“In this battle he cut down so many people, carved a bloody path through alone — far beyond what anyone expected,” said Qi Luo, a look of astonishment even crossing his face.

Old Blade Handle broke out in a cold sweat that soaked through his lapels. He honestly assessed that he himself had not a shred of hope of doing the same. This battle had darkened the heavens and earth, set ghosts wailing and gods howling, and inflicted heavy losses on a crowd of future kings.

Qi Luo was the first to give chase. Then Huo Lin’er moved as well, leaving a streak of blue behind her. After that, several more figures rose into the air.

No one had anticipated it — Ye Fan, brazen as the sky was wide, simply did not leave the divine city at all. After coughing up a mouthful of golden blood, he descended onto a street and proceeded on foot.

Many people were dumbfounded. What was he trying to do? With audacity like this, staying in the divine city — was he still looking for a fight? Was he going to pile the ground high with bones?

Ye Fan was perfectly calm. Using the Movement Scripture he arrived at the Celestial Jade Market. With a creaking sound, he pushed open the old, dilapidated gate and walked straight in.

Everyone who had given chase was taken aback. Not a single one dared approach. A saint resided in this place — who would dare cause trouble here?

Ye Fan paid his respects to the old man at the gate, then found a spot and sat down cross-legged. Golden blood qi surged throughout his body; he became like a divine statue — solemn and majestic, utterly still.

Though the Nirvana Sutra he had obtained was only an abbreviated essential version — and incomplete at that — it was more than sufficient for someone of his constitution to cultivate.

Inside the Celestial Jade Sacred Ground, golden blood qi billowed, the whole space like a great steaming cauldron, martial energy rising upward. Ye Fan’s body crackled continuously as every wound across his body began to heal.

After just two and a half hours, he opened his eyes. He drew in his aura of blood qi, and was once again like a vigorous dragon, full of life. He washed away the blood in the spring pool; his entire body gleamed with health — powerful and strong.

Ye Fan changed into a fresh battle robe and walked to the gatehouse. He bowed to the old man keeping watch and said: “I have disturbed your seclusion time and again. Today I bring a bottle of pure spring water — a fine water for brewing tea.”

This was divine spring water drawn from an ancient forbidden land. With no sense of being out of place, he carried it directly into the gatehouse.

Yet in his heart he felt a small flicker of apprehension. This old man might be one of the survivors from that time. Would he go berserk upon smelling the aura of an ancient forbidden land?

“It has been a long time since I last smelled this aura.” The voice of the physically aged saint was faint and drifting. He produced a worn old clay pot and held it out to Ye Fan.

Tea leaves for comprehending the Dao!

Within the pot were fully a dozen or more leaves. This was a priceless divine tea — and especially for those who had reached the pinnacle of understanding, this tea was more precious than anything else.

Ye Fan hurried off to boil the water. The tea itself was a secondary matter — being able to drink together with this saint was the true prize. He very much wanted to invite this old man out to preside over his endeavors.

If he truly were to found a sect, having this old man sit at the mountain gate would render any supreme defensive formation unnecessary. A single person would suffice. Those who had achieved sainthood in the era after the ancient forbidden lands had almost become synonymous with invincibility.

The divine spring water had boiled. Ye Fan glanced at the worn tea pot, refrained from wasting the precious treasure, and drew out only two leaves to place into the kettle. A pure, clear fragrance immediately spread throughout the space.

From afar — who knew how many pairs of eyes were watching — and all who saw this scene felt a chill. Ye Fan had just been fighting a bloody battle in all eight directions, and in the very next moment he had come here to drink tea with a saint.

At that moment, everyone in the divine city felt a heavy weight in their heads. Even the ancient clans felt their spines go cold — deeply awed, gripped by an inexplicable, lingering fear.

Qi Luo appeared at last. He entered the old ground of the Celestial Jade, and outside the gatehouse first gave a dry laugh, then paid his respects to the surviving saint of the Celestial Jade.

From this, Ye Fan probed out that this old scoundrel, though he had not yet achieved sainthood, was most likely not far from it. One could detect certain clues from his manner at this moment.

