’s flesh was without peer, capable of uprooting mountains and filling seas, and yet even he strained under the weight, his back drenched in sweat.

But it was far easier than the last time. His body was no longer on the verge of crumbling apart. Step by step he climbed, moving toward the summit of the mountain — the sacred spring water was nearly exhausted, and he urgently needed to replenish it.

The Nine Sacred Mountains stood magnificent and vast, just as before. Still and silent, without even the faintest tremor, like an abyssal dead pool that had endured since time’s beginning — or like a resting place for the divine.

All along the way, ancient trees towered overhead, cliff stones jutted out sharply, and there were white fragments scattered about — the crumbled remains of bones, recording the tales of former greatness and former sorrow.

With each step Ye Fan took, he sank into stone and earth past his knees, bearing the weight with great difficulty as he climbed the sacred mountain. In his mouth he held a piece of sacred fruit, resisting the erosion of time, protecting himself against aging.

At the summit, a small pool lay clear and fragrant, its essence seeping into the marrow of his bones. Ye Fan drank deeply and filled his jade water bottle to the brim, then went to several other peaks in succession, storing what he needed.

At last, bearing the small bronze coffin, he came to stand at the cliff’s edge, gazing down into the bottomless abyss below. He activated his Origin Heavenly Eye to look upon the five-colored ritual altar — a matter that weighed on his heart like an old wound, with a persistent longing to leap down and return to his homeland.

The crumbled ritual altar, built of five-colored stone blocks, bore the marks of swords and the holes of spears — testament to the limitlessness of time and the length of ages. No one knew how many memories of the star-filled sky it had witnessed.

“A person!”

Ye Fan was greatly astonished. He saw a figure — standing alone at the center of the five-colored ritual altar, perfectly motionless, as though turned to stone, like an ancient and demonic body drifting through the long river of time.

His heart leaped in his chest. What kind of being was that? How had someone come to stand above the five-colored ritual altar? Was it one of the desolate slaves?

The distance was too great. In the boundless darkness of the abyss below, even with his divine eyes, he could make out only a vague outline — not enough to distinguish the details. It left a chill in his heart.

Ye Fan descended the mountain, step by step. He did not dare linger — heaven only knew what kind of existence stood upon that five-colored altar. If it leaped out, it might bring catastrophe.

“Clang!”

When the heavy small bronze coffin was set back down into the great sarcophagus, Ye Fan wiped his brow and gulped down more than a dozen mouthfuls of sacred spring water, slowly regulating his breath.

The road out was long — nearly eighty or ninety li — and bearing the heavy small coffin meant he could not fly. No one could say how much vital energy this would drain from him. There might be a life-threatening calamity. He had to restore himself to peak condition.

After resting for a long while, Ye Fan stood and looked upon the bronze carvings etched one after another upon the great sarcophagus, falling into a deep contemplative trance — the ancient divine beings, the weeping ancestors of a forgotten age. What did all of this mean?

Taotie, Qiongqi, Taowu, and others — enormous, savage, hideously vivid, inspiring dread in all who beheld them — all beasts recorded in the Classic of Mountains and Seas, as though they might burst through the walls.

“Ancient divine beings bearing the marks of tears, a distant star-road of antiquity…” Ye Fan pondered this for a long while.

At last he came before a panel of star-map carvings. The markings there were blurred, half-covered in rust and corrosion, and the countless stars were minuscule — as though a true world had been fixed within this place.

“Whoosh!”

A flash of light emanated from Ye Fan’s hand. He took out the immortal treasure he had obtained from the Chaos Ten Thousand Dragon Nest, made of starlight concentrated and fused together, shimmering with a lustrous radiance.

“These two are very alike. Could this be a map — an immortal ancient scroll recording a star-road of antiquity?” His heart jolted, and in an instant the possibility seized him.

In the primordial age, the monkey’s father — the Old Battling-Heaven Holy Emperor — had often gazed upon it in the depths of the night. It must have been of the utmost importance. The fact that an ancient emperor regarded it with such significance meant it surely harbored astonishing secrets.

Nine Dragon Corpses lay stretched out beyond the sarcophagus. Naturally, Ye Fan’s mind turned to them again. In truth, he had long wanted to carry away the nine dragons and the great sarcophagus as well — but they were utterly immovable.

