《Covering the Sky》

Chapter 001: The Bronze Coffin in the Starry Void

Life is the greatest miracle in the world.

The universe encompasses all space—though tangible, it has no fixed abode. The universe spans all time—ever-expanding, yet its origin remains unknown.

In the vast universe and endless starry sky, many scientists speculate that Earth may be the only cradle of life. Humanity is, in truth, profoundly lonely. Amidst the boundless heavens, with billions of stars, finding a second planet teeming with life seems nearly impossible.

Yet humanity has never abandoned exploration. Since the last century, countless space probes have been launched.

Voyager 2, an unmanned deep-space probe, lifted off from NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in 1977. It carries a gold-plated record titled A Greeting to the Universe, featuring popular music and greetings in 55 Earth languages—hoping, one day, to be intercepted by a possible extraterrestrial civilization.

From the 1970s to the present, Voyager 2 has traveled alone, a speck of dust adrift in the cosmic vastness. Most probes of its era have either malfunctioned or lost contact, vanishing forever into the silent void.

Thirty-odd years have passed, and technology has advanced by leaps. Humanity has developed far more sophisticated deep-space probes, and perhaps, in the near future, our exploration of the stars will take a great leap forward.

Even so, for a long time to come, new probes will still struggle to catch up to Voyager 2.

Thirty-three years later, Voyager 2 is now 14 billion kilometers from Earth. It has reached escape velocity, its orbit no longer bound to the solar system—it has become an interstellar spacecraft.

In the dark, frigid universe, stars twinkle like glittering diamonds set against a black curtain. Though Voyager 2 hurtles through space at extreme speed, in the cold, infinite void, it moves as slowly as a tiny mosquito crawling across a dark field.

Then, after more than three decades, on this very day, Voyager 2 made a stunning discovery!

In the silent cosmos, nine colossal corpses lay motionless…

On May 22, 2010, NASA received a set of mysterious data transmitted by Voyager 2. After arduous decryption and reconstruction, they beheld an unimaginable image.

In that instant, everyone in the main control room paled, freezing like statues—shock had rendered them speechless.

It took a long time for them to snap out of it, and then the control room erupted.

“God, what am I seeing?”
“How is this possible? I can’t believe it!”

Voyager 2, long beyond human guidance, continued its solitary path after transmitting the data, passing through that dark stretch of space and heading for darker, more distant regions.

That corner of the sky was too far. Even with this momentous discovery, this very shocking image, humanity was powerless to act.

The mysterious data was never made public. Soon after, Voyager 2 malfunctioned, cutting off all communication with Earth.

One might think this was the end. But sometimes, events unfold in the most unexpected ways.

Space stations offer unparalleled advantages for astronomical observation, life sciences, and physics research. Since the Soviet Union successfully launched the first manned space station in 1971, nine have been sent into orbit worldwide.

On June 11, 2010, inside the orbiting International Space Station, several astronauts paled, their pupils contracting sharply.

In this day and age, the existence of gods has long been disproven. Those who still believe do so only to fill a spiritual void.

But at this moment, these elite astronauts’ minds were shaken to their core. They witnessed a scene beyond comprehension.

Outside the station, in the cold, dark expanse of space, nine massive creatures lay motionless, as if they had existed since time immemorial—exuding an aura of endless antiquity and desolation. They were dragon corpses.

Identical to the dragons of ancient myth.

Each corpse stretched a hundred meters long, forged like molten iron, radiating a very shocking sense of power. All were five-clawed black dragons; their bodies gleamed with a dark, metallic luster, while their horns, translucent and violet, shimmered with an otherworldly light. Scales glinted with faint, mysterious sparks in the darkness.

Dragons—legendary beings, equal to gods, transcending the laws of nature. But in this age of science, who could believe they truly existed?

The astronauts were profoundly shaken. What they saw defied all reason!

In the silent cosmos, the cold dragon corpses resembled indestructible iron fortresses, their remains still emanating a terrifying latent power.

Yet they had long lost all signs of life, forever resting in the frigid void.

“And that…”

Shaken to the core, the astronauts’ pupils contracted once more as they beheld an even more shocking sight.

Each hundred-meter-long dragon corpse had a thick, black iron chain bound to its tail—thick as a bowl’s rim—extending into the darkness behind them. There, suspended in the void, was a twenty-meter-long bronze coffin.

The massive chains, forged through countless trials, were thick, sturdy, and glinted with a sinister cold light.

The bronze coffin was plain and unadorned, etched with faint ancient patterns that breathed of the passage of time—no one knew how many years it had drifted in the cosmos.

Nine dragons pulling a coffin!

In the pitch-black, freezing universe, the nine dragon corpses and the bronze coffin, linked by those thick black chains, formed a scene of overwhelming grandeur.

Stunned by the unfathomable image on their monitors, the astronauts wasted no time in sending a distress signal.

“Calling Earth…”

Chapter 002: The Plain Questions

“The ancients of remote antiquity all lived to a hundred years without showing signs of aging in their movements.” Ye Fan closed The Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon, a look of yearning in his eyes for the ancient era described in the Plain Questions section.

Little was recorded in precise detail about that distant age. To modern minds, it remains a murky chapter of history, shrouded in endless mystery—fertile ground for endless speculation.

A cool breeze stirred, rustling the leaves of several Chinese parasol trees in the courtyard. Fresh air drifted in through the window.

Ye Fan had a penchant for “oddity-seeking” texts. He brewed a cup of mild green tea and returned to poring over the ancient book.

“Ordinary people living past a hundred, their bodies as agile as ever… What kind of mysterious era was this ancient period?”

As a modern man, he naturally doubted the claims of such longevity. What intrigued him was why that “remote antiquity”—a time revered by the ancients—was cryptically referenced in so many old texts. It was as if a whole civilization, veiled in mist, had vanished into the river of history.

Could there truly be a forgotten chapter of history? After a brief pause, he turned the page. The Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon, a treasure compiled thousands of years ago, ranked among China’s three great ancient classics. While not every word could be taken as truth, its overall value was immeasurable.

“Grasping the rhythms of heaven and earth, mastering yin and yang, breathing in vital essence, preserving one’s spirit unwaveringly, their muscles unified as one—thus they lived as long as heaven and earth, with no end. This is the way of life.”

The Plain Questions repeatedly spoke of ancients who understood the cosmos, nurtured their vital energy, and achieved immortality. Such tales were unimaginable to modern ears.

Before he knew it, the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the lawn and parasol trees outside the window in soft hues of sunset.

Ye Fan set aside the Inner Canon and prepared for an important class reunion.

Three years had passed since graduation. He’d stayed in the city after college, and looking back, the simple, pure days of student life felt like a distant dream.

Three years—long enough to scatter classmates across the country, each carving their own path.

A pleasant ringtone interrupt his thoughts. It was Lin Jia, a sharp, striking woman who’d moved to a neighboring city after graduation. With her sharp wits, she’d risen to department manager a year prior.

He barely pressed answer before her playful voice came through. Even in college, she’d had a knack for drawing people close.

“Miss me already?” Ye Fan shot back lightly.

A melodious laugh echoed. “I’m not sure where the reunion is. Let’s go together later.”

They agreed on a meeting spot, and Ye Fan headed out. He’d once pursued Lin Jia in college, but she’d gently said they weren’t suited.

Lin Jia was stunning, but her shrewdness and pragmatism outshone her beauty. She knew exactly what she wanted—and how to get it.

Ten minutes early, Ye Fan parked near Parkson Mall and waited by the roadside.

The city bathed in sunset, buildings gilded in warm light. Traffic hummed, crowds surged.

Seven or eight minutes later, a Toyota pulled up. Lin Jia emerged, her features as exquisite as ever.

Ye Fan stepped forward. “Got a chauffeured ride, huh?”

“Don’t tease. It’s not a chauffeur—just our classmate Liu Yunzhi,” she said.

They’d stayed in touch sporadically but hadn’t met in two years. Lin Jia looked as youthful as ever: tight jeans and a purple tee hugged her slender, curvy figure.

“Two years gone. How’ve you been?” Her shoulder-length black hair shone, framing eyes that slanted slightly upward beneath long lashes—an alluring, almost feline charm.

“Not bad.” Ye Fan smiled. “With looks like yours, you’re wasting talent not in the entertainment industry.”

“Asking for a beating?” She laughed, her gaze playful, lips curving into a sensual smile.

The Toyota’s window rolled down, revealing Liu Yunzhi—a familiar face. Like Ye Fan, he’d stayed in the city. With help from a well-connected relative, he’d started a small company, making him one of the more “successful” classmates.

They’d barely spoken since a college dispute.

Liu Yunzhi didn’t get out, offering a faint smile. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah. We should catch up sometime.” Ye Fan kept it neutral, noting Liu Yunzhi hadn’t bothered to step out.

“Take a taxi?” Liu Yunzhi asked, a hint of disdain in his tone.

Ye Fan brushed off the slight with a vague reply.

Lin Jia, ever perceptive, sensed the tension. “I called a few old classmates in the city on my way. Let’s ride with Liu Yunzhi.”

Before Ye Fan could respond, Liu Yunzhi interjected, feigning regret. “Sorry, I already promised two others—they’re just up the road. Not sure there’s enough seats.”

“No problem. Go ahead. I’ll catch up.” Ye Fan turned to Lin Jia. “Ride with me, or…”

She hesitated, but Liu Yunzhi pressed, “Better hop in, Lin. Wouldn’t want me drowned in jealous glares.”

After a few minutes of awkward pleasantries, Lin Jia apologized and climbed into the Toyota.

As the window rose, Ye Fan caught a muttered remark from Liu Yunzhi: “Good luck hailing a cab during rush hour.” The car sped off.

Once a campus standout, Ye Fan now seemed “down on his luck” next to Liu Yunzhi—at least in their eyes.

He brushed off Liu Yunzhi’s pettiness, though Lin Jia’s compliance surprised him. Yet everyone had their own way of navigating life—pragmatism, pride, vanity. He couldn’t blame her.

The sun dipped below the horizon, staining the sky a deep crimson before fading to gray. Night loomed.

Meanwhile, nine colossal dragon corpses, tethered to a bronze coffin, hung frozen in the black, frigid void—a scene of very shocking grandeur.

Aboard the International Space Station, astronauts had transmitted the earth-shattering news to Earth, waiting anxiously for further instructions.

Chapter 003: Then and Now

Ye Fan wasn’t exactly a “success story,” but certain experiences had left him with some savings. He’d recently bought a Mercedes—more expensive than Liu Yunzhi’s Toyota. Yet judging a person’s worth by their car struck him as rather vulgar.

A quarter of an hour later, he pulled up at the venue: Ocean Moon City.

It was a luxury entertainment complex combining dining and leisure, nestled in a prime location surrounded by bustle. The parking lot, filled with mid-to-high-end cars, spoke volumes about its clientele.

Three years out of college, most classmates were still climbing the ladder. Ye Fan thought such a flashy venue felt a touch excessive.

Stepping out of the parking lot, he spotted familiar faces—classmates, some not seen in three years.

“Ye Fan!” A refined-looking young man spotted him and smiled, approaching. “Shame on you, skipping out on your duty as the local host. You should’ve organized this reunion.”

This was Wang Ziwen, one of the organizers. Even in college, he’d been a go-getter; rumors said he’d thrived in another city, amassing considerable wealth.

A few others joined them. Though time had passed, the mood stayed warm.

It was clear Wang Ziwen was waiting for someone—only a select few would merit his personal greeting at the entrance.

Sensibly, Wang Ziwen didn’t linger alone. Laughing, he led them inside. The fifth floor housed a small business center, booked for their group of 30 to 50.

Night had fallen, and most classmates had arrived.

Their entrance livened the room. Greetings flew—reuniting felt like stepping through a time warp, blurring the line between college days and now.

Three years post-graduation, they were all in their mid-twenties. A few were married; two had become mothers.

Each had carved a different path, but most were ordinary folk. Idealism had eroded, replaced by the quiet rhythm of daily life. Dreams had faded, and reality set in: they were just regular people.

Wang Ziwen steered Ye Fan to a corner. Scanning the group, Ye Fan noticed a pattern—these classmates either had thriving careers or family connections.

“Ye Fan, you’re late—three cups as punishment!” someone called.

“Three? You underestimate his tolerance,” Lin Jia chimed in, her slanted eyes glinting. She sat with them, her long figure and curves exuding quiet allure.

“Which beauty’s volunteering to punish me?” Ye Fan joked, including the guys in his jest.

“Fresh off the bat and flirting? Punish him—severely!” The group mock-growled.

Liu Yunzhi, with local connections, was part of this clique. He tossed out casually, “Thought you’d get stuck hailing a taxi.”

The room went quiet. Everyone knew of his college feud with Ye Fan. His dig—hinting Ye Fan had taken a taxi—felt unsubtly deliberate.

Others glanced over, but Ye Fan just smiled, saying nothing.

“I’ll go fetch Zhou Yi,” Wang Ziwen said, changing the subject and slipping out.

Lin Jia chatted with two girls about cosmetics and designer brands; others swapped college anecdotes. The awkward lull lifted, and chatter resumed.

Yet the air felt strained. No one mentioned punishing Ye Fan anymore, and conversations swirled more around Liu Yunzhi.

Ye Fan had been a campus celebrity, but that mattered little post-graduation. Now, success was measured by career milestones.

Eyes darted their way—this was a clique of “achievers,” and Ye Fan was edging toward the sidelines.

He took it in stride, but eventually stood and moved to another table. He didn’t want to be labeled part of some elite group.

Girls gossiped about makeup and luxury goods; guys veered from football to current events, topics flowing freely.

Half an hour later, all twenty-five attendees had arrived. Their class once had thirty-three; three studied abroad, five couldn’t make it for various reasons.

Organizers gave speeches, the room buzzing. Then everyone split into cliques, chatting animatedly.

Much later, they left the business center, ready to toast their reunion. No seating plan was needed—status quietly sorted them into tables.

Ye Fan didn’t join Lin Jia and Liu Yunzhi’s group. He settled naturally elsewhere.

After more toasts, informality took over. Some toasted table to table; others got trapped, bombarded with drinks.

Three years had changed people. Alcohol loosened tongues—tales of triumphs and frustrations poured out.

One griped about a tyrannical boss, endless overtime, and meager pay.

A female classmate mentioned her boyfriend was a department manager at a famous firm; another said her husband had been promoted to vice president; someone else noted his fiancée was the niece of a bank executive.

Most listened in silence. Life hadn’t been kind to everyone.

One woman looked particularly haggard. Rumor had it she’d married someone she didn’t love, her husband a drunk. A classmate who’d visited her city once claimed she’d borne bruise marks.

“If you ever need help, just say the word,” Ye Fan said gently. He remembered her shy, earnest self in college, cheering him on from the soccer field sidelines.

Her eyes dimmed with gratitude as she nodded, murmuring a thanks.

“Ye Fan, maybe you should focus on improving yourself first,” the woman with the vice president husband slurred, emboldened by wine. “Look how well Liu Yunzhi’s doing.”

Eyes shifted from Ye Fan to Liu Yunzhi’s table—where the “successful” classmates sat.

“Not to criticize, but college glory means nothing post-grad,” added the man engaged to the bank executive’s niece, lecturing. “You’ve got to hustle.”

Talk turned to envy. Some sighed, recalling how they’d once outshone those now soaring ahead.

A few grew bitter, drunk and bitter, accusing the “successful” of flaunting their wealth.

One girl even joked to Ye Fan, “Glad I only had a secret crush on you back then. Kinda regret turning Liu Yunzhi down now.”

Same city, same people—but the mood at this reunion felt worlds apart.

Chapter 004: Ancient Bronze Carvings

Night had long since fallen. Neon lights flickered along the streets, the city still thrumming with energy. Skyscrapers rose like a forest, piercing the sky.

Yet from space, it all shrank to insignificance—a mere speck.

This was no ordinary night. It would be restless. Dozens of ground control rooms locked onto the inky vault of heaven.

In the silent cosmos, the nine dragon corpses glinted with a cold, metallic sheen. Their scales—each the size of a palm—shimmered faintly, black as obsidian.

Dragons. Legendary beings that should never exist. Yet here they hung, real and imposing, spanning the firmament.

The images captured from the dark void were awe-inspiring, even terrifying. Their massive antlers branched like ancient trees, both powerful and mysterious. Their bodies coiled like mountain ranges, taut with latent strength. Scales sharp as blades glinted coldly, exuding grandeur.

Nine colossal, lifeless forms—they struck a blow to human understanding, upending long-held beliefs.

…

“Ye Fan, how’ve you really been these three years?” Several classmates pressed, genuine concern in their voices.

“Not bad. Pretty uneventful, honestly—no big surprises,” he replied.

Just then, Liu Yunzhi’s group approached to toast, firing off well-wishes. Cups clinked, the mood lively.

Those who’d joked about punishing Ye Fan earlier didn’t seek him out individually. It wasn’t until later that Lin Jia and Wang Ziwen came over, each sharing a private drink with him.

By then, many were tipsy. They moved to a KTV, where songs seemed to transport them back to their awkward student days.

“How many loved your youthful glow, yet who can bear time’s ruthless change? How many came and went, yet I’ve stayed by your side all my life…”

Perhaps drunk, a couple who’d dated in college—then split after graduation—stared at each other, wordless.

As the song swelled, the girl broke down, tears blurring her vision. She sobbed uncontrollably, and others hurried to comfort her.

For various reasons, none of the college couples had lasted. Despite care, campus romances crumbled post-graduation.

Graduation felt like a curse—every year, countless graduates replayed the same heartbreak.

Sadly, the tragedy lingered. It tangled with youthful impulsiveness, job pressures, societal realities… and perhaps more.

Nearly everyone chose songs from three years prior. Some sang with such feeling that memories flooded back—scenes from college, vivid as yesterday.

Finally, a “mic hog” emerged: a drunk classmate who clung to the microphone, wailing off-key—so badly it was comical. Amid the ear-splitting noise, laughter erupted, lightening the mood.

They left Ocean Moon City late, with plans to visit their alma mater the next day.

Out-of-town classmates mostly booked the same hotel. The few with cars volunteered to drive them.

“Lin Jia, I’ll drop you off,” Liu Yunzhi said, pulling his Toyota up beside her.

Others wanted taxis, but the available cars had limited seats. No one dared ask Liu Yunzhi’s group for a ride.

Then a Mercedes pulled over. Ye Fan got out and approached the haggard-looking female classmate. “Let me drive you back.”

He felt for her. In college, she’d been a cheerful, innocent girl—cheering from the soccer sidelines, shyly passing out water bottles.

Now life had dimmed her. Pale and listless, she’d barely spoken all night.

Caught off-guard by Ye Fan’s offer, she flushed with gratitude and confusion. Overlooked all evening, she seemed unaccustomed to the sudden attention.

Across the way, Liu Yunzhi’s jaw dropped as he spotted the Mercedes. His expression darkened instantly.

Around them, faces shifted—puzzled, surprised, conflicted.

Eyes drifted to Liu Yunzhi, unspoken. The truth clashed sharply with his earlier jibe.

In that moment, Liu Yunzhi’s face burned—as if slapped hard.

The classmates who’d lectured Ye Fan earlier squirmed, wanting to speak but finding no words.

A few wore amused, odd grins—especially those who’d sat with Ye Fan—savoring how this humbled Liu Yunzhi’s clique.

Two more people hurried over, sliding into the Mercedes. They were Ye Fan’s oldest friends from college.

The car pulled away, leaving many stunned. Liu Yunzhi stood rigid, under scrutiny. He felt as if thorns pricked his back.

…

Meanwhile, far above, aboard the International Space Station, astronauts remained tense, nerves frayed to the breaking point.

In the dark, frigid void, the nine dragon corpses loomed as if eternal. Thick iron chains—thick as a bowl’s rim—stretched across the void, linking to the bronze coffin, exuding endless antiquity and desolation.

Ground command had already resolved: if catastrophe struck, they would destroy the dragons and the mysterious bronze coffin without hesitation.

But no one hoped it would come to that.

Nine dragons pulling a coffin—born from the darkness and silence of deep space—its value and significance were immeasurable.

Suddenly, the station’s main monitoring room detected a set of mysterious signals—an unusual energy fluctuation. The source was close: the bronze coffin itself. Strange ripples emanated from its faded, ancient carvings.

“Unbreakable…” The signal was relayed to Earth, fed into the most advanced supercomputers. Yet no pattern emerged.

The coffin’s ancient engravings were half-hidden by verdigris, their details fuzzy.

“Preliminary analysis suggests the bronze carvings relate to Chinese legends,” came the consensus from monitoring rooms worldwide. “The beast motifs resemble mythical creatures from The Classic of Mountains and Seas, while the human figures appear to depict deities…”

Even with partial identification, the faint, enigmatic signal remained a riddle—impenetrable, baffling.

Chapter 005: Li Xiaoman

Their alma mater hadn’t changed much—only the faces came and went, each class leaving four years of youth as a lasting memory.

Beneath the shade of trees and beside the lawn, freshmen and sophomores read quietly, a scene of harmony and peace. Ye Fan and the others felt transported back, far from the restlessness and noise of the past three years.

After graduation, they’d scattered, chasing life and dreams. Few but Ye Fan had stayed in the city; most were visiting the campus for the first time since leaving.

Not far away, the small lake rippled gently, just as they remembered. They vividly recalled the figures—melancholic or exuberant—strumming guitars by the shore, singing campus ballads.

Even years later, those melodies still conjured the carefree innocence of youth, a bittersweet nostalgia that touched the heart.

Time leaves a tang of sorrow and sweetness.

They wondered if those guitarists still played. After graduation, most had vanished without a trace.

“I heard through a friend—the moody guitar prodigy now plays in a bar in another city. He’s aged a lot these years,” someone said.

“Remember the tall, talented girl from the school band? The stunning, innocent lead singer? Word is she’s a hostess in a nightclub now.”

A collective sigh rose.

Post-graduation, many had clashed with reality. Life could be cruel, leaving them frustrated and adrift.

After a brief silence, they walked on.

Lin Jia drifted to Ye Fan’s side.

She wore a blue-and-white chiffon dress, hem grazing her thighs, accentuating her long, fair legs. A black belt cinched her waist, and her hair spilled over her full chest, tracing her curves.

Her features were lovely, skin porcelain-smooth. Those slanted eyes, hinting at exotic charm, gave her an air of allure.

“You had a car. Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” she asked.

“When would I have had the chance?”

“Won’t you invite me to ride with you today?”

“With pleasure. I formally invite Ms. Lin Jia,” Ye Fan said with a smile.

They both laughed.

Lin Jia had broached yesterday’s awkwardness but brushed it aside, no over-explanations, no forced deference to mend fences.

With that, she smiled and walked off. Lin Jia was smart—she knew overeagerness felt false; sincerity lay in ease.

Subtle shifts rippled through other classmates too.

By noon, they left the campus and headed to a food street, climbing to the top floor of a restaurant.

Wang Ziwen privately urged Ye Fan to join their table, but Ye Fan only smiling toasted them before returning to his original seat.

“Ye Fan, I talked nonsense drunk yesterday—don’t hold it against me.” The man engaged to the bank executive’s niece, who’d lectured Ye Fan the night before, now bowed his head, offering a toast. “I’ll drink first to apologize.”

The woman whose husband was a vice president also softened, treating Ye Fan with newfound politeness.

“Come, let’s all raise our glasses!”

…

Compared to yesterday, their table buzzed with energy. Toasts flew, and classmates from other tables stopped by. Ye Fan couldn’t refuse, clinking cups with everyone—even going one-on-one with those from Wang Ziwen’s table.

Liu Yunzhi remained calm. Despite yesterday’s embarrassment, his face was impassive, as if nothing had happened.

“Everyone—I got a call last night… from across the ocean,” said Zhou Yi, a refined young man with rumored deep family connections, no secret among classmates. He was the one Wang Ziwen had waited for outside Ocean Moon City.

All fell silent, turning to him. He’d always been affable, never arrogant, then or now.

Zhou Yi shared news: the three classmates studying abroad were on their way home. The table erupted in chatter.

…

“After graduation, we scattered, each on our own path. Reunions are rare. Next time we meet, we might all be parents—and who knows how many years that will take.” He smiled. “Since the three are returning, I propose we extend the reunion…”

…

Ye Fan drove home, brewed a mild green tea, and stared at the parasol tree outside his window, lost in memory.

A missed person, a departing step, a fading road—like the Chinese parasol tree leaves drifting down.

Li Xiaoman. The name had faded from his mind long ago.

She’d left for overseas studies after graduation. At first, they’d messaged and called often, but contact dwindled, then died entirely.

“Across the sea and forgotten.” Their love—never favored by friends—had ended as predicted.

Hearing Zhou Yi mention her impending return, Ye Fan had barely recognized the name. It hit him then: over two years had passed.

…

The reunion was extended. They’d visit Mount Tai, with all expenses covered by Wang Ziwen and Zhou Yi—no small sum for most, but trivial to them.

Three days later, at the foot of Mount Tai, Ye Fan spotted a familiar figure. Three years hadn’t changed Li Xiaoman much—she still stood tall and graceful.

At 170 centimeters, she wore sunglasses, her black hair fluttering in the wind, poised and elegant. Her outfit was casual and cool: shorts hitting above the knees, showing off long, fair legs, paired with a cartoon-printed tee.

Li Xiaoman was undeniably beautiful—porcelain skin, large eyes with long lashes, radiating intelligence. She carried herself with quiet confidence, no ostentation.

She chatted easily with classmates, naturally the center of attention yet approachable.

Beside her stood a tall young man—her American classmate, they learned. His features were distinctly Western: sharp angles, a high nose, slightly sunken blue eyes, curly blond hair—handsome by Western standards.

“Hello, I am Kaide. Long… wanted to see Taishan,” he said, his Chinese halting but clear.

Up ahead, the other two returning students were already swarmed, peppered with questions about life abroad.

After three years, seeing Li Xiaoman again felt like a shift in time and space.

They greeted each other politely, no joy in the reunion—only a calm, almost indifferent ease.

Few words passed between them as they brushed by. Some things needed no explanation. Silence said it all.

Chapter 006: The Fengchan Site

In the silent, dark expanse of space, nine colossal dragon corpses lay motionless, accompanied by an ancient, imposing bronze coffin—as if they’d existed since the dawn of time.

Days passed, yet the mysterious signals from the bronze carvings remained unbroken. No safe method to “recover” them and bring them to Earth had been found.

“It’s moving!”
“Deviating from orbit—descending!”

In that instant, the elite astronauts aboard the International Space Station felt their pupils contract sharply. The nine dragons, pulling the coffin, had strayed from their path and were slowly sinking.

Mount Tai—majestic, imposing, crowned the “First of the Five Sacred Peaks,” revered as the “most divine mountain under heaven.”

Since ancient times, it has symbolized holiness. Situated at the eastern edge of the ancient Central Plains, embraced by the Yellow and Wen Rivers, it was once seen as the birthplace of the sun, where all life flourished.

“No mountain is greater; no history is older.”

Mount Tai’s grandeur carried the weight of millennia, tracing back to the era of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors—a place to draw near to the gods.

“Heaven is too high to reach. Thus, we perform fengchan on Mount Tai, offering sacrifices to draw close to the divine.”

Qin Shi Huang, who unified the six kingdoms, and Emperor Wu of Han, with his bold vision, both held grand fengchan ceremonies here.

Long before them, seventy-two ancient emperors had performed fengchan on Mount Tai.

The pre-Qin text Guanzi: On Fengchan records: “In ancient times, the Wuhuai clan performed fengchan on Mount Tai and chan at Yunyun; Fuxi performed fengchan on Mount Tai and chan at Yunyun; Shennong… Huangdi… Yao… Yu…”

Without exception, ancient sovereigns and emperors chose this site, shrouding Mount Tai in endless mystery.

During the Spring and Autumn period, Confucius searched tirelessly for traces of ancient fengchan rituals here, only to leave disappointed. When his disciples pressed, he could not answer.

Later generations made some discoveries.

In 1931, General Ma Hongkui’s troops stationed at the foot of Mount Tai stumbled upon a five-colored earth altar, containing two sets of jade tablets sealed with “stone clay and golden rope,” buried underground.

Why ancient emperors all chose this spot for fengchan remains a mystery—one that may never be solved.

Ye Fan and the others rested at a hotel overnight, then began climbing Mount Tai the next day.

Many in the group were ascending for the first time. Only by standing here could one truly feel its grandeur.

The mountain’s three-tiered geological structure resembled a staircase to heaven, facing south, with a ten-kilometer “path to the sky” winding through its vast slopes to the summit.

Whether viewed from afar or up close, its majesty stirred the soul.

Before Mount Tai’s grandeur, one felt absurdly small—like an ant—and even the sun, moon, and stars seemed trivial.

It was a very shocking feeling, shaking one’s very core.

When the guide spoke of ancient fengchan rituals, it sparked endless wonder. Humanity has always yearned for the unknown and mysterious.

Li Xiaoman walked beside Kaide, translating and explaining, piquing the American’s curiosity, who bombarded her with questions.

Liu Yunzhi glanced playfully at Ye Fan, then at the pair ahead, clearly aiming for a reaction—but Ye Fan seemed to ignore him entirely, leaving Liu Yunzhi disappointed.

In truth, Ye Fan hadn’t even noticed him, so calm was his mood.

Having finished The Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon, Ye Fan thought of how ancient sovereigns had performed fengchan here. A wild idea struck: Could there have been a lost ancient civilization? If so, Mount Tai would have been a sacred site.

But he shook it off, dismissing it as a silly thought born of boredom.

Ancient pines cloaked the mountain, interspersed with waterfalls and streams. Majesty mingled with grace, and mist added a layer of mystery.

Climbing upward, they passed countless historical sites and cliff inscriptions, drawing constant admiration.

From the earthly altar through the imperial palace (Dai Temple) to the Heavenly Summit (Jade Emperor Peak), it formed a ten-kilometer axis: underworld… mortal realm… heaven.

By evening, they finally reached the summit—Jade Emperor Peak. Gazing down at the mountains below and far off at the Yellow River, they grasped Confucius’ words: “Climb Mount Tai and the world shrinks.”

Du Fu, the “Poet Sage,” left a timeless verse: “When one reaches the summit, all other mountains seem small.”

Now, the sun dipped low, gilding the cloud peaks with a brilliant edge, as if they were inlaid with precious gems.

The beauty of the scene left them spellbound.

Suddenly, dark spots appeared in the sky, growing larger, accompanied by the rumble of wind and thunder.

Nine colossal forms descended from the heavens, like nine black rivers cascading down. In that moment, everyone on Mount Tai froze, staring in disbelief.

They were nine massive dragon corpses, pulling a bronze coffin, crashing toward the peak.

Dragons—legendary beings, equal to gods, transcending natural laws. But in this age of science, who could believe they were real?

Tourists stood shocked, breathless, even forgetting to cry out.

A brief silence, then Mount Tai erupted into chaos. People fled in all directions, scrambling to escape the approaching behemoths.

It was a very shocking sight: nine dragons pulling a coffin, descending upon Mount Tai in the blood-red glow of sunset.

Screams of terror and helpless cries filled the air as crowds scattered.

The descent was not rapid, yet when it hit, the summit shook violently.

“Boom!”

The nine giants crashed down like nine mountain ranges, splitting Jade Emperor Peak into gaping cracks. Rocks and dust exploded into the air.

