Vatican — the Land of the Oracle, the pure realm where divinity slumbers — was vast beyond measure, far exceeding the small patch of land it nominally occupied in the mortal world, stretching on without end.
Here, towering sacred mountains rose and fell, wreathed in halos of holy radiance. Angels sang hymns, rare flowers bloomed in abundance, and ancient medicinal herbs grew along the cliffsides. Pureblooded unicorns roamed through the forests.
This was a tranquil, ancient cultivation ground. One could even glimpse elves, giants, and strange dragon species long extinct in the outside world — the air thick with the primal, untamed essence of a forgotten age.
In the distance, deep dragon pools lay still and fathomless, waterfalls plunged from dizzying heights, and dozens of great peaks stood most prominently of all — each one engraved with the Dao markings of heaven and earth, utterly unlike anything in the mortal world.
Atop every one of those mountains stood a grand and magnificent sanctuary. Whether the foundation stones, the roof tiles, or the wooden pillars — all dated back to antiquity, having endured through countless ages.
This place exuded a sense of grandeur and the weight of ages. Through all the turning of years and the shifting of eras, it remained as it had always been — eternal, unchanged, sacred and awe-inspiring.
Not just anyone could set foot in this place, least of all to come demanding reckoning and stand openly against the assembled great ones of the Vatican. Throughout all of history, barely a handful had ever done so.
Ye Fan led several of his disciples into this ancient cultivation ground, standing at a distance, quietly observing the Land of the Oracle, silently contemplating the weight of its accumulated splendor. This was no refuge for the weak — time flowed onward, and every age produced its own heroes.
Behind him came a great crowd of followers — those he had converted in Jerusalem, who had become his devoted and unwaveringly faithful disciples. Among them were no small number of Crusader members.
A vast army bearing down shook all of Europe. Yet within the Vatican, there was only stillness. The lofty holy halls above shed their radiance without a trace of tension.
The earth trembled, wild beasts roared, and hundreds of armored cavalry came charging into the Vatican, all trampling across the mountainous terrain. Their killing intent surged to the heavens, their bloodlust seething.
The people of the Shenhui Family had arrived — to fight in defense of the Vatican. Their clan patriarch led the assembled powerhouses here in person!
BOOM!
Heaven cracked and earth split. From another direction, another tide of murderous energy surged. A group of powerful knights appeared, clad in golden armor and wielding golden war spears. Each one burned with fierce battle intent, their eyes sharp as blades — a pride of lions forged through a hundred battles.
“Those are the people of the Golden Family — they claim lineage descended from divinity itself, incomparably powerful. In the age of antiquity, they produced two Divine Sages who swept through the West, before whom all other saints withdrew.”
A devout follower explained to Ye Fan, detailing the origins of these powerful individuals and elaborating upon the traits of their bloodline, all in considerable clarity.
On this day, numerous ancient families dispatched their finest warriors to reinforce the Vatican, fearing that the demon from the Central Plains would destroy the holy land enshrined in their hearts.
Ye Fan had arrived less than half an hour ago, yet twelve armies had already come rushing from all directions — every one of them representing the most ancient and powerful of legacies, embodying what was most formidable in the present age.
RUMBLE!
On the highest and most magnificent sacred mountain, a grand and towering palace had its doors pushed open by two beautiful angels with divine wings, throwing wide the holy gate of the seat of power. A group of elderly men filed out one by one.
Their overwhelming auras blanketed heaven and earth. These were clearly extraordinary individuals — representing the Vatican’s highest level of combat power at this time. Each one possessed profound cultivation, having spent long years in secluded retreat here, using the ocean-like power of mental intent to advance their practice.
At the center sat a stone chair carved with a cross — ancient and weathered. Upon it sat an old man, erect and unmoving, like a great mountain looking down on everything below, like a deity from a forgotten age. His eyes held a boundless depth, within which suns, moons, and stars seemed to be born and extinguished.