The dragon corpses were cold and immensely heavy, their scales flickering with a black metallic sheen, like nine tungsten-iron mountain ranges — enduring across countless ages, timeless. Merely approaching them was enough to make one feel as though one were suffocating.

Ye Fan hacked at them with all his force. Sparks flew. Even with his unmatched flesh, the pain was severe — his finger bones felt on the verge of shattering — and yet he could not cut through even a single dragon. He could not tear off even a single whisker.

“I only want a little dragon blood — would you really refuse to let me have even a single bone?…” He had entirely run out of patience, feeling that even if he reduced himself to ruins, he could not pry loose a single scale.

An hour later, Ye Fan moved with labored steps and finally emerged from the ancient forbidden land. He drank down a great quantity of sacred spring water, ate a sacred fruit, and refined a portion of the roots, stems, and leaves of nine sacred trees — only then did he resist the encroachment of time and hold back the ravages of age.

“I have used up one more immortal divine fruit — nearly spent entirely. The price of this journey was truly great.” Ye Fan murmured to himself. Such things were difficult to come by again once used. One less was one less. The cost of this journey had been truly immense.

Outside the Divine Ruins, the Black Emperor had been wandering about for many days, not daring to act rashly, still not having entered through the Southern Heavenly Gate.

“Doggy, don’t go running off.” The delicate little girl perched atop the great black dog patted its back gently.

“Didn’t news come back from the Central Province? The Demon Emperor exterminated two sacred spirits within the Divine Ruins ten thousand years ago. If we go in, we should be able to see the Undying Immortal Peach Tree without much trouble.”

“Doggy, you’re being greedy again — have you forgotten how you nearly died outside the Immortal Mausoleum last time?” Little Xiao Nannan wrinkled her adorable little nose.

“This time we won’t enter the Ancient Celestial Court. We’ll only take a peek at the Southern Heavenly Gate. We’ll be careful — it will be fine.” The Black Emperor was eager to try.

“Go find Big Brother. No wandering off to dangerous places.” Little Xiao Nannan tugged lightly on the Black Emperor’s ear.

“We’ve come all the way here — how can we not look at the Southern Heavenly Gate? We have to see the secrets of the Ancient Celestial Court’s gateway.” The Black Emperor muttered, then added: “It won’t delay anything. Today we’ll cross the void and go beat the hell out of that bastard Wang Teng.”

Outside the Ji Family’s ancient palace, a magnificent man appeared — like a demon god reborn into the mortal world, his dark hair thick and full, his face chiseled as though cut with a knife, his pupils holding the rise and fall of infinite stars. The Southern Demon had come.

The great war of the Eastern Desolation was stirring, and the Wushi Bell might soon emerge into the world. Even he had set out, with the Ji Family in the Southern Domain as his first stop. His battle garb shimmered with a metallic luster, his bearing heroic and imposing — like a divine being among demons.

At his side was a peerless beauty, her face capable of overturning the world — matchless, beyond all words, of a beauty that surpassed all imagining. She was his younger sister: Qi the Calamity.

Not long after, the heavens rumbled with a distant roar, and a purple war chariot hurtled across the sky. Nine primordial ancient beasts pulled it — each as large as a small mountain, radiating terrifying auras that made people tremble.

More than ten primordial beings led the way before the chariot, each with a fierce and savage countenance, all of them covered in scales — some bearing divine wings, some having no legs but the body of a serpent — raising up clouds of dark demonic mist that surged into the sky.

These ancient creatures were like demon gods, hailing from the Spirit Valley — one of the strongest royal bloodline origins of the primordial age. All of them blazed with killing intent as they entered the Ji Family’s territory. The one aboard the chariot was Zi Tiandu.

Additionally, sharing the chariot with him was a young woman with purple hair — flawless as a fairy, her very pupils deep purple, her skin white as snowfall jade. She was his elder sister.

In these final two days, the Ji Family’s gates had become a constant stream of visitors. Anyone of high standing in the Southern Domain had come — all sensing that a great upheaval was approaching, all wishing to witness it with their own eyes.

On the last day, representatives arrived from every great power of the Eastern Desolation. Truly, the entire world was watching. All wished to see what moves Ye Fan had in reserve — whether he could overturn what had seemed like a foregone conclusion.

