Cold sweat poured down Ye Fan’s back. Among the collapsed ruins, a figure had appeared. In the darkness, only a silhouette was visible — tall and commanding, with a pair of eyes that blazed brilliantly, like two green lanterns.

A silent standoff. Ye Fan’s heart thundered. This being must be immensely powerful — otherwise, how could it have approached so closely without him sensing it?

This was deeply unsettling. This was the Ancient Star Huoying, long since reduced to a dead world. Why was there such a mysterious existence here?

“Are you the Crocodile Ancestor?”

Ye Fan’s voice carried neither joy nor sorrow. After everything he had endured, even if a quasi-emperor appeared before him, he would not panic.

The two lantern-like green eyes dimmed, and the figure vanished into thin air, as though it had never been there. That spot was now completely empty.

A chill crept up Ye Fan’s spine. This being was too fast — so fast that he hadn’t caught how it had disappeared, as though it had evaporated into the air.

He wheeled around to look behind him — and his back broke out in cold sweat on the spot. In the dim darkness, a vague and towering outline stood there, staring fixedly at him. It was the same figure from before.

Again, before even a moment had passed, the mysterious shadow vanished once more, without the faintest pulse of life energy, reappearing in an entirely different direction.

How could it be so fast? Ye Fan was genuinely startled. If this being were to strike, how could he defend against it? It was terrifying.

Was this or wasn’t this the Crocodile Ancestor? He couldn’t be certain. He couldn’t see its true form, could not make out its face, could not even detect its aura.

What was this thing? If it were the Crocodile Ancestor, it would most likely have crushed him with a single finger by now. Why hadn’t it acted?

Ye Fan activated the Movement Character Formula, transforming into a streak of light that burst away, leaving the ruins of the Great Thunder Sound Temple behind. He stopped several li away, listening to the voice of heaven and earth.

Everything was utterly still. There was no storm at this moment — the entire Ancient Star Huoying was wrapped in absolute silence, with nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat.

Stars glimmered overhead, faint points of light. In the surrounding dimness, the ruins of the Great Thunder Sound Temple in the distance lay motionless like a slumbering beast.

What is going on? Why hasn’t that shadowy figure followed?

Ye Fan was puzzled. Back in that place, the tall human-shaped figure had kept shifting left and right, unsettling him greatly — yet now it hadn’t followed him at all?

That’s strange. Ye Fan hovered outside the ruins of the Great Thunder Sound Temple, circling and observing. Nothing unusual occurred. This left him even more uncertain.

Could what I saw just now have been something born from the ruins of the ancient temple itself?

With that possibility in mind, his heart steadied somewhat. He moved forward step by step, slowly drawing near to the long-dilapidated ruins.

Sure enough, the moment he drew close, the same spot yielded the same result — a commanding silhouette materialized without a sound, shifting positions endlessly, like some ghostly sovereign.

Moreover, when Ye Fan tried moving toward the opposite end of the ruins, an even more terrifying sight appeared: an ancient great demon exhaled and inhaled heaven and earth, half-visible, half-concealed, radiating a daunting killing aura — wholly different from the shadowy figure before.

Seeing this, Ye Fan felt no fear. Instead, he relaxed completely. Having spent so long in the Northern Dipper Star Domain around people like Duan De and the Black Emperor, one couldn’t help but absorb their knowledge of strange and uncanny things. He had practically become a half-expert himself.

These were Guardian Demon Spirits of the temple!

All of this certainly originated from the foundations. All these years had passed, the Crocodile Ancestor had escaped, the subterranean foundations had crumbled, and the contingencies laid down by Shakyamuni had manifested in the mortal world.

There existed in the world a type of subterranean sealing art — mysterious and ruthless. Blood from powerful Demon Sages was poured into the foundations, and those who died could manifest various divine forms they had possessed in life.

Beneath the Great Thunder Sound Temple lay a land of evil — eighteen levels of hell. The construction must have required tremendous effort and meticulous preparation. Otherwise, the whole ancient temple would have been overturned by what lay below.

Ye Fan carefully cleared away the debris — the shattered walls and crumbled remains of the Great Thunder Sound Temple — pushing them aside, revealing a stark and forbidding foundation layer.

This is a Buddhist realm of bliss, yet what lies beneath it is this — Shakyamuni truly showed no mercy in order to suppress the demons.