“Hmm — a formidable opponent. This one has survived since antiquity. Judging by the marks time has left upon him, he must be over three thousand years old.” Ye Fan murmured to himself.
“That is the Pope. No one knows which era he comes from — only that batch after batch of his followers have perished, while he has always lived on.” A devout believer informed him.
BANG!
The earth shook as several figures appeared, causing entire mountain ranges to tremble in their wake. They possessed unparalleled might — every one of them still as a mountain, as calm as deep water.
Each figure was distinctive. They appeared to be in their forties or fifties, yet the antiquity buried within their eyes was impossible to conceal. The battle garments they wore were dull and lusterless — all cast from bronze, covered in the marks of blades and arrows, riddled with dents and scrapes, as though pulled directly from a museum.
“Battle armor from the Dark Age!” someone cried out in shock.
“These are holy knights from an ancient era. Legend has it that several of them survived ten thousand battles without dying, living through every era of upheaval to reach the present day.”
Reactions varied across the crowd, but all faces bore expressions of astonishment. Even Ye Fan was somewhat surprised — these four were ancient patriarch-level beings, and the fact that they had survived to this day made them anomalies unto themselves.
“We had originally been waiting for you in the Holy City of Jerusalem, but we received the Pope’s holy decree and did not engage you there.” One of them spoke, his tone free of any joy or sorrow.
“Not even a god was my match — the four of you coming together would be equally useless.” Ye Fan replied calmly.
That composed, emotionless voice carried an incomparable, overwhelming pressure as it fell upon the ears of all present. The ancient families that had come to reinforce the Vatican all felt a chill run through them — because it was simply the truth.
Heaven and earth had been drying up slowly, fully dead in its energy only a few hundred years prior. These four had long since reached the patriarch level, and had since cultivated through the power of mental intent — thus their cultivation had not stagnated due to the exhaustion of the world’s vital energy.
“We may not be your match — but that doesn’t mean we cannot wound you.” They remained composed. In their hands appeared great swords, dragon spears, and daggers — none of them particularly sharp-looking, dull and without sheen. Yet they caused a creeping chill to rise in the hearts of all who beheld them, as though they could devour a person’s primordial spirit — cold, heavy, and still, like dragons lurking in the depths.
“Half-Saint weapons!” Ye Fan’s expression shifted slightly — though he felt no fear, the gap in cultivation between them was simply too great. He extended a single finger and pointed forward. One of the men swiftly raised his great sword to deflect it — and a brilliant light exploded outward. The slumbering ferocious dragon within the weapon awakened, roaring with terrifying power that tore through the sky and split the earth!
The ground cracked, the heavens collapsed — this was a destructive force without equal, capable of stopping absolutely nothing, sweeping across the Vatican like a tide.
All around, ancient markings blazed to life upon the great peaks, lighting up in a brilliant display. They wove together into a vast formation of primordial runes, protecting the Vatican and preventing it from suffering damage.
At the same time, the other three moved as well. These four weapons were extraordinary — together they nearly released the full might of half-saints from antiquity, as though four ancient sword sages had been resurrected to cleave heaven and earth asunder!
Ye Fan transformed into a bolt of lightning, stepping forward through the tens of thousands of radiant threads split apart by the Half-Saint weapons. He pointed four times in succession, each strike condensing into an indestructible sword-like energy. Though the four ancient holy knights possessed boundless power and responded swiftly — deflecting with their Half-Saint weapons — the residual shockwaves still wounded each of them.
On the spot, all four men staggered as though struck by lightning, flying backward through the air. Each coughed up great mouthfuls of blood, countless bones throughout their bodies shattered — and every one of them wore an expression of disbelief.
It was not that they had failed to anticipate Ye Fan’s strength — only that they had not anticipated something this terrifying. His speed was too great. Even with Half-Saint weapons they could not cut down that golden figure.
Moreover, such weapons consumed enormous energy to wield, and they were unable to draw out their true divine might.
