The Lingbao Sect’s secret grounds were located right within Mount Gezao. In ancient times, this had been the closed-door retreat for retired sect leaders and Grand Protectors of the Dao—ordinary disciples were absolutely forbidden from entering.
But things were vastly different now. With almost no conditions left for cultivation on Earth, only such secret grounds still had spiritual essence leaking out. To ensure the lineage’s continuation, even core members were now allowed to enter.
The Lingbao secret grounds spanned only a few li in radius, a mysterious array of formations separating it from the outside world, everything retaining its primal, ancient atmosphere.
The spiritual mountain was quite low, springs gurgling, ancient trees vigorous and sturdy, wisps of auspicious energy lingering about.
For decades, even centuries, Ye Fan was the only person not belonging to the Lingbao Sect to set foot in this place, receiving tremendous hospitality—the sect leader personally welcomed him, with all the elders in attendance.
There weren’t many people here, because the spiritual energy was limited, unable to sustain too many people cultivating together—only important figures were present.
They were extremely respectful and courteous, wanting to invite Ye Fan to lecture on scriptures, to help complete the texts the Lingbao Sect had lost. They had the platform moved into this secret ground.
Ye Fan was surprised. Such a vast sect as Lingbao, having produced a peerless powerhouse like Ge Hong in the past—how had it fallen to such a state now? He hadn’t sensed any immortal scriptures here, nor discovered any traces of the Nine Secrets.
He had quite a few doubts in his heart and directly voiced them all.
The Lingbao sect leader sighed softly, recounting all he knew. Earth’s spiritual essence had dried up, no longer suitable for cultivation. The powerful figures of each sect had all chosen to travel far away, to unknown destinations.
Back then, almost all the great spiritual powers had left. With their departure, many lineages of transmission had nearly been severed entirely.
The scriptures of today’s sects—where could complete, flawless ancient texts be found? What remained had been compiled by the few who chose not to leave back then, nowhere near comparable to the former glory.
Ye Fan was stunned, finally understanding why the Lingbao Sect—which had produced Ge Hong, and was suspected to be the very lineage from which the Lingbao Celestial Worthy, one of Daoism’s Three Purities, arose—had declined to such an extent. The true orthodox transmission was nearly extinct.
“Is it the same for the other sects as well?”
“More or less the same. Once the great spiritual powers departed, the orthodox lineages all suffered losses, and Earth’s cultivation grounds were abandoned,” the Lingbao sect leader sighed.
A whole generation of great spiritual powers vanished from the human world, and soon after, the Age of Declining Dharma began, making it difficult for powerful figures to emerge—a generational gap formed, and each sect declined as a result.
“The Lingbao Sect suffered heavy losses. Almost none of our scriptures remain complete. Relying solely on the few young disciples from back then, it was impossible to reconstruct all the classical texts,” the Lingbao sect leader sighed at length.
Now, they could no longer be considered the dominant, supreme sect, because they had lost too much—there was no way to recover it.
But for sects that still had elder statesmen remaining, their classical texts were still relatively well-preserved. Those senior predecessors who were reluctant to leave their homeland had made tremendous contributions to preserving the orthodox transmission.
“Are there still such people today?” Ye Fan asked.
“Perhaps no more than a few left. About twenty-some years ago, the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin descended upon Mount Tai, shocking the cultivation world. Back then, the last old ancestor of Dragon Tiger Mountain was invited out of seclusion, to guard the ancient Dao platform. Not long after returning, he passed away in meditation. It’s said he was the last of the elder statesmen.”
“So it was an old Daoist from Dragon Tiger Mountain.” Ye Fan had once heard Yang Xiao mention this. Later, medical research institutions tried desperately to save his life but couldn’t, though they discovered, to their surprise, that he might have lived one or two thousand years.
Having come to the Lingbao secret grounds, Ye Fan naturally had to ask about the Nine Secrets. He thought of them constantly, wanting to gather them all complete—since he had chosen the path to immortality, this would be an essential technique to protect his Dao body.
The Lingbao sect leader smiled bitterly—not to mention in modern times, even back then this had been the highest secret, something Immortal Master Ge Hong had obtained by chance, passed on to only a few disciples.
Ye Fan felt boundlessly disappointed. In this Age of Declining Dharma, it wasn’t just Earth’s spiritual essence that had dried up—even the cultivation methods themselves had declined, with ancient marvelous techniques nowhere to be found.