Qi Luo entered the room. In his dignified, sanctimonious manner, Ye Fan’s teeth practically itched — he wanted nothing more than to shave him down a notch and give him a good kick.

“Crying wretch, what did you follow me here for?”

“Aren’t you planning to found a sect? I’ve come to bring you whatever you’re lacking,” said Qi Luo bluntly.

“Getting entangled with you people would probably result in the whole world hunting us down, with who knows how many supreme imperial weapons pressing in from every direction,” said Ye Fan, shaking his head.

“The Heavenly Court was long since reduced to ash. We don’t want to restore it. We only want to break through the ancient halls of hell and the mortal world — everything else you may handle however you wish,” said Qi Luo, equally blunt.

At the same time, he made himself right at home. He bowed respectfully to the Celestial Jade saint, then snatched a cup of tea from Ye Fan’s hands and slowly savored it.

The fragrance of the tea drifted and spread, carrying far away, leaving a long, pleasant aftertaste.

“To brew a pot of Dao-comprehension tea with the divine spring from a forbidden land of life — the value of this cup of tea is incalculably precious. This is something that ancient great emperors were wont to do.”

Qi Luo was nearly lost in the pleasure of it, yet dared not lose composure. He showed the Celestial Jade saint great reverence, and spoke some words that Ye Fan could not quite catch.

The tea fragrance spread, drifting out onto the quiet ancient street beyond, bringing those watching from afar into a state of near intoxication — their expressions distant and dazed.

Ye Fan sat cross-legged in the gatehouse. It was not his first time drinking Dao-comprehension tea, but this time was entirely unlike the others. His heart felt utterly clear and empty; he settled at once into a state of profound stillness, reflecting on every moment of the great battle just past, sinking into a wondrous realm.

After a long while he came back to himself, poured a second cup of tea, and began to savor it. He felt as if threads of divine principles were weaving together within his immortal platform.

“Respectful greetings, Human Holy Elder,” a sweet voice rang out. Huo Lin’er had arrived, and bowed respectfully outside the gatehouse.

The saint of the Celestial Jade gave a slight nod, but said nothing.

Huo Lin’er gathered her ocean-bright blue hair — shimmering and flowing — and walked gracefully in. “In times past, my father the emperor would brew a pot of Dao-comprehension tea with divine spring water every day, gazing silently at the stars in contemplation. He would often remain awake through the night. The familiar scent of the tea drew me in before I could stop myself.”

She offered her explanation to the Celestial Jade saint and begged pardon for her intrusion — far more courteous than Qi Luo had been.

“Truly lavish — brewing Dao-comprehension tea with the divine spring of a forbidden land of life every single day. So the ancient great emperors inherited this habit from the ancient supreme emperors,” said Qi Luo, clicking his tongue.

“A pity — that old tea tree seemed unable to leave the Undying Mountain. My father wanted to transplant it to the banks near Fire Qilin Cave, and it nearly died. He had to send it back,” said Huo Lin’er.

Ye Fan nearly spat out a mouthful of tea. He thought of that old tea tree and genuinely felt it was pitiable. The Undying Heavenly Emperor had felled its main trunk to make planks for a coffin. And ten years earlier, when he had entered the Undying Mountain, the big black dog had also mentioned that the Beginningless Great Emperor had tormented it as well — the old tree had grown sickly, nearly withered, and had to be replanted back in the Undying Mountain.

“The ancient emperors are gone. The great emperors have passed into nirvana. A long and terrifying span of years — and nothing remains. In this world, only the Dao-comprehension tea and the undying medicines have always endured.” The saint of the Celestial Jade spoke.

This shook Ye Fan. Indeed — seas turned into mulberry fields, time shifted and changed. The creatures in this world that had truly lived without dying seemed only to be the undying divine medicines. Was this the reason the ancient great emperors — every one of them — possessed a stalk? They were searching for answers.

“May I have a cup?” Huo Lin’er’s eyes misted over — whether performing or genuinely moved, it was impossible to say. “In the past, my father would brew a cup for me every day. I was always too lazy to drink it then. And now… I can only think of him through the scent of this tea.”

“Please sit. Come, drink slowly. Tell me some stories of the ancient emperors — that shall be your payment for the tea.” Ye Fan poured her a cup. He wanted to understand what manner of existence an ancient sacred emperor truly was.

