The Void Mirror, the Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar, and the dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron—three emperor weapons locked in open conflict, shattering the sky. Countless people collapsed to the ground and could not move, trembling in terror. More than half of this small world had been pulverized and merged with the outside, and if the battle continued, the supreme ancestral temple of what had once been the greatest divine dynasty under heaven would be reduced to rubble.
Dragon roars deafened the ear. Ten thousand black dragons erupted skyward, their tails anchored within the dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron and their heads raised toward the heavens. Each was tens of thousands of zhang long—so monstrous as to beggar the imagination, as thick around as a mountain range, their black-gold scales each as large as a door panel, flashing with metallic luster.
The dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron rose and fell as ten thousand true black dragons leaped from its mouth, endless strands of immortal light pouring from within. The air around it shimmered, and the colossal dragon forms were terrifying beyond measure.
The Void Mirror’s beam of light was something no eye could endure. It blazed countless times more fiercely than the sun—strand after strand of immortal sword-light rang and shrieked as it cleaved through everything, landing upon the mass of endless black dragons with sounds that shook the world.
This was supreme emperor-level immortal might. The dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron held its ground against the Void Mirror. Both were priceless immortal treasures of incalculable worth—and fortunately, neither had struck the ground, or the earth itself would have been destroyed.
Ye Fan charged forward. The Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar attacked as well. From its mouth poured hundreds of millions of strands of crimson light—a dazzling brilliance, like clouds and celestial glows tumbling together. For a moment, in the blur of that radiance, the silhouette of a peerlessly beautiful woman seemed to appear, indistinct and unreal.
The dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron shook violently. Ten thousand black dragons cried out in unison. Within the cauldron’s mouth, the outline of an immortal fetus emerged, radiating boundless light as though preparing to ascend to immortality and soar aloft—matching the Heaven-Devouring Demon Jar blow for blow.
Boom!
The last layer of this small world convulsed. Everything was destroyed except for the ancestral temple and the Five-Colored Altar upon the ground. The rest became dust, merging entirely with the great outside world.
Heaven and earth, annihilated!
Hum!
The dragon-patterned black-gold cauldron issued a resonance of the Dao. Thousands upon thousands of dark rays descended, all the great dragons receding back into the cauldron; the immortal fetus too retreated within, becoming a single beam of eternal immortal light that split the void and departed.
The forces of Yao Guang had withdrawn. Had they continued fighting, catastrophe would have been unavoidable—a battle of ancient Great Emperors’ weapons was perhaps the most harrowing thing that could exist. Human Great Emperors wielding their emperor weapons could cut down stars from the sky. Such power was unmatched, and even when activated by their descendants, it was enough to leave an entire ancient world devastated and stripped of all life.
Everyone drew a long breath. What had just occurred could only be called a world-ending crisis. Even the four great divine dynasties of the Central State had been shaken to the core, terrified that the emperor-level power might spread.
A great sea of jade-green ebbed and flowed, and a bright full moon hung high. This was the manifestation of the seas rising and the moon ascending. Ji Haoyue glanced in their direction, put away the Void Mirror, and descended to the ground.
Ye Fan nodded in gratitude, then withdrew to the Five-Colored Altar. The great forces without emperor weapons all retreated and did not dare contend further for it. The Son of the Celestial Emperor and his people had likewise vanished, no longer showing themselves.
“Why is it incomplete?” Ye Fan stood motionless, baffled. If the Five-Colored Altar could not be made whole, there was no way to cross the stellar void.
“There is a transportation formation here,” Ji Ziyue said, her beautiful eyes drifting toward the mountainside above. “Someone appears to have entered it just now.”
The Five-Colored Altar was built into the mountain. Not far from where they stood, a stone platform bore the mottled markings of the ages, as well as numerous engravings left by human hands—intricate and inscrutable.
“A miracle,” the Great Black Dog exclaimed, eyes blazing with excitement as it scrambled forward. “This is an ancient emperor-level transportation array from the primordial age. Where in the world does it lead?”