The bronze coffin slammed down with a “clang!” The mountain trembled as if in an earthquake. Boulders hurtled down the slopes, roaring like a thousand armies.

Many were caught in the chaos, crushed by falling rocks, tumbling down the mountain. Cries of terror echoed.

The tremors subsided, and the mountain stilled—but Mount Tai was in utter chaos. People stumbled in their escape, a scene of blood and panic as they fled downward.

The nine hundred-meter-long dragon corpses lay partly on the peak, partly hanging over the cliff—like black iron walls, exuding raw, very shocking power that seared the eyes.

Jade Emperor Peak was split apart, the ground crisscrossed with terrible fissures.

The twenty-meter-long bronze coffin, plain and unadorned, bore faint ancient carvings, steeped in the passage of time, pulsing with a mysterious aura.

Chapter 007: The Five-Colored Altar

Events unfolded too suddenly, surpassing all imagination.

“This…” No one could believe their eyes.

Yet the nine dragon corpses and the bronze coffin lay before them—an unshakable fact.

All reason, all understanding, crumbled. Everyone’s beliefs were shattered.

Amid the chaos, Ye Fan’s group hadn’t scattered. They’d huddled together until Jade Emperor Peak settled. Though everyone had fallen, there were no fatalities—only a few scraped arms.

Now, their faces were etched with shock. The impossible scene would be seared into their memories forever.

Nine colossal dragon corpses lay motionless, and the massive coffin assailed their senses— Very shocking, mysterious.

No one spoke. Hearts raced; faces twisted with fear, panic, dread.

After a long silence, Lin Jia whispered, “We should get down the mountain.”

Nods all around. No one wanted to linger. The air on Jade Emperor Peak felt icy. Why had nine dragons dragged a bronze coffin here? Why Mount Tai? Even with proof, it was unbearable. Unease gnawed at them.

Beneath the blood-red sunset, Jade Emperor Peak lay in ruins—worst at the bronze coffin’s impact site, where a huge crater gaped. Around it, cracks a meter wide spiderwebbed outward.

One fissure, like a writhing centipede, stretched to their feet. Mercifully, its end narrowed to less than a palm’s width, sparing them a collapse.

As they prepared to leave, Li Xiaoman pointed ahead. “What’s that?”

Beneath the split earth, half a jade fragment glinted in the sunset.

Despite their fear, they stepped closer. In the meter-wide crack, a corner of a circular altar peeked through, holding the broken jade—shaped like a jade book.

“How is this possible? Could something be buried below?”

The altar was small, simple, built from five colored earth. It exuded age, its origins lost to time.

“Look—there’s more!” Wang Ziwen, at the front, pointed to a wider crack nearby.

In the two-meter gash, another five-colored earth altar lay shattered, revealing a jade slab covered in intricate, unrecognizable characters.

A collective gasp. In an instant, they thought of “fengchan”—this must be an ancient altar for worshipping heaven!

Five-colored altars enclosing jade tablets matched descriptions in White Tiger Discussions by Ban Gu of the Eastern Han: “Some say the seal used gold clay and silver rope; others, stone clay and gold rope, stamped with a seal.”

Sima Qian’s Records of the Grand Historian: Book of Fengchan also noted, “Flourishing in fame and substance, recorded in gold, stone, and earth.”

In moments, they realized dozens of such five-colored altars lay beneath the cracks around them.

Each was ancient, weathered, bearing unreadable inscriptions on jade or stone tablets.

Awe rippled through the group. A vague connection to the dragon corpses and coffin lingered.

Ye Fan, fond of “oddity” texts, knew more about fengchan than most. His heart shook. Could the Three Sovereigns, Five Emperors, and seventy-two kings really have performed rituals here?

Perhaps the legends were true—why else so many five-colored altars? The characters resembled oracle bone script, fueling the suspicion.

They should have fled, but fascination held them. They’d circled most of the coffin, terrified by the dragons, Shock ed by the twenty-meter bronze behemoth, stunned by the underground altars.

“It seems safe, but those dragon corpses…”

Fear ebbed slightly, but unease remained. They resolved to hurry down.

“Look! A giant altar in the central pit!”

The bronze coffin had smashed a huge crater. When they circled to the other side, another shock awaited.

Beneath the crater stood a massive altar—not of earth, but of five-colored boulders. It bore the twenty-meter coffin without a scratch.

This colossal stone altar dwarfed the others, centered on Jade Emperor Peak, majestic and imposing.

The coffin’s impact had been immense, yet the altar showed no cracks, no damage. What stone could withstand that?

On the grand five-colored altar, beside the bronze coffin, lay jade fragments and stone slabs, steeped in antiquity.

Both jade and stone bore eerie characters—older than oracle bone script, like celestial paintings.

A neat row of these artifacts lined the altar, unharmed by the coffin’s fall. Baffling.

“We really must go,” Ye Fan and Zhou Yi urged in unison.

Nods again. This place held too many secrets, but they were in no position to explore. The nine dragon corpses and the bronze coffin loomed, unsettling to the core.

As they turned to leave, a female classmate screamed. A boulder beneath her feet tumbled into the crater, and she stumbled, sliding downward.

“Watch out!” A male classmate grabbed her hand, and others hurried to pull her up.

The dislodged boulder rumbled into the pit, then “thudded” against the five-colored altar.

At once, the giant stone altar glowed with a hazy five-colored light. A massive force clamped down on everyone—legs felt bound in lead, impossible to move.

“Boom!”

The five-colored altar shook, sending tremors through Jade Emperor Peak. Those at the pit’s edge reeled, dizzy, yet couldn’t budge. One by one, they tumbled into the crater.

They fell onto the five-colored altar, fear gripping every heart.

Chapter 008: The Ancient Starry Path

They crashed onto the five-colored altar, sending a pile of jade and stone “ancient books” clattering to the ground. The altar descended into chaos.

The ancient bronze coffin lay nearby, its surface etched with patches of verdigris, yet faint carvings of primordial deities—all with tear tracks—still peeked through.

So close they could almost touch it, fear coiled in everyone’s hearts, cold chills prickling their spines.

This altar, built by ancient ancestors to worship heaven, had stood for eons. Could those ancient emperors really have summoned something here?

In that moment, a desolate，time-worn aura washed over them, stirring their souls.

With nine dragon corpses and the coffin lying before them, had the altar drawn them here?

Legends claimed that long before Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han, the Three Sovereigns, Five Emperors, and seventy-two kings had performed fengchan here. What had they summoned?

Five-colored light flared. The jade and stone tablets on the altar glowed translucent, their inscriptions blazing. The entire massive altar shimmered with a soft radiance.

“Crack… crack…”

A splitting sound echoed. The jade and stone tablets cracked, then bursts of light erupted. The ancient characters seemed to come alive, breaking free to float in the air.

“Sizzle… sizzle…”

More glowing characters rose, until the jade and stone dissolved into ash on a faint breeze—all their inscriptions now unshackled.

Thousands of characters blazed above the bronze coffin and around the crater, gleaming like molten metal, solid and luminous.

“Crack… crack…”

The smaller five-colored earth altars nearby also sent up floating characters, painting the air with light.

The area around the bronze coffin glittered like a field of stars, eerily mysterious beneath the blood-red sunset.

Other tourists lingered on Jade Emperor Peak, too slow to flee during the earlier chaos. Now, seeing Ye Fan’s group fall into the crater and this bizarre scene, they panicked, scrambling downhill in a frenzy.

Shrieks of pain and pleas for help cut through the air as people tripped and fell.

Meanwhile, the glowing characters in midair converged, gradually forming a massive Eight Trigrams diagram. A mysterious force pulsed outward.

It was a very shocking sight: those ancient characters and symbols, brimming with incredible power, merged into a solid, metallic Eight Trigrams, enshrouding the bronze coffin and nine dragon corpses—forged as if from a hundredfold-refined gold.

“I want to get out of here!” someone whimpered from the crater.

“I can’t move…” No one could stir. Fear gripped them, but there was no escape.

“And that…”

At the center of the floating Eight Trigrams, a Taiji diagram emerged—two interlocking yin-yang fish, coiled in perfect balance.

Even in this age of technology, the profound mysteries of the Taiji Eight Trigrams remained unsolved. Some had linked its trigrams to celestial orbits, calculating stellar velocities; the inventor of binary code had drawn inspiration from its patterns.

Yet how it was created, its purpose—these remained steeped in legend, with no solid proof.

Now, Ye Fan and the others witnessed a hidden power: it was tied to time and space.

Around the colossal Taiji Eight Trigrams, space distort，light warped. The eight trigram symbols—Qian, Kun, Xun, Dui, Gen, Zhen, Li, Kan—flared to life, like a cryptic ancient code.

The yin-yang fish of the Taiji diagram quivered, slowly splitting open like a pair of strange gates, revealing a glimpse of a distant, unknown starry path.

Light blazed as the eight trigrams flickered, shifting through complex sequences before all igniting in a blinding burst.

“Boom!”

A low tremor shook the air. The yin-yang fish fully opened, revealing a vast, dark passage—its destination unknown. Starlight winked within, hinting at a path through the cosmos.

At that moment, the nine dragon corpses stirred. The bronze coffin clanged, jolting violently.

Ye Fan’s group, mere steps from the coffin, screamed. Women cried out in terror.

“What do we do?!”
“Help…!”

In their helplessness, panic surged. Some women sobbed uncontrollably.

Yet the steadier among them noticed something chilling: the coffin lid, jostled loose, gaped open a crack, spilling a strange aura.

“Clang!”

The coffin shook again, the lid nearly falling off. An invisible force yanked at them. The world spun, darkness swallowed their vision—and they all tumbled into the coffin.

“Ah…!”
“Help!”

Some teetered on madness, screaming in terror.

“Thud!”

The nine dragon corpses hanging over the cliff trembled. With a loud noise，the coffin lid slammed shut, sealing them inside.

Then, the dragon corpses—mountainous, still lifeless—lifted the bronze coffin, drifting slowly into the dark, mysterious passage woven by the Taiji Eight Trigrams.

“Boom!”

Mount Tai shook violently, as if the sky itself might collapse. Five-colored light erupted from Jade Emperor Peak, piercing heaven and earth.

As the blood-red sunset faded, the peak plunged into darkness. The massive Taiji Eight Trigrams in the sky closed, then vanished.

The nine dragons pulling the coffin were gone.

All jade and stone on the five-colored altar had turned to ash, scattered by the wind.

This day’s events on Mount Tai would send shockwaves across the world, making it the focus of global attention. But none of that mattered to Ye Fan and the others now.

Inside the bronze coffin, pitch-black and icy, some women stifled whimpers, their fear too great for loud cries.

“What do we do? Who will save us?”
“Are we really inside this coffin?”
“Why is this happening? How do we get out?”

Phones flickered as people tried to call, but no signals penetrated. Terror deepened.

“Don’t panic,” Zhou Yi said steadily. “Mount Tai’s in chaos—news will spread fast. Rescue will come soon.” His calm steadied some nerves.

“Zhou Yi’s right. Stay calm. We’ll get through this,” Wang Ziwen added, his voice steady.

“Panic won’t help. We need to find a way out,” Lin Jia said, surprising them with her composure.

Ye Fan said nothing, sitting quietly. The dark, mysterious passage woven by the Taiji Eight Trigrams lingered in his mind. Were they still on Jade Emperor Peak? A grim suspicion took root.

Phone screens cast faint light, revealing pale, terrified faces. Some trembled uncontrollably.

Li Xiaoman sat nearby, knees drawn to her chest. Her face was pale, but she stayed calm. Beside her, Kaide whispered to her in English.

Liu Yunzhi’s hands were clenched, knuckles white—his tension betrayed by his rigid posture.

In truth, everyone’s hearts raced, trapped in this sealed ancient coffin.

“Let’s count heads. Did everyone fall in?”

“One… two… three… twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty!” The counter’s voice quivered. “There’s a… thirtieth person?!”

Their class had thirty-three students. Three studied abroad and missed the initial reunion; five more couldn’t attend. For the Mount Tai trip, the three overseas students had returned, but the other five stayed away—total twenty-eight. Adding Li Xiaoman’s American classmate Kaide, that made twenty-nine.

Thirty?

In the cold, dark coffin, a icy dread snaked down everyone’s spines.

No one spoke. The air in the coffin seemed to freeze, heavier than lead.

Thirty people.

That extra figure hovered like a ghost, chilling their blood. Who was it?

Phones trembled in trembling hands, their faint glow sweeping over each face—familiar, yet now tinged with unease. Everyone checked and rechecked, counting again and again.

“One… two… thirty.”

The result never changed.

Sweat beaded on foreheads, even in the cold. Some strained to peer into the darkest corners of the coffin, half-expecting a shadowy form to materialize.

“Is… is there someone hiding?” a girl whispered, voice cracking.

No one answered. The silence stretched, broken only by ragged breaths.

Ye Fan’s gaze swept the group, sharp and alert. He’d memorized everyone present—classmates, plus Kaide. Thirty was impossible.

Was it a trick of the light? A hallucination born of fear?

But the count was clear. Thirty shadows huddled in the darkness.

Lin Jia’s face paled. “Could we have miscounted? Let’s try again—slowly.”

They did, inching through each name, each face.

“Ye Fan… Lin Jia… Wang Ziwen… Zhou Yi… Li Xiaoman… Kaide…”

The list ended. Thirty.

A low gasp escaped someone. “The… the coffin itself…?”

Eyes darted to the ancient bronze walls, as if expecting a face to materialize from the metal. The carvings of tear-streaked deities seemed to glower in the dim light, more menacing now.

Liu Yunzhi’s jaw tightened. “Enough. Fear won’t help. We need to find a way out.” His voice held a edge, but even he couldn’t mask the tremor.

No one moved. The weight of that extra presence pressed down on them, suffocating.

Was it a spirit? A guardian of the coffin? Or something far worse?

The bronze walls seemed to close in. The air grew thinner, colder.

Somewhere in the dark, a phone screen flickered and died, plunging that corner into deeper blackness. A stifled scream followed.

In this sealed tomb, adrift in who knew where, the mystery of the thirtieth person became a horror more tangible than the dragons or the coffin itself.

No one spoke. But in their hearts, a single, chilling thought echoed:

We’re not alone.

Chapter 009: The Thirtieth Person in the Bronze Coffin

“How… how can there be an extra person?!”
“Who… who are you?!”

Voices trembled as they spoke.

All phone screens flared to life. Fearful, everyone scanned their surroundings, dreading the sight of a stranger’s face.

Familiar faces huddled together, trembling as they stared into the darkness.

Then, they confirmed it: an extra figure lurked in a nearby corner.

“Y-you… who are you?”
“Are you human or a ghost?”

Trapped in this mysterious bronze coffin, anything seemed possible—even the supernatural. Dread coiled tight in their chests.

A harsh cough echoed from the shadowed corner. The figure stirred, its voice low and hoarse: “G-ghost… ghost…”

The rasping words bounced off the coffin walls. In that instant, a cold chill swept over everyone, raising goose bumps, as if ice had seeped into their bones.

They froze, terror gripping their hearts. Some girls shrieked, collapsing into tears, nearly crumpling to the ground.

“G-ghost… place…” The voice sounded weaker now, the figure swaying as if exhausted, struggling to stand.

“What a… cursed place. Are we… in the bronze coffin?” The shadow rose slowly, confusion edging into its tone as strength returned.

As the tall figure moved forward, many stepped back involuntarily.

The shadow drew closer, speaking again: “It’s me. Pang Bo.”

“Stop! Don’t come any closer!” Everyone raised their phones, squinting into the dim light.

Ye Fan pushed through the crowd, stepping forward. “Are you really Pang Bo?”

“Can’t you recognize my voice?” In the glow of phone screens, a familiar face emerged—thick brows, large eyes, a sturdy build.

Pang Bo had been Ye Fan’s closest friend in college. He’d missed the reunion for personal reasons, so his sudden appearance here sparked doubt in everyone.

“I don’t believe it! Pang Bo never came to the reunion. Who… what are you?” Someone cried out, voice shaking.

A man who shouldn’t be here, standing in this coffin—it sent shivers down their spines.

“I’m Pang Bo, of course. Does anyone have water? I’m dying of thirst.” The shadow kept approaching.

“Stop!” Suspicion lingered.

Pang Bo halted, rushing to prove himself by recounting college memories—inside jokes, shared moments.

“I believe it’s him.” Ye Fan’s voice was firm. He strode to Pang Bo’s side. Though they hadn’t seen each other in a while, they clasped hands tightly, even in this chaos.

“Family issues kept me from the reunion at first. When I heard you were coming to Mount Tai, I finished things up and rushed over…”

Pang Bo grabbed the water bottle Ye Fan offered, chugging greedily, then explained how he’d ended up in the coffin.

He’d arrived after the group had already climbed the mountain, taking the cable car up. Lucky timing—he’d reached Jade Emperor Peak just before the dragons and coffin crashed down. Instead of fleeing, he’d clung to a tree, waiting out the chaos unharmed.

From a distance, he’d watched Ye Fan’s group fall into the crater. Rushing over, he’d seen the glowing ancient characters fill the air—only to be frozen in place at the crater’s edge. When the coffin lid jarred loose, he’d been sucked in right after everyone else.

Trapped outside the five-colored altar, the fall into the coffin had knocked him unconscious until now.

Gradually, doubts faded. Tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

“We need to find a way out. Being in this coffin… it fills me with dread.” Li Xiaoman’s face was pale, her beautiful eyes fixed on the impenetrable darkness deep within the coffin. Unlike the other girls, she and Lin Jia remained eerily calm.

Her words sent a fresh chill through the group.

“Stay together. Don’t split up,” Zhou Yi advised.

They huddled closer, using their phones to study their surroundings. Pressing against one wall, they made out faint bronze carvings: a nine-headed divine bird in flight, a massive beast with foot-long spines roaring at the sky…

Verdigris-covered, the carvings depicted mythical creatures from The Classic of Mountains and Seas—the gluttonous Taotie, the vicious Qiongqi, the chaotic Taowu—monstrous, ferocious，lifelike enough to inspire terror.

Inching along the wall, they spotted more carvings: ancient ancestors and primordial deities. Then, a vast, star-strewn pattern—countless dots resembling a map of the cosmos.

The bronze coffin stretched twenty meters long and over eight meters wide; what they saw was but a fraction. Their exploration halted when they noticed something else in the depths.

Phones held high, they ventured forward, heartbeats racing. In the coffin’s center, a blurred rectangular shape loomed in the dark.

It didn’t look like a corpse or a living thing—relief washed over them briefly as they edged closer.

“It’s a coffin within a coffin! Another bronze coffin!” Gasps erupted as they see clearly it.

Nestled in the center lay a smaller coffin, barely four meters long and two meters wide—plain, dull, covered in verdigris, etched with age. It exuded a cold, menacing aura, sending fear prickling through them.

“It’s not just a coffin within a coffin,” Pang Bo explained to those confused. “That’s the real coffin—the one meant to hold the body. The outer bronze structure is a guǒ—a protective outer layer. Together, they’re called guānguǒ.”

The realization that this inner coffin held a body sent many reeling backward, terror gripping them.

Who—or what—lay within this mysterious ancient coffin? Wonder tangled with dread in their hearts.

Tales of archaeological secrets, imperial tombs—none compared to this.

Who had ever heard of a twenty-meter bronze guānguǒ? A coffin that fell from the sky? Nine dragons pulling it?

They shuddered, wondering if whatever rested inside was even human.

The more they thought about it, the more chilling it became.

“Let’s get away from here…” A female classmate’s voice trembled, her gaze fixed on the inner coffin as if it might burst open at any moment.

No one objected. They retreated in unison, pressing back against the outer coffin wall, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the smaller coffin.

The air in the bronze coffin grew colder, thick with a sense of age and mystery. Every breath felt like inhaling frost, seeping into their lungs.

“Is this coffin… moving?” someone whispered, voice barely audible.

The question hung in the air. Everyone fell silent, straining to sense any motion.

At first, it was imperceptible—a faint, steady vibration, like the hum of a distant engine. Then, gradually, it grew clearer: they were indeed moving, gliding through some unknown space.

Where were the nine dragon corpses taking them? And where did that dark passage woven by the Taiji Eight Trigrams lead?

Fear coiled tighter. Trapped in this ancient coffin, adrift in who knew where, they were utterly powerless.

Pang Bo, ever the bold one, tried to lighten the mood. “Hey, at least we’re all in this together. If we really end up as cosmic dust, we’ll be classmates even in the afterlife.”

No one laughed. The joke fell flat, underscoring their grim reality.

Ye Fan’s gaze lingered on the star map carved into the wall. Those countless dots—were they guiding the coffin? Or marking a destination?

Lin Jia followed his stare. “Do you think… this coffin is following that star map?”

“It’s possible,” Zhou Yi said, his voice grave. “The Taiji Eight Trigrams, the dragon corpses, this coffin—none of it makes sense. Maybe we’re on a path mapped out long ago.”

Kaide, who’d been quiet, spoke up in halting Chinese. “Mount Tai… fengchan… legends say it connects heaven and earth. Could this be a road to the stars?”

His words sent a shiver through the group. A road to the stars? It sounded like a fantasy, yet here they were, sealed in a coffin pulled by dragons.

Time blurred. They had no way to track its passage—minutes? Hours? It felt endless.

Phones began dying one by one, their screens dimming into darkness. Panic flared briefly each time, but they forced calm, relying on the few remaining devices to pierce the gloom.

In the hush, the steady vibration of the coffin became a constant, almost hypnotic rhythm. It lulled some into a stupor, exhaustion overriding fear.

Ye Fan stayed alert, his mind racing. The inner coffin, the star map, the nine dragons—what was the connection? Who had built this? And for what purpose?

A sudden jolt shook the coffin.

“Ah!” Cries erupted as everyone stumbled.

The vibration intensified, the coffin rocking violently. The inner coffin shifted, scraping against the outer wall with a harsh, ear-splitting sound.

“Something’s happening!”

Phones flickered on, their light revealing the inner coffin—its lid was moving, inching upward!

“No… no…” A girl sobbed, covering her eyes.

Ye Fan and Zhou Yi grabbed hold of nearby classmate，bracing themselves. “Stay back!”

The inner coffin lid creaked open a crack, spilling a pale, eerie light. A cold, ancient aura flooded out—older than the mountains, deeper than the sea.

No one dared breathe.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the shaking stopped. The inner coffin lid froze, half-open, as if held in place by an invisible force.

Silence descended, heavier than before.

Whatever lay inside remained hidden, but its presence loomed over them, a silent threat.

In the dim light of dying phones, thirty people huddled together, trapped in a bronze coffin adrift among the stars—with a mystery waiting to burst forth from within.

Chapter 010: The Vast Earth

Silence settled over the dark bronze coffin. No one spoke, all staring fearfully at the inner coffin that held the body. Heavy breaths filled the air, each person’s tension palpable.

Verdigris clung to the bronze—what kind of being lay within?

“All this must be linked to the five-colored altar on Mount Tai,” someone murmured after a long pause. They needed answers, to make sense of the chaos.

“That’s right. The altar brought the nine dragons and the coffin here,” another agreed.

What they’d witnessed defied all reason, shattering their understanding of the world. The five-colored altar, built by ancient ancestors，brimmed with mystery. Ye Fan’s mind raced—how many secrets lay buried in the lost annals of history?

With no immediate danger, calm seeped back. They began to theorize.

“Maybe the nine dragons pulling the coffin were summoned by ancient ancestors，” one suggested.

“Ridiculous!” a voice shot back. “The ancients died out eons ago.”

“I mean… the summons was answered late. The dragons and coffin are a response to something from the past.”

A female classmate’s words left them stunned. A call from ancient ancestors，answered after millennia? It sounded impossible.

“The truth is beyond us. All we have are guesses—endless possibilities,” someone sighed.

“Or maybe the dragons returned on their own, unrelated to the ancients.”

“Did you see the carvings? Ancient people, primordial gods… most had tear tracks. They felt so mournful, like they’re telling a story lost to time.”

“Perhaps it’s true. The nine dragons broke through heavens to return home… a tale of blood and sorrow.”

Could the ancients have explored distant, unknown realms? Did the dragons carry their remains back—living departures, skeletal returns, bodies brought home?

As they talked, fear ebbed, replaced by speculation. Yet reverence for the central coffin remained—no one dared touch it, let alone open it.

“Rescuers must be on Mount Tai by now. Maybe they’re nearby,” someone hoped.

“Let’s just get out of here. No more surprises,” another whispered.

Escape was impossible. The bronze coffin stood eight or nine meters tall, sealed tight by its lid.

Just as they clung to hope, the coffin lurched violently. Everyone stumbled, many crashing to the floor.

“What’s happening?!” Panic spiked. Girls whimpered, clinging to whoever was closest.

“Is it rescuers? Are they trying to free us?”

Tremors intensified. No one could stand; bodies slid across the Ice cold bronze as the coffin shook.

“Bang!”

A deafening jolt—like a plane plowing through a wall of ice—rippled through the coffin.

“Boom!”

A final, thunderous crash seemed to split the air. Yet just as chaos threatened to overwhelm them, faint light flickered across the carvings, muffling the impact.

Confusion replaced fear. The world had seemed on the verge of collapse, only to still in an instant.

“That was no illusion. The coffin collided—it flipped, spun… but we’re unharmed,” someone gasped.

They stared in awe. The inner coffin, meant to hold the body, now hung eerily from the “wall”—but only because the outer coffin had toppled.

“The small coffin must be bolted to the bottom. When the outer coffin flipped, it looked like it was hanging,” Zhou Yi realized.

The force of the collision should have crushed them. Yet the glowing carvings had deflected it—unfathomable.

“Light! From outside!” Li Xiaoman cried.

Heads snapped toward her gaze. Faint, dim rays seeped into the darkness.

“The coffin flipped! The lid shifted—there’s a gap!”

A cheer erupted. The crack was wide enough for two to walk through side by side. Outside was dim, so the light seemed faint, but it was a lifeline.

They scrambled toward it, desperate to flee the dark, terrifying space—no one wanted to linger a second longer.

But when they stumbled out of the bronze coffin, they froze, rooted to the spot.

The earth was stained reddish-brown, as if soaked in blood—cold, hard, desolate. The landscape stretched barren and empty, dotted with colossal rocks that loomed like tombstones.

The sky hung dim and overcast, a lifeless twilight veiled in thin black mist.

This was not Jade Emperor Peak.

No one spoke. The endless reddish plain, silent and lifeless, was unlike any place they knew— Strange, mysterious，alien.

“Where… where are we? Did we leave Mount Tai?” A voice trembled.

“Did rescuers move us to a quarantine zone? Because of the dragons?” The speaker sounded unconvinced.

Dread coiled in their chests. Phones were pulled out, frantic calls dialed—but no signals pierced the silence.

“This isn’t Mount Tai. Where are we?” Panic flared. Escape the joy brought evaporated, replaced by terror.

Barely a quarter-hour had passed since they’d been trapped, yet the world outside had transformed. The majestic peaks of Mount Tai were gone, replaced by a flat, gravel-strewn wasteland.

Ye Fan stared at the desolation. His worst fears had come true. The moment he’d seen the Taiji Eight Trigrams weave a dark, massive passage on Mount Tai, he’d suspected the truth. He hadn’t witnessed the dragons pulling the coffin into that void, but the scene in front of one’s eyes told him all he needed to know.

They were no longer on Mount Tai.

They might not even be on Earth.

Chapter 011 Light Source

“Where on earth have we ended up? I want to go home…” Some female students couldn’t hold back their tears and started crying.

“Another Five - Colored Altar…” Pang Bo and Ye Fan stood side by side. They exchanged a glance, then both shook their heads. They’d been best friends since college and still met up often after graduation, knowing each other inside out. Now, both sensed that the situation was dire, and everyone’s fate hung in the balance, filled with unknowns and uncertainties.

By then, the others had also torn their gazes away from the vast, empty desert and were anxiously, even panickedly, scanning their surroundings.

The massive bronze coffin lay overturned behind them. Beneath this bronze coffin was a grand Five - Colored Stone Altar, strikingly similar to the giant altar they’d seen on Mount Tai. It was constructed from five types of huge stones, each a different color.

This Five - Colored Stone Altar covered an enormous area. One could only imagine what a colossal project its construction must have been back in the day. But after years of being battered by wind and sand, the once - towering altar was now almost entirely buried underground, level with the reddish - brown, gravel - strewn ground.

Today, the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin had crashed down here, shaking off the surrounding gravel with its impact, revealing a rough outline of the altar. Not only did the huge bronze coffin lie across the altar, but the nine gigantic dragon corpses were also pinned on it. One could well imagine just how grand this Five - Colored Stone Altar was.

“We… are lost. There’s no way back.” A fragile female student sobbed, her body trembling. If no one had been there to support her, she would have collapsed to the ground.

Many people’s faces paled. At that moment, everyone’s minds raced with all sorts of possibilities. The scene before them was eerily like a strange, unfamiliar world. No one wanted to accept this reality, but Mount Tai was nowhere to be seen, and the empty desert lay right in front of them, leaving them speechless.

“Don’t panic, don’t be afraid. There will be a way out.” Ye Fan shouted loudly.

“How? How do we get back? How… do we escape this strange world?” Even some male students’ voices trembled, filled with intense fear and unease.

The unknown can strike fear and awe into some, while sparking a thirst for exploration in others.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo skirted around the nine massive dragon corpses and walked forward, eager to check out the nearby situation.

Li Xiaoman was not far away. She seemed a bit chilly, hugging her arms. Her beautiful face looked pale, yet still calm, like a delicate lotus blooming in the darkness. When Ye Fan passed by, he took off his jacket and handed it to her, but she only said “thank you” and shook her head to refuse.

Ye Fan didn’t say more. He wasn’t trying to win her back. Putting on his jacket, he continued on with Pang Bo. As they rounded the huge dragon corpses and the bronze coffin, they saw that Li Xiaoman’s American classmate, Cade, was also observing the surroundings, occasionally uttering exclamations like “god”.

Not far from the Five - Colored Stone Altar, there was a huge rock lying horizontally. It stood over twenty meters tall, but the slope wasn’t too steep, so it was climbable.

Ye Fan was about 1.79 meters tall. Though he looked gentle, he was actually very fit. Back in the day, he was the star player of the school football team, often dubbed a “barbarian” on the field.

As for Pang Bo, he lived up to his name. He had a “magnificent” presence, not from being overweight, but from real strength. He was a burly giant, his arms almost as thick as an average person’s legs.

Both had excellent physiques. They sprinted toward the boulder, not bothering with careful climbing; instead, they charged right up. Standing atop the rock and gazing into the distance, they were astonished to see faint glimmers of light piercing the gloom.

“We’re probably never going back.” With his best friend, there was no holding back. Ye Fan bluntly shared his speculation, saying, “This is definitely not the time and space we came from.”

“This really isn’t our world anymore.” Pang Bo, usually easy - going, was dead serious when it mattered. Staring at the faint glow in the distance, he frowned and asked, “Do you think there are really gods in this world?”

Ye Fan also stared at that faint, flickering light and replied, “We’ve seen dragon corpses. If a real, living god appeared before us, I don’t think I’d be surprised.”

“What would it be like… if a living god stood right in front of us?” Pang Bo murmured.

Then came a noise from behind. Cade, who stood over 1.9 meters tall, had also climbed up the boulder. When he caught sight of that distant light, he let out a cry of amazement.

