In the pure land of the Mysterious Metropolis Cave, purple crags rose tall, their cliff faces smooth and gleaming. Dragon grass grew in abundance, and sacred fungal plants exhaled their auspicious essence. Qilins rested alone beneath azure stones while silver cascades tumbled down in silken streams. Mist and vapor swirled and billowed, divine birds danced in the air, and the fragrance of ancient medicinal herbs drifted on the breeze.

On this day, within the Taiging Sacred Realm, the Eight Sceneries Palace — absent from the world for a long time — suddenly reappeared. Purple tiles shimmered with flowing light, the ancient hall shrouded in a dreamy haze, as if seated beyond the thirty-third layer of heaven, emerging without warning.

A man of unremarkable appearance stepped out — of average height, ordinary in every way one might look at him — yet around the corners of his eyes and brows, there was a faint resemblance to the now-deceased Yin Tianzhi.

He let out a quiet sigh. Standing within the Taiching Sacred Realm, before the Eight Sceneries Palace, he fixed his gaze on the shattered mountain outside Mysterious Metropolis Cave.

“Tianzhi is dead… I spoiled you. You were arrogant and domineering — I knew you would suffer greatly for it sooner or later, yet I never imagined this time it would be a parting by death.”

As he spoke these words, his eyes abruptly turned sharp, sweeping away all the calm of a moment before. Like two divine lanterns, they shot forth two beams of divine radiance dozens of miles long.

At that same moment, vast purple energy surged and billowed, shooting straight up three thousand miles into the clouds. He was enveloped by boundless violet light, like a sage of unfathomable depth.

“Tianzhi made his mistakes, but he was, after all, my younger brother — he cannot die without answer.” His words were calm, yet utterly astonishing; they could be heard even across the Great Wilderness, carrying for an untold number of miles.

On this day, Yin Tiande, the master of the Eight Sceneries Palace, emerged briefly from his secluded cultivation, saying only a single sentence — that he intended to kill a certain person — and released a painting scroll that unfurled and manifested before all eyes.

That was all. And yet, it sent shockwaves through every quarter.

Yin Tiande — a mysterious and formidably powerful young cultivator who, ten years ago, had already defeated the sect masters of all factions. No one knew where he came from.

That same year, he had moreover taken control of the long-sealed Eight Sceneries Palace, becoming the master of the Taiching Sacred Realm, shaking the entire world.

More than two thousand years ago, an elderly Daoist riding an ox had stepped across the starry heavens and arrived here, carving open the Mysterious Metropolis Cave, constructing the Eight Sceneries Palace, and releasing purple energy that billowed for thirty thousand miles.

This place had become a sacred land. No one knew how powerful that man called Laozi truly was; in the end he disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only this secret realm.

Many had searched for it and returned empty-handed. In the end, it was Yin Tiande — a young talent who had overwhelmingly defeated all the sect masters of his generation and who carried a great tide of heaven and earth’s fortune — who passed by this path and took command of the Eight Sceneries Palace.

Ten years had passed, and people long since no longer knew how powerful this young man had become — he who had risen like a legend out of myth and ancient tales.

Now, when he emerged from seclusion in this manner and spoke but one word about intending to kill someone, it naturally drew the gaze of all eight directions.

However, he did not personally come out. He went back into strict seclusion once more — his cultivation had reached an extremely critical juncture, and he seemed unwilling to waste even a single moment.

Yet, having spoken such words, there would naturally be those who would act on his behalf. His rise was unstoppable; certain great powers had forged ties of friendship with him, and without requiring him to move, they would see everything done.

Everyone knew that the young man depicted on the scroll was in grave danger — he would most likely be hunted down and beheaded before Yin Tiande even came out of seclusion.

“What an impressive air — a single word spoken, and the four directions stir. Is this the might that rivals a sage?” A faint cold smile played at the corner of Ye Fan’s lips.

A month had passed since the battle with the sage. The ancient vessel was gone, never to return; only a block of purple bronze, stained with the sacred blood of the human race, had fallen to the earth below.

After that battle, the human race’s great sage — the Old Madman — had never appeared again. Ye Fan raised his face to the sky in grief-stricken lamentation; he knew that had been a bloodied end.

The Old Madman had prevented a single Primordial Ancestral King from returning, spilling his own blood across the heavens, and in doing so had secured peace for the human race — yet he would never be seen again.

When a sage falls, one can only sing a long dirge in mourning. Yet time smooths over all things; within a single month, the land had grown calm once more.

During that month, Ye Fan had walked across the land, seeking to understand this world, while also investigating the Eight Sceneries Palace of the Mysterious Metropolis Cave within the Taiching Sacred Realm, gradually building a clearer picture.

In that same period, he had also been doing everything in his power to refine a withered divine source husk, unwilling to allow a great calamity to emerge in the future.