It began rapidly copying down the inscriptions. Something like this was invaluable—if fully understood, it could benefit a cultivator for an entire lifetime. These formation patterns connected to the most fundamental essence of heaven and earth.
Huo Lin’er and Huo Qizi too stepped forward, taking up positions behind Ye Fan, Ji Ziyue, and the others. The remaining cultivators did not dare draw closer—they could only watch with envious eyes. An ancient emperor-level transportation array almost certainly led somewhere extraordinary.
Before the central ancestral temple, all the great factions began to stir. The immortal legacies that controlled emperor weapons turned their gaze toward this place, and people began to draw near. They had realized that this ancient transportation array might be worth more than anything else here—it might lead to the innermost sanctum of the Feathered Transformation Divine Dynasty.
The atmosphere grew increasingly tense. All eyes converged on this single point from every direction, every gaze locked on it. The aura of primordial emperor weapons hung in the air, and they could strike at any moment—the killing intent was palpable.
“Something is wrong. Though that transportation array is emperor-level, it doesn’t fit with this place. It looks as though it was carved later, in haste—it’s nothing more than a small-scale platform.”
“Exactly. However ancient it may be, it doesn’t look like the work of the Feathered Transformation Divine Dynasty. It looks more like the work of whoever severed and carried off a section of the Five-Colored Altar.”
There was no shortage of grandmaster-level figures versed in ancient formations present—a match even for the Black Emperor in this domain. After careful observation and comparison, they perceived the oddity and reached this conclusion.
The killing intent subsided. Both the weapons of the ancient Great Emperors and the sacred artifacts of the primordial sovereigns stilled their fluctuations and pressed forward no further. The atmosphere eased somewhat.
The Great Black Dog produced several divine ore nodules and fit them into the grooves of the stone platform. The ancient transportation array lit up at once. Gold threads moved along each carved groove, eventually interlacing into a gateway.
Unlike any other formation pattern, these interwoven lines formed a genuine doorway—its frame as though cast from gold, shining brilliantly. And through the other side of the door, the scenery was perfectly clear—one step through and you would be at the destination, with no journey through the void.
“That is…” Every person present went still. What met their eyes first was a Five-Colored Altar—vast and imposing, but not entirely complete.
It was natural and ancient, worn with the passage of history. That weight of time was there in every stone, each one bearing the brand of countless ages and telling of immutable truths—that nothing endures forever.
“Why does this look familiar?” Some wore puzzled expressions, unable to place it.
Ye Fan was petrified. He understood immediately. He had been in and out of this place before, at the risk of his life.
The Black Emperor pressed two more divine ore nodules into the grooves. The golden doorway expanded, and the scene on the other side grew even sharper. Cries of astonishment broke from the crowd.
Many now understood where this ancient transportation array led. Above a great expanse of absolute darkness, the Five-Colored Altar stood perfectly still, utterly lifeless.
Surrounding it were nine sacred mountains, their peaks encircling it and forming a bottomless abyss—black and yawning, drawing the eye and the mind alike into its depths.
“It leads to… the Primordial Forbidden Land!” The people were awestruck.
One could even make out, on the slope of one sacred mountain, a half-person-tall immortal tree of undying power and a pool of divine spring water—enough to set any heart trembling with longing.
“Why would it lead there? Who cut away a piece of the Five-Colored Altar and sealed it at the entrance to the abyss?” People puzzled over it, finding no answer.
This was a place of malevolent power. Anyone who drew near would face a mortal crisis—especially since deep within the abyss lay the “Desolate,” an unknown and terrible presence that could strip away life and years alike.
“It truly is the Primordial Forbidden Land—there can be no doubt!”
The crowd found it incomprehensible. The ancient transportation array was too mysterious for words—it actually led to a zone forbidden to life, and in such a peculiar manner: forming a golden door through which everything on the other side was perfectly visible, reachable in a single step.
And this was the Central State. To step through was to arrive in the Southern Region of the Eastern Desolation—separated by an unimaginable distance, countless tens of thousands of li. An ordinary person would need hundreds of lifetimes to walk it, and even a cultivator flying at full speed would require more than a decade.