“Praise… the merciful Lord. I… see the light.” He spoke haltingly in Chinese, then turned and waved energetically behind him, shouting to Li Xiaoman in the crowd, “I see… the light!” After that, he scrambled down the rock and dashed toward Li Xiaoman.

Cade’s shout threw the crowd into a frenzy, and many people rushed over.

Pang Bo glanced at Li Xiaoman and Cade standing not far away, then said to Ye Fan, “Is that foreign guy really Li Xiaoman’s boyfriend?”

“How would I know?”

“You’re just going to give up like that?” Pang Bo shot him a sidelong glance.

“Even if some things could start over, they’d never be the same. Even if we walk the same road twice in life, it won’t feel the same. Those are things of the past. We have to move forward.” Ye Fan shook his head, then, as if remembering something, smiled and said, “Still, you’re the carefree one, with your wild nightlife.”

“I can’t stand you. How is your life not more exciting?” Pang Bo looked at Ye Fan, then at Li Xiaoman in the distance, and said, “A man’s intuition tells me something’s still going to happen between you two.”

“Quit ruining my reputation.” Ye Fan smiled and retorted, “Since when did you get a woman’s sixth sense?”

At that moment, probably only the two of them could still crack a smile. Neither was a pessimist; it took a lot to get them down, no matter the situation.

Before long, many people had climbed onto the huge rock and were peering into the distance. The faint light flickered like fireflies, cutting through the dark space and into everyone’s eyes. Though that light was dim, it ignited a spark of hope in everyone, and many female students let out cheers.

Ahead lay a faint light. Even though the unknown still loomed, everyone was eager to move forward. Perhaps it’s human nature—fearing the dark and yearning for the light.

“Don’t let us down.”

“Hope a miracle happens.”

One by one, people climbed down from the rock and gathered at the Five - Colored Altar to discuss their next move.

“Everything here is strange to us. Even if there’s light ahead, we need to be careful.” Wang Ziwen, always the cautious one, offered this advice.

Zhou Yi had stayed calm throughout. Nodding in agreement, he said, “Exactly. Let’s send a few people to scout first. The light doesn’t seem too far off, but it’s better to be safe.”

Everyone else agreed. No one could predict what lay ahead in this unknown territory, so caution was key.

“Bang!”

Suddenly, a violent tremor erupted. The bronze coffin on the Five - Colored Altar let out a metallic groan.

“What’s happening?”

“I… I think it came from inside the bronze coffin.” The female student closest to the coffin turned pale as she spoke.

Upon hearing this, everyone’s faces drained of color. After all, inside that giant coffin was a smaller bronze coffin—one that held a corpse.

Chapter 012 Yinghuo

“Don’t jump to conclusions. The coffin overturned, and the lid wasn’t stable—it must have shifted a moment ago.” Lin Jia spoke calmly, trying to steady everyone’s nerves.

The nine colossal dragon corpses, each a hundred meters long, lay nearby with scales glinting darkly like metal. The twenty-meter-long bronze coffin pressed down on the Five-Colored Altar, filling everyone with an intense sense of unease.

“I think we should all go together to check that light ahead.”
“I agree—we should stick together.”

Many voiced this suggestion, clearly afraid to linger. In the end, everyone agreed to move as a group toward the light source.

The land stretched barren, covered in reddish-brown soil and gravel, with only scattered boulders dotting the emptiness.

As they passed the boulder they’d climbed earlier, Liu Yunzhi suddenly exclaimed, “There are characters on that rock!”

Circling to the side of the boulder facing the light, they saw two enormous archaic characters carved into the stone. Each stood five or six meters tall, their strokes sharp and powerful, as if two angry dragons were coiling across the surface.

The characters were far more intricate than modern script, etched in an ancient style—no one could guess how many ages they’d endured. The group gathered before the stone wall, staring at the bold characters, most furrowing their brows in confusion.

“They look like oracle bone inscriptions. The first character should be ‘Ying’,” Zhou Yi identified, frowning. “What kind of place have we stumbled into…”

“They are oracle bone inscriptions. The two characters are ‘Yinghuo’,” Ye Fan said casually, though inwardly, the meaning of those words sent a tremor through him.

Yinghuo? How could it be Yinghuo? He could hardly believe it, glancing up at the sky. It was dim, with only a few stars visible.

“What does ‘Yinghuo’ mean?”
“Is it a place?”

Many were puzzled.

Zhou Yi, upon hearing “Yinghuo,” also paled, repeating, “‘Flickering like fire, confusing and disordered’… We really… can’t go back.”

“What do you mean? Where is this?” the group pressed, anxious.

Wang Ziwen, catching the meaning, explained, “This is probably no longer Earth. ‘Yinghuo’—‘flickering like fire’—was the ancient name for Mars, seen as an ill omen.”

Since time immemorial, people had noted Mars’ reddish hue and erratic brightness, resembling a flickering flame. Its erratic movement across the sky—sometimes eastward, sometimes westward—bewildered observers, earning it the name “Yinghuo,” or “confusing fire.”

Ancient emperors feared it as a harbinger of disaster, believing its appearance portended upheavals—from ministers being dismissed to emperors dying. Such superstitions were dismissed by later generations, but the name endured.

“Oh my God!” Cade, beside Li Xiaoman, finally grasped the term’s meaning. He grabbed handfuls of reddish soil, tapped the rock, and examined the terrain, exclaiming in alarm.

“How is this possible?” Many gaped, unable to accept the truth.

“This reddish ground under our feet… is Mars? We’re no longer on Earth?!” Anyone hearing this would freeze in disbelief. It defied all reason.

Half an hour earlier, they’d been on Mount Tai’s summit; now, they stood on the ancient star of Yinghuo. It was sheer fantasy.

Lin Jia, her slender figure tense, her beautiful face paling, glanced around. “We’ve only seen this inscription. We can’t be certain it’s really Mars.”

“But they say Mars’ dry surface is covered in red soil and gravel—exactly what we’re seeing!” a female student sobbed.

Humans had sent probes to Mars since the 1960s; in 1997, the Mars Pathfinder even landed successfully. Decades of exploration had yielded a wealth of data, dispelling total ignorance.

“Mars’ soil is rich in iron oxide. After eons of UV radiation, the whole planet looks rusted—exactly like this!” a male student said, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. “Could we really have left Earth… standing on another planet?!”

“If this is Mars, we couldn’t survive—no oxygen, no suitable temperature…” Li Xiaoman said, her face pale. Yet her words sparked a flicker of hope in some.

Ye Fan, Pang Bo, and a few others remained calm. They were already convinced they’d left Earth. Could things get any worse? whatever came next, it couldn’t be more dire.

The group lingered by the boulder for a long time before finally moving on, continuing toward the faint light in the distance. It seemed close, yet after walking over five hundred meters, they still hadn’t reached it—another similar stretch lay ahead.

Hearts heavy, few spoke. The mood was somber, as if everyone feared that last glimmer of hope might vanish.

“Bang!”

Pang Bo kicked a small stone underfoot, sending up a puff of dust. Then his eyes widened—what he’d kicked looked like a shard of tile.

“It is a tile!” He picked up the broken fragment, confirming it was handcrafted, rough and earthen.

At once, people crowded around to examine it, many breaking into excited expressions.

“If there are tiles, there must be buildings! Someone lives here—this is more than just a Five-Colored Altar!”
“We’re saved!”
“We’ll get through this!”

Pessimism ebbed, replaced by cautious joy. A flicker of survival hope ignited in the group.

By now, night had fallen, and the sky blazed with stars.

Ye Fan looked up, spotting a hazy disc hanging in the sky—about half the size of Earth’s moon. It was proof enough they weren’t on their home planet. In another part of the sky, a star as bright as a fist outshone the others, though dimmer than that small “moon.” Too bright to be a star, too small and faint to be a moon.

Zhou Yi, Wang Ziwen, and Liu Yunzhi stood nearby. Noticing Ye Fan’s gaze, they too looked up. When they saw the two small “moons” hanging in the sky, their faces drained of color.

Chapter 013 Ruins of the Heavenly Palace

“This is…” Despite their mental preparation, disappointment was written all over their faces.

Infected by their mood, others also looked up at the starry sky and soon noticed the fact that two moons hung side by side.

“How could this be?” Many couldn’t help shouting. The last glimmer of hope to return home was shattered—they would never see their loved ones again. Many female students burst into tears, and everyone finally realized that they were truly far from Earth, with no way back.

“Mars… has two moons, equivalent to… the moon seen on Earth…” Cade muttered in broken Chinese, then quickly said a lot in English, chatting with Li Xiaoman.

Over the past few decades, some space probes have sent back a wealth of precious data about Mars to Earth. The two moons orbiting Mars are both extremely small celestial bodies. Coupled with factors such as their distance from the ground, when observed from Mars, Phobos appears about half the size of the moon seen from Earth. Deimos is even smaller but brighter than other stars, a miniature moon.

After those who knew about Mars explained this, everyone was deeply disappointed. It seemed there was no way home now, and the top priority was to find a way to survive.

They had walked 600 meters away from the Five-Colored Altar, getting much closer to the faint light source, which now seemed less than 500 meters away. The group didn’t delay any longer and continued forward.

Under the night sky, a gentle breeze blew, bringing a hint of coolness.

After walking another hundred meters, they were getting closer to the light source. At that moment, someone screamed, having found a collapsed structure, which seemed to be an ancient pavilion, fallen apart under the erosion of time.

“An artificially built pavilion—there must be humans on this barren planet. We will definitely find a way to survive.”
“Is this really Mars? Why are there human buildings here? The air, temperature, gravity—everything is not much different from Earth, just like a desert on Earth.”

Although filled with endless disappointment, they weren’t in despair. They had many doubts.

“We’ve even seen dragon corpses—these are nothing. Maybe this is a special region on Mars.”
“Perhaps. A grand Five-Colored Altar is built here, which can attract those nine dragon corpses and the bronze coffin. It’s not impossible to call this a god’s sealed land.”
“If our guess is true, and this is just a special region on Mars, then our living space is probably not large.”

As soon as these words were spoken, everyone fell silent.

“If this is just a small pure land on Mars, what future do we have?!”

People’s moods fluctuated. This was related to their lives and future, and no one could stay calm.

“Ah…” A female student suddenly screamed, her voice echoing far into the night.

“What’s wrong?” Everyone turned pale and hurriedly asked.

“A skull! A human skull!” The female student’s face lost all color, her body trembling continuously as she stepped back unsteadily.

Not far from the collapsed pavilion, half a snow-white skull was exposed in the gravel. The female student had just stepped on it, no wonder she was so frightened.

All the male students gathered around. Pang Bo kicked the skull out of the sand with his foot. It was clearly an adult’s skull, which had been there for Don’t know how many years，almost weathered, with rough cracks on the bone, which was no longer smooth.

What was shocking was that there was a very regular round hole on its frontal bone, as thick as a finger, seemingly pierced by a sharp weapon, with a very smooth edge around the hole.

“It seems this place is full of unknowns and variables. Although this is a dry bone left many years ago, we’d better be careful.”

The unfamiliar environment and uncertain factors made people feel a chill in their hearts.

“What are those ahead?”

Under the hazy night sky, the stars and moon were not very bright. They could only vaguely see a stretch of undulating shadows ahead, like piles of messy stones connected together, uneven and jagged.

When they walked up to it, everyone was stunned. It was actually a ruin, and what blocked the way was only a small part. A larger ruin stretched far into the distance.

Broken walls and debris all over the ground seemed to tell an unknown past. Under the moonlight, it looked particularly quiet and lonely. In the past, there should have been a stretch of magnificent palaces here, but now it was a desolate scene.

It was a huge ruin, covering a large area. The solid foundation was all built with huge stones, which made people imagine the grandeur and magnificence of these palaces in those days.

And the light source lay at the end of this ruin, behind a broken wall.

“Can we really be on Mars? There was once a grand palace complex here?”
“How many people would it have taken to complete such a vast project?”
“What caused this place to become a ruin, with all the tall and magnificent buildings collapsed?”

The group was almost oblivious to fear, marveling at the massive ruin before them. If they really were on Mars, this was utterly Incredible.

Ye Fan spoke calmly, “It’s actually not that surprising. We’ve experienced so many things today that defy all reason. Even if someone told me this vast ruin is the site of a heavenly palace, I wouldn’t be shocked.”

Pang Bo sighed, “Heavenly palace ruins… It’s possible, after all, we’ve already seen dragon corpses.”

Hearing this, everyone fell silent, pondering the thought. A heavenly palace ruin—maybe it wasn’t a myth!

The light source glowed softly from behind the broken wall, casting a faint, ethereal halo that felt both mysterious and sacred.

“What on earth is that?”

The light shimmered at the end of the ancient ruin, making the broken walls seem all the more desolate and enigmatic.

“Crunch… crunch…”

The sound of their footsteps on the debris echoed through the empty night. They passed by collapsed palaces, finally traversing the massive ruin. Up ahead, the broken wall—though partially destroyed—still stood four or five meters high, a faint reminder of its former grandeur.

“Let’s see what that light really is!”

The group carefully circled the huge broken wall and reached the end of the ruin. Suddenly, a refreshing aura washed over them, as if a divine light had sliced through the air and into their eyes.

Having fully stepped out of the ruin and behind the wall, they finally saw the light source clearly.

Fifty meters ahead, a small ancient temple sat quietly, with an old Buddha statue and a bronze lamp flickering like a tiny bean of light.

In front of the temple stood a gnarled bodhi tree, as tough as a dragon. Its trunk was entirely withered, save for five or six green leaves clustered two meters above the ground—each leaf crystal clear，glowing with a jade-like green light, like divine emeralds.

Chapter 014 The Great Thunderclap Monastery

At the end of the ruins stood an ancient temple, silent and small, far from grand. It contained only a single hall with a stone Buddha draped in thick dust, and beside it, a bronze lamp flickered with faint light.

Beside the temple grew a gnarled bodhi tree, so thick that six or seven people would struggle to encircle it. Its ancient trunk was hollow, and were it not for five or six glowing green leaves clustered two meters up, the entire tree would have seemed wither and die.

Temple and tree stood in quiet harmony, steeped in antiquity, evoking the passage of time and a sense of endless tranquility and age.

Upon reaching it, everyone marveled. Behind them, the once-majestic palace complex lay in ruins, yet this tiny temple endured—a humble return to simplicity.

“How could such a temple exist here?”
“The few remaining leaves on that bodhi tree glow with crystalline green light!”

The bodhi tree is nearly synonymous with Buddhism, deeply intertwined with its teachings. Legend says that over 2,500 years ago, Siddhartha Gautama attained enlightenment beneath a bodhi tree, becoming the Buddha.

This ancient tree and temple, thriving in mutual presence, exuded an otherworldly aura that defied disbelief.

“Why do I feel as if a river of history surges here? Everything seems infinitely old, steeped in the weight of time.”

Fifty meters was but a short walk. When they drew near, a strange sensation washed over everyone—as if gazing at a faded historical scroll, permeated with the breath of ages.

“Could this be a temple where gods once dwelled?”
“Surely there can’t be a Buddha in this world… Yet even in ruin, this temple exudes a serene, meditative peace.”

The temple was silent, wrapped in tranquility.

“Look, a bronze plaque with inscriptions!”

On the dilapidated temple hung a rusted bronze plaque, etched with four ancient characters—twisting like dragons, brimming with Zen. They were complex oracle bone script, but the first character “大” (great) was recognizable even to those unfamiliar with the script.

“The last character is ‘寺’ (temple),” Zhou Yi, knowledgeable in oracle bone script, identified.

“The four characters are ‘大雷音寺’ (The Great Thunderclap Monastery),” Ye Fan read aloud.

Everyone stared in shock, all over the face disbelief.

“The Great Thunderclap Monastery… Did I hear that right?!”
“How is this possible…”

Legend holds the Great Thunderclap Monastery as the Buddha’s abode, Buddhism’s supreme holy land. Yet this shabby, tiny temple—just a single hall, with no grandeur—bore that name?

Having witnessed nine dragon corpses pulling a coffin, they were already half-convinced of gods’ existence. But the thought of a temple named “Great Thunderclap Monastery” on Mars sent chills down their spines. Could it rewrite history, uncover a corner of lost ancient secrets?

“Buddha’s voice teachings, thundering like thunder”—thus named the Great Thunderclap Monastery!

Could this humble temple truly be the legendary one?

If so, it was earth-shattering. On a Mars of reddish soil and gravel, an ancient temple, buried in dust, held a staggering legacy.

The more they looked, the more extraordinary the temple seemed.

Behind them, the once-majestic heavenly palace had crumbled to rubble. Yet this fragile-seeming temple stood firm—a striking contrast.

A bodhi tree for company, an old lamp and stone Buddha, a flicker of light like a bean.

Plain and quiet, it had withstood time’s trials. What remained was “truth”; the grandeur of the past was but fleeting smoke.

A lamp, a Buddha, a temple, a tree—seeming eternal, enduring through the ages.

All felt peaceful and blessed, as if ethereal chants echoed in the air.

“If this is truly the Great Thunderclap Monastery, could that tree be the very bodhi where Siddhartha attained enlightenment?”
“That’s impossible—it’s just religious legend! Do you really think Siddhartha sat beneath a tree on Mars 2,500 years ago for seven days and nights to become the Buddha?”
“Given what we’ve been through, nothing is impossible!”

Their experiences that day felt surreal, yet they were unshakable facts.

Ye Fan stepped forward then, with Pang Bo beside him, and the two entered the temple. Zhou Yi hurried after, followed by Wang Ziwen.

Behind them, Liu Yunzhi’s face changed as if recalling something, and he rushed in. Others stirred, realizing: if this was the Great Thunder clap Monastery, it was a divine abode—dilapidated and dusty, yet still extraordinary.

The temple was small, just a single hall, empty and almost bare. Ye Fan walked straight to the stone Buddha and picked up the bronze lamp beside it.

The lamp looked ordinary, with a simple design, but it felt warm to the touch, lacking metal’s cold hardness, more like holding a piece of warm jade. What amazed him was that while the temple was thick with dust, the bronze lamp was spotless, as if shielded from grime.

The temple must have gone Haven’t cleaned for years, with dust piled thick, yet the lamp remained clean and lit. Ye Fan wondered—had it burned continuously since ancient times?

“So clean. Nothing left but the stone Buddha and this lamp,” Pang Bo scanned the surroundings, disappointed to find no other artifacts.

Just then, Zhou Yi, who’d followed close behind, stepped on the thick dust with a clatter, dislodging a alms bowl.

At the same moment, Liu Yunzhi and others entered, all falling silent to search quietly.

At first, trapped in their earthly mindset, they’d regarded the temple with doubt. But when Ye Fan took action, they realized—stranded on another planet, facing what might be the Buddha’s legendary residence, divine relics might lie within!

Inside the temple, Ye Fan held the spotless bronze lamp, its soft light spilling to bathe the hall in a gentle glow.

Suddenly, Ye Fan heard faint chants, as if from beyond the heavens. At first, he thought it a trick of his mind, but the Buddha’s voice swelled, filling the temple—solemn, majestic, profound, and mysterious, like the tolling of a great bell.

Then, all dust in the temple vanished, leaving it spotless. The six-syllable mantra echoed: “Om mani padme hum…”

Chapter 015 The Bodhi

“What’s wrong with you?” Pang Bo’s voice pulled Ye Fan back, and he shook Ye Fan’s shoulder hard.

Ye Fan snapped out of his trance. There was no trace of the Buddha’s chant or the Zen singing. The ancient temple remained as it was, thick with dust, and the others seemed to have heard nothing at all.

“Is this really the Great Thunderclap Monastery?” he murmured to himself. The vision had been brief, yet why had it felt so vivid? He fell into deep thought, pondering over what he’d seen and heard.

Ye Fan stared at the bronze ancient lamp in his hand, but it no longer gave off any special feeling. It had some simple carvings, a plain and age-old design, utterly unremarkable, with no hint of anything extraordinary.

“A futon!” A male student pulled an old futon from a pile of ashes. Time had not managed to destroy it.

Before long, a female student dug out a red sandalwood prayer bead from under the thick dust. Unscathed by the passage of time, it still held a faint luster after the dust was blown away.

At the same time, Cade found half a broken wooden fish in the dust in front of the stone Buddha. Carved on it were three Bodhisattvas—some solemn, some compassionate—all lifelike.

At this moment, Ye Fan’s mind raced. If this was indeed the legendary Great Thunderclap Monastery, it was a place abandoned by the gods, and every artifact unearthed here must be extraordinary!

“Clang!”

Wang Ziwen’s foot hit something that let out a metallic twang. He brushed away the dust in that corner, revealing a palm-sized broken bronze bell, missing a piece of its rim, with an ancient style.

“Clang…” He shook the bell, and a melodious chime echoed, like the Buddha’s voice lingering, calming people’s minds.

Ye Fan’s thoughts were interrupted. He glanced at the bell, which was carved with flowing cloud patterns—simple yet filled with Zen, exuding a Buddhist charm.

Pang Bo grumbled softly. He’d been the first to enter the temple but had found nothing. It could only be said that his luck was bad.

Almost at the same time, Li Xiaoman found half a jade ruyi under the stone Buddha. When she wiped off the dust, the translucent fragment glowed with faint light.

The ancient temple seemed empty, yet several people had found artifacts under the dust. The others immediately sprang into action, joining the search.

Ye Fan paid little attention to those items. He held the only bronze ancient lamp in the temple that was spotless, intact, and ever-burning. The other artifacts were clearly no match for it.

“I refuse to believe there’s nothing else here…” Pang Bo muttered.

“Search carefully here. Take any artifact you find,” Ye Fan handed the lamp to Pang Bo, letting him use its light to search. Though these broken Buddhist artifacts showed no magic for now, he knew—if gods truly existed, these things must be extraordinary!

Leaving the bronze lamp with Pang Bo for the moment, Ye Fan stepped out of the hall and walked toward the bodhi tree in front of the temple. By now, he’d cast aside his old way of thinking, temporarily allowing himself to believe in the existence of gods.

If the temple was the Great Thunderclap Monastery, how could he ignore the accompanying bodhi tree? If the Buddha existed in this world, that withered ancient tree must be extraordinary!

The bodhi tree is Buddhism’s sacred tree. According to Records of the Western Regions, the Buddha once told Ananda that three things in the world deserve worship… the Buddha’s relics, Buddha statues, and the bodhi tree.

For it was beneath the bodhi tree that the Buddha attained enlightenment. To see the bodhi tree is to see the Buddha.

The withered ancient tree before them was as gnarled as a dragon, too thick for six or seven people to encircle. Its trunk was hollow, with only six green leaves clinging to a dead branch two or three meters above the ground—crystal clear, shining like green agate.

Putting aside whether this ancient tree had any connection to the Buddha, those six jade-like leaves alone were enough to show its uniqueness.

Ye Fan approached the tree and examined it carefully. Its huge branches almost completely overshadowed the ancient temple. One could imagine the scene of it towering over everything, blocking out the sky and sun, if it were full of leaves.

Just then, Ye Fan’s heart stirred. He noticed that tiny, almost imperceptible green auras drifted from the six crystal-clear leaves. A small part drifted toward the distant Five-Colored Altar, while most sank into the roots of the tree.

These green auras, thread-like in shape, kept flowing out from the six leaves, evoking a sense of life, with endless vitality surging within.

Ye Fan knelt down and dug away the soil at the tree’s roots, curious to see what lay beneath that could gather the green auras emitted by the bodhi leaves.

Beneath the soil, he found no magical object—only a bodhi seed. It had no shimmer, no gathering of luster, no surrounding auras. Dull and ordinary in color, it could easily be mistaken for a clod of earth if not paid attention to.

Its only peculiarity was its size: ordinary bodhi seeds were no bigger than a fingernail, but this dull seed was as large as a walnut.

Ye Fan was astonished. Could it be that the green auras from the bodhi leaves were being absorbed by it? He watched for a while, only to see the thread-like green auras flow down and vanish three inches away from the seed.

Though he didn’t witness it absorbing the essence of the bodhi leaves, it was almost certain that the seed was the cause.

Ye Fan held the bodhi seed in his palm and examined it closely, then looked shocked. The natural veins on this dull, ordinary seed intertwined to form the image of a compassionate Buddha!

The Buddha was naturally formed, entirely from the convergence of natural veins, yet it looked as if meticulously carved.

The dull Buddha image, simple and natural, faintly exuded a Zen charm.

“A naturally formed Buddha image… Could it be that 2,500 years ago, Siddhartha Gautama truly attained enlightenment because of this bodhi tree?”

The bodhi tree, also known as the Tree of Wisdom, the Tree of Enlightenment, or the Tree of Thought, is said to awaken one’s divine nature and lead to self-realization.

Ye Fan held the bodhi seed high above his head, facing the six leaves above. The green auras began to flow out much faster, with a more intense vitality, all converging toward the bodhi seed—though the radiance still vanished three inches away from it.

“Pop!”

A soft sound came. One crystal-clear bodhi leaf emitted its last green aura, then shattered into ashes and fluttered down.

By this point, Ye Fan was finally convinced that the bodhi seed, though seemingly unremarkable, was extraordinary. He carefully put it away.

At this moment, he noticed that there was a lot of powder on the ground, identical to the ashes from the bodhi leaf that had just crumbled. Could it be that all the bodhi leaves on the tree had vanished in this way? Ye Fan was quite shocked.

This bodhi seed with a naturally formed Buddha image felt extremely significant to him. He vaguely thought it was even more important than the bronze ancient lamp that had long accompanied the stone Buddha!

There were still five green leaves on the ancient bodhi tree, but they were not as crystal-clear as before, having dimmed a lot. Ye Fan didn’t pick them; gaining one bodhi seed was enough, and he didn’t want to attract attention.

By then, no one had yet come out of the Great Thunderclap Monastery. Ye Fan left the bodhi tree and returned to the ancient temple.

At this moment, seven or eight more people had found Buddhist artifacts, each of different forms. Liu Yunzhi even found half a golden pestle from behind the stone Buddha. Though it had been buried in dust for who knows how many years, it still shone brightly when unearthed, giving a sense of heaviness and solidity. If one end weren’t damaged, it could be called a perfect and powerful casting masterpiece.

This scepter-like pestle has a mighty name in Buddhism: the vajra pestle, implying the indirect meaning of “destroying enemies.” It symbolizes invincible, indestructible wisdom and the true Buddha-nature, and is a weapon held by all holy beings.

If the Buddha truly existed in the world, this vajra pestle would undoubtedly be a sacred object, bound to display extraordinary visions—even possessing the mysterious power to split mountains and sever rivers would be no surprise. However, no magic could be seen at this moment.

Liu Yunzhi swung it forcefully. The half vajra pestle streaked like a golden bolt of lightning, its radiance dazzling, the treasure pestle exuding great momentum.

“Do you think,” he said, “if these artifacts were all held by the gods, and if we discovered how to use them, what earth-shattering scenes we might witness…”

Hearing Liu Yunzhi’s words, all those who had found Buddhist artifacts fell into a daze of longing.

Chapter 016 Like a God Descending

Besides the vajra pestle, several others found broken incense burners, monk’s rulers, bronze bells, and fish drums.

Among them, the female student whom Ye Fan had felt sorry for—gaunt at the class reunion—discovered something extraordinary: a complete string of prayer beads, with only six beads. They were translucent, pale gold, as clear as crystal, each the size of a dragon’s eye.

“Could these be made of sarira?” someone nearby wondered, A look of shock.

These six pale gold crystals, like magnificent gems, easily brought to mind the sarira left behind after ancient Buddhas’ parinirvana. After all, this was an artifact from the Great Thunderclap Monastery; its material could not be ordinary.

This string of beads was unusual. The female student had stumbled upon it by chance atop the stone Buddha’s head. The six beads were strung on a transparent thread, each bearing a vague human figure in a different pose.

This was the third intact artifact after Ye Fan’s bronze lamp and Zhou Yi’s alms bowl. Of course, the bronze lamp remained the most striking—after all, it was the only ancient lamp untainted by dust, burning endlessly. Anyone could tell it was extraordinary.

Several fiery gazes in the temple flickered toward the bronze lamp from time to time. Ye Fan sensed them but remained calm, showing no reaction.

The main hall of the Great Thunderclap Monastery had been searched thoroughly, with no other artifacts left. The group withdrew.

Pang Bo was most frustrated. Over a dozen people had found ancient items, yet he—first into the temple—had found nothing.

Standing before the temple, he sized it up again, his eyes suddenly lighting up. He strode back, fetched several large stones to stand on, and pried off the bronze plaque inscribed with “Great Thunderclap Monastery.” The others stared, dumbfounded.

Then realization dawned: this plaque must be extraordinary. Weathered by time, it bore no trace of dust, as clean as the bronze lamp—the only other artifact unsoiled. Clearly, it was no ordinary object.

“It’s heavier than it looks…” Pang Bo dragged the plaque back. No sooner had he left the temple than the entire structure shook. The stone Buddha inside suddenly cracked, letting out a “crack-crack” sound.

Then, the six-syllable mantra echoed: “Om mani padme hum…”

The majestic Buddha’s voice thundered through the heavens, shaking the sky and earth, as if the entire cosmos trembled!

This compassionate, solemn, profound, and mysterious chant surged, purifying all filth and mortal taint. The area around the temple bathed in a sacred, serene light.

This was no illusion. Ye Fan, Pang Bo, and everyone else froze, too shocked to speak.

At the same time, all the artifacts found in the hall—whether intact or broken—glowed softly, their radiance dazzling, stunning everyone.

But finally, with a “boom,” the stone Buddha in the temple shattered into ashes. Then the Great Thunderclap Monastery itself crumbled into dust, scattered by a gentle breeze.

“Whoosh!”

At the same moment, the ancient bodhi tree beside the temple disintegrated—no splinters, no dead branches, Only the ashes all over the sky are falling.

Next, the light from the Buddhist artifacts in everyone’s hands faded, dimming to ordinariness once more.

Stunned, no one understood what had happened. Had taking the artifacts and the plaque caused this?

The temple left only a layer of ashes. Ye Fan stared at it a moment, then said, “Taking the artifacts and the plaque stripped the long-abandoned Great Thunderclap Monastery of its reason to exist. Perhaps that’s why it vanished with the wind.”

Zhou Yi, usually mild-mannered, was now agitated, his eyes shining. “I’m more certain than ever—gods exist. Maybe we can follow their footsteps. What we’ve endured today could be a great opportunity.”

Talk of gods, Buddhas, and immortality—once absurd—no longer sounded ridiculous. The facts before them suggest that common sense can be overturned; the existence of gods is not impossible.

“Following gods’ footsteps… easier said than done. I see no hope,” Pang Bo glanced at Zhou Yi. “Staying alive is our top priority. This desert has no water, no food. In seven or eight hours, things will get dire.”

“All signs point to this being Mars—and we know Mars can’t sustain life,Li Xiaoman said that after experiencing recent events, her delicate and beautiful face looked very calm. “If there is a god, then it makes sense: this is just a small shelter on Mars.”

Hardly had she finished when the reddish-brown ground rumbled. The empty land shook, as if thousands of troops galloped or a furious sea surged.

“Sandstorm… a super storm on Mars!” Cade, beside Li Xiaoman, paled, shouting in broken Chinese.

One quarter of the year on Mars is shrouded in dust storms. Earth’s strongest typhoons reach 60 meters per second; Mars’ storms hit 180 meters per second. Super storms can engulf the entire planet.

Not even heavy tanks would survive—they’d be torn into the sky!