Years ago, after he entered the starry void from the ancient altar of the barren ancient domain in the Northern Dipper, he had encountered the purple bronze warship for the first time — and had brought out with him a corpse bearing a dragon’s head upon a human body.

Thinking on it now, that Primordial King had not truly perished; his life energy had simply withered to a shocking degree, with only the last faint thread of vital breath remaining.

This was a grave threat. Once given the opportunity to receive a replenishment of life essence, it would in all likelihood recover.

Still, what gave him some small measure of relief was that the ancient king could not actively absorb vital essence on his own. As long as he kept the seal properly maintained, there should be no possibility of resurrection.

For an entire month, he had cultivated while simultaneously using the Sacred Art of Battle to evolve a black hole, devouring the divine source husk, stripping away the last faint thread of life breath contained within — determined to ensure that this sage would never have any hope of returning to life.

“Ten years ago, Yin Tiande defeated all the sect masters of every faction, then received the inheritance of the Eight Sceneries Palace of the Taiching Sacred Realm — and now, who knows how powerful he has become.”

“That person killed his brother — does he have a death wish? He dared to provoke even the master of the Mysterious Metropolis Cave. It’s incomprehensible.”

In the ancient star domain of Ziwei, in the land of Lu Province, many people were discussing the matter and offering their varying views.

Ye Fan had only recently arrived in the Ziwei Ancient Star Domain, yet his appearance had spread swiftly across this entire province. There had been no illustrious great battle to speak of, yet he had become a figure whose name stirred the entire region.

Of course, it was not any glorious renown — many people already considered him a dead man. Having offended Yin Tiande, the outstanding talent of this generation in Lu Province, was nearly equivalent to being half-dead already.

“What magnificent arrogance!” Ye Fan’s mood was not good at all. The Old Madman’s blood had stained the heavens beyond the sky — an outcome that had been destined — and it left him unable to calm his emotions.

Such a price had been paid for this ancient star; he himself had contributed some measure of effort, and yet he had not wished to become embroiled in a grudge with a powerful figure, with others now coming to kill him as well.

Of course, not many people had witnessed Ye Fan in that battle — only some from Tianyuan City had followed and witnessed the might of the sage, catching a few glances of Ye Fan.

“He looks somewhat familiar — when the human race’s great sage battled the Primordial Ancestral King, this young man made a move and sent out that black gourd!”

“It seems to be him — there is quite a resemblance.”

In Tianyuan City, several sect masters were inwardly startled. The painting scroll that Yin Tiande intended to use to mark his target for death had been spread about, and it was almost identical to the young man they had seen that day.

They harbored doubts, yet it would not change anything. The vast majority of people in the other regions of Lu Province had no knowledge of this — they all simply watched in silence.

“Yin Tiande has several sworn brothers, and every one of them is an extraordinary figure. One is the Divine Son of the Supreme Yin, Duanmu Ming; another is the Sixth Prince of the Golden Crow clan of the Fusang Divine Tree Kingdom, Lu Ya; and yet another is the Three-Deficit Daoren of the Ancient Daoist Temple on Underworld Ridge.”

“These few are all remarkable heroes among men — with Yin Tiande in strict seclusion and unable to act, they will most likely slay that young man in his place.”

The people spoke with awe and reverence.

The Divine Son of the Supreme Yin, Duanmu Ming; the Sixth Golden Crow Prince, Lu Ya; and the Three-Deficit Daoren of the Ancient Daoist Temple on Underworld Ridge — these were the most outstanding figures of the Ziwei Ancient Star Domain, each residing on a different continent, their names already reverberating throughout the world. Every one of them had immense and formidable origins.

“It’s said that the Sixth Golden Crow Prince, Lu Ya, is passing through Lu Province on some matter — do you think he will linger and stop specifically to slay that young man?”

“The Three-Deficit Daoren of Underworld Ridge’s Ancient Daoist Temple may also come — reportedly he is escorting half a page of a mysterious scripture to the Human King Hall, to exchange it for the other half. When he passes through Lu Province, will he strike?”

Upon learning all of this, Ye Fan could not help but furrow his brow. Just from the names of those people alone, he could tell they certainly had immense and formidable origins.

The princes of the Golden Crow clan, dwelling atop the Fusang Divine Tree — could this really be the same clan from the ancient myths and legends? He shook his head, thinking it seemed rather unlikely.

Underworld Ridge, with its ancient Daoist temple — for half a page of scripture to require such an escort, how extraordinary must it be? And it was to be exchanged with the Human King Hall — could it truly be an immortal scripture?

Though Ye Fan furrowed his brow, not a trace of fear was in him. By now he was already a figure of the Sacred Master level; he had cultivated ancient scriptures, and his physical body was unrivaled. There was simply no need to live in a crouching, aggrieved manner.

“Even if I have drifted into the Ziwei Ancient Star Domain from the realm of myths and legends, I am not someone to be bullied and trampled upon.”

