It was a low hill — nothing remarkable about it, with only a few thatched huts. In these past three years, Ye Fan had spent the better part of his time living on this nameless little mountain.

Before the thatched huts, a grapevine grew lush and verdant, clusters of green grapes hanging from its branches. Beside it lay a medicine field planted with old medicinal plants and spirit stalks, their clean fragrance drifting on the air.

In the distance was a stand of pine trees. Little Pine scurried in and out of them all day long like a mischievous monkey, hunting for pine cones, playing with great delight.

Zhang Qingyang had endured three years of hardship — traveling the world to spread the faith. Ye Fan had watched it all and knew how much the young man had given. The transformation of the Primordial Mother Energy Cauldron was the most striking proof.

Now the cauldron was spiritually awakened. At every moment, pure streams of thought-force flowed into it — thread upon thread, immortal mist radiant and vivid, sacred light rising in columns, transcending the mundane and approaching the divine.

The Celestial Court had taken root in the world, growing vigorously and flourishing day by day. Every day, faith energy was branded into the cauldron’s interior — a sacred transformation, forging an immortal vessel.

“Krak!”

In the sky, a bolt of lightning flashed. Then came a torrential downpour. Ye Fan stood motionless before the window, gazing at the lightning serpents threading through the cloud layer.

Little Pine pried open a Firephoenix Fruit, exposing the bright crimson, tender flesh within, and blinked its big eyes, offering pieces with an ingratiating air to both Ye Fan and Zhang Qingyang.

“Crack!”

Silver lightning serpents danced and wove through the black clouds, slicing open the heavens and sending tremors of fearsome energy through the air. Weather like this was perilous for cultivators.

“Qingyang, are you ready?” Ye Fan asked.

“Master, I am ready,” the Daoist Little Heavenly Master answered. In these past few years he had traveled far and wide to preach, yet his cultivation had not fallen behind — he had advanced steadily, and this was not unrelated to Ye Fan’s exceptional care for him.

“Then enter the lightning. Open your heart and body to the baptism. Do not fear or be afraid — I will keep you safe.” Ye Fan said softly.

For these past few years, whenever storms came, Ye Fan had selectively stood guard over several of his disciples, allowing them to draw down heavenly thunder to temper their bodies.

Each of the great ancient sects had their own secret methods for this. Under ordinary circumstances, a disciple of an ancient lineage who could draw in one or two bursts of thunder-light was doing well — beyond that, great calamity would follow.

This was not a true heavenly tribulation; no one in the present age could trigger one. Yet through ancient methods it was possible to borrow thunder-light to refine the body — a kind of tribulation-crossing in its own right. Even so, the risk of having body and spirit destroyed simultaneously loomed at every turn, and most people dared not attempt it.

Over three years, the several registered disciples had each passed through eight or nine such tribulations. Zhang Qingyang alone had undergone eleven, and was now about to face his twelfth.

Every one of these disciples possessed extraordinary bones — born in the Northern Dipper, they would each have been outstanding talents in their own right. Yet they had the misfortune to come of age in this era of waning Dao, unable to sense a true heavenly tribulation. And so Ye Fan had them draw down thunder-light to temper their bodies every year.

For ordinary people, twice was the limit. These disciples, however, drew down thunder-light and crossed tribulation every single year — each time more powerful than the last, nearly rivaling a true heavenly tribulation in scale.

After several years of this, their cultivation had deepened markedly. Each step was walked with great steadiness; the foundation of their Dao had been hammered into something immovably solid and exceptionally firm.

In the course of this process, Ye Fan noticed something particular about Zhang Qingyang: having traveled the world in ascetic practice to spread the faith, living alongside the cauldron, he had become infused with a considerable amount of faith energy, which helped him endure the heavenly tribulations with much greater ease than the others. This was precisely why his tribulation count was the highest.

“Master, I am going up,” Zhang Qingyang said.

He shot straight into the sky, flying into a bolt of lightning and entering the dense cloud layer. The tribulation began. Lightning from every direction converged, all of it striking him.

In an instant, electric brilliance blazed; silver serpents of light writhed in frenzy. This place looked as though a great battle had broken out. He battled within the vast radiance, drawing in the thunder to temper his body.

“Indeed — already several times stronger than before,” Ye Fan murmured.

When one draws thunder-light into the body for tempering, regardless of how much one’s cultivation has progressed, the intensity is always several times greater than the previous session. Heaven itself seems to keep a record, and thus even the most stunning of cultivators would not dare to scale the heavens every single year.