In an instant, the stars and moons vanished. Endless reddish dust blotted out the sky. A planet-spanning storm had begun.

“Wait—no storm here…”

Moments ago, many had panicked, fearing doom. But now, they realized: while chaos raged beyond, their vicinity was calm.

A hazy dome, over a kilometer in diameter, centered on the Five-Colored Altar and the Great Thunderclap Monastery’s ruins, shielded this area from the outside.

Li Xiaoman’s words proved true: this was a tiny sanctuary on Mars. A supernatural force blocked the storm, indirectly confirming gods might exist—this could be their blessed ground.

“The dome is dimming! It’s going to vanish!” A female student, staring up, turned white.

The faint dome above was fading, likely to disappear soon. Everyone paled. Death loomed; no one could stay calm.

“What do we do? Are we… really going to die here?” some trembled.

“I don’t want to die…” several female students cried.

“If the dome breaks, the super storm will crush us!” Even male students feared. The storm roared like thunder, shaking the earth. Red dust filled the world, spreading terror.

Ye Fan, his eyes clear, stared at the overwhelming sandstorm and spoke calmly: “There might be one way out.”

“Escape? Tell us!”
“The sanctuary is failing—where else can we go?!”

At death’s door, people panicked, many losing their wits.

“Follow the path gods took. Leave this uninhabitable place,” Ye Fan said.

Some grasped his meaning; others were confused.

“Yes—this is our only chance,” Zhou Yi nodded in agreement.

Ye Fan reasoned: in ancient times, gods had opened a starry road from Earth to Yinghuo (Mars), but Mars was not their final destination.

Mars’ Five-Colored Altar likely connected to more distant stars—a path gods once trod. Now, trapped, they had to follow it, leave Mars, to survive.

Understanding this, everyone sprinted toward the Five-Colored Altar.

A kilometer seemed as vast as an ocean. Their lives depended on reaching it before the dome shattered.

The ruined heavenly palace, strewn with debris, made the journey treacherous. Rushing, someone sprained an ankle but dared not pause, limping on, fearing to fall behind.

Even if they reached the altar, activating the starry road was uncertain—a shadow over their hearts. On Mount Tai, everything had been involuntary. But now, there was no choice: the altar was their only lifeline.

“Ahh!” A female student, running through the ruins, screamed and fell, motionless.

Her face froze in terror. A thumb-sized hole bored her forehead, blood gushing. She’d seen something unspeakably terrifying before dying.

“What happened?!” Everyone shuddered, horrified. A life lost so suddenly—just moments ago, she’d been with them.

“Don’t touch her!” Ye Fan stopped two male students approaching. He recalled the white skull on the way here, with a finger-sized hole in its forehead. The same death. A grim premonition rose.

“Did we desecrate the Great Thunderclap Monastery… is this divine punishment?” a female student trembled, terrified.

“Even if gods exist, Buddhas are merciful,” Zhou Yi cut in, stemming panic. “We can’t take her with us. Let her rest. We must reach the Five-Colored Altar.”

No one hesitated. Survival mattered most; no one spared a glance for the body.

“Clang…”

Suddenly, a melodious, solemn bell tolled, like a great bronze bell vibrating.

Dazzling golden light erupted from Wang Ziwen, shrouding him in brilliant radiance—as if he wore thick golden armor, blazing like golden fire.

The broken bronze bell in his hand trembled, emitting the grand sound, its light the source of his glow.

“What’s happening?” Liu Yunzhi, closest to him, tensed.

“Something attacked me…” Wang Ziwen, usually gentle, now stood cloaked in golden flames, armored in light—magnificent, like a god descending to earth.

Chapter 017 Life and Death

“Did you see what it was?” Pang Bo asked, seeking the source of danger. Normally carefree, he was steady in critical moments.

“I didn’t see anything. I just felt a terrifying aura envelope me, then this broken bell suddenly trembled,” Wang Ziwen said, still shaken despite being cloaked in golden light.

Hearing this, everyone who’d found artifacts in the temple clutched their broken Buddhist relics tightly. These had proven extraordinary—they must be divine possessions!

The broken bell stopped vibrating; its melodious toll faded. The golden flames surrounding Wang Ziwen died out, and the radiance like golden armor retreated back into the bell.

“Go! Let’s get out of these ruins!” Ye Fan, holding the bronze lamp that spilled faint divine light, led the charge toward the Five-Colored Altar.

Others followed. In this vast Heavenly Palace Ruins, something terrifying lurks. With every passing second spent here, the danger increases.

“Ahh!” Another scream echoed. Near the edge of the ruins, a male student fell backward. A finger-sized hole bored his forehead, blood gushing—same as the others. His eyes stared wide, frozen in terror.

Panic gripped many. Another classmate dead, right before their eyes, yet they were powerless to stop it, unaware of the killer.

Talk of life and death was easy, but experiencing it firsthand left a bitter taste. Close classmates had died without a last word, unacceptably sudden. Several female students teetered on collapse, sobbing—they’d never witnessed such horror.

“Run!”

No one paused. They fled the ruins, leaving two lives behind forever.

Before they could catch their breath, three screams erupted almost simultaneously. Two male students and one female student crashed to the ground, identical holes in their foreheads—ghastly and identical.

Blood stained the earth. Three former classmates, friends, lay dead, eyes bulging in terror.

In moments, five lives were lost. Grief mingled with icy dread—anyone could be next. No one knew when their end would come.

“Wahhh…” A female student, nearly broken, wailed. “The dead found nothing in the temple! That unknown devil is nearby! Without a sacred relic from the gods, we’ll all die sooner or later…”

It was true: the five dead had found nothing in the temple. Wang Ziwen, attacked the same way, had survived only because of his broken bell.

“Help us…” Those who’d found no artifacts begged, clinging to those who had, their voices desperate. But who would surrender their only lifeline in such a crisis?

Some people didn’t stop, not even looking back, and rushed towards the Five - colored Altar. Although the friendship among classmates is precious, in the face of life and death, many people chose to be indifferent to protect themselves.

Human relationships, the contradictions of human nature, faced their first harsh test.

“Please… save me…” The sobbing female student, shoeless, tears streaming, stumbled to Ye Fan, her gratitude evident—a pitiful sight that stirred compassion.

She reached tremblingly toward the lamp, but inches away, her expression froze. Her eyes went vacant, and she collapsed.

Ye Fan watched, heart heavy. A hole bored her skull—this time, not the forehead. She’d died steps from safety, her grateful smile frozen with tears.

He almost reached to lift her, but withdrew. No time.

“What is that thing?” Everyone wondered.

Death loomed closer, spiking fear. Three or four people crowded around Ye Fan and Pang Bo, eager to share the lamp and bronze plaque, nearly grabbing them in desperation.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Pang Bo glared, roaring. “We’re trying to save you—share these things, not hand them over and die ourselves!”

His massive frame and fierce stare intimidated them. They pulled back, sheepishly placing hands on the plaque and lamp.

No time to linger. They ran, but restlessness spread—some eyed the relics greedily, while their owners grew wary, regretting sharing.

“We’re from the same place, classmates for four years!” Ye Fan shouted, his voice more commanding than Pang Bo’s. “Don’t let today’s choice haunt you with shame for the rest of your life!”

Many calmed.

“BOOM!”

At that instant, Liu Yunzhi erupted in hundreds of lightning bolts. Electric arcs danced around him—he looked like a thunder god descended!

Lightning cloaked his body, illuminating the surroundings. The vajra pestle in his hand blazed—the source of it all.

Clad in a “armor” of lightning, he exuded overwhelming power, like a thunder war god.

“Something attacked me,” he said simply, then fell silent. His sharp gaze flickered toward Ye Fan, but softened when it met the bronze lamp.

Minutes later, the lightning faded. The vajra pestle dimmed again.

A divine weapon!

All had witnessed its power, their hearts racing.

They ran in silence, finally reaching the Five-Colored Altar. No more deaths—relief washed over them, faint but real.

The corpse in Kowloon and the bronze coffin lay there, as shocking as ever.

“What’s that…”

They gasped. The Five-Colored Altar glowed faintly, drawing wispy light from all directions into its stone base.

The dome above was fading—because of the altar, it seemed, gathering some mysterious energy.

Shock gave way to joy. The altar shone, just as it had on Mount Tai—a sign it might open the starry road. But this time, energy came not from “stone books and jade tablets,” but the massive dome.

“Rumble…”

The dome shrank, and the storm beyond roared like thunder, shaking the earth.

The dome dimmed. Everyone climbed onto the altar, watching tensely.

The unknown, terrifying presence lingered like a shadow. It hadn’t struck, but until they left, it remained a deadly threat. Escape from Mars was urgent.

For half an hour, the dome compressed, shrinking from over a kilometer to less than two hundred meters, barely covering the altar, nearly touching the ground. All its mysterious energy flowed into the Five-Colored Altar.

Pang Bo whispered to Ye Fan, “Liu Yunzhi’s glanced our way several times. He’s crafty—stay sharp.” Beneath his roughness, he was perceptive.

“Don’t worry, I know.” Ye Fan turned to Liu Yunzhi, smiling warmly.

Liu Yunzhi nodded politely, showing no sign of ill intent. Two others stood with him—one was the male student who’d taken shelter under Ye Fan’s lamp to reach the altar.

Pang Bo scowled. “Ingrate! He followed Liu Yunzhi in school, and we just saved his life. Now he’s back with Liu Yunzhi.”

Moments later, the shrinking dome neared the altar. The storm’s fury was palpable.

Winds howled like ghosts. Sand pelted the dome with thunderous force—some grains even seeped through. The barrier was fragile, ready to shatter.

Terrified, everyone stepped back, fearing they’d be torn into the sky if they fell off the altar.

Then the “ingrate” in question inched away from Liu Yunzhi. Suddenly, he lunged for the bronze lamp in Ye Fan’s hand, shoving Ye Fan hard—hoping to seize the lamp and push Ye Fan off the altar.

Chapter 018 Confrontation

Ye Fan held the bronze lamp in his left hand, stepped back two paces, and with his right hand, “bang,” he grabbed the male student by the collar, nearly lifting him off the ground.

Pang Bo instantly reacted and was furious. “You heartless wretch! An ungrateful scoundrel! Have you forgotten who was with you under the lamplight, protected you, and brought you here safely?!”

Pang Bo stretched out his large hands, seized the student by the collar, and was about to hurl him off the Five-Colored Altar. The scene infuriated him beyond measure.

“Cough…” The male student’s face turned pale. He’d struggled when Ye Fan first grabbed him, but couldn’t break free. Now, with Pang Bo clamping down on his neck, he was nearly suffocating.

Others wore mixed expressions. Some had harbored restless thoughts, but none expected someone to actually act—let alone target Ye Fan, who’d shown him kindness.

“Have you no conscience, you ungrateful cur? If Ye Fan hadn’t saved you, you’d be dead out there!” The angrier Pang Bo grew, the more impulsive he became. Being hot-tempered, he thought tossing the student out wasn’t enough. He raised his right hand and “crack-crack-crack” landed four or five heavy slaps.

A male student stepped forward to mediate. “We were classmates for four years. Let’s not do this, Pang Bo—let him go!”

Pang Bo shot him a sideways glance. “You say let go? What if someone tried to kill you—would you stay calm? How about I toss you off the altar and see how you like it?!” His anger flared, and he “crack-crack” landed a few more harsh slaps.

“Don’t kill him. Let’s talk this through. Let him down first, and we’ll decide how to punish him,” a female student chimed in, stealing a quick glance at Liu Yunzhi as she spoke.

Throughout this, Liu Yunzhi remained calm—neither stepping forward to mediate nor speaking up, as if it had nothing to do with him, watching the situation unfold.

Ye Fan noted everyone’s expressions. Seeing no sign of Liu Yunzhi stepping in, he stopped Pang Bo. “Let him go.”

“Yeah, let him go first.”
“Right, let’s let him go. There’s no conflict between classmates that can’t be resolved—don’t make it too ugly.”

The two male students and the female student who’d spoken earlier joined in. Meanwhile, others, seeing Ye Fan himself had spoken, added their voices to the mediation.

“Too ugly? Do you think it hasn’t gone too far already?” Pang Bo glared at the male student who’d sided with Liu Yunzhi. “He almost killed Ye Fan, and you’re defending him?”

But Pang Bo didn’t press further. Catching Ye Fan’s signal, he finally released his grip.

Yet no one expected—though Pang Bo let go, Ye Fan didn’t. He grabbed the student by the collar with one hand, nearly lifting him straight up, and strode to the edge of the Five-Colored Altar, as if about to hurl him off.

Everyone was stunned, shocked by Ye Fan’s actions. They were also intimidated by his strength, and they remembered his nickname “Wild Bull” on the football field during his college days. Ye Fan looked gentle and refined, but he was physically robust. He lifted that male classmate to the edge of the sacrificial altar as easily as lifting a chick, just a few inches away from the hazy dome.

“Earlier, I saved your life. Why did you try to kill me?” Ye Fan pressed him against the altar’s edge, ready to push him out, barely half a foot from the dim dome.

The male student was terrified and shrieked, “Don’t push! I’m a heartless fool. I was muddle - headed for a moment - please spare me! I’ll never dare again…”

Ye Fan smiled, showing a row of white teeth, a bright grin. “People act for a reason. You won’t say? I’d hate to watch you get torn into the sky by the storm…” With that, he pushed the student outward with one hand.

“Help!” The male student panicked, shouting, “Stop! I’ll talk—I’ll tell you everything!”

A modern city dweller, he’d never experienced such terror. Facing the storm inches away, his face turned ashen, blood draining from it.

“This isn’t right, Ye Fan. Let him go. It’s too dangerous,” someone urged.

“Yes, everything can be discussed. We shouldn’t discard our friendship over this—killing him won’t help,” another added.

It was the same group speaking up again, inching closer.

“Clang!”

Pang Bo slammed the half-human-tall bronze plaque from the Great Thunderclap Monastery onto the ground, glaring at them. The group froze in their tracks.

Ye Fan turned back, smiling warmly. “It’s fine. He’s willing to tell me why, and I want to hear where I went wrong. No hard feelings—you can rest easy.”

When he faced the student pressed against the altar edge again, his eyes turned sharp. The message was clear: speak, or be pushed out.

“I… I found nothing in the temple, no divine relics. I was scared for my life, so… greed got the better of me. I’m a heartless wretch!” He began slapping his own face.

Ye Fan said nothing, just pushed him outward. Half the student’s body hung in the air, nearly touching the dim dome.

“No… help!” The male student screamed, “It was Li Changqing… he told me to do it!”

Ye Fan pulled him back. He paid no mind to this spineless “pawn”—such people posed no threat. Killing him in front of everyone would only turn others against him, a poor trade for a former classmate.

Ye Fan casually took the bottle of mineral water from the student, then patted his shoulder. “We were classmates for four years, caught in this disaster together. We should stand united, support each other.”

“Absolutely… absolutely!” Freed, the student still trembled, shuffling backward unsteadily.

By now, Pang Bo was furious. He grabbed the bronze plaque and charged at the student named Li Changqing.

“Bang!”

Tall and powerful, Pang Bo swung the plaque with all his strength, slamming Li Changqing to the ground.

“No wonder you kept mediating—you were pulling the strings behind the scenes!” Pang Bo pressed the plaque against him. “You even scheme against your four-year classmates? Have you no humanity left?” He was livid. Li Changqing was one of those who’d stood with Liu Yunzhi earlier, and one of the mediators.

Ye Fan walked over, casually took the water bottle from Li Changqing, and handed it to Pang Bo.

Watching him take a second bottle, everyone’s expressions turned complex. If they couldn’t escape Mars soon, water might become their most precious resource in a few hours.

Ye Fan regretted failing to flush out Liu Yunzhi. He knew Liu was likely the mastermind, but without proof, he couldn’t openly turn on him in front of everyone.

Li Changqing was tough. Though Pang Bo thrashed him soundly, he admitted nothing—only that he’d acted on a impulse, speaking recklessly, which had stirred the other student’s greed to attack Ye Fan.

Pang Bo really wanted to throw him off the sacrificial altar, but considering the feelings of others, he held back. However, he felt that this fragile peace wouldn’t last long. If survival became precarious, the past friendship and courtesy might collapse in an instant - unease had already taken root in some people’s hearts.

Ye Fan stayed calm, smiling casually at Li Changqing. “People are complicated sometimes, acting on impulse. But it’s better to think for yourself—don’t be a pawn.”

With that, he knelt, reaching naturally for the broken fish drum at Li Changqing’s waist—the artifact Li had found in the Great Thunderclap Monastery.

“What are you doing?” Li Changqing struggled violently. He hadn’t flinched when Pang Bo beat him, but now he panicked, clutching the fish drum. With the plaque pinning his upper body, though, he couldn’t stop Ye Fan.

“Boom!”

Suddenly, the fish drum let out a thunderous boom, shooting green light like dancing lightning.

It hummed like a thunder god’s drum, then roared louder, with purple light coiling around Li Changqing, shielding him.

The radiance blazed, like a purple cocoon emitting dazzling divine light, illuminating the entire Five-Colored Altar.

Everyone jumped, their ears ringing. A few staggered, nearly falling.

At the same time, thousands of rays burst from the bronze plaque in Pang Bo’s hand, accompanied by rolling thunder. The words “Great Thunderclap Monastery” shot skyward, and ethereal chants echoed.

The Buddha’s voice teachings, thundering like thunder!

The plaque’s brilliant light instantly suppressed the purple cocoon. The fish drum’s sound faded.

Meanwhile, soft light spilled from the bronze lamp in Ye Fan’s hand, wrapping around him—a layer of holy radiance, like divine armor.

The light wasn’t harsh, but gentle and hazy, yet it inspired awe, as if a living god stood there. The bronze lamp flickered with divine glow, making him seem even more otherworldly.

The fish drum was instantly suppressed. Its purple light dimmed, the cocoon vanished, and the broken drum fell dark and ordinary. Ye Fan took it effortlessly, unimpeded—now like a living god, the bronze lamp’s glow making him shine.

Just then, the female student who’d mediated earlier, standing near Liu Yunzhi and holding a broken bronze bell, stepped forward. “Ye Fan, this is going too far!”

Another male classmate also chimed in and said, “Everyone should be harmonious and not be antagonistic. Let bygones be bygones. Don’t be so heartless.”

These two people have been strongly supporting Liu Yunzhi and Li Changqing from the very beginning, with a clear - cut stance. Now that they speak up, it is obvious that they don’t want Ye Fan to obtain another divine artifact.

Liu Yunzhi, who’d stayed aloof, stepped forward holding the vajra pestle. “Ye Fan, let it go. Even if he was wrong, this punishment is too harsh—it’s like taking his life.”

To Ye Fan’s surprise, Zhou Yi—who’d stayed neutral—also stepped forward, holding a purple-gold alms bowl. “Ye Fan, you shouldn’t take his fish drum. You already have the lamp; one more artifact is useless to you. Without it, he might be killed by that unknown terror.”

Chapter 019 Composure

“You all saw what happened. We know the truth.” Ye Fan held the bronze lamp in his left hand and the broken fish drum in his right, stepping forward instead of retreating. “Since I’ve taken the fish drum, I won’t return it.”

The divine radiance from the bronze lamp blazed like the sun, shone like the moon, as if a fragment of holy rainbow had been captured—crystalline, with auspicious hues. It merged perfectly with Ye Fan, as if born together, making him appear otherworldly, like an immortal descending in divine robes.

The broken fish drum in his right hand, though dim now, had shown its thunderous power earlier—purple lightning, roaring thunder. In Ye Fan’s grip, it still inspired dread.

“Li Changqing shouldn’t have talked recklessly, stirring greed and causing this unpleasantness. But taking his lifeline is going too far, Ye Fan,” Liu Yunzhi approached, his vajra pestle glowing brightly, heavy and imposing.

Beside him were the same man and woman who’d stopped Pang Bo earlier, defending Li Changqing. All three had found artifacts in the Great Thunderclap Monastery, each holding a divine relic—their words carried weight.

“Clang!”

Pang Bo strode forward, slamming the bronze plaque down. “Easy to talk pretty—you’re masters of twisting right and wrong! First, remember what happened. Second, people should have integrity! Li Changqing plotted to harm Ye Fan—how does that make Ye Fan ‘unforgiving’? By your logic, Ye Fan’s the villain, and Li Changqing’s innocent? Spare me your hypocritical righteousness—it’s sickening!”

The radiance of Pang Bo lingers. The four characters “Great Thunderclap Monastery” on the plaque soar into the sky, with the sound of Buddha’s chanting rumbling, and faintly, the sound of sutra recitation can be heard. He shines like the sun, with an extraordinary momentum.

The man and woman flushed at his words.

“We’re not saying Ye Fan’s wrong,” the woman said, evading the point. “We just want him to honor our friendship, not take Li Changqing’s fish drum—let him survive.”

They ignored Ye Fan’s near-death from being pushed off the altar, focusing only on “Ye Fan endangering a classmate.”

Ye Fan smiled faintly. “You three needn’t worry—I don’t care to argue with him.”

Divine light coiled around him, casting a serene, hazy aura, calming all who saw it.

“But let’s be clear: Li Changqing and his accomplice nearly killed me—not the other way around. Everyone saw it.” Ye Fan glanced at Liu Yunzhi’s group. “Many classmates found no relics in the temple but still live. Why? Because we shared our divine artifacts earlier. I took Li Changqing’s drum to stop him from harming others. As for his safety—we’re classmates. Share your relics, protect each other, and he’ll be fine. If you refuse to share your bell, censer, or vajra pestle, send him to me. I won’t abandon him.”

He cut to the heart of the matter, then reminded everyone of his earlier willingness to share the lamp. His words defused their arguments.

Zhou Yi, still nearby, had stayed silent but now spoke. “Li Changqing was wrong—punishment is justified. But holding two divine relics seems wasteful, with so many classmates empty-handed.”

Zhou Yi, from a privileged background but never arrogant, made a fair point. Pang Bo frowned, unable to refute.

“I’m willing to share even my bronze lamp. Taking this drum serves that purpose.” Ye Fan waved to a male classmate behind him. “Zhang Ziling, take this. In danger, share it with those beside you.”

Zhang Ziling had stood behind Ye Fan and Pang Bo—they’d bonded on the soccer field, closer than most. He hadn’t fought like Pang Bo, but clearly sided with Ye Fan.

The move surprised everyone. Zhou Yi’s lips moved, but he said nothing.

Liu Yunzhi frowned. The woman beside him objected at once. “Few female classmates found artifacts, unlike males. It should go to a girl,” she said, nodding to a female student behind her.

Pang Bo scoffed. “Classmates are equals. Why quibble? Does it matter who gets it? Or are you unwilling to help others?” His mockery left her flustered, face turning red and white.

“Don’t twist my words!” she snapped.

Zhang Ziling stepped forward, taking the fish drum from Ye Fan. No words were needed.

Ye Fan turned to Zhou Yi. “Satisfied, Zhou Yi?”

“No complaints. Stranded together, we must help each other. Let’s avoid further conflict.” Zhou Yi spoke calmly, then fell silent.

Others watched, sensing the subtle tension—defused effortlessly by Ye Fan.

It reminded them of college: Ye Fan had always been calm, yet unyielding when pressed—never seeking trouble, but never shrinking from it.

Pang Bo, hand on the bronze plaque, glared at Liu Yunzhi’s group. “Ye Fan’s letting it go, but I’ll say this: heaven sees all. We can’t deny gods exist now. Stay righteous—no dirty deeds!”

The rebuke stung, but they couldn’t argue.

Liu Yunzhi nodded coolly. “Well said. Let’s prevent this.”

Lin Jia and Wang Ziwen, neutral, spoke up. “To avoid conflict, we should plan—those with relics must help others. Decide how many each protects.”

Li Xiaoman said nothing, watching Ye Fan defuse the tension, her eyes calm, taking no side.

Cade, struggling with Chinese, finally grasped the situation. The foreigner gaped, impressed.

“Bang!”

A shattering sound jolted everyone. The light barrier shielding the altar had been pierced—something had slipped in. All turned.

A black ray of light, as fast as lightning, “poof” pierced through the forehead of a male student. Blood spattered. He fell backwards, his eyes wide open, dead.

Without the barrier, the black light would have struck silently—unseen. Recalling the earlier night killings, terror gripped them.

Death had returned.

Screams erupted. The altar descended into chaos. Those without relics lunged at Liu Yunzhi, Zhou Yi, and Wang Ziwen, clinging to them, begging to share their artifacts.

“ROAR!”

A bloodcurdling roar shook the air, drowning out the storm’s thunder.

“The Great Thunderclap Monastery…”

Pale-faced, many recognized the direction—it came from where the temple once stood!

“The temple’s destroyed… could it have sealed something beneath it?”

Pang Bo’s words sent chills down spines. Dread coiled in their hearts.

Chapter 020 The Crocodile Ancestor

A creepy roar came from the direction of the Great Thunderclap Monastery —— as if an ancient prehistoric giant beast burst out of the ground, breaking through the seal. It shook the mountains and rivers, and startled the stars and the moon, making people’s souls tremble.

But then silence fell. The terrifying roar faded, leaving only the rumble of sandstorms beyond the Five-Colored Altar.

“What was that?”
“Are there other creatures on Mars?”
“Legends say the Buddha suppressed countless demons. Maybe the seal lies near the Great Thunderclap Monastery.”

A few whispers, and dread coiled in their hearts. As modern city-dwellers, they’d never believed such tales. But after today’s wonders, the thought of mythical demons terrified them.

If their guesses held, their fate was grim. The Great Thunderclap Monastery was gone—no Buddha, no gods left. Facing such demons alone, they’d be doomed.

“Today has shattered our minds… it’s unbearable.”
“Monsters from myths might appear before us—alive!”

The mere possibility sent cold chills through them.

A fresh corpse lay before them, blood staining the ground, a faint metallic tang in the air—a stark reminder of the peril.

“Zzz…”
A strange sound emerged from the corpse’s skull. Many tensed.

“Slurp…”
It sounded like feeding, like chewing—coming from a human skull. Revulsion and horror prickled their skin.

“Crack… crack!”
The crunch of bone being crushed. The air turned thick with tension.

No one spoke. The Five-Colored Altar fell deathly quiet. Even breathing felt loud. The sounds were a hellish melody, torturing their nerves.

Girls covered their mouths, tears stifled—this was beyond their worst nightmares.

Not all cowered. Those with divine relics held onto faint hope. Pang Bo, growing restless, grabbed the bronze plaque, ready to smash open the skull.

Ye Fan stopped him. “Don’t act rashly.”

“Pfft!”
A spurt of blood and white fluid erupted from the hole in the corpse’s forehead—brain matter.

Then, a cone-shaped black head emerged from the wound—small, sharp, scaled.

“What is that?”
Everyone stepped back, even Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

It was a grotesque creature, resembling a crocodile but snake-like, legless, its belly bare. Covered in black scales, it looked like a fiend from the underworld.

Blood and brain matter clung to its scales, a sickening sight. Fear coiled in their guts.

Seven classmates—four years of friendship—slain by this ugly thing.

Its tiny eyes glinted with icy malice, studying them like prey, not equals.

“You little runt — smaller than a mouse, yet you killed seven of my classmates! I’ll crush you!” Pang Bo brandished the bronze medal and smashed it violently towards that cold - blooded creature.

Thunder rumbled, light blazed. The plaque erupted with rays, lightning weaving a net.

“Whoosh!”
But the creature was lightning-fast. Sensing danger, it shot up as a black streak, evading the radiance.

Ye Fan stepped forward with the bronze lamp. He blew hard on the wick—a burst of divine flame surged forward.

The foot-long, finger-thin creature let out a shriek—deafening, like a ghost’s wail, rattling eardrums, sending chills down spines.

How could such a small body produce such a terrifying sound?

Ye Fan’s flame stretched three meters, grazing its tail. Scales charred, half its tail fell off, blackened.

It glared at Ye Fan, its expression almost human—feral, baring sharp, white fangs, growling low.

“What the hell is this thing?” Those behind, even with relics, dared not advance.

“Your eyes are ruthless enough — it’s time to die!” Pang Bo rushed up again, and the plaque shone brightly. “You’ve killed seven — losing a tail is nothing!”

Enveloped in the plaque’s light, he looked like an enraged war god. The plaque trembled, Buddha’s voice thundering.

Ye Fan flanked it, the lamp’s flame roaring like a dragon, air sizzling with heat.

Zhou Yi, Wang Ziwen, and others rushed in, swinging their relics at the crocodile-like fiend.

Surrounded, the creature darted like black lightning across the altar, evading their strikes.

Its shrieks echoed—venomous, furious, like hellish wails.

“Crack!”
More sounds—several identical creatures pierced the barrier, slithering in, all ten centimeters long, eyes as cold as ghosts, glaring with hatred.

“So many?”
“Are they native to Mars?”
Despair crept in. They weren’t gods—they barely knew how to use their relics, relying on their innate light. With so many fiends, they couldn’t prevail.

The sound of “rustling” came from outside. Hundreds of such creatures gathered outside the barrier.

Those behind, cowed, trembled. If they swarmed in, even divine relics might not hold.

“Pang Bo, stop chasing—gather!” Ye Fan shouted.

With so many fiends, defense was key. They just needed the altar to gather enough energy to open the starry path.

“ROAR!”
Another soul-shattering roar from the Great Thunderclap Monastery!

The sandstorm seemed to freeze—no sound but that thunderous beast’s cry.

The ground shook, the altar trembling. The storm was drowned out.

“The Great Thunderclap Monastery… it’s their lair!” someone trembled.

Beyond the barrier, more fiends gathered, streaming from the monastery—thousands, scales glinting black.

“BOOM!”
The earth jolted. A ghastly aura erupted a kilometer away, filling heaven and earth.

Through the sandstorm, two lantern-sized eyes glowed in the monastery ruins, piercing darkness.

Stones the size of houses hurtled into the air, crashing near the altar—deafening.

“The monastery’s foundations… collapsing! Something terrible is emerging!”

If true, even their relics were useless.

“I think I know what these are…” a female student whispered, trembling.

Raised in a Buddhist family, she’d visited Tibet’s Jokhang Temple, hearing an old monk’s tales: the Great Thunderclap Monastery sealed demons. The first layer held the Crocodile Ancestor—a primordial divine crocodile, powerful but suppressed by the Buddha.

“The Buddha’s holy land sealed demons?”
“The monk said so.”

Cold dread washed over them. If the Crocodile Ancestor was awakening, these fiends were its offspring.

Ye Fan furrowed his brows. “I’ve read ancient books… They described a ‘crocodile’ without legs — its scales are as hard as diamond, it can fly, burrow into the ground, and penetrate flesh and blood. It’s called the Divine Crocodile.”

Zhou Yi nodded. “I’ve seen similar records. Buddhist texts say their ancestor was sealed by the Buddha, its kin hidden away.”

Legends, once stories, now felt real—shocking, terrifying.

“The monk said the Crocodile Ancestor is in the first layer… does that mean more layers?” a girl asked, trembling.

No answer. One Crocodile Ancestor was enough to annihilate them.

Rustling grew louder—thousands of small crocodiles gnawed at the barrier.

“BOOM!”
The Five-Colored Altar shook. Five-colored ancient runes bloomed in the sky, like stars. A tai chi diagram began to form—the starry path was opening.

But the monastery ruins rumbled. The lantern-like red eyes rose meters higher—breaking free, emerging from the earth.