The foundation, at a glance, was clearly extraordinary. Every stone slab was engraved with mysterious runes and stained a dark reddish-black — soaked in demon blood. The sight was unsettling.

At the center, surrounded by the foundation stones, was a massive black pit. After the debris was cleared away, wisps of demonic energy drifted up from below — deeply sinister.

So this is the eighteen levels of hell. This is where the Crocodile Ancestor once escaped from.

That the Great Thunder Sound Temple possessed eighteen levels of hell beneath it — if word reached the mortal world, even devout Buddhists would refuse to believe it.

In the past, the Crocodile Ancestor had broken free, and the divine spirit consciousness of that ancient being had rushed out as well. Whether the other, even more terrifying otherworldly divine beings had also escaped remained unknown.

This place is not far from Earth. If these things were to escape…

Ye Fan shuddered. In the current age of diminished Dharma, where cultivation was unknown on Earth, who could resist them? The thought made him uneasy. He resolved to go down and see for himself.

Ye Fan entered the great black pit alone. It was like the maw of an ancient primordial beast lying in wait — gaping and ferocious.

Bone-piercing killing intent surged up, like a blunt blade carving through flesh — a dull, aching pain. The underground space was vast, hundreds of zhang deep, and equally broad and wide.

Though it was pitch black, beneath the gaze of the Heavenly Eye, nothing could hide. This was the first level of hell.

The walls were carved with golden-body arhats, bodhisattvas, and ancient buddhas of the heavenly realms, all in demon-subduing poses, glaring with divine might — this was the tempering of demons.

Ye Fan was astonished. The killing intent emanating from these carvings, accumulated day after day, year after year, amassed over hundreds or thousands of years, would be enough to refine and dissolve even a great demon king. Its profundity and spiritual power were beyond measure.

This was where the Crocodile Ancestor had been suppressed. That it had survived two thousand years of active imprisonment without dying was no small miracle.

The vast, cavernous first level of hell was carved entirely from rock — as though a great block of demonic stone had been hollowed out to form it.

In each of the four corners stood a thick stone pillar, supporting the Great Thunder Sound Temple above and seemingly suppressing what lay within.

Carved upon the four stone pillars were various demon gods, along with grooves and channels filled with dried black blood. These were Demon-Sealing Stakes, used to refine and dissolve Demon Sages.

The floor was saturated with killing intent. Scattered about were enormous scales, each one over a full person’s length, glinting with a cold and eerie murderous light. Without question, these belonged to the Crocodile Ancestor — shed and refined away by the first level of hell.

Ye Fan picked one up and found the material to be extremely hard. Even though its demonic energy had been thoroughly refined away and its essence long since removed, a trace of undying property still remained.

“Worthy of a Demon Sage. Even a scale that has been completely stripped of its power is still this formidable!” Ye Fan gritted his teeth. His hatred for the Crocodile Ancestor was deep — he wanted to flay its skin and pull its bones.

In one corner, a large black hole opened downward — the entrance to the second level of hell, the place where the vengeful spirit of a Great Completion Holy Physique was suppressed.

Ye Fan leapt in. He wanted to see how many levels of hell had been broken open. The depths below were pitch black, even more oppressive, and Yin energy assailed the body — like needles pricking the skin.

Suddenly, his expression froze. His entire body stiffened. For in this level of hell, there was a ghost lamp, emitting a sickly green glow, radiating frigid cold.

And in front of that ghost lamp sat a stone coffin, and upon the lid crouched a small, wizened old man, grinning at him in a twisted, uncanny way.

Ye Fan’s hair stood on end. He stumbled backward, again and again. This second level of hell actually had a living being!

This place had long since had its seal broken. Why was there still such a ghost lamp, and why was there this old ghost so utterly saturated with Yin energy? The pricking pain in his skin worsened — as though thousands upon thousands of Yin needles were being driven into him all at once.

Boom!

Ye Fan immediately summoned the cauldron. Nine-colored flames poured down like a waterfall, surrounding him entirely. He gripped the Bodhi Seed in his palm.

These were the supreme Yang divine flames, capable of incinerating all impurity and evil spirits. Ye Fan used them to shield himself, but made no rash move, fixing his eyes intently on what lay before him.

Hiss!

The small, wizened old man dissolved into a streak of green light, slipping into the bronze lamp with its human-shaped body and ghost-faced design. The flame at the lamp’s wick blazed noticeably stronger.

“This is a Coffin-Suppressing Lamp!” Ye Fan drew a sharp breath. He recalled Duan De’s words and recognized immediately what this object was.