Suddenly, ancient scrolls spread across the sky. Four ancient painted scrolls rushed out from behind them simultaneously, transforming into four beams of eternal light that flew toward Ye Fan, pressing down to suppress him.
“Forbidden Curses!”
“The legendary ancient Forbidden Curse Scrolls!”
Many people cried out — their expressions shaken to the utmost. All of them fell back, retreating who knew how many miles. Their faces went snow-white. They had not expected to encounter such things.
These were the Dao markings engraved by the hand of ancient Half-Saints themselves — the most terrifying of all talismans. Anyone struck by them would be killed without exception, for a Forbidden Curse was equivalent to a Half-Saint’s full-power strike.
Four Half-Saints attacking simultaneously — what did that even mean? It was beyond imagination. Any single Half-Saint striking was sufficient to annihilate a powerful being of divine bloodline. Four acting as one was an absolute kill — there was no resistance.
It was clear that the Vatican had no hesitation in consuming its supreme sacred treasures — an immeasurable loss — all for the sake of killing Ye Fan. Four Forbidden Curse Scrolls deployed at once meant there was no possible path of survival.
This was a threat of enormous magnitude. Even Ye Fan’s expression changed. He had not yet severed his Dao — he was not yet a true Immortal-level king. Four Half-Saints moving together was an absolute kill.
HUM!
The Ten Thousand Things’ Mother Qi Cauldron rang out and soared above Ye Fan’s head, releasing cascades of boundless Mother Qi to envelop him completely. He transformed into a bolt of lightning and shot toward the distance.
But at this moment, the Pope moved. His power surged like an ocean — with a single raise of his hand, he shifted several great mountains sideways, the sky and earth thundering in response, blocking Ye Fan’s path.
Moving mountains and filling seas!
The Pope apparently possessed extraordinary divine arts that none in the world could contend against. These sacred mountains bore ancient rune-formations — they could not be shattered. He intended to use them to cut off Ye Fan’s path, then have the Forbidden Curse Scrolls reduce him to dust.
Ye Fan did not charge through by force. His opponent had laid a killing formation — the ancient sacred mountains were engraved with world-shaking Dao markings, and if he actively struck against them, he would inevitably activate them, bringing great trouble upon himself.
Still, he felt no fear. Quickly composing himself, he had already temporarily evaded the four scrolls whose destructive force could collapse heaven and earth — they could not approach his person.
“There is no need for alarm, everyone — this is an ancient battlefield. The Forbidden Curses will not spread beyond its bounds.” The Pope spoke, reassuring those who had fled in panic.
At the same time, he shifted mountains and filled seas. All the ancient sacred peaks took to the air, one after another — a continuous roar, thunder rolling through nine heavens, terror without boundary. He sat there like a celestial deity, suns, moons, and stars rising and falling within his eyes, still seated upon the stone chair engraved with the cross, not once rising — only moving his two hands.
The Pope’s vital energy surged powerfully, almost enough to swallow the sun in the sky. His bearing was one that could devour mountains and rivers — his power flooding the heavens without equal. It was as though he were opening heaven and splitting the earth. Under the driving force of his two hands, primal chaos energy surged through the Vatican without bound.
The four scrolls possessed limitless divine power, as though four ancient Half-Saints were themselves striking — sending Ye Fan toward his final destruction. This was the ultimate forbidden weapon of annihilation.
Behind them, Long Xiaoqi, Zhan Yifan, Youwei Yu, and the others were all shaken, overwhelmed with anxiety. The followers behind them were trembling too. Ye Fan had been trapped within the killing formation — was he about to die?
“Heavenly might!”
“The mightiest beneath the starry sky!”
From a distance, the various ancient families were all shouting, deeply moved by the Pope’s terrifying power. Chills ran up their spines from behind. They were all overwhelmed by his invincible bearing, and cheered him on at the top of their voices.