Escape Mars! The thought unified them. They prayed—even drifting in empty space was better than this.

Chapter 021 Blood Sacrifice

The Eight Trigrams diagram runs through China’s ancient history, with origins lost to time. How it was created, and its purpose, remain fascinating mysteries.

It has been used to calculate celestial orbits; even computer binary is said to draw from it—imbued with profound mystery.

Even today, the profound meaning of the ancient Taiji Eight Diagrams diagram has not been deciphered. However, bold speculations abound.

Some people say it represents an unknown “momentum”, and various possibilities of the future can be deduced through precise calculations. However, even if there is a single error, it will be completely useless.

Others claim it depicts the universe’s essence in its simplest form—each symbol a fundamental truth.

A bolder hypothesis suggests it relates to time and space: the eight trigram symbols are stellar coordinates, their combinations mapping different star domains.

By this logic, it could pinpoint any location in the cosmos, acting as a stellar gate connecting wormholes.

Constructing such a gate would require immense energy, precise stellar coordinates, and complex “arrays”—a concept still theoretical, intertwined with spatial mysteries beyond current understanding.

Admittedly, building a stargate through the Taiji Eight Diagrams Diagram is a distant dream - it can’t be achieved even in hundreds of millions of years.

Yet here, Ye Fan and the others witnessed its formation. Scholars who’d devoted lives to studying stellar gates would have screamed in ecstasy—this was a momentous revelation.

But Ye Fan’s group cared little for that. Survival consumed them; death loomed too close.

A kilometer away, the Great Thunderclap Monastery ruins fell silent, yet a ghastly aura blanketed the area. Those lantern-sized blood-red eyes fixed on them, piercing darkness—terrifying, bone-chilling.

The Tai Chi Eight Trigrams Diagram in the sky took shape, metallic and solid, as if forged from a hundred refinings of gold.

Around it, space distorts and light dims. The Bagua symbols - Qian, Kun, Xun, Dui, Gen, Zhen, Li, Kan - light up one by one, like ancient and mysterious codes.

They flickered thousands of times, shifting in complex patterns, yet never lit simultaneously. Gradually, they dimmed. The massive diagram trembled, threatening to dissolve.

“Why… why is this happening?”
Panic spread. Without the stellar gate, death awaited.

The barrier over the Five-Colored Altar dimmed to near-invisibility, only faint auras flowing to the diagram. All understood—energy was failing.

“We need more stable mystical energy to sustain the diagram! But it’s insufficient!”
“Are we really going to die here…”

Crocodile Ancestor loomed far off; its offspring swarmed close. A death net closed in.

“Bang!”
More than a dozen small crocodiles broke through the barrier and launched an attack. Magic instruments such as incense burners, vajras, bronze bells, and fish drums shone brightly and blocked the attack. However, the power of these creatures was astonishing, forcing everyone to keep retreating.

“Crunch, crunch!”
Thousands of crocodiles rammed the barrier. More cracks spiderwebbed; a hundred breached in moments.

These small, ferocious beings were terrifying—able to fly and burrow, each a living dagger, their piercing power immense.

“We can’t keep defending passively - we’ll die like this!” Pang Bo roared. The plaque of the Great Thunderclap Monastery shone brightly, and a layer of light shield protected three or four people. They were safe for the moment, but how long could it last?

“Don’t move. I’ll test them.” Ye Fan warned Pang Bo, then picked up the bronze ancient lamp and moved forward, no longer defending.

Dozens of crocodiles darted at him—black streaks like lightning, slamming into the lamp’s glow, wriggling to breach it.

“Whoosh!”
Ye Fan waited till they closed in, then blew hard on the lamp’s wick—a surge of divine flame erupted, engulfing a five-meter radius.

The stench of burning flesh filled the air, mingled with shrieks. As the flames ebbed, Ye Fan stood unmarked, cloaked in soft radiance, like an immortal stepping from moonlight. Around him lay charred scales—dozens of crocodiles, mostly incinerated.

A few survivors, half-charred, glared venomously, growling low—sending chills down spines.

“Nice work! Burn ‘em all!” Pang Bo shouted, starting forward. But three faces—pale, desperate—clutched him. Without the plaque, they’d die.

“Crunch, crunch!”
Five hundred more crocodiles breached the barrier, swarming Ye Fan, black streaks crisscrossing.

“Ye Fan can’t handle this alone! I’m going!” Pang Bo struggled again.

“But… what about us?” the three begged, white-faced.

“I won’t let you die.” Pang Bo turned to Wang Ziwen, Liu Yunzhi, and others. “Cover them. I’m joining Ye Fan. Better send more—passive defense won’t hold.”

“I’ll go with you.” Zhou Yi stepped forward.

Pang Bo had never trusted Zhou Yi, deeming him too calculating, but admitted the man had courage in crisis.

Wang Ziwen, seemingly gentle, also stepped forward and shouted to the others, “A few more people come with me. The remaining ruins can protect everyone - but the girls don’t need to.”

Faced with such grotesque creatures, most women would freeze, even with relics.

“Clang!”
Pang Bo slammed the plaque onto the altar—a tidal wave of radiance surged eight meters, drowning a swarm of crocodiles.

Dying shrieks filled the air, like ghosts being purified. Smoke curled; bodies littered the ground, charred.

It was a wide-range attack—unlike chasing a single crocodile, this crushed dozens at once.

“Dong…”
A melodious bell tolled, like an ancient temple’s chime. Wang Ziwen’s broken bell erupted in golden light, ripples spreading. Soft as water, yet when they hit the crocodiles, they became blades—each ripple severing a creature.

“Pfft, pfft!” Scores fell, blood spilling—a gruesome sight.

More of them came swarming, numbering in the thousands. The black stripes intertwined to form a net of death.

“Bang!”
Zhou Yi swung his purple-gold alms bowl, sweeping out a wave of Buddha-light, shattering scales. The ground became a mess of flesh and blood.

It was carnage. Fighting for their lives, they stained the altar red. The stench of blood thickened, a faint mist rising—like a hellish battlefield.

“Ahh! Ahh!”
Two screams from behind. Two classmates lay in pools of blood, skulls riddled with holes, covered in small crocodiles, their black scales glinting.

Grief washed over them—life hung by a thread. Even struggle couldn’t save all.

The two had shared a relic, but hundreds of crocodiles had rammed them, sending them flying. The relic fell; they were instantly overwhelmed.

“Never let go!” Lin Jia shouted, warning others.

Many were knocked about, hindered by sharing relics—danger spiked.

“Ahh! Ahh!”
Two more fell—man and woman, bloodied, eyes wide in death.

Those behind clustered, defending and attacking together, stabilizing briefly.

“Kill!” Liu Yunzhi, pale but resolute, charged with the vajra pestle.

In Buddhist legends, it is a powerful sacred object for protecting the religion - capable of crushing enemies as easily as squashing insignificant pests, being invincible, and is wielded by the enlightened ones.

Lightning crackled; radiance blazed. The pestle swept through, leaving a trail of blood and scales—scores crushed.

Its power was undeniable.

Cade, the foreigner, charged too, shouting incoherently, swinging his broken wooden fish.

“God is merciful…” he shouted, but struck with great force. This fish, seemingly fragile, exuded an air of mystery.

Three Bodhisattva carvings on it manifested as light, swirling around Cade, sweeping through the crocodiles.

“Lord, are these your angels? Slay these hellish demons!” Cade’s Chinese, surprisingly fluent in panic, rang out.

“Foreign devil—those are Buddha’s relics, not God’s!” Pang Bo laughed despite the horror.

Cade ranted in English, then said: “God says all are equal! His mercy—Bodhisattvas are angels…”

“Bullshit! ‘All equal, Buddha’s mercy’—that’s Buddha’s words!”

Their bickering briefly lightened the deathly mood.

Blood on the altar rose as crimson mist, piercing the barrier, drifting to the unstable Tai Chi diagram—reigniting its glow.

All noticed, hearts lifting.

“Kill more! These are descendants of great demons—their blood holds divine power, convertible to the diagram’s energy via the altar!”
“Exactly—this Five-Colored Stone Altar was built for sacrifice. Blood offerings were surely planned in ancient times.”

The Tai Chi diagram brightened, metallic and sharp. Its eight symbols flickered, shifting in complex sequences—on the verge of lighting together, opening the stellar gate.

“BOOM!”
But at that moment, the Great Thunderclap Monastery erupted with ghastly aura. The earth split; a colossal form shot skyward, shaking the heavens!

In an instant, souls felt torn from bodies—everyone nearly collapsed.

Two lantern-sized blood-red eyes drew closer in the dark, hurtling toward them!

“It’s the Crocodile Ancestor—suppressed by the Buddha in legend! Who can stop it now?!”

Despair crushed them. Even if Bodhisattvas appeared, could they subdue such a beast? Only the Buddha himself, perhaps.

Would they perish at the last moment?

“Clang!”
The massive bronze coffin on the Five-Colored Altar suddenly trembled. The distant blood-red eyes froze, as if startled, halting their advance.

Chapter 022 The Bronze Coffin Subdues the Demon

Everyone was utterly exhausted. Moments ago, their souls had nearly fled their bodies—the Crocodile Ancestor’s roar held an uncanny power, as if it could wrench spirits from flesh.

Had the bronze coffin not let out that strange metallic hum, their fates would have been uncertain.

A ghastly aura surged from afar, like a tsunami. Though the great demon freed from beneath the Great Thunderclap Monastery had stopped advancing, its mere presence was unbearable—souls trembled, threatening to shatter.

Evil energy roiled, shaking the sky. The sandstorm froze in its wake; darkness cloaked the stars, and two lantern-sized blood-red eyes fixed on them, unblinking.

Its true form remained hidden, shrouded in black clouds.

Even from a distance, the aura of such a legendary demon—suppressed by the Buddha himself—was more than mortals could bear. Many on the Five-Colored Altar teetered, relics in hand offering no defense.

This was a creature of myth, now reality, mere miles away. It felt like a dream—too shocking to comprehend.

The Crocodile Ancestor, freed after eons, emerged into a world where palaces had crumbled, temples decayed, and gods were gone. Who could restrain it now?

“ROAR!”
A thunderous growl erupted. Not a direct attack, yet its shockwaves sent several crashing to the ground, blood trickling from their ears and noses.

The sound of “rustling” came. Outside the altar, a tide of black crocodiles swarmed in, broke through the barrier, and rushed onto the stone platform. The ancestor was driving them - it was too afraid of the coffin to approach, so it sent its descendants to test.

“Get up! Hurry!”
Several classmates, weakened, struggled to rise, relics slipping from their grasp. The roar had been devastating.

A few managed to stand, but two were too slow. A wave of crocodiles overwhelmed them.

No miracle occurred. There were two dull groans, and the relics clattered to the ground. In the blink of an eye, their lives were ended - blood splattered, and the crocodiles gnawed at the flesh and skulls, the red and white substances painting a terrifying scene.

Others couldn’t intervene, surrounded by thousands of attackers, fighting for their own survival.

Thirteen dead. Seventeen left, clinging to life. Death struck suddenly, ever-looming.

Light blazed as everyone swung their relics, hacking through the cold-blooded killers, desperate for a path. Even the weakest women fought, screams silenced by necessity.

But the greatest danger emerged: those sharing relics were hindered, their movements constrained.

“ROAR!”
The ancestors roared again. Sensing that the coffin didn’t respond, its fury grew even stronger. The clouds churned; it advanced forward, its blood - red eyes like a basin - sized sun, glowing in the darkness.

When it drew near, all stumbled. Its aura—condensed from countless killings—shook their very souls, threatening to tear free from their bodies.

Ten meters away, yet its form remained hidden, only those blood-red orbs visible. Despair settled over them.

“Whoosh!”
A demonic wind howled, fiercer than the sandstorm, like thunder splitting the sky.

From the roiling black clouds, a massive black hand descended—humanoid in shape, yet gargantuan. Fingers alone stretched seven or eight meters, sleek and menacing. Terror gripped many, their souls nearly fleeing.

This was the great demon the Buddha himself had suppressed!

Even after eons of imprisonment, its power remained earth-shattering.

At that moment, the Tai Chi diagram in the sky fully formed—fueled by the crocodiles’ blood, its eight symbols blazing in unison. The stellar gate reappeared.

“BOOM!”
The chart has changed, and a huge and mysterious passage has opened - the destination is unknown, a dark void.

A mystical force shoved the descending hand aside. Simultaneously, the nine dragon corpses—silent until now—trembled.

Dragons, even dead, brooked no disrespect. A surge of dragon’s might emanated. All crocodiles on the altar froze, then trembled, prostrating themselves, before fleeing in a tide.

The altar lay strewn with crocodile carcasses and human bodies—suddenly silent.

“Go! Into the coffin!” Ye Fan stood first, helping Pang Bo up.

They weren’t weak; the demon’s aura alone was lethal to mortals, enough to kill with its sheer malice.

Staggering to their feet, all agreed: enter the bronze coffin. The stellar gate was open, but mortal bodies couldn’t traverse the starry path. The coffin, though eerie, was their only hope.

In the dark, the Ancestor’s gaze turned colder, blood-red orbs like hanging suns. Suddenly, it shot two blood-red beams, crossing to seal the Tai Chi diagram.

All paled!

The great demon refused to relent, unleashing its demonic arts to block their escape. Its massive black hand lunged again, piercing the dim barrier, grasping for the altar.

This was the demon the Buddha had fought!

The bronze coffin’s light faded, its power exhausted. The Ancestor’s hand closed in—ignoring the others, targeting the coffin itself!

“Clang!”
Metal shrieked as the hand seized the coffin. Hearts sank. This demon had matched the Buddha—if the coffin failed, all was lost.

Then, the hand recoiled, as if burned. Blood—golden, demonic—trickled from its fingers, spilling onto the altar, glowing crimson. The coffin had wounded it.

Yet the coffin remained still. A chilling laugh echoed—bone-rattling, from the Ancestor, seething with rage.

“The gate’s blocked! How do we escape?” Panic rose. Freedom was within reach, yet barred.

“Energy… we need more to open the gate!”
“My relic’s dimming!” someone cried.

All relics—Ye Fan’s lamp, Pang Bo’s plaque, Zhou Yi’s alms bowl—leaked light, converging.

A laugh, like an owl’s hoot, echoed. A two-meter figure materialized outside the coffin, shrouded in black mist. All gasped—the relics’ light surged toward it.

This was the Ancestor, manifesting on the altar, ignoring them, its blood-red eyes fixed on the inner coffin!

A being from mythology stood before them — unforgettable and awe-inspiring.

“BOOM!”
The demon’s aura ignited the relics. They blazed, converging to enshroud it.

Simultaneously, the lamp, plaque, alms bowl, vajra pestle, and fish drum erupted with their brightest light—blinding, crashing down on the Ancestor.

A cold and eerie laugh - sending chills down one’s spine. The demon trembled, black light bursting forth, and demonic flames roaring.

The relics solidified in front of it. Then, with a “poof” sound - the meditation mat shattered, followed by the monk’s bamboo ruler. Four relics were crushed, and their light merged into the altar, providing energy for the star gate.

The nine dragon corpses trembled, then rumbled, rising into the air!

The Ancestor startled, dodging the lamp and plaque, soaring upward. Its right hand expanded, covering the sky, grasping for the dragons.

The lamp, plaque, and others—now seemingly sentient—unleashed their fiercest beams, dazzling to the point of blindness. No one could see clearly; the dragons were temporarily blocked.

“Clang, clang…”
Relics—prayer beads, plaque, alms bowl—fell to the altar, dim. Even the bronze lamp extinguished.

“The dragons are stuck! What now?” Panic spiked.

The coffin hadn’t risen; the dragons were halted mid-air, unable to enter the gate.

They emerged, snatching up the dim relics. Pang Bo quickly collected water bottles from the dead.

Ye Fan stripped off his shirt, gathering a bundle of crocodile carcasses.

A violent tremor shook the sky. They hastily retreated into the coffin.

The bronze coffin hummed. The nine dragons flicked their tails, slamming into the Ancestor’s hand, sending it reeling.

“BOOM!”
A thunderous crash. The dragons drifted toward the stellar gate. “Clang!” The coffin shifted, flipping—dizziness overwhelmed them.

The Ancestor’s blood-red gaze turned icy. Before the lid closed, it lunged, still targeting the inner coffin!

But immediately after, a faint glow emerged from the rusted coffin wall - the ancient carvings of ancestors, deities, divine birds, and mythical beasts inscribed on it began to shine. The progenitor froze, as if recalling something. Its eyes widened in anger, and it retreated, disappearing into the void.

“Clang!” The lid slammed shut. The nine dragons pulled the coffin upward, shattering the Ancestor’s blood seal, vanishing into the stellar gate.

Chapter 023 Inside the Coffin

In the darkness, soft sobs mingled with trembling breaths. Closing their eyes, they saw vivid flashes: foreheads pierced, blood spattering, brains oozing—nightmares clinging like ghosts.

Thirteen classmates, four years of shared laughter, lost in a single day. Even now, safety felt fragile, fear lingering like a chill.

The massive bronze coffin was pitch-black. Girls wept; boys sighed. They’d escaped, but the road ahead was a void—no map, no promise.

Nine dragons pulled the coffin. Where to? A paradise? Or endless darkness? Were they treading the path of gods? What lay at the end of the starry road…

Hours passed before silence settled. By Earth’s time, it was midnight. Exhausted, minds dulled, most drifted into uneasy sleep.

Many clutched their relics in slumber, as if they alone could ward off terror.

It was a tormented night. Few slept soundly. Dreams erupted with screams; tears soaked cheeks. For city-dwellers, raised in comfort, this was a trauma beyond comprehension—witnessing mythic demons, watching friends devoured, death picking them off one by one.

Even Pang Bo, ever carefree, couldn’t rest. He was jolted awake by others’ thrashing. Ye Fan fared no better—muttered prayers, whimpers in dreams, kept him alert.

Five or six hours later, most stirred. Two more hours passed before calm seeped in. Now, minds turned to harsh reality: where was the coffin taking them?

The coffin glided smoothly, no tremors—had it stopped in space? Would they drift forever, adrift in the cosmos?

“What kind of place awaits us?”

Crying, venting—even the softest girls forced themselves to ask.

“Will we reach the gods’ realm?”

The starry road was forged by ancestors. Perhaps, far ahead, gods dwelled—in a world of mystery.

“Do gods truly exist? We’ve seen nine dragons pull a coffin, the legendary Great Thunderclap Monastery, the mythic Crocodile Ancestor. We should believe… yet I can’t. Maybe ‘gods’ are just another race, once sharing Earth with us.” Wang Ziwen’s words eased the shock for some.

“Maybe they’re not strangers—humanity, evolved. Familiar figures from history.”

“Whether evolved or a separate race, gods exist. Ancient peoples clearly interacted with them.”

Mount Tai’s Five-Colored Altar, built by ancients; emperors and kings ascending to worship—proof enough.

“Perhaps the gods are our ancestors…”

Legends hailed the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors as divine. Their rituals on Mount Tai must have held deeper meaning: calling to stars? Fleeing Earth for the cosmos? Using Earth as a waystation?

No one knew. All was conjecture. But one truth remained: ancients had opened the starry road, venturing into the void.

“Why aren’t you speaking?”

The bronze lamp was extinguished; the coffin was pitch-black. Everyone huddled close. The man beside Ye Fan hadn’t uttered a word—strange enough to draw notice.

“Still sore about getting beaten?” Pang Bo scoffed. “You tried to push Ye Fan to his death. A few slaps were lenient—we should’ve fed you to the crocodiles.”

“Hey, wake up.” Someone prodded him.

To their horror, he toppled over with a “thud,” unresponsive.

“What’s wrong?!” The prodding student stumbled back, alarmed.

Even in deep sleep, such a fall would rouse someone. But he lay motionless—like a log.

“Wake up! Wake up!” Pang Bo shook him, then slapped his cheek. “His skin’s cold! He’s stiffening!”

Dread coiled around everyone. A living man, dead without a sound—unfathomable. They clutched their relics, breath shallow.

“Turn on your phones. See how he died.” Ye Fan lifted his phone, its dim light cutting the darkness.

A deathly pale face looked upward, the eyes bulging and the mouth slightly open. Thin streaks of blood trickled slowly from his lips.

“He’s really dead…” Despair and fear washed over them. Something evil lurked in the coffin. The inner coffin, nearby, seemed a gateway to hell—many inched back.

Bold souls examined the body.

“Look at his neck…”

Bruises marred his throat—purple, livid, like fingerprints. A chilling sight.

“Ghosts… there’s a ghost in the coffin!” A girl whimpered, voice breaking.

The bruises did look like ghostly fingerprints—strangled to death.

Trapped in a coffin, suspicions ran wild. The inner coffin loomed, menacing.

Ye Fan frowned, touching the corpse’s throat. The Adam’s apple was crushed—soft, the skin unbroken. Blood stained his fingers, crimson and eerie.

“Not a ghost. Murder.” Liu Yunzhi’s voice was icy, his gaze slicing toward Ye Fan.

Pang Bo noticed, glowering. “What’re you implying?”

“The wounds—he was strangled. Who could do that silently?” Liu Yunzhi’s eyes locked on Ye Fan and Pang Bo. “Only someone close by… with inhuman strength.”

The accusation was clear: Ye Fan, who’d sat nearest, known for his power.

“Bullshit!” Pang Bo grabbed the Great Thunderclap plaque, ready to strike.

Liu Yunzhi sneered. “Trying to silence me?”

Ye Fan pulled Pang Bo back, calming him.

“It’s Ye Fan! He did it!” The female student who’d defended Liu Yunzhi and Li Changqing shrieked. “Revenge—for almost being pushed off the altar!”

Memories of that clash resurfaced. Several stepped back.

“Yes! Ye Fan killed him!” Li Changqing spat. “He had help, maybe!”

Pang Bo surged forward, fists clenched.

“Hum!”

Liu Yunzhi raised his vajra pestle. It hummed, a faint glow flickering—shocking everyone. Their relics were dormant, but his still held power.

“Ye Fan, you’re ruthless. Even if he wronged you, this is murder…” Liu Yunzhi advanced, pestle in hand.

“I didn’t kill him. Do you believe me?” Ye Fan scanned the group.

“Of course!” Pang Bo stepped up first.

“Me too!” Zhang Ziling joined him.

Ye Fan looked to the others. “You don’t?” His gaze lingered on Li Xiaoman.

Chapter 024 Confrontation and Choice

“It’s not about… belief. It’s about… strong suspicion.” Cade, beside Li Xiaoman, stumbled over his words.

Pang Bo glowered. “You foreign devil, what do you mean? Why assume Ye Fan did it?”

“NO, I don’t… think subjectively. I’m talking… objective facts. I didn’t say he’s… the killer. Just stating—suspicion is… strong.” Cade, rigidly earnest, analyzed, “Liu Yunzhi is right. Ye Fan clashed with the victim. Motive. And he was closest… opportunity.”

His broken Chinese conveyed the point clearly—typical of a Westerner, sticking to “facts.”

“Devil, you know nothing about the ways of the world!” Pang Bo said angrily. “The matter is clearly obvious, yet you keep nagging on and on as if you’re explaining a mathematical theorem - you really are thick-headed!”

“What’s… ‘devil’?” Cade looked confused. “Heard you say… many times. Meaning?”

“You’re the devil—thick-headed. Waste of breath.” Pang Bo turned to Li Xiaoman. “Why silence? You know Ye Fan best, don’t you?”

Li Xiaoman stood graceful, her beauty highlighted by the phone’s dim glow—like a lotus blooming in darkness. Her voice was calm. “Honestly, I can’t believe Ye Fan did it. But suspicion lingers…”

“Li Xiaoman!” Pang Bo cut her off, anger sharp. “I never thought you’d say that. Anyone else, fine—but not you! Even after breaking up, you can’t be this cold. Are you trying to twist the knife?”

“I mean no harm.” Li Xiaoman frowned slightly. “The killer is bold—we’re all in danger. Let’s be objective, not emotional. Ye Fan is suspect… but so is everyone here.”

Pang Bo scoffed. “Bottom line: Ye Fan’s the prime suspect. Spare the excuses!” He turned away. “I misjudged you. Once you decide something, no one can sway you. Now I see—it’s not resolve. It’s cruelty.”

A timid voice spoke up, barely audible. “I… I believe Ye Fan. He’s not… a killer.” It was the struggling female student, thin and fragile, head bowed, nervous and uneasy.

Life’s hardships had dimmed her once-bright spirit. She fumbled for words, shrinking in the group.

This was why Ye Fan had pitied her at the reunion.

Pang Bo, like Ye Fan, felt for her. In college, she’d been vibrant—joking with him and Ye Fan, laughter like music. Their bond had been strong.

“Liu Yiyi, thank you.” Ye Fan smiled, nodding.

“No need… I know you wouldn’t kill…” Liu Yiyi’s voice wavered, her vulnerability stirring sympathy. She stood awkwardly.

“Then who?” Li Changqing snapped. “Who else has motive? It’s revenge!”

The female student beside Liu Yunzhi chimed in again. “Ye Fan, how could you? Four years of friendship…”

“I’ll say this once: I didn’t kill him.” Ye Fan remained calm, facing the accusations. “Doubt me if you must. But don’t slander me before we know the truth.”

“The facts are clear! You sat next to him—closest by far. No one else could’ve killed him without you noticing. And only you had motive!”

Pang Bo, hot-tempered, erupted. “Have some sense! Don’t pin the crime on him before proof! I get it—after graduation, you cried about Liu Yunzhi dumping you. Now you’re clinging to him, cheering him on?”

“You… you’re viciously attacking me!” The female student turned white, trembling, pointing at Pang Bo.

“Attacking? Sure—attacking a toad!” Pang Bo shot back, unyielding. “I fight fire with fire. Talk sense to humans, gibberish to ghosts—and drown toads in spit!”

“You…” She quivered, speechless.

Liu Yunzhi’s face darkened. “Enough, Pang Bo. Is this how a man behaves? Petty insults?” His vajra pestle glowed faintly—reminding all of its power. In a clash, few could stand against it.

Pang Bo’s jaw tightened. “You’re badgering the wrong man! We’re defending Ye Fan—you’re the ones stirring trouble.”

Ye Fan’s gaze shifted from Li Xiaoman to the group. Three classmates stepped forward. “We believe Ye Fan isn’t the killer.”

With Liu Yiyi, Zhang Ziling, and Pang Bo, that made six—nearly half of the sixteen survivors.

Lin Jia, stunning with her slanted eyes and alluring aura, spoke calmly, though her beauty still captivated. “I can’t see Ye Fan doing this. He’s never been petty… he lets things slide.”

Li Changqing scowled, interrupting. “Then who? Who else has motive? Revenge fits!”

“Can you be any more shameless?” Pang Bo raged. “Still flinging mud? I’m tempted to slam this plaque into your face! How dare you spout such nonsense?”

“I won’t stoop to your level!” Li Changqing turned away, his face still bruised from Pang Bo’s earlier beating.

“I believe Ye Fan too. He’s not cruel enough for this.” Wang Ziwen stepped over, choosing his side.

Zhou Yi, a silent observer until now, made his choice. Glancing at Liu Yunzhi’s glowing vajra pestle, then at Ye Fan’s calm, he said, “We can’t rush to judgment. I trust Ye Fan wouldn’t harm a classmate.”

Nowadays, most people are on Ye Fan’s side. He knows that some people are sincere, while others are just following the trend. They probably think that compared to Liu Yunzhi’s recklessness, he is more composed, so they choose to bet on him - this is almost a speculative choice.

“If not Ye Fan, then who?” Liu Yunzhi’s voice turned icy, fixing on Ye Fan, then Pang Bo. “Is there another killer among us?”

“Put that attitude away. Just ‘cause you’ve got a glowing stick doesn’t mean people fear you.” Pang Bo stood tall, unflinching. “This dull plaque could still bash your skull in!”

Liu Yunzhi’s jaw clenched. He tightened his grip on the vajra pestle, stepping three paces forward!

Ye Fan held back Pang Bo, who was emotionally agitated, and then said to everyone with a serious and determined expression, “I can tell you - none of us is the murderer.”

Chapter 025 Divine Voice Like a Bell

“What?!”

Everyone startled. They knew Ye Fan wouldn’t speak without reason—he must have noticed something. Even Li Changqing and the female student who’d targeted Ye Fan paled, glancing nervously around.

Ye Fan had observed their every reaction, remaining calm throughout. Now, he moved to clear his name, highlighting a critical clue.

“Feel his throat. His Adam’s apple is crushed. No human could do that with bare hands.”

Someone knelt, confirming Ye Fan’s words. Others stepped back, chilled by the unknown death. If not murder, then what? Chills ran down their spines.

“Ye Fan, do you know what did this? Will it… come for us?” A voice trembled.

The purple bruises on the corpse’s neck looked eerily like ghostly fingerprints. Many involuntarily glanced at the inner coffin.

“We never escaped the crocodiles…”

His words sent a jolt through the group. They clutched their relics, scanning the darkness.

A female student sobbed, “Did the Crocodile Ancestor—suppressed under the Great Thunderclap Monastery—sneak in?”

That legendary demon, suppressed by the Buddha himself, had left an indelible impression. Its power to shake the heavens was unmatched.

“No! It didn’t follow! Not it!” Li Changqing’s face drained. Weaponless, he clung to Liu Yunzhi, gripping the vajra pestle.

“I didn’t say the Ancestor. I mean small crocodiles slipped into the bronze coffin.” Ye Fan knelt, phone light illuminating the corpse. “His expression—horror, eyes bulging, unable to close in death. Identical to the thirteen classmates we lost.”

“The ancient text I read described divine crocodiles not just in form, but in effect: ‘Divine crocodiles devour humans, consuming both soul and spirit, leaving the heart frozen in terror, the soul shattered.’” Ye Fan’s lamp, though extinguished, remained in his grip, as if for protection. “This isn’t coincidence. His death mirrors the others, matching the text. A divine crocodile is to blame.”

Unflinching, Ye Fan pried open the corpse’s mouth. Inside, a small hole led upward into the skull—exactly like the wounds on the other victims.

Only those fearsome creatures could pierce flesh so easily, crushing a throat from within.

How many had snuck into the coffin? With relics dimmed, could they defend themselves? Anxiety gnawed at them.

“Does that mean… the crocodile is still inside him?”

“Not necessarily.” Ye Fan shook his head.

“It is! Something’s moving in his chest!” Zhang Ziling suddenly shouted, pointing.

“Pfft!”

A stream of blood spurted out. A familiar, hideous head emerged from the chest of the corpse - that ten - centimeter - long divine crocodile. It shot towards Ye Fan’s forehead like a black stream of light.

“Bang!”

Ye Fan reacted instantly, raising the bronze lamp. A few sparks flew. The crocodile shrieked, a spark grazing it, nearly piercing its body. It tumbled back.

“Clang!”

Pang Bo moved just as fast, slamming the Great Thunderclap plaque down. Faint light erupted, crushing the crocodile into pulp beneath the metal.

“Liu Yunzhi, what do you say now?” Pang Bo demanded, brandishing the plaque.

“I acted impulsively. But who could’ve guessed a small crocodile slipped in?” Liu Yunzhi offered no apology. Tensions ran too high for concessions.

“Slap!”

Pang Bo suddenly struck, his palm connecting with Liu Yunzhi’s cheek.

The vajra pestle and bronze plaque glowed dimly, clashing, enveloping them both. But the blow landed—Liu Yunzhi’s lip split, blood trickling.