For Duan De, this human-bodied, ghost-faced lamp would certainly be a priceless divine treasure — a sacred object for suppressing graves, capable of pressing down upon coffins and pinning down vengeful spirits.

In this place, there was no shortage of vengeful spirits. The divine spirit consciousness of a Great Completion Holy Physique had once dwelt here — the sovereign among all ghosts, without equal. Naturally, this ghost lamp was the supreme among its kind.

How such a ghost lamp came to be forged, no one could know. Never mind the lamp itself — even the fuel it burned would be impossible to find. It was said to be rendered from the body fat of sages — and the more sages it used, the better. Its flame had supposedly burned undying since ancient times.

Looking at the ghost lamp and its ghastly green ghost fire, Ye Fan felt a chill. That was the body fat of sages burning there — and it had been used to suppress the vengeful spirit of a Great Completion Holy Physique. The fat it burned must be all the rarer and more extraordinary for it.

Such a thing was not a spiritual treasure. It couldn’t be summoned in ordinary combat to attack enemies. It could only be used to suppress graves — and in burial grounds of dark tombs, it would hold absolute power.

Ye Fan stared at the human-bodied, ghost-faced lamp. Its wick was the tongue it had protruded, exuding an unspeakable wickedness and terror. This object was ancient, and the marks of countless ages were worn deep and indelible upon it.

By feeling alone, one could tell: this lamp had existed for tens of thousands of years at minimum. It certainly had not been forged by Shakyamuni — he must have found it elsewhere and brought it here to suppress the vengeful spirit of the Great Completion Holy Physique.

This ghost lamp was most likely a divine object of great wonder. If Duan De were here, he would certainly be drooling, rushing forward eagerly — yet Ye Fan felt deeply uncomfortable with it and had no wish to take it.

Outside of use against dark burial grounds and ancient tombs, this lamp truly had no great purpose.

Ye Fan stared at the human fat burning at the wick, feeling a wave of revulsion. Although the ancient great sages were sacred, the things they had left behind here were truly unsettling.

Though it is not exactly clean, it does have its value. Once entering an ancient cavern burial ground, this lamp would be equivalent to a divine treasure, possessing strange and inexplicable power.

He wanted to take it, yet was a little worried about the wizened little old man causing trouble — though that in turn indirectly confirmed how terrifying this lamp was, having given birth to a divine spirit.

Ye Fan held his nose and tossed the lamp into the nine-colored flames inside the cauldron, using them to suppress it, and put it away.

The stone coffin inside was completely empty — naturally nothing would have been left. After all, the divine spirit consciousness had already escaped. Only wave after wave of cold, eerie energy still pervaded the air.

The hell reached its deepest point — and it was not eighteen levels. There were only two. This left Ye Fan puzzled, completely unlike what he had imagined.

He searched repeatedly, combing through everything carefully. In the end he came up empty, and returned to the surface. He examined the ruins of the Great Thunder Sound Temple once more and finally discovered something hidden.

A stone stele was buried beside the foundation stones beneath the ground. What was carved upon it was neither Sanskrit nor bronze-vessel script, but the universal divine script of the ten thousand ancient tribes.

Though Ye Fan could not read all of it now, he could manage most of it, making out the meaning of the greater part.

The Yin-Yang hell consists of only two levels, mutually restraining each other, sealing one another with the power of Yin and Yang. That was the gist of the first line. Below it, there was further text.

Ye Fan understood in an instant. The eighteen levels of hell were separated, each pair forming a group, distributed across nine ancient stars, collectively suppressing eighteen terrifying ancient beings — each one more formidable than the last.

It is fortunate things are this way. Had the seals of this place all broken at once and eighteen ancient divine beings rushed out together, even Shakyamuni returning would not necessarily have been enough.

Suddenly, the sound of waves rolled toward him — deafening, thunderous. At first Ye Fan thought it was an illusion. He listened more carefully. He could scarcely believe his own ears. It was real.

And at that very moment, he saw, on the horizon, a vast black ocean surging toward him.

He had read reports before — that the Ancient Star Huoying, in that distant past, may have had great rivers, perhaps even large lakes and oceans. But that age was long gone. How could they still exist?

Boom!

Waves crashed against the shore, boulders flew through the air.

And within that black ocean, several ghost ships were sailing — flickering with sickly green ghost fire, uncanny beyond words.