The Lingbao sect leader was just one step away from entering the Dragon Transformation secret realm, considered a top-tier expert in this era. Having reached this level of cultivation relied entirely on the spiritual eye within the pure land, where auspicious energy gushed forth abundantly. Little Pine curiously ran over to look, nearly falling in.
“I’m not even considered a top-tier expert. Some sects have ancient spiritual roots, with far richer essence in their secret grounds than here. Several sect leaders have reached the Dragon Transformation secret realm.”
In this Age of Declining Dharma, Dragon Transformation counted as a top-tier expert—wherever one appeared, none could stand against them, commanding respect from all quarters.
“Of course, this isn’t absolute either. Twenty-some years ago, didn’t an old Daoist emerge from Dragon Tiger Mountain? Rumored to be a person from the Qin-Han period, his cultivation impossible to fathom.”
The Lingbao sect leader spoke of many matters Ye Fan cared greatly about. Back then, the person with grey wings had come from the West—even the old Daoist about to pass away in meditation at Dragon Tiger Mountain hadn’t been able to do anything against him.
Moreover, several great spiritual powers had made their move, seizing some precious foundation stones from the altar, upon which ancient heavenly texts had been recorded.
Ye Fan said, “Tell me about the Western orthodox lineages—that information is of great use to me. Having ancestral relics like the altar and heavenly texts left at Mount Tai fall into foreign hands isn’t good.”
The Lingbao sect leader was greatly startled—what did this living ancestor-level being intend to do? Did he plan to go to the West alone?
Not long after, everyone within the pure land bowed, requesting Ye Fan lecture on scriptures, to help complete their lost teachings—utterly reverent, their attitude sincere.
Ye Fan naturally wouldn’t overreach himself, not accepting their grand bows, but he sat upon that Dao platform, extracting one strand of Dao ripple after another, helping restore their classical texts for them.
He sat there for half a month straight, chanting various scriptural teachings from his mouth, each character like forged metal imprinted in the void, shimmering brilliantly, emitting bursts of resonant, clanging sounds.
“Accumulated yang becomes spirit, spirit contains form. Form is born of the sun, the sun is born of the moon. Accumulated yin becomes form, form contains spirit…”
There was one text that Ye Fan managed to fully restore, gaining much himself as well—the “Lingbao Wuliang Duren Shangpin Miaojing,” abbreviated as the Duren Sutra (Scripture of Salvation).
Back then, during his time in the Big Dipper, he had obtained a partial version from Old Blind Man. He hadn’t expected to find a complete, flawless version here. Tracing the development of Daoist history, one would find that the Duren Sutra truly originated from the Lingbao lineage.
Of course, this version differed from the one circulating among mortals—this one possessed genuine power of salvation, aligned with the profound principles of heaven and earth, complex and profound, of boundless use.
Back then, within the Immortal Mansion world in Zhongzhou, even the Undying Heavenly Emperor’s divine consciousness had feared the salvation power of this scripture, not daring to harm those chanting it.
“What a pity, the main text of the ‘Lingbao Sutra’ can no longer be restored. Only fragmentary techniques remain,” the sect elders all lamented, filled with regret, yet still boundlessly grateful toward Ye Fan.
Ye Fan spent half a month restoring many scriptures for them. As he was about to leave, he asked about the matter of the demonic race, directly stating the matter concerning the Pang Bo family.
“You are… you’ve actually returned!” The Lingbao sect leader was greatly startled, having felt Ye Fan looked familiar all along, now finally recognizing him, understanding the reason.
Ye Fan’s eyes suddenly turned sharp, radiating an intimidating aura, startling everyone within the secret grounds, their expressions changing, hair standing on end.
“Don’t misunderstand!”
The Lingbao sect leader already understood—this great spiritual power before him was much younger than himself, having cultivated for at most twenty-some years, which was truly astonishing.
He hurriedly explained. Back then, those carried away by the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin had been closely monitored by every sect. Afterward, each person was thoroughly investigated, including their families.
On the very day the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin incident occurred, even Western powers rushed over, not to mention cultivators from the Central Lands—every sect quickly responded.
Almost on that very day, each sect dispatched experts to learn their backgrounds, and Pang Bo’s family must have been targeted that very day by some branch of the ancient demonic gods.
Ye Fan nodded, telling him to elaborate—which major demonic god clans existed in the world today.