“Sorry. I acted impulsively too.” Pang Bo mocked.

“You…”

Others rushed to separate them. Liu Yunzhi, clutching the vajra pestle, glared, but held back—hesitant, perhaps, after seeing the plaque’s faint glow.

“Shhh.”

Ye Fan motioned for silence, staring at the central inner coffin, as if listening. After a moment, he asked, “Do you hear that?”

Confusion crossed their faces—they heard nothing. Ye Fan frowned, then slowly approached the four-meter-long inner coffin.

At that moment, the bodhi seed in his chest suddenly grew warm, spreading heat through his torso. And then, the sound became clearer.

He reached out, touching the inner coffin. Covered in green patina, carved with ancient figures and gods, it exuded an air of age and mystery.

The bodhi seed, it seemed, had forced open a door—letting him hear something extraordinary.

At first, the sound was faint, then it swelled. The bodhi seed grew hotter.

The bodhi tree, also called the Tree of Wisdom, the Tree of Enlightenment. Legend said the Buddha attained enlightenment beneath one. Ye Fan’s seed, with its naturally formed Buddha image, was clearly extraordinary.

The sound from the ancient bronze coffin grew—like the voice of the Dao, like profound truth.

“The way of heaven is to reduce what is excessive and supplement what is insufficient…”

The mysterious Daoist chant began with a line from Taoist scripture, but what followed was an unknown, profound ancient text—its meaning elusive.

Vast and esoteric, the voice seemed to travel through time from primeval ages, finally resonating in Ye Fan’s ears like the tolling of a giant bell, seeping into his heart.

Chapter 026 Ancient Star Map

Ye Fan’s hand rested on the ancient bronze coffin. He stood motionless, as serene as the moon casting light over a quiet lake, an otherworldly aura radiating from him. In this moment, he seemed ethereal, like an immortal untainted by mortal concerns, ready to drift away on the wind.

Yet his inner world was far from calm. The divine Daoist voice, vast as an abyss, profound as an ocean, shook his soul with every word—like crashing waves, splitting mountains, resounding through heaven and earth.

It echoed like ancient chants, like prayers of primeval gods, flowing unceasingly through the ages into Ye Fan’s heart, stirring his mind, making him lose sense of where he was.

From a distance, the others watched him stand silent, confusion etched on their faces. They knew not what had transpired, only that he exuded a purity, a detachment, as if untouched by dust.

Ye Fan stood there stunned. That divine sound was distant yet powerful, obscure and difficult to understand, and its meaning was elusive. At times, he felt as if he were standing on the edge of the abyss of hell; at other times, he seemed to have stepped into the paradise of the gods. Strange feelings came one after another, making him alert yet losing his way.

This arcane divine voice was not lengthy—in fact, it was sparing, with only a few hundred words. It embodied the simplicity of the Dao, stripping away excess to reveal a primal truth.

Like the tolling of a great bell, the voice repeated, each word reverberating in Ye Fan’s heart—first like a mountain collapsing, then like a moon rising over calm seas. The hundreds of ancient characters seared into his memory, yet the voice persisted, echoing in his ears.

All the while, the bodhi seed in his chest burned warmly, suffusing his body with heat. It was this seed that let him hear the profound melody.

Legend held that the bodhi tree could awaken one’s divine nature, inspire enlightenment, and capture the Dao’s rhythm in heaven and earth. Clearly, this seed, buried beneath the Great Thunderclap Monastery’s bodhi tree, was no ordinary relic.

As Ye Fan stood silent, the others exchanged puzzled glances. Some suggested pulling him away—touching an ancient coffin, after all, felt ominous.

Pang Bo circled Ye Fan, noting his calm, even serene expression, and the faint aura of divinity emanating from the coffin. He chose to stand guard, waiting silently.

“Could a demon have possessed him?” Li Changqing stared at the bronze coffin, then Ye Fan, suspicion heavy.

Others gripped their relics tighter, several stepping back. The mysterious coffin brimmed with unknowns.

“Your mouth’s full of nonsense!” Pang Bo scoffed. “Can’t you stop slandering Ye Fan? What’s wrong with your brain?”

“Enough.” Zhou Yi frowned, scanning the group. “We still don’t know if more divine crocodiles are in the coffin. Let’s search carefully.”

Fourteen lives lost to those creatures—fear lingered. The thought of more lurking sent chills down spines.

They split into two groups, staying close for support, phones glowing, relics clutched, as they searched the darkness.

But after combing every corner and regrouping, they found nothing. Still, no one dared relax. The coffin was vast; hiding places abounded. Crocodiles could cling to the shadowed ceiling, unseen.

“Stay alert—vigilance won’t hurt,” Lin Jia urged, trying to calm them. “If more crocodiles exist, they must fear our relics, or they’d have attacked already.”

Suddenly, a faint, heart-stirring sound reached them—a distant drumbeat, muffled and mournful, followed by a bell, its tone equally sorrowful, ethereal yet vivid.

“Where’s that coming from?”

All tensed, scanning the darkness—nothing.

The dreary drums and grieving bells seemed to seep through the coffin walls, sending shivers down spines.

“Could it be… funeral music for an ancient emperor?”

More sounds joined—countless voices, as if tens of thousands mourned, praying over a funeral.

Bells tolled, drums thundered. A grand funeral unfolded in their minds: a sea of people weeping, praying.

Then, nine resounding dragon roars split the sky, shaking mountains and rivers, echoing across the land—as if a vivid scene were etched into the stars of history…

In that instant, everyone felt they’d witnessed a ancient emperor ruling the vast earth, then a funeral of unprecedented scale.

No images, only visions sparked by the roars and prayers. They snapped back to reality, the mournful sounds still lingering, cold dread settling over them.

“Our relics—they’re glowing again…”

Divine light spilled forth. Their relics blazed, not with restored power, but leaking their last glimmers. Thousands of rays streamed toward the coffin walls, seeping into the ancient carvings.

Green patina covered the metal, but the carvings of ancients, gods, beasts, and sacred birds now shone, as if stirring to life—pulsing with mysterious power.

“Look! The star map carving is flickering…”

All crowded close, gasping. The largest carving—a vast starry sky—now had stars glowing. The dull coffin wall, unchanged, resembled a pitch-black night, with countless “stars” twinkling realistically.

“A thin line is glowing on the star map—could that be the starry road we traveled?”

They studied it, voices rising in awe.

The star map stretched endless, most stars tiny as dust, but a few burned brighter, standing out.

“Those seven bright stars—they look like the Big Dipper!”

At Wang Ziwen’s words, all stared. Ahead of the suspected starry road, seven stars blazed—unmistakably the Big Dipper.

Other bright stars dotted the map. A few recognized them. Zhou Yi, well-read, identified them: “Those are ancient Chinese constellations.”

Ancient Chinese astronomy divided the sky into regions, named and categorized—summarized as the Three Enclosures, Four Symbols, and Twenty-Eight Mansions.

This primeval carving followed that system, highlighting famous stars.

“Studying this map and the starry road… it’s astonishing. The ancients’ star divisions weren’t mere superstition. Constellations represented distinct star domains—with profound significance…”

“Indeed. It must relate to the starry road. Perhaps even to the origins of life…”

Silence fell, awe-struck.

“Look—the glowing line is extending. It must mark our path, stretching along the starry road!”

“The line is nearing the Big Dipper!”

Disbelief washed over them. From Mount Tai to the Big Dipper? It felt surreal. With humanity’s current technology, even millions of years of travel wouldn’t bridge that distance.

All gaped, shocked.

“Beyond the Big Dipper, there’s an even brighter star—the Purple Forbidden Star. Could that be our destination? It held special meaning in ancient times.” Some guessed, noting its brilliance on the map.

“Hard to say. We might venture farther still.”

A cry went up: “The line stopped—fixed on the Big Dipper’s domain!”

At that moment, the bronze coffin shook violently, as if the sky and earth were splitting.

“Are we… at the end?”

“Have we reached the gods’ realm?”

“Could this be the legendary Immortal World…”

“Or a dazzling technological civilization?”

“If immortals and Buddhas exist, maybe we’ll meet legendary figures.”

“Following the starry road of the gods—what kind of world awaits at its end?!”

Tension and anticipation coiled in every heart. None wanted to stay trapped in the coffin a moment longer.

Chapter 027 The Ancient Desolate Forbidden

The vast universe, endless starry sky—many scientists speculate that Earth may be the only cradle of life.

For decades, humanity has conjectured endlessly, launching countless space probes to seek extraterrestrial life. Yet the deep cosmos, unpredictable and cold, resembles a silent graveyard—eternal darkness, no signs of life detected.

The universe is too vast, boundless. With current technology, even probes escaping stellar gravity, traveling endlessly for millions or tens of millions of years, could never reach its edge.

Perhaps today, the history of space exploration will be rewritten. Humans have reached the far side of the stars, crossing dozens, even hundreds of light-years—a journey beyond humanity’s limits.

But none on Earth will ever know. No one would believe it, let alone celebrate.

Nine massive dragon corpses, pulling the bronze coffin, arrived at the far side of the stars, entering the star domain of the Big Dipper!

Just then, Ye Fan woke up. His hand left the green-rusted inner coffin. Hundreds of ancient characters were engraved in his heart - obscure, profound, and indelible. Only then did the mysterious divine sound completely dissipate.

The Dao is simplicity, sparing with words. All ended, like prosperity fading to quiet truth.

Ye Fan stared blankly, murmuring, “The way of heaven reduces excess to supplement deficiency…”

“Ye Fan, are you okay?” Pang Bo asked, concerned.

“I’m fine.”

The bronze coffin shook violently the entire time. Everyone felt dizzy, knowing the nine dragons pulling the coffin were finally nearing their destination.

Just then, the ancient carvings on the coffin wall shone brightly, propping up a hazy light shield to resist an unimaginable impact. The coffin gradually stabilized.

With a final thunderous jolt, the lid slipped sideways, crashing to the ground, the coffin toppling over.

“Light!”
“I see light!”
“It’s a familiar world of light!”

Many in the coffin cried out. No longer the dim, blood-red desolation of Mars, but fresh air rushing in—smelling of earth, flowers, and grass. A vibrant, bright world teeming with life surrounded them.

Everyone scrambled out. Before them lay a scene of stunning beauty.

They stood atop a moderately sized mountain, with a view of the landscape ahead.

Distant peaks rolled, covered in lush trees. Nearby, strange rocks and gnarled ancient trees dotted the mountaintop. Old vines, as thick as buckets, coiled like dragons. Green grass and fragrant wildflowers spread everywhere—alive with energy.

Compared to Mars’ gloom and silence, this was undoubtedly a peaceful sanctuary.

“Wonderful! We’re free from darkness and desolation, in such a beautiful divine land!”
“No more fear, no more dread!”

Cheers erupted; some wept with joy. After death and hardship, they’d reached a vivid, natural world.

“Kiss the sunlight, tell myself: live well…” Even the shrewd, enchanting Lin Jia was moved.

Pang Bo stood at the peak, shouting into the distance: “Finally, the sun again! Not the same one, but I’ll shout it: I’m reborn!”

“Clang!”

Suddenly, the bronze coffin behind them let out a metallic tremor, jolting everyone. They spun around.

Half of the nine massive dragon corpses hung over a cliff. The coffin, not far from the edge, began sliding slowly forward, pulled by the dragons.

“Rumble…”

The nine dragons and the bronze coffin scraped against the mountaintop, rumbling, then accelerated, plummeting over the sheer cliff!

Cold sweat broke out. One side of the peak was a cliff—if they hadn’t rushed out when the lid opened, they’d have fallen too.

The dragons and coffin vanished over the edge. No crash echoed up, leaving everyone staring, shocked.

With the coffin gone, the cliff came fully into view.

“Are we on a giant volcano crater?” Many gasped.

Beneath the cliff lay a bottomless pit.

“No volcano—none are this large.”

A closer look revealed nine connected mountains, forming an enormous valley. Logically, it should be a vast basin, visible to the bottom, as the mountains weren’t towering.

Yet below was pitch-black, endless—like a hole piercing hell, unfathomable.

The abyss surrounded by nine huge mountains seems endless. The dragon and the coffin fell into it, and no sound came out again - as if they would never reach the bottom.

“How deep is it? Unimaginable!”
“What place is this? Why such a huge abyss…”

Doubt flickered. This world, for all its peace, felt off.

After surveying the surroundings, Ye Fan said, “Notice? There’s no Five-Colored Altar. It’s like we fell here from the sky, not emerging from a star gate.”

All froze. No altar. Yet the broad peak showed no collapse, no giant crater—only a few cracks.

A fall from the sky would have left catastrophic impact marks, but the mountain bore no signs of severe damage. Something was wrong.

“No altar—why are we here? A cosmic breakdown? Stranded?” The joke fell flat. No one smiled. All scanned the area, deep in thought.

“There’s half a stone stele…” Zhang Ziling suddenly called out.

A pile of rocks, a few gnarled trees, and thick old vines covered part of the peak. Half a broken stele lay amid the vines—clearly man-made.

They hurried over, pulling aside vines, brushing off debris. The stele exuded antiquity, carved with three ancient characters—powerful, dragon-like, steeped in time, unknown how many years old.

“What does it say?” Most couldn’t read them.

Ye Fan studied them, uncertain. “It seems to say Ancient Desolate Forbidden.”

“Ancient Desolate Forbidden? It makes no sense.” No one could fathom it.

The stone tablet was broken. There must have been more inscriptions originally, but the fragments were scattered everywhere. Pang Bo pushed aside the vines and uprooted the weeds, only to find that those broken stones - all were shattered, as if struck by lightning.

“Those three characters likely name this abyss or the mountains.” Zhou Yi mused. “Few words pair with ‘forbidden’. Most likely, it once read Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land.”

“A forbidden land?” A classmate gasped, paling. Others frowned.

The name inspired no good thoughts. Anxiety crept in.

“Notice? No birds or beasts—too quiet!” Wang Ziwen, observant, noted the oddity.

“True!” All nodded.

Flowers, grass, vines, trees—life abounded on the surface. But no animals. No birds sang, no beasts roared, no insects crawled. Silence bordered on death.

No cicadas on trees, no grasshoppers in grass, no birds in sky—only stillness.

Pang Bo stayed optimistic. “At least there’s lush vegetation—we can survive. And this stele proves humans exist here. I refuse to believe such beauty hides a dead world.”

“Who says no animals? No birds? Look…” Ye Fan pointed to the distant sky, making a new discovery.

Far off, an eagle seemed to circle—unusual, for it glowed golden. Even from afar, its brilliance shone, like cast gold.

The golden eagle flew closer and then dived down into the valley. Moments later, it soared into the sky with a prey in its claws and flew towards the distant cliff.

“D-did I see that right?!” Pang Bo, usually bold, stammered.

Others froze, statue-like, unable to believe their eyes.

“I… I think that golden eagle… is carrying a giant elephant in its claws?” Li Changqing’s mouth went dry.

“Not ‘think’—it is.” Wang Ziwen took over. “Lifting an elephant… unimaginable! Just how big is that eagle…” He gasped.

Clearly, their initial judgment was wrong. From afar, they’d misjudged its size. It was a colossal, strange bird of prey.

Ye Fan stared at the sky. “No eagle is that big. Gold all over, shining—like the mythical Golden-Winged Roc!”

At his words, everyone froze again.

Chapter 028 The Mysterious Fruit

Legends of the roc bird appear in many ancient texts—The Classic of Divine Wonders, Commentary on the Water Classic, and most famously, Zhuangzi’s Happy Excursion.

“In the Northern Darkness there is a fish, called the kun, whose size spans thousands of miles. It transforms into a bird, called the peng, whose back spans thousands of miles. When it rouses to flight, its wings darken the sky like hanging clouds.”

Zhuangzi’s vivid, powerful prose paints a divine bird soaring ninety thousand miles—astounding to read.

Clearly, this defies reason. No bird, however divine, could grow so large. It is an extreme exaggeration. Yet puzzlingly, many other ancient texts mention the roc, some even asserting its existence, albeit not “thousands of miles” in size.

It stirs curiosity: did a divine bird named “peng” truly exist in ancient times?

Zhou Yi and others watched the golden form vanish behind a cliff, all stunned.

“A legendary divine bird!” Many gasped, awe-struck. Tearing a giant elephant from the ground as if it were a rabbit—its size and strength were staggering.

Cade, earnest as ever, stammered, “That bird… belongs to the falcon family. A new species… a great discovery.”

“Shut it!” Pang Bo was exasperated. “Still spouting science? Haven’t you realized where we are?”

“Pang Bo, mind your tone.” Li Xiaoman frowned, her long lashes fluttering.

“What kind of world is this?” Once calm, everyone pondered.

Traveling through the silent cosmos to the Big Dipper—had they reached the gods’ realm?

Survival weighed on their minds. Uncertainty loomed; careful planning was needed.

Many clutched their relics, but all had dimmed. Some even cracked—completely drained.

The last of their divine power had been absorbed by the bronze coffin. Now, they were mere trinkets. Yet no one discarded them, hoping they might recharge, a lifeline for the future.

“Gurgle…”

A gurgling sound came from the stomach, which was embarrassing. People’s physiological needs cannot be ignored. Many people quietly walked away to find a private place.

“Pride comes before a fall…” Pang Bo scoffed. “Me? I left my mark on Mars’ ruins. In a few centuries, that’ll be proof of humanity’s first steps into the stars!”

“Pfft!”

Ye Fan spat out his water, nearly dropping the bottle.

“Dude, not while I’m drinking! You’ll kill me!”

Others couldn’t stand their banter, so they moved further away and hurried to deal with their own affairs.

Pang Bo laughed, then coughed loudly, feigning approach—spooking those behind trees, disrupting their privacy.

He grinned, picked up a stone and threw it out. An angry roar came from the vines: “Who’s there? You despicable bastard!” Then came Liu Yunzhi’s cold “humph”.

Seeing him reach for another stone, aiming toward Li Xiaoman’s direction, Ye Fan quickly stopped him, amused.

As others wandered off, Pang Bo turned serious, dragging Ye Fan to search for wild fruit.

Though Ye Fan had packed crocodile carcasses from Mars, they dreaded eating them unless desperate.

“A spring pool!” Pang Bo suddenly called.

Dozens of meters away, old vines encircled a clearing with a meter-wide spring, water bubbling like nectar.

Beside it grew over a dozen half-meter-tall saplings, their broad, green leaves shaped like palms—resembling multi-armed dwarves. Each sapling bore a single red fruit, cherry-like but as large as a chicken’s egg.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo pushed through vines, hurrying over. From afar, a rich fragrance hit them, making their mouths water. After a day without food, hunger gnawed—they’d nearly resigned themselves to crocodile meat.

“Amazing scent. Never smelled fruit this fragrant.”

Up close, the aroma overwhelmed even the finest aged wine.

“Too tempting—could it be poisonous?” They hesitated. Bright, alluring things often hid danger.

“Who cares? I’d risk it. Anything’s better than those brain-eating reptiles.”

“Let you test first. You’re tougher—you’d survive poison.”

Their banter lightened the mood, a rare moment of normalcy.

Ye Fan plucked a fruit, its red skin translucent as jade.

Pang Bo grabbed one too. “Can’t resist. Smell’s killing me.”

They bit into the fruit. Juice burst forth, a fragrance flooding their senses.

“Heavenly!” Pang Bo groaned, licking his fingers.

“Best fruit ever. Or maybe I’m just starving.” They finished one each, waiting. Energy surged—no ill effects.

“Safe!”

“Then let’s feast!”

They sat by the spring, devouring fruit, juice dripping. Starvation made even the simplest food divine.

Stopping after four each, Ye Fan said, “Save some for Yiyi and Ziling.”

“Right—they must be starving too.”

The saplings, vibrant as jade, each bore one fruit. Thirteen surrounded the spring; five remained.

Pang Bo sniffed the spring. “Strange—the water smells faintly sweet.”

Ye Fan cupped some, noting the delicate aroma. “These saplings must owe their fruit to this spring.”

Pang Bo drank deeply. “Sweet, but no special feeling. Just tasty.” He emptied his water bottles, filling them with the scented spring water.

Resting briefly, they plucked the last five fruits. Heading back, Pang Bo murmured, “Notice? The fruit chased away exhaustion. I feel energized.”

Ye Fan nodded, puzzled. “These red fruits are no ordinary.”

By then, everyone had returned. Some scanned the landscape; others huddled, debating their next move.

The fruit’s fragrance reached them, drawing all eyes. Many swallowed, hunger sharp.

“Yiyi, here.” Pang Bo handed two fruits to Liu Yiyi, their red glow catching the light.

Li Changqing, nearby, inhaled sharply. “Where’d you find those? Share—we’re all starving!” He stepped forward, reaching for the remaining three, as if forgetting his earlier hostility toward Ye Fan.

Chapter 029 Wrath

“You’re shameless beyond belief—I’ve never seen such gall.” Pang Bo swatted his hand away, shooting him a sideways glance as he tucked the three fragrant fruits away.

“How can you talk like that?” Li Changqing, humiliated, scowled. “We’re classmates, stranded in a strange world. We should help each other. Everyone’s starving—you should share what you found. Are you going to hoard it?”

“Spare me your hypocrisy!” Pang Bo sneered. “Who snuck chocolate in the coffin, never thinking of ‘everyone’? Now you play the noble hero—disgusting. You’re more repulsive than those crocodile reptiles. Get lost—I’m done with you!”

Li Changqing turned red and white, sputtering denials that rang hollow.

Pang Bo, though blunt, wasn’t reckless. He saw Li Changqing’s game: grab fruit if possible, or isolate Ye Fan and Pang Bo if not—sowing resentment among the hungry.

“Sorry, folks—too few fruits, not enough to go around.” Pang Bo ignored the stares, distributing them. “Yiyi’s too frail for this—no one objects to two for her, right?” He tossed one to Zhang Ziling. “Ye Fan and I found these—deserve a reward, don’t we?”

He stuffed a fruit into Ye Fan’s mouth, biting into the fifth himself.

Liu Yiyi fidgeted. “I… I can share half. Let everyone have some.” She tried returning it, but Ye Fan pushed it back. “Relax. With all this vegetation, we’ll find more.”

Pang Bo glowered, urging her to eat. He suspected the fruit was special—banishing exhaustion, likely with hidden benefits.

“But…” Liu Yiyi glanced around, uneasy.

“Too kind for your own good.” Pang Bo muttered, “Half of them have chocolate stashed—none offered to share.”

Ye Fan nodded, and she finally relented.

“I have chocolate—let’s share.” Liu Yunzhi stepped forward, passing out bars.

“Dammit!” Pang Bo seethed. A blatant slap in the face. He couldn’t argue—only fume.

“Yunzhi’s a true friend!” Li Changqing bit into a bar, glancing pointedly at Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

“Adversity reveals character…” the female student beside Liu Yunzhi added, her meaning clear.

Pang Bo’s face burned. “Bastard waited till now—when we can find fruit! Chocolate’s useless here. Putting on a show—son of a bitch!”

“Yunzhi, I’m sticking with you once we’re out.” Li Changqing sighed dramatically, eyeing Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

Outmaneuvered, Pang Bo itched to attack but held back, under everyone’s gaze.

They studied the terrain, picking a direction to escape the mountains quickly.

No time wasted—they descended, trekking cautiously through woods, clutching sticks (their relics now useless) for defense.

Yet hours passed without sight of even a mouse or bird.

“Truly a forbidden land—even birds avoid it.” Li Changqing muttered.

Pang Bo scoffed. “Be grateful. Run into a beast, you’d beg for a place with no birds.”

They foraged wild fruit, easing hunger, but the mountains stretched endlessly. By dusk, they hadn’t escaped.

“Did we go deeper?” Doubt flickered, but they pressed on.

Darkness fell—they camped, resolving to continue at dawn.

A restless night. At midnight, a bloodcurdling roar echoed, accompanied by clanging chains—chilling to the bone.

In the eerie woods, it sounded like a ghost in shackles, sending shivers.

“From the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land’s abyss…” Many trembled, staring toward the nine-mountain circle.

Moonlight cast gnarled shadows—trees swaying like ghosts.

The roar intensified, shaking the ground. Nearby trees quivered, leaves raining down.

A cold chill swept from the abyss—terrifying, even at this distance.

“Clang…”

A thunderous crash echoed, as if something massive struck metal, rattling the woods.

Hearts skipped. They thought of one thing:

“The nine dragons and bronze coffin fell into the abyss…”

“Could it be…?”

The dull, powerful blows sounded like someone smashing the bronze coffin—sending icy dread down spines.

“What is that?!”

Horror gripped them. The coffin, which drained their relics, was being battered. What could do that?

“Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land—forbidden since ancient times?”

“How long ago was that? No one dared step foot here?”

“Clang!”

Deafening—coffin tremors shook heaven and earth. The ground rumbled; trees shook, leaves swirling.

The growl turned into a rage —— shrill and terrifying. What lurked in that abyss?

“Thank the stars the dragons and coffin drew its attention. Otherwise, it might have emerged tonight… we’d all be dead.”

Likely true. A forbidden land where even beasts feared to tread—surely hid something monstrous.

“Something from before ancient times… unimaginable.”

“Good thing it can’t break the mysterious coffin.”

No one slept.

“BOOM!”

A violent explosion. The abyss erupted in black fog, blotting out the sky, stars vanishing—oppressive.

“Rumble…”

The fog instantly rolled back. The stars reappeared, revealing a shocking scene:

A blurred shadow—man or beast—waved hundred-foot chains, roaring, its 凶威 shaking the world! Even from afar, the chains’ size was staggering. The roar nearly knocked them senseless, eardrums throbbing.

It was bound by chains and fetters, struggling desperately, and the chains sliced through the air. With one final shrill howl, it plunged back into the abyss.

“Clang…”

The coffin’s battering resumed.

“Trying to open the inner coffin?”

“Likely. The outer coffin’s open—no need to smash it otherwise.”

Fear lingered. Not until midnight did the abyss fall silent. They dozed fitfully.

Next day, sun high, they roused, washed in a stream, ate wild fruit, and hurried on—desperate to escape before dark.

Hours passed. Climbing a peak, someone heard distant beast roars.

“Almost there—out by nightfall!”

“Look—buildings on that far mountain?” Wang Ziwen pointed. A towering peak, beyond several hills, its outline clear.

“Truly! A whole complex!”

Joy erupted. They’d reach it by dusk.

“Cranes flying there—could it be a immortal’s abode? Maybe we’ll meet immortals…” Some’s imaginations ran wild.

They quickened pace, chatting in groups—planning to split up once among people.

Ye Fan noticed Liu Yiyi’s pout. “What’s wrong?”

“Wang Yan took my prayer beads—won’t return them.” She sounded wronged.

“Her? Liu Yunzhi’s orders, no doubt!” Pang Bo exploded. Wang Yan was the female student always targeting them.

Ye Fan said nothing, striding to block Liu Yunzhi, Wang Yan, and Li Changqing. “Hand them over.”

“What are you on about?” Li Changqing shot back.

“Cut the crap—give me the beads.” Ye Fan, usually calm, now radiated fury—terrifying.

“Oh, that.” Wang Yan feigned innocence. “I borrowed them to admire. Liked them, so traded my bronze bell with Yiyi.”

Ye Fan turned to Liu Yiyi. Others stopped, staring.

“I… I didn’t trade. She took the beads, shoving the bell into my hand.” Liu Yiyi’s voice wavered, eyes teary under the gaze.

“Yiyi, that’s not true. You agreed.” Wang Yan insisted.

“Hand them over. I won’t repeat myself.” Ye Fan’s gaze bored into the three. “We’re nearly safe—don’t bring this on yourselves.”

Chapter 030 Mere Cats and Dogs

Li Changqing took a few steps forward, a playful smirk on his face. “This is between Liu Yiyi and Wang Yan. If they’re willing to trade, that’s their business. Ye Fan, aren’t you meddling a bit too much?”

Slap!

Ye Fan said nothing. He swung his right hand hard, slapping Li Changqing across the face. The sound stunned everyone. Li Changqing flew sideways like a scarecrow, landing two meters away—testament to the force behind that blow.

He collapsed to the ground, half of his face swelling up instantly, and blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. He felt a sudden dizziness, and after a while, he finally roared angrily, “You…!”

But Ye Fan didn’t even glance at him. Utter disdain was indifference; he treated Li Changqing like air, as if he didn’t exist.

“Hand them over.” Ye Fan spoke only two words, fixing his calm gaze on Liu Yunzhi and Wang Yan.

Li Changqing struggled to his feet, furious beyond words. He charged forward, aiming to grab Ye Fan’s collar. Unfortunately, before he could even brush the fabric, Ye Fan backhanded him across the other cheek—still not sparing him a glance, swatting him away like a fly.

It was another solid slap, with no less force at all. Li Changqing was sent flying backwards and hit a tree. He was completely stunned.

“Hand them over.” Ye Fan still spoke only those two words, his calm eyes on Wang Yan and Liu Yunzhi.

This time, Wang Yan was thoroughly intimidated. Her gaze darted away, avoiding Ye Fan’s stare. She rambled, “I didn’t say I wouldn’t give them back… I’ve been discussing it with her…”

But her voice petered out, and she backtracked: “If Yiyi’s having second thoughts, I’ll return them. Fine?”

She fumbled to remove the glittering prayer beads from her wrist, preparing to hand them to Ye Fan. But Liu Yunzhi, silent until now, spoke up: “Ye Fan, that’s too overbearing. What do you take Li Changqing for?”

Only then did Li Changqing snap out of his daze. He began shouting hysterically, ready to charge again. Pang Bo scoffed from the side: “Asking for it. Go on—try again if you dare.”

At those words, Li Changqing faltered. He yelled from a distance but dared not take another step forward.

“Why did you treat Li Changqing like that?” Liu Yunzhi demanded.

“How dare you hit me?” Li Changqing shrieked.

“Is there a need to explain or argue with a fly?” Ye Fan directed these words at Liu Yunzhi, still not looking at Li Changqing. “Swatting it away is enough.”

“W-what did you say?” Li Changqing’s swollen face flushed red and white with anger; he nearly spat blood. He realized Ye Fan scorned even Liu Yunzhi, and for him, Ye Fan didn’t bother to waste words. It was a brutal blow to his pride.

Ye Fan held out his right hand. Wang Yan quickly placed the prayer beads in his palm, avoiding his gaze, and stepped back several paces.

“We all know Yiyi’s had a tough few years,” Ye Fan whispered, his tone sharp as a warning to Wang Yan. “She’s been through a lot, and her spirit and confidence have taken a hit. Those scars need time to heal. I hope you’ll rein yourself in—watch your words and actions. Don’t bully her like this. Have some shame!”

Wang Yan paled at his harsh words, a mix of shame, anger, and fear washing over her. She stepped back again, too intimidated to speak.

“Ye Fan, you’ve gone too far!” Liu Yunzhi’s face darkened.

Others watched in silence. Just as they thought Ye Fan would turn to leave, he suddenly swung a fist, slamming it into Liu Yunzhi’s face.

In an instant, blood spurted from Liu Yunzhi’s nose and mouth. His face streaked with red, he staggered backward and collapsed.

“You…!” He never imagined Ye Fan would hit him too.

“I let things slide, but you keep provoking me,” Ye Fan glanced at him coolly, disdain evident. “You think I’m that easygoing?” He turned and walked away.

“Ye Fan!” Liu Yunzhi ground his teeth, wiping blood from his nose and mouth as he lay on the ground. “You’ll regret this!”