“I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you. My father was only in his later years when he had me and my youngest brother. The elder brothers who have passed were older than us by twelve thousand years. We could not know our father the way others knew theirs — the awe-inspiring, unapproachable figure. He was only a loving father. No different from an ordinary man.”

Huo Lin’er smiled lightly and then quietly drank her tea, saying nothing more. Even if she knew any secrets, she would certainly never speak them.

Ye Fan sat there in a daze. Siblings could be twelve thousand years apart in age. How many such pairs had ever existed throughout all of history? Just how many years must one live to have children separated by such an age?

As evening drew near, Huo Lin’er once again asked to exchange for the Qilin Medicine — and was refused again. She swayed away gracefully.

Ye Fan and Qi Luo also took their leave and departed from the Celestial Jade Market, disappearing into the darkness of the night, slipping away from the divine city with no one obstructing them.

That day, the Eastern Wastelands were shaken. The young powerhouses of the ancient clans were left stunned and in awe: the Human Holy Body had single-handedly swept all before him — unstoppable, without equal — shocking everyone.

The reverberations spread. People everywhere were talking, stirring up a great commotion.

“Is the Human Holy Body truly this powerful? Can he truly be compared to the Ancient Emperor’s children?!”

“Truly unexpected — why didn’t Huo Lin’er fight him outright? What is that girl scheming?”

“Dozens upon hundreds of powerful masters couldn’t bring him down in a combined siege. If he crosses the Dao, in an age where no saint shows themselves — he would be nearly without rival beneath the heavens!”

…

Whether among the ancient clans or the human race, every cultivator was avidly discussing it.

The Heavenly Village — a small world unknown to most. Its villagers appeared ordinary. People rose with the sun and rested with its setting, living plain, simple lives.

And yet, after activating the Heavenly Eye, Ye Fan noticed anomalies. Even the small children walking made not a sound — it had become a habit so deeply ingrained it was second nature. Not far away, several children playing hide-and-seek appeared and vanished in ghostly fashion — those evasive movements were unmistakably the techniques unique to assassins. A few old people sat on large blue stones outside the village after their meal, chatting — yet if they fell silent, not a single ripple of life energy could be detected from them.

Not far away, someone returned from deep in the mountains after a hunt — like a ghost, melded into the natural world around them, impossible to track.

Ye Fan stood there bewildered. This was a village of assassins. Those instincts ran so deep into their very bones that they had become the habits of daily life.

“A small world opened by the ancient sages of the Heavenly Court. Only this one remains. All the others were destroyed,” said Qi Luo.

The Heavenly Village was truly sparsely populated — barely forty or fifty households, no more than a hundred people in all.

Ye Fan had already been mentally prepared. If the Heavenly Court had been flourishing enough, it would never have come looking for him, nor endured hell and the mortal world until now.

“Actually, you didn’t have to run over to the Celestial Jade Market to drink tea — no need to make me feel apprehensive through that. I won’t act against you,” said Qi Luo, squinting his eye.

“Elder Qi, there are people outside saying someone took out a great accomplished king from the Mortal World and is demanding the Qilin Medicine.” A villager walked over, reporting in honest, simple fashion.

“What? So quickly — who did this? Who caught such a big fish?” Ye Fan was very surprised.

“It was people from the Silkworm Cliff,” said Qi Luo.

Shencan the Daoren — wandering the mortal world in a perpetual drunken stupor, followed always by an old Daoist who served specifically as his protector, for fear of mishap.

And this time, it was this old Daoist from the Silkworm Cliff who had struck — killing a great accomplished king from the Mortal World.

“The Mortal World is in for great trouble. After the Silkworm Clan kills someone and has had contact with them, they can trace the path through the technique of ‘unraveling the cocoon,’ following it further and further — they may be able to find the Mortal World’s ancient hall.” Qi Luo gave a sinister laugh. “The Silkworm Clan’s undying medicine is also gone — they’ve set their roots above the ancient forbidden abyss. Are they competing with Fire Qilin Cave for the Qilin Medicine? One good show follows another.”