Many in the crowd were seized with impulse. On the other side were the nine wondrous divine medicines of the Silkworm God clan, now divided among nine separate plants. They were right there before them. If someone rushed through, they might be able to dig up one or two.
Boom!
Almost instantly, the place erupted. Many could no longer contain themselves, all wanting to rush through and harvest the immortal medicines. Over the years, countless sects had expended untold effort and come away with nothing—and now the chance was right before their eyes.
The Ancient Clan especially could not sit still. The powerful cultivators of the Silkworm God clan, in particular, flew up onto the altar immediately and stood at the edge, staring fixedly ahead.
Ye Fan and his companions made no move to stop them. They watched how things would unfold. They knew exactly how terrifying that place was—even if someone could get in, reaching the divine medicines was far from guaranteed.
Swoosh!
Someone could wait no longer. More than twenty figures rushed through the golden door—all powerful cultivators—and in one step appeared on the Five-Colored Altar on the other side.
Those remaining held their breath and watched closely. The more than twenty people who had landed on the Five-Colored Altar began aging rapidly. Everyone could see it clearly—white hair, skin folding into deep wrinkles. The sight of it chilled every heart in the crowd.
Some leaped high, attempting to spring from the Five-Colored Altar and reach the sacred mountains to harvest the immortal medicines. But the horror was this: their cultivation and Dao attainment had already been stripped away entirely. They fell straight into the abyss—unable to fly at all.
“No…”
It was a despairing sight. They were trapped on the Five-Colored Altar—suspended in the air directly over the abyss, with a considerable gap between them and the cliff faces of the sacred mountains. With their cultivation gone and unable to fly, how could mere flesh and bone make a leap that far?
Cries of anguish carried across. Standing atop the Five-Colored Altar, directly facing the abyss, the aura of the “Desolate” was most concentrated—they were decaying at speed. Some had already been reduced to skin and bone, their eye sockets sunken, their white hair shed, scarcely more than living skeletons—a ghastly sight.
One or two among them knew formation arrays. They produced their platforms and attempted to cross by array, but it was useless. Inside this forbidden life zone, formation patterns were eroded into nothing and could serve no function.
Those watching on this side were sick with dread, privately thankful they had not rushed through the golden door—the fate of those inside left almost no hope of survival.
There was truly no way to inscribe divine patterns inside this forbidden life zone, no way to cross by array. Only this ancient emperor-level formation could permit entry—yet for those who entered, it was still nothing but a dead end.
“No…”
Those on the Five-Colored Altar screamed. Many of them broke into desperate sprints and tried to leap across the void to reach the sacred mountains—but one after another they fell into the abyss, ancient and shrieking as they plunged.
A land of evil!
“So that is it,” Ye Fan said to himself. “The Five-Colored Altar needs to be repaired. No wonder the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin met with trouble when it set sail—the altar was incomplete.”
“Little Ye Fan, don’t go,” Ji Ziyue said, tears welling in her eyes. “It is too dangerous.”
“There is no time left,” he replied. “The Five-Colored Altar may soon sink into the abyss again—I cannot keep waiting. Besides, the years cannot strip me of my lifespan. I have gone in and out of this place safely before.” His mind was made up.
“Look—someone has crossed over!” came a startled cry.
Another person had stepped through the transportation array and dropped onto the Five-Colored Altar. This one was of an Ancient Clan lineage born with wings. The figure immediately spread those wings and flew toward the sacred mountains.
“He… made it!”
Many clenched their fists—but what awaited the winged cultivator was a trial of life and death. The moment he descended above the abyss, his wings crumbled instantly. He staggered forward and ultimately collapsed upon the mountain cliff.
He had failed. But among the Ancient Clan, all those born with divine wings felt their hearts stir—each wanting to take the risk and make the attempt.
“I cannot wait any longer,” Ye Fan said quietly. “It is time for me to go. If they keep barging in like this, they may draw out the ancient slaves of the Desolate.”