At that, Pang Bo charged over, lifting a foot to kick him. “Who’re you telling to wait? What’re you gonna do? Tell me!”

Thud, thud, thud!

He kicked Liu Yunzhi a dozen times, sending him sprawling far away, until Liu Yunzhi passed out cold.

Others watched in silence, no one stepping forward to mediate. Many secretly resented Liu Yunzhi; back in their old lives, they might have tolerated him, but in this new world, his so-called status meant nothing.

Even those two or three people who might have spoken up for Liu Yunzhi remained silent - they knew full well that it was best not to oppose Ye Fan when he was showing his full might.

“Did everyone see that…?” Li Changqing, still failing to grasp the situation, shouted, looking to the others for support.

No one paid attention to him except Pang Bo. After talking with Liu Yunzhi, Pang Bo walked over in big steps and replied, “We saw it. We saw everything.”

Thud, thud, thud!

Pang Bo’s heavy boots pummeled Li Changqing, kicking him like a sandbag until Li Changqing rolled away, howling in agony.

The group didn’t linger. They pressed on, with Wang Yan helping the unconscious Liu Yunzhi and Li Changqing to their feet, the three lagging far behind.

In that moment, Liu Yunzhi and Li Changqing seethed with rage. Their humiliation was total—utterly disgraceful. Worse, they felt a bitter urge to spit blood: it seemed Ye Fan had never taken their past antics seriously, viewing them with such contempt that he hadn’t bothered to react until their nuisance grew too great. He’d swatted them away like flies, never even acknowledging them as equals.

No blow stung worse than this. To be treated like mere cats and dogs, not even worthy of being called rivals—it was a wound to their very pride.

An hour later, the group scaled another low hill. The buildings on the distant mountain grew clear, and the roar of beasts in the surrounding hills grew louder. They were finally leaving the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land.

“Let’s stop to rest after one more stretch,” someone suggested. They’d trekked through mountains all day, and weariness weighed heavy.

After climbing another peak, they finally spotted birds flitting about. Soon, they entered a vibrant world—birds sang, beasts roared, plants thrived, teeming with life. No more deathly stillness.

“There’s a rabbit!”
“And a badger!”

At the sight of wild game, many’s mouths watered. Living on wild fruit alone had left their palates craving more.

“Hey, there’s writing on that rock wall!” Suddenly, someone pointed to a cliff face, where several huge ancient characters were carved.

They recognized the first three: “Ancient Desolate Forbidden”. The fourth further confirmed this: “Land”.

“Seeing these four characters again—are we still in the forbidden land?”
“No, quite the opposite. This must be the edge of the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land. We’re finally safe.”
“Let’s rest here. We’ll likely meet people soon.”

The group split into small clusters, two or three huddling together, sitting to discuss their plans once they emerged. It was clear they were destined to part ways.

“I’m gonna check on Liu Yunzhi and the other two. They’re acting fishy.” With that, Pang Bo stood and slipped into the nearby woods.

Moments later, he returned and whispered something in Ye Fan’s ear.

“Soon we’ll leave these mountains, and everyone will go their own way,” Ye Fan said, standing up. His tone was casual, but his words sealed three fates. “This mysterious world likely truly has gods and immortals who live forever. If we let those three linger and they somehow gain power, they’ll become a plague sooner or later. Better to put an end to it now.”

Chapter 031 Thrown into the Tiger Den

Wang Ziwen, sitting not far away, caught snippets of their conversation and couldn’t help asking Ye Fan, “What’s going on?”

Ye Fan turned to Pang Bo. “Didn’t you record it on your phone? Play it for everyone.”

Others noticed the commotion, all turning their attention to Ye Fan.

Pang Bo knew well—if they were to act, they must stand on reason, preferably laying things out in front of everyone. His face darkening with anger, he said, “Liu Yunzhi, Li Changqing, and Wang Yan are trying to kill me and Ye Fan.”

His voice rose with fury. “These heartless ingrates! We’ve let them off time and again, but they’re so ungrateful they actually want us dead!”

Gasps erupted. All eyes fixed on him, confusion evident. “What? What happened exactly?”

Pang Bo pressed a few buttons on his phone, and a recording began to play.

“Damn it, I can’t swallow this! We can’t just let it go!” It was Li Changqing’s voice.

Then came Liu Yunzhi’s gloomy voice: “Let him live a few more days. I’ll kill him.”

“What? Y-you’re going to kill both of them?” Li Changqing and Wang Yan sounded shocked.

“That’s right. Either they go or I go.” Even in the recording, Liu Yunzhi’s gnashing anger was clearly palpable.

But we were no match for that seemingly gentle barbarian at all, and that annoying Pang Bo was huge in size – we were completely helpless. Li Changqing’s voice was filled with resentment and helplessness.

Liu Yunzhi scoffed. “It doesn’t matter. My vajra pestle has regained a trace of divine power. I think by tomorrow, it’ll grow stronger. Then, we strike unexpectedly—enough to kill both of them in one go.”

Li Changqing’s voice turned vicious. “Fine! If that’s the case, what are we afraid of? We will take them down!”

“Wang Yan, when the time comes, apologize to Liu Yiyi and lure her aside. I’ve always thought her prayer beads are no ordinary thing—they might hold leftover divine power. Too bad you messed up the trade.” Liu Yunzhi’s voice dripped with dissatisfaction.

“Fine!” Wang Yan’s tone finally turned cold, agreeing to Liu Yunzhi’s plan.

Liu Yunzhi muttered in a low, hoarse voice: “We can’t act in front of the others. That’s a problem—need to plan carefully.”

Snap!

Pang Bo closed his phone. “You all heard it. These three ungrateful guys want us dead. Don’t blame us for being ruthless this time - we won’t show any mercy, and we can’t care about our classmates’ friendship anymore.”

Ye Fan strode forward without a word. Pang Bo followed, Zhang Ziling hurried after, and the rest rose, trailing them into the woods.

Spotting Ye Fan and Pang Bo approaching, Li Changqing and Wang Yan, guilty at heart, panicked instantly. Liu Yunzhi’s face darkened to the point of fury.

“We let you off again and again, didn’t hold a grudge, but you want us dead!” Pang Bo roared. “If I let you off this time, I’ll spell my name backwards!”

“Y-you’re lying!” Cold sweat broke out on Li Changqing’s forehead.

Wang Yan’s face blanched, stammering in panic: “W-what are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

Pang Bo said no more, just played the recording again.

At that moment, Wang Yan and Li Changqing were completely panicked. Even Liu Yunzhi’s face turned deathly pale - in the face of this irrefutable evidence, any excuse couldn’t hold water.

“We were just venting! You can’t take that seriously…” Li Changqing yelled, utterly terrified now.

“Venting?” Zhang Ziling, usually taciturn, spoke coldly. “Do you take everyone here for three-year-olds? We all know what this means.”

“Liu Yunzhi, how could you even think of this? You’re being foolish!” Wang Ziwen’s expression turned grave.

Lin Jia shook her head, sighing. “We’re classmates. How could you be so cruel?”

“This is too much! Trying to kill classmates we’re stranded here with—have you no humanity left?” Others joined in, condemning the three.

Finally, Zhou Yi frowned. “Is this really worth killing over? Hurry up and apologize to Ye Fan and Pang Bo…”

The three paled, wanting nothing more than to burrow into the ground.

“No need for apologies,” Ye Fan glanced at Zhou Yi, then turned to the group. “If I said I could face this calmly, I’d be lying. With people plotting to kill me at every turn, can I really stay on guard forever?”

With that, Ye Fan strode forward.

Liu Yunzhi’s face drained of all color. He clutched his vajra pestle tightly, panic flashing in his eyes.

Wang Yan shrieked: “W-what are you going to do?”

Li Changqing, also terrified, urged Liu Yunzhi: “Hurry! Use the vajra pestle!”

They all knew—this time, Ye Fan wouldn’t ignore them. And once he acted, things would end badly.

Pang Bo moved to follow, but Ye Fan stopped him. “I’ll be the villain this time—all the way.” He took the Great Thunderclap Monastery plaque from Pang Bo’s hand.

Ye Fan carried it and advanced steadily.

“D-don’t come any closer!” Wang Yan screamed.

Ye Fan paid her no mind, heading first for Liu Yunzhi and Li Changqing.

In that instant, Liu Yunzhi suddenly shoved Li Changqing in front of him as a shield, then raised the vajra pestle, roaring: “Die!”

Bang!

Ye Fan swung the plaque with one hand, slamming into Li Changqing as if he were a scarecrow. Li Changqing flew through the air, landing four or five meters away—a testament to the force behind the blow.

The people behind clicked their tongues in amazement. They thought to themselves that Ye Fan truly lived up to his nickname of “Barbarian”, with astonishing strength.

Pang Bo looked at Li Changqing crumpled on the ground, sneering: “So this is your ‘loyal Yunzhi’? Shoving you forward as a shield when it matters—real loyalty!”

Li Changqing’s half-body throbbed with pain, as if several bones were broken. He struggled to stand, but Pang Bo stepped forward, planting a foot on him, pinning him down.

Clang!

At that moment, Ye Fan smashed the plaque down hard on the vajra pestle. A faint glow flickered on Liu Yunzhi’s weapon, but it was no match for such brute force!

The plaque in Ye Fan’s hand emitted no light, but his strength was boundless. Swung with all his might, it was like a mountain of bronze crashing down.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Three metallic shrieks in quick succession. Liu Yunzhi was smashed to his knees, arms spasming as if broken. The vajra pestle clattered to the ground, quickly scooped up by Ye Fan.

By then, Zhang Ziling had brought Wang Yan over.

“W-what do you want?” Liu Yunzhi’s face was as white as a sheet, pinned under the heavy plaque, kneeling before Ye Fan.

Ye Fan smiled faintly. “What do I want? Peace of mind. To stop being watched like prey.”

“Y-you can’t!” Liu Yunzhi screamed in panic, shouting to the others nearby: “We’re classmates! Don’t let him go too far…”

“Ever heard of an ancient punishment? For the most vicious criminals—thrown alive against boulders or cliffs to die.”

“N-no!” Liu Yunzhi howled in terror, but he was powerless to resist. Ye Fan lifted him by the collar, as easily as a chicken, and carried him out of the woods to the stone wall carved with “Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land.”

Pang Bo and Zhang Ziling, dragging Li Changqing and Wang Yan, followed.

“No! Help!” All three screamed in terror.

“Ye Fan, this isn’t right,” Zhou Yi frowned, stepping forward to stop him. “They’re wrong, but they’re still classmates. You can’t decide their lives so hastily.”

“Yes, don’t do this,” three or four others joined in. “Three lives—even if they’re wrong, they don’t deserve death. Give them a chance to repent.”

Ye Fan turned to face the group. “Honestly, I don’t want to. But sparing them is like paving my own path to death.”

Suddenly, Ye Fan froze. On the stone wall, he spotted a cave—inside, two tiger cubs with striped fur bared their teeth at him. Though only a foot long, they already exuded the air of fierce beasts.

Saber-toothed tigers!

Ye Fan startled. This species had long gone extinct on Earth, yet here they were. Even as cubs, their sharp, elongated fangs glinted coldly.

This was a saber-toothed tiger den. The adult tigers must be out hunting—otherwise, the group would be in grave danger.

By then, besides Zhou Yi, others spoke up: “Ye Fan, don’t act on impulse. Give them another chance. Killing classmates—no matter the reason, it’ll sound bad…”

After seeing inside the cave, Ye Fan turned back to the group. “I’ve let them off repeatedly, but they keep plotting to kill me and Pang Bo. I’m only acting in self-defense. But if everyone doesn’t want classmates killing each other, I’ll listen—give them one more chance.”

Pang Bo objected at once. “Another chance? Wait to be killed by them?”

Ye Fan shook his head, giving Pang Bo a meaningful look. “Tie them up and leave them here for a while. These dangerous people can’t follow us anymore.”

Though reluctant, Pang Bo knew Ye Fan well. That meaningful glance told him Ye Fan had a plan—he said no more.

Liu Yunzhi, still in Ye Fan’s grip, hadn’t seen the tiger cubs in the cave behind him. He had no idea why Ye Fan changed his mind, just feeling immense relief—he’d survive.

Soon, Liu Yunzhi, Li Changqing, and Wang Yan were tied up tightly with belts and torn cloth strips from their clothes. At Ye Fan’s insistence, their mouths were gagged too.

Ye Fan carried Liu Yunzhi to the cave, then tossed him inside. When Pang Bo and Zhang Ziling approached, they gaped—those two cubs were baring their teeth inside. This was a tiger den!

Pang Bo’s reluctance vanished instantly; he nearly shouted. He finally understood why Ye Fan changed his mind. Throwing them into a tiger den was the perfect punishment. Adult tigers must be nearby—they’d return soon enough.

“Mmph!” Liu Yunzhi’s face turned green. He struggled and screamed, but only muffled sounds escaped.

Pang Bo and Zhang Ziling followed suit, tossing Li Changqing and Wang Yan into the den.

At Ye Fan, Pang Bo, and Zhang Ziling’s urging, the group hurried onward—this place was no safe spot to linger. They’d barely walked two or three miles when a thunderous tiger roar echoed from behind them…

Chapter 032 A Flick of the Finger, and Beauty Fades to Age

The tiger’s roar shook the heavens, sending leaves swirling. The thunderous howl echoed through the mountains, like rolling thunder or surging floodwaters, turning everyone pale—it came from the spot where they’d rested earlier.

Pang Bo and Zhang Ziling exchanged glances. They knew Liu Yunzhi and Li Changqing were done for. Trapped in the den by the returning adult tigers, there was no chance of survival—especially a she-tiger protecting her cubs, the fiercest of all.

Others paled too. Having just escaped the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land, they’d nearly encountered a massive beast. Who knew what lay ahead? In hindsight, the silent forbidden land, though terrifying at night, was at least safer from such dangers by day.

“We dodged the Crocodile Ancestor, survived countless perils, crossed the silent cosmos, and finally reached a world with life—only to lose our lives here. What a pity, what a waste.” Zhou Yi stared at the woods two or three miles away, murmuring.

Presumably, the tiger’s roar was triggered by Liu Yunzhi and others. This thought sent chills down everyone’s spines, and a bloody scene emerged in their minds: a fierce tiger tearing apart three bodies, its claws and sharp fangs dripping with blood, gnawing on the flesh and blood - this scene was so terrifying that it made one’s hair stand on end.

“Let’s go!”

This place was no safe haven. The tiger ruled this territory. After rushing another four or five miles, they finally drew a breath of relief.

“Why is this forest so quiet? Did we wander back into the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land?”

Giant ancient trees blocked out the sky. The primeval forest fell deathly silent—no birds sang, no beasts roared, no bees or butterflies fluttered. All creatures seemed to have vanished in an instant.

Their direction was correct, but unease gnawed. They grew doubly cautious.

After walking roughly two thousand meters, the towering trees thinned. A relatively open area appeared—hard, flat ground, as solid underfoot as marble. Not a blade of grass grew here, only massive boulders.

“What’s that dark mass ahead?”
“It looks like… a huge black lake.”

Boulders had blocked their view earlier. Only when they stepped through a pile of rocks did the scene unfold, stunning everyone.

A vast lake stretched before them, still as iron, without a ripple. Most shocking was its color—pitch-black, like ink, eerily dark.

“Now I believe there truly are ‘evil waters’ in the world. This black lake feels wrong just to look at. Never have I seen such inky water.”

The black lake was lifeless, no sign of life. Worse, the open ground around it was barren, not even weeds growing—a forbidden zone for life.

“Listen… is that a sound?” A female student’s voice trembled, her face paling.

Others pricked up their ears — a faint, strange sound, very low, like a whimper of pain.

Crack!

Suddenly, a splitting sound—something hard breaking.

“Over there… there!” Liu Yiyi’s face whitened, pointing to the shore of the black lake, where a boulder over ten meters long lay.

Something crouched behind the boulder, only part of its body visible. Its thick hide looked like cold, hard black metal, with the texture and luster of dark gold.

“What is that?!” Everyone startled.

“Never mind—let’s leave quickly!”

A massive black lake, barren hard ground—whatever dwelled here was no gentle beast.

Crack!

The cracking sound came again. The low growl became more painful, as if in a struggle. Then it rolled and hit the huge rock with a “bang”.

The boulder—over seven meters tall and ten meters long—toppled over, crashing into the inky lake, stirring up black waves.

Only then did they see the beast clearly. Less than three meters long and one and a half meters tall—smaller than expected, yet all the more shocking. A three-meter body that could knock a ten-meter boulder into the lake—its strength was staggering.

“What is this?”

They had never seen such a creature. It had no hair, no scales - as if it were cast from black molten iron, pitch - black all over and glistening with a metallic sheen.

It is less than three meters in length, resembling a huge black iron block, solid and heavy, exuding unparalleled power. At first glance, it looks like a strong bull, but upon closer inspection, differences can be found: nine sharp horns protrude abruptly from its head, extremely sharp, faintly glowing with a dim light. It has five eyes, shining with blood-red light. Half a foot-long fangs protrude from its wide mouth, like daggers, glistening coldly, ferocious and terrifying.

A terrifying and never-before-seen beast - its ferocity was palpable even from a distance, sending shivers down one’s spine.

“It looks like it’s shedding its skin…” Someone gasped, whispering.

A gash on the black beast’s back was slowly splitting, revealing new flesh underneath—darker, brighter, like forged dark gold.

“Go! While it’s molting, get far away!”

Like a cicada molting - this kind of growth looks very strange and even a bit evil on a wild beast. Fortunately, it is in the process of transformation, otherwise the consequences would be disastrous.

Even the thunderous tiger from earlier would likely cower before this beast. Knocking a seven-meter boulder into the lake with ease—its terror was immeasurable.

They quietly walked past the Black Lake, and the low, pained growls gradually faded behind them until they disappeared.

Climbing another low hill, they gazed at the distant peak. The buildings there grew clearer—grand, with halls stretching endlessly, like celestial palaces fallen to earth.

“Why do I feel so hot…” A female student murmured awkwardly to another.

“Me too.”

In that moment, everyone noticed the anomaly—their skin flushed a terrifying red, as if blood might drip from it. A searing heat burned within, like a fire raging in their veins.

It wasn’t the weather—it was their bodies failing. The burning pain intensified, as if being roasted in an oven.

“I… can’t take it… it hurts!” A female student collapsed, crying, “It hurts so much—my flesh feels like it’s drying up…” She writhed on the ground, tears streaming.

Then a second, a third—skin crimson, blood seeping from pores, rolling in agony.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?!”

All realized the gravity. No one could stand; nearly everyone collapsed, screaming in pain, as if flesh were being flayed, bodies slowly dismembered.

“Ahh!” Finally, someone howled, rolling back and forth, leaving blood trails on the ground.

“I don’t want to die…” A voice screamed in terror.

A sudden catastrophe—no one knew why, no idea what was happening. Only the agony of lingchi, the slow dismemberment of the body.

“Kill me… this pain is unbearable…”

Struggle, cry, roll, scream - many people are on the verge of despair, and the intense pain makes them delirious.

Finally, the blood mist swirled around everyone, like burning deep red flames. Intense struggles and painful howls shattered the tranquility of the mountains, causing the nearby birds and beasts to scatter in all directions.

This was a form of torture beyond the limits of human endurance - like a living hell, the cruelest torture imaginable. Eventually, the excruciating pain caused everyone to lose consciousness. Not a single person remained awake.

No one knew how much time had passed. The mountains gradually regained their silence; the whimpers of pain also gradually faded away.

Two hours later, Ye Fan, lying on his back in the undergrowth, woke first. The sky was a clear blue; birds sang and insects chirped around him. He sat up quickly. The pain was gone—he felt energized, refreshed, as if he could tear a saber-toothed tiger apart with his bare hands.

But he soon noticed the anomaly: his clothes hung loose, ill-fitting. He pulled his hands from the oversized sleeves—and froze. Never had he looked so startled. Were these his hands? They’d shrunk several sizes, smooth and delicate—nothing like an adult’s.

Ye Fan stood. It felt surreal—his clothes billowed like a actor’s costume. But it wasn’t the clothes that had grown; his body had shrunk. He now looked like an 11 or 12-year-old boy.

Nearby, Pang Bo stirred, rubbing his eyes. Spotting Ye Fan, he gaped. “Who are you, kid? Where’d you come from? Hell, why are you wearing Ye Fan’s clothes?!”

Then he froze, scrambling to sit up, then stand—letting out a ghostly shriek.

“Why are my clothes so big? No—why did my body shrink?!” He stared at Ye Fan, stammering, “Y-you’re Ye Fan?!” He clapped a hand over his mouth—his voice had turned childish, high-pitched.

Ye Fan stared blankly at Pang Bo. The young boy in front of him was innocent and tender, around eleven or twelve years old, faintly bearing some resemblance to the adult Pang Bo.

“What’s happening to us?” Pang Bo rushed over, shouting, overwhelmed.

“I think… we might have become young again.” Ye Fan was equally shocked and could only make a guess. At this moment, both of them looked very young, completely different from before.

“Hell, how could something this messed up happen?!” Pang Bo raged, unable to comprehend the impossibility.

“Let’s check the others.”

Ye Fan pulled him and rushed towards the small hillside. The two rolled down the slope for dozens of meters - fortunately, the mountain slope was gentle and the vegetation below was thick, otherwise they would surely get injured. Recalling the pain at that time still makes people shudder.

Reaching the hilltop, both froze. Pang Bo yelled, “Who are these old fogeys and crones?!”

What they saw nearly turned them to stone, sending chills down their spines.

A dozen bodies lay scattered—white hair everywhere, skin wrinkled, ancient. Yet they wore familiar clothes—easily 70 or 80 years old, utterly decrepit.

“C-could they be Zhou Yi, Wang Ziwen, Lin Jia, Li Xiaoman…?!”

A flick of the finger, and beauty fades to age.

Their mouths went dry, standing rooted like statues on the hilltop.

Chapter 033 Youth Fades to White Hair

Ye Fan stared at over a dozen white-haired elders, unable to speak for a long time. These were undoubtedly his familiar classmates, yet all had turned into this—truly terrifying.

Pang Bo was equally dumbfounded, a mix of fear and dread creeping in. If he’d ended up like this, he’d have felt like dying on the spot.

They hurried over to check on everyone. Fortunately, all still breathed—no lives lost.

“Huh?”

Pang Bo spotted Liu Yiyi in the grass. She showed no signs of aging, still as delicate and gentle as ever, eyes closed, looking pitifully vulnerable.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo rejoiced. They’d been close to Liu Yiyi since school, and now, filled with sympathy for her, they’d hated to see more misfortune befall her.

Ye Fan found Zhang Ziling under an ancient tree. Now, he looked around forty—lost a couple of decades, but not as decrepit as Zhou Yi and the others.

“Handsome Ziling’s turned into an uncle.”
“Better than Ziling the grandpa, right?”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo muttered softly.

Soon, Liu Yiyi woke. Seeing Ye Fan and Pang Bo’s appearance, her mouth dropped in shock. Not long after, Zhang Ziling roused too. Realizing his condition, he let out a shout—going from a vibrant young man to a sturdy middle-aged man was unbearable for anyone.

“Ziling, don’t get worked up. Look at their state, and you’ll feel better.”

Zhang Ziling glanced at Zhou Yi, Li Xiaoman, and the others, freezing. He realized there was always more tragedy to be found.

“How could this happen…” He stared blankly, though less despairing than before.

Of the over a dozen people present: Ye Fan and Pang Bo had rejuvenated; Liu Yiyi remained unchanged; Zhang Ziling had lost twenty years; the rest had turned into frail elders, their bodies decaying.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo exchanged a look, instantly thinking of those translucent red fruits. At the time, they’d only tasted their rich fragrance and felt their energy restored quickly. Now, it seemed those fruits were extraordinary—nothing short of miraculous!

For some reason, everyone else had aged, while only those who’d eaten the fruits had withstood the erosion of time.

“What power stripped them of their youth and vitality?” Pang Bo wondered, perplexed.

“I suspect it’s the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land.” Ye Fan ventured.

Just the name itself says a lot: “The Forbidden Land of the Desolate Antiquity”, suggesting a connection to the ancient times, or a forbidden area that has existed since then - so desolate that even birds and insects avoid it, a place of extremely bad omen.

Yet they’d walked out unharmed, no danger befalling them. It seemed contradictory, making the name “Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land” feel almost undeserved.

“Right, it must be the forbidden land!” Pang Bo grasped the key.

Their shared guess: a fearsome power in the forbidden land had drained everyone’s youth and vitality. But why did it strike only after they’d left? That puzzled them.

“Maybe it’s a curse-like power. Once you enter the forbidden land, no matter if you leave or where you go, once the curse takes effect, you can’t escape.”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo couldn’t help but feel grateful. Had they not eaten those strange fruits, they’d likely be doddering now too.

After a while, everyone woke up. A shrill scream echoed on the mountaintop, sending chills down one’s spine, followed by endless sobs.

Premature aging, youth fading to white hair—this was simply the most tragic thing in the world. In their twenties, at the prime of life, they’d suddenly turned white-haired and wrinkled. It was unbearable, enough to make them wish for death.

“Why have I become like this?” Zhou Yi tremblingly lifted a hand, touching his creased skin, plucking a wisp of dry white hair. His voice, now aged, roared: “Why?!”

Beside him, Wang Ziwen was trembling all over as he examined his own body. His eyes were dull, and his eye bags were as big as pigeon eggs, showing his old age. “I don’t believe it…”

“Ahh…” Lin Jia teetered on collapse. Her scream scared birds in the woods into flight.

Beauty is a woman’s primary pursuit - especially for beautiful women. For someone as naturally beautiful as her, suddenly finding that her fair skin has become dull and rough, and aging to the point of being unrecognizable, is more painful than death.

On the other side, Li Xiaoman suffered similarly, nearly driven to suicide. Once as pure as a lotus, she now wasn’t even worth a dried lotus leaf—black hair turned white, dull and brittle as weeds. Her skin sagged with wrinkles, eyes cloudy, face lined with grooves.

Seeing Ye Fan approach, Li Xiaoman shrieked: “Don’t come over!” Covering her face, she wept, burying her head in her knees.

Ye Fan stopped, avoiding further distress, and called out to comfort them: “Don’t despair. If gods exist in this world, anything is possible. There must be a way to fix this.”

Gloom hung over the hilltop. Many were inconsolable—especially seeing Ye Fan and Pang Bo as 11 or 12-year-old boys, a cruel reminder. Most had aged horribly, while the two had rejuvenated. The contrast made many’s hearts bleed.

“Oh My God, God… damn you!” Cade, furious beyond words, mixed Chinese with English to vent his grief.

“Foreign devil, calm down.” Pang Bo strolled over, clapping him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Growing old with the one you love is the most romantic thing in the world.”

Cade burst into tears, sobbing like a child. “My girlfriend… isn’t here. It’s not romantic at all.”

Pang Bo froze, glanced at Li Xiaoman, then said nothing, moving to check on others.

“Why haven’t you aged, Ye Fan?” Zhou Yi, the first to calm down, fixed his cloudy eyes on Ye Fan and Pang Bo, a glint of sharpness in them.

Others set aside their sorrow, all turning to look.

Pang Bo bristled at Zhou Yi’s tone, retorting unkindly: “Grandpa Zhou, don’t tell me you’re suspecting us? If we had that kind of power, we’d be gods already, not mere mortals.”

Lin Jia stopped crying, looking at Ye Fan, earnest and almost pleading: “Ye Fan, tell me the truth. How can we regain our youth? How did you do it?”

Ye Fan could only comfort her, giving her hope. Those strange red fruits were long gone—no other solutions existed.

“Leave here… go to that immortal palace!” Zhou Yi stood up unsteadily, pointing to the distant mountain where halls stretched like celestial palaces descended to earth. Though his body had aged, his mind remained sharp, pinpointing their only hope. If immortals dwelled there, all could be set right.

They helped each other down the hill. Many, frail with age, moved slowly. Ye Fan, Pang Bo, Liu Yiyi, and Zhang Ziling had to rush back and forth to assist.

“Grandpa Zhou, Grandpa Wang, I’ll help you two.” Pang Bo stood between them, one arm around each, supporting Zhou Yi and Wang Ziwen. Wang Ziwen managed a bitter smile; Zhou Yi’s face remained impassive.

For some reason, Li Xiaoman chose to let Ye Fan support her. She said nothing on the way, just wept, nearly fainting from grief.

“Why? Why is there still a mountain between us?”

Ye Fan and the others sensed something was wrong. Clearly, only one mountain separated them from the immortal palace. But after struggling over a peak, they looked up—to see another mountain in the way, as if nothing had changed.

“Since a while ago, no matter how far we walk, the distance to that palace never changes. What’s happening?”

They looked again, pressed forward, climbed another mountain—and the same result. Now, all understood: they could never reach it.

“It’s time to choose. Maybe we shouldn’t keep heading there. It seems like an unreachable maze.”

Suddenly, a fishy stench hit their noses. Trees shook, and a five-meter-tall black beast rose on its hind legs, pouncing. Its claws glinted coldly, covered in half-foot-long black fur, menacing. Its body resembled an ape, but its head was bizarre—a foot-long bird’s beak, like a bird demon come to life. They’d never seen such a beast.

Most people were too terrified to move; two of them collapsed to the ground. Such a hideous giant lunged forward - if caught, they would be torn to pieces.

“Ye Fan, watch out!” Pang Bo shouted. Ye Fan was in the direct path. Pang Bo rushed forward, swinging the Great Thunderclap plaque.

Ye Fan shoved the two beside him away, raised the vajra pestle taken from Liu Yunzhi, and swung it hard.

Bang!

The pestle collided with a glittering cold claw, and the impact force bent the beast’s claw - apparently broken.

All stared, assuming it was the vajra pestle’s power. Only Ye Fan knew: its last trace of divine power had been exhausted by Liu Yunzhi. This blow relied solely on his own immense strength.

He was shocked. His old self could never have mustered such power. But since rejuvenating, he’d felt surging energy—strength enough to tear tigers or hurl elephants!

That huge beast let out a shrill scream, opened its beak and pecked at Ye Fan, while the other claw also struck down fiercely.

Ye Fan moved at an extreme speed, dodging with incredible quickness, darting behind the beast. He swung the vajra pestle hard, slamming it into its spine. The sound of breaking bones echoed.

Bang!

Unimaginable force— the five-meter-tall beast flew eight or nine meters like a puppet, crashing to the ground, twitching twice before falling still.

Everyone was left stunned and incredulous. That “barbarian” had actually shrunk in size and now looked like an eleven - or twelve - year - old boy, appearing even more delicate and gentle. However, his strength and speed were terrifyingly extreme - so astonishing that words failed to describe them.

They let out a collective breath, then began murmuring, puzzled by Ye Fan’s godlike power, feelings of envy and jealousy stirring.

Dusk fell; the last sunset vanished. Undaunted, they climbed another peak—only to find another mountain still separating them from the celestial palace. The distance remained unchanged.

Now, despair settled in. They decided to stop advancing.

But just then, a colorful light streaked across the sky, like a long rainbow, striking against the dim heavens.

“That’s…”

All gasped. A figure was within that rainbow light—flying through the sky, defying gravity. No mortal could do that!

Whoosh!

The rainbow light suddenly changed direction, darting toward them in an instant. Its speed was staggering, like a rainbow spanning the sky, arriving in the blink of an eye.