“Drawing thunder-light to this degree — this truly counts as a heavenly tribulation,” Ye Fan nodded.

“Boom!”

Between heaven and earth, the lightning grew frenzied — blazing ever more intensely. A sea of silver electricity descended, engulfing Zhang Qingyang entirely, rending heaven and earth asunder.

Ye Fan watched with focused attention, guarding the Dao for his disciple — yet he did not extend a helping hand. Unless the peril of bodily and spiritual destruction was upon him, Ye Fan would not intervene.

Little Pine stood to one side, blinking its big eyes, staring up at the clouds as well. In these past few years it had passed through several true heavenly tribulations, advancing from sobbing uncontrollably at the outset to composure now — no small progress.

It knew well the terror of heavenly tribulation — earth-shaking, vast beyond measure. Especially the thunder that descended in this age of waning Dao, which surpassed all imagination. Every time it recalled those moments it would shrink back, little claws pressed to its chest, shuddering with lingering fear.

“Ah — it is working again,” Ye Fan said, eyes fixed on the sea of lightning. Threads of pure faith energy on Zhang Qingyang’s body were neutralizing the vast lightning, absorbing it into his body without harm.

At the most dangerous moments, these rays of sacred light produced a mysterious and inexplicable effect — wondrous beyond description, setting the mind wandering in deep reflection.

Half an hour later, when the final nine strata of thunder-light descended, Zhang Qingyang was left with his skin split and his bones nearly charred — yet he had at last, through great struggle, come through.

He descended, entering the thatched hut. His expression was ablaze with excitement — for his physical body had grown stronger, his dharma power surged, and his primordial spirit had also expanded somewhat.

“Very good,” Ye Fan said with a nod. Before facing his own tribulation of Dao Severing, he had set certain matters in order so that, should something go wrong, everything would not fall into chaos. He had not rushed to ascend to the heavens.

In the months that followed, Ye Fan stood guard over each of his disciples in turn, allowing them all to undergo one session of the thunder tribulation’s tempering. Every one of them emerged with significantly deepened cultivation.

“Your path is for you to walk yourself. I cannot lay out a direction for you. Tribulation, enlightenment, and the choices you make — all must be experienced and understood by you alone,” Ye Fan said, ruffling Little Pine’s head.

He had no wish to confine this small creature within the boundaries of his own thinking. He let it break free of convention, and did not set out a future path for it as he had done for the other disciples.

One month later, Ye Fan ascended into the heavens alone, departing without allowing anyone to accompany him.

Little Pine was frightened. It chased after him wailing, wanting to offer the little stone Buddha to shield him from the tribulation — but Ye Fan refused.

Zhang Qingyang called out loudly, urging Ye Fan to take all the faith energy upon himself, saying it would double the effect with half the effort and allow him to safely sever the Dao and pass the tribulation. The other disciples called out as well.

Ye Fan did not look back. He poured out all the faith energy stored within the cauldron, letting it cascade downward like a vast waterfall, leaving it temporarily on the low hill.

This pure thought-force would certainly be of great use — but now he had no wish to rely upon it. Having already fixed upon the path he would walk — severing the Great Dao against its current — he would not rely on any external force.

Only his proof-of-Dao vessel, the cauldron, would he bring with him. Nothing else would accompany him through the tribulation. This had been his choice from the very beginning and had never wavered.

“Faith energy — right now the multitudes are at my service. But what the future holds is another matter entirely…” This was a vague unease that lingered within him, and so he chose not to draw upon it.

Ye Fan ascended into the heavens, traveling beyond the domain. He moved far from mountain and river and land — for he feared that once the tribulation struck, it would destroy an expanse of magnificent landscape, sinking an entire continent. No one understood better than he did just how terrible his tribulation would be. Once it erupted, the destruction would be absolute. This time was different from all that had come before; he himself did not know what to expect. He could not afford to be reckless.

Standing alone in the cold and dark of the cosmos, he felt the silence of death surrounding him. The vast oppressive weight of the Earth transmitted across the distance, reaching him — as though a primordial Celestial Emperor were lying in dormancy within it.

“The time has come. Let the tribulation begin.” Ye Fan murmured softly.

He began to activate his Dao, no longer suppressing his own power. He opened his heart and body, communing with the cosmos and all of heaven and earth, releasing a will that soared above and beyond the Great Dao itself.

“Boom!”