“The ancient clans only just emerged into the world not long ago — how do you already know their secret techniques?”

“An assassin must keep pace with the times,” said Qi Luo, full of dignity.

Honestly, seeing that expression on Qi Luo’s face made Ye Fan’s hands itch. He wanted to strike him. He said: “Back in the divine city, if I couldn’t defeat those people — if I couldn’t break free — would you have just stood there with folded arms the entire time?”

“That hypothetical has no meaning,” Qi Luo said, shaking his head.

“‘Foremost under heaven’ — you Heavenly Court people do have quite the grand tone,” said Ye Fan without mercy, making pointed reference to the era when the ancient great emperors still lived.

“In that era, there was a Heavenly Court — but no Master of the Heavenly Court,” Qi Luo answered gravely.

Ye Fan did not hold back, pointing out that he had seen the last master of the Heavenly Court — and that the end had not been dignified at all, nothing like the bearing of a peerless powerhouse. He recounted everything he had witnessed at the sacred cliff.

Qi Luo listened in silence for a long while, then said: “Even a fully accomplished Holy Body was possessed by a demonic spirit, growing green fur — requiring the Beginningless Great Emperor to suppress it. For a Heavenly Court Master, grievously wounded and on the verge of death, to be slain by such an existence — that is not shameful.”

The two talked for a long while. In the end, Ye Fan brought out the Heavenly Court scepter and the human-skin scripture. A sky-reaching killing aura erupted at once.

Qi Luo saw these two objects and finally became agitated. His body trembled. His two hands stretched forward, shaking uncontrollably, reverently cradling both sacred objects.

“At last I have seen the sacred objects of our ancestors again…” He could not hold back. Tears welled up and he broke into loud weeping once more.

“Stop crying — every time I see you cry I want to stamp a shoe print into your face,” Ye Fan said, deeply irritated.

“Ahh — I was overcome with feeling, lost my composure, ha ha…” Qi Luo burst into boisterous laughter. The contrast between one moment and the next left everyone staring open-mouthed.

“This weapon…” Ye Fan endured the bone-piercing cold and held up the golden scepter. It was eerily sinister, like a supreme sacred treasure forged to suppress all of the underworld.

“No need to show me — it is exactly as it appears. Find any number of saints — it will still look like this. However much power you possess, that is how much sacred power it will manifest.” Qi Luo spoke, making clear there was no true seal upon it.

Ye Fan had long since understood as much. This was a sacred weapon passed down through the ages — likely forged by someone beyond the great saint level — yet he had never once taken it out to use.

The reason: this scepter was unique. However powerful you were in your own right — that was the level of weapon power it would bring to bear. He had found several people to attempt unlocking it and all had failed.

“In those years, our Heavenly Court possessed other sacred weapons. Regrettably, they were all taken. This scepter carries a particular significance. Without power at the level of a great saint or above, one is unworthy of wielding it. That constraint was deliberately designed to inspire the later generations — to strive until one became its match, only then capable of wielding it and unleashing its heaven-destroying, earth-annihilating divine power.” Qi Luo spoke with sweeping ambition, then lowered his voice and said: “Yao Guang possesses the Dragon Pattern Black-Gold Cauldron, born from heaven and earth itself. Our scepter is the same — containing a secret that would drive even the ancient great saints to madness.”

Ye Fan was dumbstruck, then asked further — but Qi Luo’s own knowledge was limited.

In the end, Qi Luo cradled the human-skin scripture in his hands and said, trembling: “Do you know — this not only contains the most critical part of our Heavenly Court’s killing arts, it is also the most terrifying weapon of all.”

“It’s a weapon?” Ye Fan was astonished.

“Of course. It is the Book of Time — forged by one of our sect’s patriarchs from his own quasi-imperial human skin as a sacrificial offering!”

The Book of Time — those four words left Ye Fan in a daze. Just hearing the name made the limitless depths of its terror plain.

It was said that one of the Heavenly Court’s masters had consumed an undying medicine and lived through two lifetimes — truly mastering the Movement Scripture, touching the domain of time itself.

Could it be that this human skin belonged to that person — sacrificially refined into a supreme secret treasure — named the Book of Time?