“Little Ye, wherever you are — please don’t come here to your death!” Pang Bo was overcome with anxiety. He had come here as the Demon Emperor’s heir, and though the Ji Family had treated him with courtesy, he had not been able to change anything.

“Great-grandfather… I am your Ziyue. I want to leave this place. I am not your bargaining piece…” Ji Ziyue was heartbroken, her bright eyes brimming with tears.

In many places far away, people reacted in different ways, all eyes fixed on the same point, waiting for Ye Fan to appear. By every estimation, he would not retreat ignominiously and run back to the Northern Domain. His appearance was only a matter of time.

The final day arrived. In the Ji Family’s great hall, many honored guests were present — it truly had the air of an engagement ceremony. Representatives from numerous great powers had come to pay their respects, bringing valuable gifts.

“Wasn’t the Holy Body supposed to come? Why has he not appeared yet?” In the corner, someone whispered. Most of those who had come as visitors were here for the spectacle.

On the other side, Wang Chengkun wore an expression of detached composure, still holding forth about his son — every word and every sentence, how his Teng’er was this or that, reducing the Holy Body to nothing in comparison.

From across the room, Pang Bo let out a string of cold laughs. “My father’s name is Li Gang, my son’s name is Wang Teng — it’s practically become a catchphrase.”

One of Wang Teng’s uncles looked over, his expression unfriendly, a faint killing intent flickering in his eyes — though within the grand halls of such a great power as the Ji Family, it was not a good place to make a move.

Would the Holy Body still come? Why hadn’t he appeared yet? Many had begun to doubt. By now, he should have arrived.

“Does it even need to be said? He’s lost his nerve. He doesn’t dare come.” Someone from the Wang Family sneered.

Several young Wang Family members chimed in one after another, all wearing looks of disdain. Some even mocked and ridiculed him openly, without bothering to conceal it.

“What does the Holy Body amount to? With my clan-brother here, what waves could he possibly make? The smart thing to do is curl up and stay out of sight.”

“On what basis does he think he can contend with my clan-cousin?!”

“Boom!”

Suddenly, at the far edge of the distant horizon, a tremor rang out. An aura that sent shivers down the spine radiated forth, vast and sweeping as it came from afar — causing the ancient palaces deep within the Ji Family’s estate to sway with each tremor.

The Ji Family’s elders were startled. An extraordinary secret treasure was being brought forward, and it had brushed against the hidden array markings — it had been detected by the mysterious incomplete ancient array left behind by the Void Emperor.

“Who comes?!” From the distance, a Ji Family expert called out.

“Ye Fan!” The moment those two words rang out, deep within the Ji Family’s estate, within the great and magnificent ancient palaces, many people were moved. Ye Fan had truly come.

“State your purpose!” An elderly cultivator stepped forward.

“To visit the Ji Family, and to slay Wang Teng!” The words rang out like thunder, resounding across the great sky, heard by all.

A brief silence — then a great uproar. Ye Fan had truly come. And with such ferocity and force. Everyone stood up, and had they not been within the Ji Family’s grounds, many would have already charged out to see.

The Ji Family — just the suspended islands and the magnificent immortal mountains alone numbered in the hundreds, to say nothing of the countless palaces. It was like an ancient celestial court of old.

Great figures of the Ji Family rose to their feet, deciding to go and see for themselves. Others naturally seized the chance to stand as well — everyone wanted to know what Ye Fan had to rely upon.

When the crowd emerged, every single one of them was struck dumb.

Ye Fan had arrived bearing a bronze coffin upon his back. He stood before the sacred grounds, gazing upon this sanctuary that no one had breached in more than a hundred thousand years, his expression perfectly calm and serene.

“Is this some kind of joke? He’s come to fight while carrying a coffin…” After a moment of speechlessness, some could not help but mutter.

Some from the Wang Family burst into laughter. Even the last of their lingering doubts evaporated — expressions of mockery spread across their faces. What use was a broken old bronze coffin?

Everyone was struck speechless. Carrying a coffin to do battle was beyond strange, the likes of which no one had ever seen.

Yet at this moment, the only one who was excited was Pang Bo. He could barely believe his own eyes. He was the first to rush forward, murmuring over and over in a daze: “A genius — truly a genius. Little Ye, you have an extraordinary talent for this!”