This ancient and primordial source of life had no supreme imperial weapons, yet it was extraordinarily flourishing — home to the ancient methods of various sects, their lineages stretching back across vast ages. For someone wishing to temper and refine themselves, this was a divine land indeed.

Once one became a figure of the Sacred Master level, the greatest threat was the deterrence of imperial weapons. Now, with no supreme sacred treasures looming over his head, and with the ability to use the Word of Travel, he could go anywhere under heaven.

The Ziwei Ancient Star Domain had long circulated in the ancient lore of the Central Ancient Kingdom; its various legends were numerous. Ye Fan speculated that there must be an ancient path linking the two places, and he wanted to seek it out.

At the same time, he harbored another suspicion: the reason the Northern Dipper Star Domain lacked no supreme-path weapons was most likely connected to the disappearance of imperial weapons from the Ziwei Ancient Star Domain and possibly other ancient lands.

“The Northern Dipper most likely holds secrets unknown to the world — and perhaps this ancient star holds an ancient path leading to that star domain.”

Whether returning to his homeland or crossing back to the Northern Dipper Ancient Star Domain, the answer might be found on this ancient star.

Heavenwolf Mountain — a place of formidable and illustrious renown. Since ancient times to the present, seven generations of Heavenwolves had been born here; it was a sacred land of the demon race.

Now, the master of Heavenwolf Mountain — the Old Wolf God — was at the height of his power, his depth unfathomable, his prestige vast throughout Lu Province. On this day, he welcomed his two thousand and eight hundredth birthday since taking human form.

Throughout Lu Province, many great sects had sent people to offer congratulations; among them, not a few sect masters came in person. It was a rare and magnificent gathering.

Ye Fan came as well. From a distance, he gazed upon Heavenwolf Mountain — majestic and imposing, great sweeps of verdant energy rising in steam. Utterly magnificent, it was adorned with many waterfalls thousands of feet tall tumbling down its face, and ancient divine trees growing between the cliffs.

Looking more closely, this ancient mountain range resembled a divine wolf howling at the moon, sprawling across the land before him, possessed of an immortal thread of divine power. The great ravines in the cliffs were like a wolf’s open maw, breathing in and out the essence of the world.

Today, the ancient Heavenwolf Mountain was busy with people coming and going — all arriving to celebrate the Old Wolf God’s birthday, every one of them an accomplished cultivator of renown or a rising star among the various clans.

Ye Fan employed the Word of Travel to ascend the heavenly steps, regarding all the ancient formations as nothing, crossing through the forbidden grounds one step at a time, until he arrived before a magnificent mountain manor.

Though he carried no invitation, the sheer mastery of that single supreme art was enough — the disciples of the Heavenwolf sect dared not show any negligence, and received him with deep respect, ushering him inside.

The Old Wolf God, who had taken human form two thousand eight hundred years ago, had long since given instructions: any cultivator without an invitation who entered through sheer overwhelming power was likewise to be treated as an honored guest.

“The Human King Hall has also sent people — the Old Wolf God commands quite extraordinary face. That hall has sent its most elite figures to celebrate his birthday.”

“You have it wrong — this is simply being done in passing. They are surely here to escort the Three-Deficit Daoren coming out of the Ancient Daoist Temple on Underworld Ridge, for the exchange of that half-page scripture.”

“Just the mutual exchange of half a page of scripture — and yet it has caused such a stir in these two great sacred lands, being conducted with such solemnity. Could it truly be half a page of an immortal scripture?”

Just then, several streaks of true solar fire blazed across the sky — dazzling and brilliant — and a few young men clad in golden feathered robes descended. Every one of them bore long golden hair, as if cast from sacred metal, wreathed in golden flames, with even their irises shining gold.

By now the manor had received a great many people; it was enormously lively, filled with no small number of powerful figures who commanded respect across entire regions, and not a few of the most supreme sect masters.

The younger generation went without saying — all were the outstanding talents of their clans. Yet now many of them changed their expressions, a number carefully stepping aside, dreading any collision with these young golden men of the Golden Crow clan.

“These are the people of the Golden Crow Sixth Prince Lu Ya — he has truly come. Is he going to stop in Lu Province and act on behalf of his sworn brother Yin Tiande?!”

People felt a tense atmosphere settle over them. Everyone knew that Lu Province would most likely see no peace.

Swoosh!

One of the young men from the Golden Crow clan unfurled a painting scroll. “Has this person come?” he called out loudly to those nearby — and it was none other than the scroll bearing Ye Fan’s likeness.

“Haven’t seen him!” someone answered, not wishing to get involved.

“I knew he wouldn’t dare come. Wherever the Sixth Prince passes, he can only retreat and give way — who would dare stand against him!” One of the young Golden Crow men laughed coldly, his arrogance boundless.