“To think you could kill me with these means — you are still far from enough.” Calm words drifted out from the center of that terrifying great battle. Ye Fan charged forward using the circulating Qi technique to generate vortices of energy, unleashing the soldier technique at full force, reversing the four scrolls back to hurl them toward the Pope’s location.
BOOM!
The heavens collapsed. Endless black cracks appeared, nearly swallowing the central sacred peak. The four scrolls descended like a shroud, threatening to obliterate the Vatican’s divine authority.
The Pope’s eyes were deep and profound. Still seated upon the stone chair without moving, he extended his right hand and drew a cross in the void. Ten thousand rays of radiance burst forth, and a divine gate appeared.
The four scrolls rushed in with unstoppable, destructive force, disappearing along with their heaven-destroying, earth-annihilating aura — the terrifying power of the Forbidden Curses vanished completely.
Severing void, forming a divine gate!
This was an awe-inspiring divine art. Even in the age of antiquity, very few had ever obtained such a transmission. A divine technique that overshadowed all of heaven!
At the center of the battlefield, Ye Fan’s expression was cold and detached. He moved against the four holy knights without mercy — a supreme secret technique that could be called a one-strike kill.
HUM!
The void trembled. The four holy knights who had survived from the Dark Age felt terror for the first time. They discovered that the weapons in their hands were no longer under their control — all of them were shaking, releasing a towering, overwhelming divine power.
From a distance, the Pope tried to intervene — but it was already too late. The result could not be changed.
Pfft. Pfft.
Blood-light flashed. Four great waves of blood surged up. The four ancient patriarch-level beings were all cleaved apart by the weapons in their own hands — blood spraying three yards, their bodies split in two, they collapsed into the pools of blood.
The four Half-Saint weapons flew out, each shrinking to the length of an inch — dull and lusterless, stripped of their extraordinary nature — and all fell into Ye Fan’s palm. He then tossed them to several of his disciples.
Long Xiaoqi, Zhang Qingyang, Zhan Yifan, and the others were shaken — their fingers trembling. These were Half-Saint weapons they had dreamed of owning. To think that one day they might actually possess them.
The Vatican fell silent — not a sound. Terror filled the hearts of all who stood within it. Four powerful holy knights had died just like that. To the demon from the Central Plains — they were utterly insignificant.
“To think there is still someone like you from antiquity who has lived on until today.” Ye Fan murmured softly, his eyes blazing with intensity as he fixed them upon the Pope on the sacred mountain. This was a formidable enemy.
“Nothing to be surprised about. Over a hundred years ago, I also encountered an ancient Daoren in the Central Plains — otherwise the ancestral weapons your people carry, filled with world-shaking great secrets, would have all been taken long ago.”
The Pope’s tone was calm and utterly composed. Within both his eyes, terrible visions of stars being destroyed and moons sinking played out as though actually occurring. He seemed like a celestial deity looking down upon all below him.
At his side, various Dao markings manifested, weaving together into a display of brilliant radiance. Like the divine robes of an ancient emperor, gleaming with splendor yet bearing the mottled marks of antiquity — draped across his frame, he appeared mysterious and terrifying, powerful and awe-inspiring.
“Then come down and fight.” Ye Fan stood alone in the void, looking out upon the Vatican with disdain.
“I am old — I am no longer capable of fighting.” The Pope shook his head, gazing into the distance. He spoke in a deep and low voice: “I ask the supreme divine knight to take the field.”
At the edge of the great earth, an ancient silhouette appeared — advancing step by step, carrying a dragon spear, as though crossing from antiquity itself into the present. Something unspeakable and terrifying radiated from his approach.
“Among the divine race, five powerful beings remained behind. They once sought to take control of the Vatican — but our greatest divine knight slew two of them, one after another, all by himself.”
The moment the Pope said this, every direction erupted in commotion. Everyone was stunned. This was an ancient existence who had slain gods!
A divine knight who had never once appeared before the eyes of the world!
“Is he the mightiest beneath the entire starry sky?” People trembled — every one of them unable to contain their shock.