“The Great Xia Dragon Sparrow’s main branch, the Sky Kirin clan, the Vermillion Phoenix orthodox lineage, the Myriad Demon Valley—openly, there are these four great ancient demonic god clans. Whether there are others hidden from the world remains unknown,” the Lingbao sect leader pondered, then said.
He thought it over and said that to have responded so quickly that very day to enter the Pang family, it could only have been a powerful demonic god clan.
“Right, you must be careful!” The Lingbao sect leader seemed to recall something, having someone fetch a wooden box. Inside was an old black-and-white photograph.
During World War II, a demonic god had once emerged, appearing on various battlefields, cultivating through this means, its blood-aura overwhelming, shocking the cultivation world.
This black-and-white photograph had been taken by a mortal at the time, later taken by cultivators, circulated among the major sects, causing horror wherever it went.
In the dim photograph, that overwhelming blood-aura, though blurry, was still shocking enough to send chills down one’s spine, as if a bloody miasma were about to burst through the paper itself.
Ye Fan stared at the photograph for a long while, then nodded silently. This was very likely an ancient great demon, extraordinarily terrifying. So many heroic spirits had died back then that its cultivation level would surely have risen another tier.
He pondered for a moment, then told the Lingbao sect leader to instruct his disciples not to reveal anything about him, especially his cultivation level, then asked where the four great demonic god clans were located.
“Please rest assured, I’ve already given instructions, and guests from outside our sect have also been informed—this will not leak out.”
The Lingbao sect leader only knew the general regions, not the true secret locations of the four demonic god clans, because these were all taboo matters—getting too close might bring great disaster.
This trip to Mount Gezao, though he hadn’t obtained the Nine Secrets, Ye Fan had learned much about today’s cultivation world—a considerable gain.
Before even leaving Mount Gezao, Ye Fan stopped in his tracks. In the distance, a figure with grey wings descended, bringing waves of black mist.
Behind him, the Lingbao sect leader’s expression changed drastically—this was a formidable figure at the Four Ultimates secret realm, grey-haired and grey-eyed, as if emerged from hell itself.
He directly stated his purpose, mentioning the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin incident from years past, claiming the Lingbao Sect must have also retrieved something important back then, and wished to take a look today.
“Why do I feel like this resembles the ancient Fallen Feather Clan?” Ye Fan spoke up.
“They’re from the Western orthodox lineage,” the Lingbao sect leader said.
“Who are you, why are you here?” This person with grey feathered wings had pupils like dead ash, dim and lightless, sweeping over them mercilessly.
“Who I am isn’t important, nor is there any need to tell you,” Ye Fan said, circling around him once, then said, “I have no time right now. Someday I’ll pay a visit to Jerusalem.”
“Wanting to visit our ancient holy city—it’s been a long time since any cultivator has come knocking…” This grey-haired strange man suddenly extended a large hand, grabbing toward Ye Fan’s heavenly crown, fast as lightning.
“Pfft!”
Ye Fan pointed across the distance with a finger. Though there was still some distance between them, this strange man’s arms both severed completely, grey blood spraying out.
“You… what are you?” The person with grey wings on his back was shocked—he hadn’t expected to kick such a formidable iron plate. Clearly, this was a great spiritual power!
Ye Fan waved his hand, instantly capturing him and pulling him over. His face was filled with terror, struggling desperately but unable to break free.
Beside them, everyone was horrified—this was a Four Ultimates secret realm expert, someone even most sect leaders today couldn’t match, yet he was carried over by Ye Fan like a dead duck.
Ye Fan extracted a beam of light from between his brows—his sea of divine consciousness—reading his memories, a cold sneer at the corner of his mouth. “I really thought a fallen angel had arrived. So this is the result of the West’s cultivation methods.”
“You… who are you? My Lord will manifest in the human world—release me.” The grey-haired man was shocked and terrified.
“Pfft!”
Ye Fan pointed with a finger, and he dissipated like snowflakes, his entire body of flesh, blood, bones, and even his sea of divine consciousness completely melted away, ceasing to exist.
Everyone around dared not even breathe loudly, secretly grateful they hadn’t offended this deity, hadn’t clashed with him, and had even received his guidance.
“Someday I’ll need to make a trip to the West—who knows who I’ll encounter there,” Ye Fan murmured to himself. Bringing Guo Zhen and Little Pine along, they vanished in an instant.
A few days later, he arrived at Changbai Mountain, entering this primeval land, searching for the ancient demonic god clan.