The vast void of the cosmos, which had held nothing a moment before, suddenly became an immense ocean — an ocean formed entirely of thunder and lightning!

In a single instant, Ye Fan was buried within it, subjected to the interrogation and punishment of the Great Daos of all the heavens. One by one, enormous arcs of electricity — each as thick as a great river — struck down upon him.

This was a majestic spectacle. If anyone had been there to capture it and show it to the world, it would have shaken through the ages, would have made every cultivator’s courage fail.

This heavenly tribulation was the most terrifying in all of ancient and modern history. Any single bolt of tribulation light far surpassed the entirety of another person’s great heavenly tribulation — and it was thousands upon thousands of such bolts converging together that formed even the first wave of the lightning to strike Ye Fan.

This was a doomsday punishment from heaven and earth. A great annihilation. Nothing could endure it. Its vastness was without limit — a single wisp of that electricity would have been enough to destroy a peerless genius of heaven.

Yet Ye Fan was bathed in its midst — hair loose and flying, opposing alone this boundless heavenly tribulation. His bare, powerful body stood exposed, using the lightning as water to wash his flesh and primordial spirit.

This was a great destruction. Even the void of the cosmos was split apart, cracked open into terrifying black abysses. Only at the very center did one point of light remain unchanged: Ye Fan’s bronze-tinted body, radiant with treasured brilliance, receiving the strikes and the baptism.

Vast and endless, boundless without shore — the heavenly tribulations of countless millennia seemed to have converged upon this one person. Thunder-light of all the ancient and modern ages merged into one, tempering his body.

Every inch of his skin was blinding to behold. Every pore inhaled and exhaled bolts of electricity. The golden little figure at the center of his brows stepped forward, opened its mouth, and swallowed an entire heavenly river in a single breath — the endless sea of thunder drawn in completely, terrible beyond description.

On this day, Ye Fan had told no one in the Daoist sects of the Central Plains or the religious traditions of the West that he was about to sever the Dao. Not a single person knew. He wished to pass through this quietly.

Yet at this very moment, any cultivator could sense that something was happening in the outer domain — for their hearts were seized with unease and dread, as though a great disaster were descending, as though the end of days had come, as though a sharp blade hung above their heads, as though a great mountain were crushing down upon their hearts.

This was an aura of world-ending destruction. Anything that cultivated Dao could feel it. All trembled, gazing in shock toward the outer domain.

Yet no one could see anything — the distance was too great. No one understood what was happening, and none could reason out any explanation.

For this kind of tribulation had no precedent in all of ancient or modern times. They could never have heard of it, let alone witnessed it.

“Boom!”

The first sea of thunder receded. In the void, strange lightning of an enigmatic nature began to appear — there was a Fuxi Dragon Stele, a Nüwa Dao Stone… one after another, utterly mysterious.

This was even more terrifying. Some bolts of lightning mirrored the ancestral artifacts, wild and boundless in their fury as they descended — capable of shattering an ancient star!

These were the impressions of the Great Dao within the heavens and earth — representing the Supreme Dao of ancient times. Every single strike was world-shaking, sufficient to extinguish an entire world.

Ye Fan’s path was to sever the existing Dao against its current and break free of it — to rise above the Great Dao itself. Naturally, he would have to endure the impact and crushing force of every form of sacred Dao that had existed in ancient times.

“Boom!”

In the cosmos, blazing electric light annihilated the world. Among bolts shaped like men and bolts shaped like ancestral artifacts, ancient stars seemed to flicker in and out of existence, historical scenes replaying themselves.

Boundless and endless, lightning without measure descended upon him. Ye Fan faced it alone, black hair streaming loose, his bronze body radiating treasured light. Even when struck until bones shattered and tendons broke, recovery came rapidly.

The golden little figure stood before the space between his brows, gazing down upon all with sovereign contempt. No less unyielding than the flesh, it received the baptism and tempering of ten thousand zhang of thunderbolts.

The cauldron, forged from primordial mother energy, was subjected to the renewed refining of the sea of thunder — hammered by lightning shaped like ancestral artifacts — yet it remained unbroken, growing ever more solid and immortal.

Ye Fan stood within the boundless tribulation light. Every inch of his body blazed with brilliance, bathed in endless great thunder and lightning, tempering an immortal sacred physique, baptizing the golden primordial spirit, a thousand hammers and a hundred refinings upon the cauldron vessel of Dao-proof.

Though he held on for now — he dared not relax so much as a fraction. For the true great tribulation was yet to come.