Chapter 034 The Legend of the Desolate

A rainbow light, one meter wide and two meters long, stood upright in midair—bright, shimmering, with a tangible quality, like a piece of translucent crystal.

Within it was an 18 or 19-year-old girl. Her face was as fair as jade, her figure slender, waist delicate, legs straight. A pale blue dress fluttered naturally around her, exuding an otherworldly elegance.

All fell silent, transfixed. This young beauty carried an air of detachment from the mortal world—like a white lotus with dewdrops, or a fresh snow lotus on a mountain peak, untainted by mortal trivialities.

The world had no shortage of breathtakingly beautiful women, but few possessed such an ethereal aura, as if she’d stepped out of the mundane to merge with the purest of nature.

This delicate and beautiful girl calmly stared at the crowd below and said a sentence. Her voice was sweet and pleasant, but the crowd still paused for a moment to ponder the meaning of her words - she was asking about their identities. This sentence was like ancient Chinese, gentle and melodious, and required careful thought to understand.

“We’re stranded travelers. Are you an immortal? Can you save us?” A female student burst into tears. Now gaunt, wrinkled, and aged, she’d finally encountered someone who seemed like an immortal, pleading desperately.

Lin Jia and Li Xiaoman stepped forward too, eyes filled with hope. Once confident in their beauty, this blow hurt more than death—especially seeing such a radiant girl, intensifying their longing to regain their looks.

Light sparkled in midair, like a fragment of a rainbow condensed into a precious gem, enclosing a fairy-like figure.

In truth, the crystal-like rainbow light wasn’t solid—it only seemed tangible. The girl within was unshackled. Her black hair flowed like a waterfall, fluttering gently; her eyes, misty and soft, held a faint haze. Her skin, snow-white and translucent, glowed faintly—utterly ethereal and beautiful.

“You entered the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land?”

Another soft, melodious sentence. Again, they puzzled over the archaic Chinese before grasping its meaning.

“Yes—we escaped from there.” An aged female student wept helplessly, looking up at the sky with supplication. For a woman, such a tragedy was a devastating blow, leaving her too distraught to think clearly.

At her words, the girl’s calm expression rippled with surprise.

“To emerge alive… that’s no small feat.” She spoke softly, her gaze lingering on Liu Yiyi, Zhang Ziling, Pang Bo, and Ye Fan. Finally, as if recalling something, she looked astonished, asking urgently: “Is this your true age?”

“No. We weren’t this old. We don’t know why we’ve lost decades of youth and vitality.” A male student answered eagerly, then stared up at her, tense and hopeful.

But the girl paid him no mind, as if already knowing of their lost youth. She was addressing Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

Ye Fan replied: “We were all in our twenties. Somehow, some aged, while others rejuvenated, growing younger.”

“Truly?” The girl in midair looked shocked, fixing her gaze on Ye Fan and Pang Bo, pressing: “Did you eat a red fruit? Bright red, glistening, translucent…”

Ye Fan confirmed—what they’d eaten matched her description. With Zhou Yi and others as witnesses, he nodded.

The girl in the rainbow light studied them with a strange look, as if appraising treasures. Being stared at by such an ethereal beauty made them uneasy, even creeped out.

“Please—can those who’ve aged be cured?” Wang Ziwen, unable to remain calm, yearned to know if he could regain his youth.

“Don’t despair. Though your looks may rarely recover, you’ve gained much alongside lost youth. Beyond these woods, many will vie for you.” Seeing their confusion, she added: “No need to worry—it’s not a bad thing. For you, it could be an opportunity.”

“I… just want my looks back.” A female student sobbed. Aging like this had drained her will to live.

“Enough. I’ll take you out of this ancient forest first.” The mysterious girl waved her hand. A shower of rainbow light enveloped them, lifting them gently into the air to stand beside her.

This truly was a mystical world—this, they guessed, must be immortal magic.

“Civilization is far from here. Walking out on foot would be nearly impossible. These primeval woods teem with terrifying beasts; even I must detour when encountering them.”

Pang Bo looked curious. “Aren’t you from that immortal palace ahead?”

“ Immortal palace… “ The girl in midair looked puzzled. “Where is there an immortal palace?”

Pang Bo pointed to the distant mountain. “There—countless halls, stretching endlessly, grand palaces, with cranes flying around.”

“So the legend is true…” The girl’s expression shifted.

“What legend? Haven’t you seen it?”

“No, I didn’t see anything.” The girl standing in the colorful light said thoughtfully, “The Ancient Wilderness Forbidden Zone, a primitive restricted area, a restricted area for life. Since ancient times, those who accidentally entered and managed to escape alive have all mentioned a celestial palace - it seems within reach, yet is actually far away.”

So that was it. They nodded, their experience confirming her words. “Is it just an illusion?”

“Not an illusion. But only at specific times, through special means, can one truly approach it. Such a great opportunity is rarely attainable—seen but not seized.”

Zhou Yi, preoccupied with his condition, asked: “What became of others who strayed into the forbidden land and escaped alive?”

The girl, as pure and noble as ice and jade, glanced at him and calmly replied, “Stepping into the forbidden zone of life is almost like a life-and-death gamble. Even if one is lucky enough to survive, they will be white-haired and critically ill. But their ‘abyss of suffering’ will be awakened - if they embark on the path of cultivation, the cultivation effect will be twice the result with half the effort.”

“Can we regain our youth?”

“Rarely, but not impossible. As cultivation deepens, vitality grows stronger. Reach a certain realm, and perhaps your appearance can change.” Her words sparked hope in many.

“What lies in the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land? What drained our youth?” Wang Ziwen couldn’t help asking—a question plaguing many, filling them with resentment and helplessness.

“This question is ancient. Countless have asked it, yet no one has a clear answer.” The girl carried them flying swiftly, light sparkling around them like a rainbow slicing the sky. The soft light shielded them from harsh winds, letting them speak freely. She continued: “Legend says, beneath the forbidden land’s abyss, lies ‘the Desolate’—perhaps a primeval being, or a terrifying power.”

“Has no one explored it?” Ye Fan asked.

“Since primeval times, countless have tried. Without exception, nearly all perished.” The mysterious girl glanced back at the primeval forest. “Every inch of that land has been stained with blood. Once, bones piled like mountains—all of them experts. In the past, a sacred immortal sect, at its peak, mustered all its strength: tens of thousands of powerful cultivators marched to breach the forbidden land, seeking a legendary, elusive treasure. But all perished. The sect barely survived, only three or five escaping, their legacy nearly severed.”

“That terrifying?!” Pang Bo gasped.

“It’s a cursed land soaked in endless blood. Tragic, that once-glorious sect—not only did tens of thousands of strong cultivators vanish, but even a few peerless masters, whose skills approached the divine, became ‘Desolate Slaves’ beneath the ancient abyss—enslaved for eternity.”

At this, they thought of the fearsome figure wielding hundred-foot chains—likely one of those “Desolate Slaves.”

The colorful rainbow hurtled forward like lightning. Endless primeval woods blurred below, yet they flew for a full hour before reaching the forest’s edge.

By now, night had fallen. A small town, lit up, appeared in the distance. As they neared, seven or eight rainbow lights—each a different color—shot into the sky, each carrying a figure.

“Vivi’s back.”
Have you found anything near the forbidden area? The powerful cultivators from the nearby celestial paradises have all come, seemingly searching for something. Have you encountered them?
“If our ancestors sense stirrings in the forbidden land, the experts from those cave heavens must too.”

Within the lights were elderly figures—seemingly the girl, called Vivi, ‘s elders.

“Who are these people?”
“Could they be those who strayed into the forbidden land and escaped alive?”

When Vivi confirmed it, the elders burst into laughter.

“Haha… Excellent! Their ‘Sea of Bitterness’ is awakened—fine candidates for cultivation!”

They descended quickly into the town, entering a brightly lit hall.

“Why so young?” The elders stared at Ye Fan and Pang Bo, astonished, barely believing their eyes.

“Could they have eaten the legendary fruit? That… impossible!” One elder looked utterly incredulous. “Nine sacred mountains surround the forbidden abyss. Legend says each holds a divine spring and a rare sacred fruit—nine springs, nine fruits. Obtaining one grants a complete transformation! But how could mere mortals approach them?!”

Chapter 035 Such a World

In the brightly lit hall, several elders’ eyes, sharp as lightning, scanned Ye Fan and the others repeatedly, studying them with surprise.

“Why are your clothes so strange?”
“Why do you have such short hair?”
“You’re all mortals—how did you stray into the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land?”
“Why is your language so odd? Where are you from?”
“With your strength, how could you approach the forbidden abyss and pluck the legendary sacred fruit…”

The elders were meticulous, pressing for answers, eager to uncover their origins.

Coming from the far side of the stars, tens or hundreds of light-years away—a journey no mortal craft could complete in millions of years—how could they explain that? Ye Fan and the others fell silent.

“Why aren’t you speaking?” One elder’s gaze turned piercing.

“Even if we told the truth, would you believe it?” Ye Fan looked at them, calm and steady. “Our homeland is far from here. We merely climbed an ancient mountain, and suddenly found ourselves on the other side of the world—stranded, unable to look back.”

The elders exchanged glances. One nodded. “Understandable. A peerless expert must have laid down ‘momentum’ on that mountain—capable of darkening the sun and moon, shifting stars in an instant. Such power… terrifying!”

With the elders dropping the matter, Ye Fan and the others didn’t mention the nine dragons pulling the coffin or their journey across the silent cosmos to the far side of the stars.

By then, the bronze lamp, alms bowl, ancient bell, and other relics in their hands had drawn the elders’ attention.

“This is…”

One elder’s expression tightened. He took the bronze lamp from Ye Fan, examining it carefully. After a long while, he sighed. “Exquisite craftsmanship. I suspect the wick once nurtured a ‘spirit,’ but it’s ruined now—no trace of its inner veins remains.”

He then inspected the alms bowl, ancient bell, and plaque, his face filled with shock and regret, sighing repeatedly. “These could’ve been treasures. Why are they all ruined? The valuable ‘Dao patterns’ inside are destroyed—we can’t even study the craftsmanship.”

“How did you come by these?” The elders, seeming to grieve for the loss, kept sighing.

Ye Fan didn’t reply. His earlier words had been airtight—even if Zhou Yi or others later revealed the truth, his account wouldn’t contradict it. But this question was different.

Someone followed his lead, explaining the relics were found on the “momentum”-wreathed ancient mountain, kept even after accidentally entering the forbidden land.

Clearly, not only Ye Fan hesitated to speak of the far side of the stars—others understood the matter’s gravity, choosing silence.

“I see. That ancient mountain you speak of grows more intriguing. I’d like to explore it someday.” One elder smiled, eyes narrowing—whether in doubt or genuine curiosity, it was hard to tell.

“Where exactly did you live? A general region?” Another elder asked.

By now, everyone followed Ye Fan’s narrative, spinning a shared tale. A female student claimed they were from the western regions.

“Western regions? So you’re from the boundless Western Wasteland…” One elder frowned, muttering. “Crossing from the Western Wasteland to the Eastern Desolate—an endless distance. Even flying on rainbow light, it would take me over thirty years. Who possesses such earth-shattering talent to lay down such powerful ‘momentum’ on that mountain? Unfathomable!”

“So we’re in the Eastern Desolate.” Zhou Yi seized the moment. “How large is it?”

“The Eastern Desolate is boundless. Even if a mortal lived dozens of lifetimes, they could never traverse it all.”

“That large?!” Ye Fan and the others looked stunned.

“In the mortal world, the kingdom ruling the forbidden land is called ‘Yan’—two thousand li north to south, three thousand li east to west. Yet such territory is a drop in the bucket in the Eastern Desolate. Kingdoms of similar size are countless.”

Pang Bo nearly jumped. How vast was this land? The kingdom of Yan, already enormous, was trivial in the Eastern Desolate—with countless others like it.

The Eastern Desolate was truly endless—its scale beyond imagination!

“How is that possible?!” Pang Bo’s pupils contracted. It defied reason, yet recalling the existence of gods, he could only shake his head.

The elders, pleased to see Pang Bo’s shock, smiled. This 11 or 12-year-old boy would be a key “seed” for them. One continued: Although the Yan Kingdom is just a small, insignificant country in a corner of the Eastern Wilderness, it is not completely unknown. The Forbidden Land of Ancient Desolation within its territory is one of the seven Life Forbidden Zones in the vast Eastern Wilderness.

There was a moment of silence. They received this information, deeply shocked, with their hearts in turmoil.

“You mentioned the Western Wasteland earlier—how does it compare to the Eastern Desolate?” Wang Ziwen, ever observant, couldn’t help asking.

“The Western Wasteland rivals the Eastern Desolate in size—equally boundless.”

The confirmation sent waves through them. What a vast world this was!

Yet more shocks awaited. One elder added: “The Eastern Desolate, Western Wasteland, Southern Ridge, Northern Plains, and Central State—with Central State the largest, truly endless, even cultivators struggle to cross it…”

They froze, mouths dry, unable to speak.

The elders, satisfied, encouraged them: “A mortal’s life is ultimately insignificant, like an ant—hardly understanding the world they inhabit. But now you have a chance to overlook this vast land. Train diligently, and one day you’ll stir up storms, standing atop the clouds.”

It took a while for everyone to recover. Some hesitated. “We… cultivate…?”

“Exactly. Entering the forbidden land cost you your youth, but this world balances loss with gain. The path of cultivation is fraught with thorns, yet you’ve already blazed a small trail.”

“Your ‘Sea of Bitterness’ is awakened. One day, you might even cross the ‘Sea of Bitterness,’ step onto the ‘Divine Bridge,’ and find your own ‘Godhood’—it’s not impossible.”

The elders urged them, eager to guide them onto the path of cultivation.

“We still don’t know who you are…” Zhou Yi spoke up at the right moment.

“Within Yan, there are six Cave Heavens and Blessed Lands. Ours is one—though not here, not in the mortal world.” One elder smiled.

“Yan is a speck in the Eastern Desolate, yet it holds six Cave Heavens. How many immortal sects exist in this world…?” Pang Bo muttered.

Clearly, the elders favored him and Ye Fan, showing no displeasure. Instead, they smiled kindly. “Don’t aim too high—foundations matter. Our Blessed Land inherits from a sacred shrine; our basic techniques are among the best in the world. And if you soar high enough, we’ll offer you broader horizons.”

“Indeed!” Another elder said proudly. “Though we’re just a Blessed Land, we’re affiliated with a renowned sacred shrine in the Eastern Desolate. If you prove extraordinary enough, we might even recommend you to the shrine.”

At this, the elders looked fondly at the girl Vivi beside them. “Vivi is a once-in-a-millennium prodigy in our Blessed Land. Soon, she’ll be sent to the sacred shrine. We’ll miss her, but we won’t hinder her cultivation.”

Just then, loud laughter echoed from outside the hall. “Your ‘Blessed Land’ is inadequate. Bring such talent to our ‘Cave Heaven’ instead! I heard you found over a dozen promising cultivators?”

Dozens of rainbow lights descended from the sky. Uninvited, they strode into the hall.

Chapter 036 The Ancient Desolate Saintly Physique

Over a dozen people entered the hall, their rainbow auras fading. Men and women, all over forty, exuded distinct auras—some as calm as orchids, some as sharp as sword edges, some as steady as boulders.

A middle - aged man with a calm demeanor, his voice firm and sonorous, smiled and said, “In the territory of the Yan Country, although there are six ‘Cave Heavens’, your ‘Spiritual Void Cave Heaven’ is really unworthy of its name. It would be more appropriate to call it a ‘Fortunate Land’.”

“Liu Wanshan, what do you mean by that?” The elders of Lingxu Cave Heaven frowned, stepping forward to shield Zhou Yi, Lin Jia, and the others, focusing especially on protecting Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

Liu Wanshan, living up to his name (“ten thousand mountains”), stood like a mountain, imposing. He spoke bluntly, laughing: “Since there are over a dozen promising cultivators, naturally we’ve come to take a few, guiding them onto the path of cultivation.”

Beside him, an old woman with white hair nodded and said, “Indeed, the six blessed lands of the Yan Kingdom have always been closely linked. Now that we’ve discovered so many promising young talents, we must surely take a few of them with us.”

An elder from Lingxu Cave Heaven frowned: “Senior Sister Li Ying, that’s not how it works. Three years ago, your ‘Golden Glow Cave Heaven’ found several disciples with excellent roots—you didn’t send a single one to us.”

“Those had mediocre talent, hardly worthy of being called immortal seeds. No need to trouble you.” The white-haired old woman smiled.

Just then, a white-haired elder with an otherworldly air stepped forward, speaking slowly: “I’d say these dozen are hardly immortal seeds. How about this—we from the Cave Heavens and Blessed Lands will take a few, leaving most for your Lingxu Cave Heaven.”

The elders of Lingxu Cave Heaven grew anxious, seemingly wary of this immortal-like elder. “Senior Brother Ma Yun, does your ‘Jade Cauldron Cave Heaven’ really lack promising disciples? I’ve heard you found two true immortal seeds.”

Ma Yun, the white-haired, white-bearded elder, smiled without answering, studying Ye Fan and Pang Bo, nodding occasionally. This made the Lingxu elders tense—others might be given away, but these two they must keep.

“Very well. On behalf of Jade Cauldron Cave Heaven, I’ll take just one.” Ma Yun pointed to Ye Fan and Pang Bo. “I won’t be greedy—either of the two will do.”

“No!” The Lingxu elders refused in unison.

At once, other Cave Heavens began choosing candidates, arguing fiercely, refusing to yield. The atmosphere grew tense, with all six factions standing their ground. Ye Fan listened closely, learning that “Cave Heavens” surpassed “Blessed Lands” for cultivation, and a Cave Heaven might even naturally spawn a Blessed Land.

Lingxu Cave Heaven couldn’t keep everyone. With the other five factions present, they’d have to give up some. Choosing who to keep was agony. By the end, swords were almost drawn, tensions high.

Liu Wanshan, as imposing as a mountain, stepped forward: “It seems we must fight.”

“Agreed.” Li Ying, the old woman from Golden Glow Cave Heaven, nodded.

“To avoid ill will, we’ll stop at first blood.” Ma Yun, the white-haired elder from Jade Cauldron Cave Heaven, agreed.

The Lingxu elders’ faces darkened. They’d found Ye Fan and the others, only to have others meddle—how many could they retain?

A dozen rainbow lights shot into the night sky, bright and vivid. The Cave Heavens began their contest. Ye Fan and the others rushed outside, craning their necks—but the fighters flew beyond the town, battling farther and farther, out of sight.

Only distant rays of light, crisscrossing rainbows, occasional thunder, and howling winds, with sand and stones flying, marked the struggle.

Zhou Yi, Lin Jia, and the others watched, dazzled. The elders had seemed so calm, yet now they flew through the sky, wielding such power—it filled them with longing.

After half an hour, rainbow lights finally appeared in the sky, slicing through the clouds, arriving in an instant.

First to land was the girl Vivi. Exquisite and otherworldly, her curved eyebrows, water-like eyes, moist red lips, and jade-white teeth shone softly in the moonlight—like the Moon Goddess descending to the mortal world, breathtakingly beautiful.

Next came the other Lingxu elders. Though disheveled, even spattered with blood, they wore victorious smiles.

The others landed too, all bearing wounds, their expressions sour. The imposing Liu Wanshan had an unhealed shoulder wound; Ma Yun’s flowing white beard was cut short; Li Ying’s cane lay broken in two.

“Unexpected—Vivi has surpassed us at such a young age. Lingxu Cave Heaven truly has a once-in-a-millennium talent!” Ma Yun sighed.

Ye Fan and the others were shocked. Vivi, with her gentle, graceful demeanor, was so powerful she’d defeated these elders—it was astounding.

“Since we lost, we have no complaints. Your Lingxu Cave Heaven may choose two first.” Liu Wanshan’s expression was grim—not just for losing to a younger generation, but for missing the first pick.

The Lingxu elders didn’t hesitate, selecting Ye Fan and Pang Bo, their faces beaming. Next, Ma Yun from Jade Cauldron Cave Heaven chose Liu Yiyi. Then Li Ying from Golden Glow Cave Heaven stepped forward to take Zhang Ziling.

But just then, the Lingxu elders, after examining Ye Fan’s body, paled—their smiles vanishing.

“How could this be?!”

Others noticed, glancing over, confused by their sudden displeasure.

“What’s wrong? Are you unhappy even after choosing two first?”

“No—come see for yourselves.” The Lingxu elders looked at Ye Fan with regret.

Realizing Ye Fan’s body must have issues, everyone crowded around.

Ma Yun from Jade Cauldron Cave Heaven stepped up first: “Even a glance shows this boy’s vitality is extraordinary, comparable to a flood dragon or elephant. He should be a rare immortal seed. What’s the problem?”

Others closed in, examining Ye Fan. Being prodded and poked made him uncomfortable, but he held back from stopping them.

Li Ying, the old woman from Golden Glow Cave Heaven, looked puzzled: “How could such a physique exist?!”

Liu Wanshan inspected him for a long time, stunned: “The Life Divine Wheel is silent; the Sea of Bitterness is as hard as divine iron, steady as a boulder—unshakable, impossible to open…”

“What does this mean?!” Everyone looked confused. Such a physique defied all reason.

Suddenly, Ma Yun from Jade Cauldron Cave Heaven seemed to recall something, muttering: “Could it be… the legendary physique?” He re-examined Ye Fan, his fingers glowing faintly with divine light, probing carefully—measuring his bones, gauging his spirit.

After a long while, Ma Yun stopped, staring blankly: “Such a physique really exists in this world…”

“What physique?” Everyone leaned in, curious.

“Un… paralleled… in… ancient… times, peerless… saintly… physique!” Ma Yun spoke each word slowly, the eight characters heavy as mountains.

“What?!” Everyone froze, hardly believing their ears.

The Lingxu elders reacted instantly, pulling Ye Fan behind them, forming a circle around him—guarding him tightly, fearing others might snatch or harm him.

Liu Wanshan found it hard to believe: “Yan spans two thousand li north-south, three thousand li east-west—a speck in the boundless Eastern Desolate. Even over a thousand years, such a peerless saintly physique might never appear here. After all, throughout history, the vast Eastern Desolate has seen few such figures.”

Li Ying shook her head: “It’s possible. I’ve heard rumors—such talents may already exist in the Eastern Desolate today. Some say not just one, though they’re still growing, hidden from the world. Likely sheltered in a sacred shrine or an ancient clan passed down since primeval times.”

At this, the elders’ gazes on Ye Fan changed—burning, as if eager to seize him as a disciple. Even Zhou Yi, Lin Jia, and the others looked at him strangely.

But then, Ma Yun from Jade Cauldron Cave Heaven coughed: “I think… there’s a misunderstanding. Perhaps I wasn’t clear.”

“Hm?”
“What do you mean?”

Everyone stared at him, confused.

“He does have a peerless saintly physique—no mistake. But it comes with a time limit: it belongs to before the ancient desolate era.”

“What?”

Ma Yun explained: “Surely you’ve heard primeval legends? Back then, there was a peerless physique—unmatched in ancient times. Nine generations appeared, each invincible under heaven, shaking the past and present. If such a physique entered cultivation, its ultimate achievement would be immeasurable, hailed as the greatest saintly physique of all time.”

“Yes, of course. You don’t mean…” They all looked at Ye Fan, but their awe and eagerness faded, replaced by disappointment.

Indeed. He has that kind of constitution. Unfortunately, since the ancient Primordial Era, after endless years, although this kind of constitution occasionally appears, it no longer holds power. It can no longer dominate the world as it did before the ancient Primordial Era.

In truth, for unknown reasons, this physique had faded into mediocrity in the post-primeval era—no longer suited for cultivation, with no one ever succeeding in training.

“Now, many immortal sects whisper of a peerless divine physique emerging in the Eastern Desolate. I thought Yan might soon have a earth-shattering figure… but it’s not to be.”

“The Ancient Saint Physique, compared to the current Invincible Divine Physique… Sigh!” The elders of the Lingxu Sect shook their heads, extremely disappointed, and shifted their gazes away from Ye Fan.

Others from the Cave Heavens and Blessed Lands looked complex—unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

In an instant, no one looked at Ye Fan anymore. The shift from fervor to cold indifference was stark.

Chapter 037 Lingxu Cave Heaven

By now, only thirteen of Ye Fan’s group remained—all others had perished. Excluding Ye Fan with his peculiar physique, the remaining twelve were evenly divided, with exactly two assigned to each Cave Heaven or Blessed Land.

It was a passive choice, yet Zhou Yi, Lin Jia, and the others didn’t object. As the elders of Lingxu Cave Heaven had said, this was an opportunity.

In the end, Ye Fan found himself in an awkward situation - once the focus of everyone’s hopes, but now ignored and left unattended.

“I won’t go with you if you don’t take Ye Fan.” Pang Bo, though looking only 11 or 12, spoke firmly. “Worst case, Ye Fan and I will make our way in the mortal world.”

An elder from Lingxu Cave Heaven explained: “There are no mortals in Cave Heavens or Blessed Lands. Taking him in might not be good for him.”

Ye Fan understood. After careful thought, he imagined the possibilities. A Cave Heaven was full of cultivators—who would care for a mere mortal? Even with Pang Bo’s protection, trouble would inevitably arise.

“Pang Bo, go with them. I won’t join any Cave Heaven or Blessed Land. Maybe a simple, ordinary life as a mortal is better.”

“No. I must take you with me.” Pang Bo refused stubbornly.

“Very well—we’ll take Ye Fan too.” Unwilling to alienate Pang Bo, the Lingxu elders relented.

“Wait.” Ye Fan showed no joy, his expression calm. “I said I won’t join any Cave Heaven or Blessed Land. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Ye Fan, this is a chance…” Pang Bo urged.

Ye Fan shook his head. “No need to persuade me.” He’d thought it through—joining a Cave Heaven would bring endless troubles, as the elder had hinted.

“If you don’t go, I won’t either.” Pang Bo was unyielding, refusing to abandon Ye Fan.

Ye Fan smiled. “I’ll be counting on you in the future. You must train hard. Someday, help me out—send over a few heroines, fairies, goddesses, saintesses… I won’t be picky.”

Pang Bo rolled his eyes. The cultivators from other Cave Heavens looked odd; a few female cultivators shot Ye Fan sharp glares.

“Ye Fan, come with me.” Pang Bo tried again.

I really want to go, but only as a guest for a while - not to join. Will the Spirit Void Grotto allow this? Ye Fan suddenly said. He wasn’t ready to give up the path of cultivating immortality. He wanted to take a look at the Spirit Void Grotto, but didn’t want to be bound to a sect.

“Good! As long as you come!” Pang Bo brightened, immediately looking to the Lingxu elders.

“Very well.” They nodded at last.

It was time to part. Their futures were uncertain—all felt both confused and hopeful. In their final moments together, they wished each other well, vowing to meet again someday.

Ye Fan stood out now—his path seemed hopeless, a world apart from the others. Even if they spoke of meeting again, it was hard to imagine he’d ever stand among them. All looked at him with mixed emotions.

Finally, they bid farewell.

“Ye Fan, take this…” Before leaving, Liu Yiyi pressed her prayer beads into his hand, then hurried away before he could refuse.

“Actually, being a mortal isn’t bad. May you live happily.” Li Xiaoman approached, said this, gave him a long look, then turned to leave.

“Ye Fan, all the best. I’m sure you’ll thrive in the mortal world with your abilities.” Lin Jia spoke, then departed.

Zhou Yi and Wang Ziwen followed to say goodbye.

“Being a mortal can be a blessing, you know.” Zhou Yi smiled faintly, patting his shoulder. “No need to feel down.”

Ye Fan remained calm, smiling. “Who can say what the future holds?”

Moments later, over a dozen divine rainbows shot into the sky, slicing through the quiet night like bright shooting stars, fading into the distance. They parted ways.

After the others left, the Lingxu elders said to Pang Bo and Ye Fan: “In truth, our Cave Heavens and Blessed Lands aren’t far apart. If you wish to meet, it’ll be easy.”

The Lingxu group set out the next day, flying on divine rainbows—swift as lightning, with mountains and rivers racing by below.

They finally stopped before mist-shrouded immortal mountains. A peaceful scene unfolded: lush trees, pavilions and towers scattered about, flowing springs and cascading waterfalls, cranes soaring—truly a blessed place.

“Is this Lingxu Cave Heaven?” Pang Bo couldn’t help asking, though his next words ruined the mood. “Those cranes look plump… can we catch a couple to roast?”

An elder glared at him. “Those are cranes with spiritual wisdom. Don’t even think about it. With your current skill, you couldn’t get near them.”

This wasn’t the heart of Lingxu Cave Heaven—only the mountain gate. Mist swirled inside, hiding exotic flowers and rare grasses. When they reached a place where the clouds obscured the path, a large green stone stood ahead, carved with two ancient characters: Lingxu.

Pang Bo didn’t recognize them until an elder explained—they’d arrived at Lingxu Cave Heaven.

Legend said this place was once ruins, cleaned up by later generations to become a Cave Heaven. Lingxu Cave Heaven had a long history; tracing its roots, this ancient land stretched back to the ancient desolate era.

Later generations dug and cleared here on a large scale, hoping to find divine artifacts in the ruins, but found nothing.

Generations of powerful cultivators here always felt there was more to this place, yet no major discoveries were ever made.

Passing the green stone and stepping into the mist, the scene suddenly shifted—inside was a stunning world, as if they’d entered another realm.

“Is this Lingxu Cave Heaven?”
“It’s like a world of its own!”

The elders smiled, pleased with their reactions.

Plants here seemed bathed in the essence of sun and moon—even ordinary grass and trees were vivid green, like carved jade. Ancient trees towered, medicinal herbs exuded fragrance, spiritual birds flew, rare beasts roamed, and divine springs bubbled.

At that moment, Ye Fan was in a daze. An ancient scripture echoed in his heart, resounding like a divine bell tolling and vibrating like celestial music. It was precisely those few hundred words obtained from the ancient bronze coffin.

Chapter 038 What Is Cultivation

A hundred steps into Lingxu Cave Heaven, the scripture echoing in Ye Fan’s heart finally fell silent. Behind them lay dozens of ancient bluestone steps at the entrance—an unusual place, yet Ye Fan didn’t pause, nor was he allowed to linger.

Ahead, peaks rose gracefully, spirit energy so dense it was almost tangible. In the distance, a thousand-meter waterfall plummeted from a high mountain, its white silk-like cascade hanging like the Milky Way upside down. The rumble roared like ten thousand horses galloping—magnificent and splendid.

“Truly worthy of a Cave Heaven and Blessed Land. The scenery is extraordinary, like a pure land beyond the mortal world.”

A winding path led to seclusion—a cobblestone trail passing the waterfall, snaking into the depths of the beautiful immortal mountains. Along the way, ancient trees towered, their branches gnarled like dragons. Temple halls peeked through the vegetation, harmonizing naturally with the landscape.

On either side of the path lay man-made herb fields. Ginseng roots as thick as a child’s arm grew there, nine-leaf ganoderma hung tall, and countless unknown herbs sparkled, glowing with faint light within. The fragrance of herbs filled the air, refreshing the heart and mind.

Most people they met along the way bowed in respect to the elders, and their attitude toward Vivi was equally warm—her status as a once-in-a-millennium talent in Lingxu Cave Heaven was evident.

Vivi returned their greetings without a hint of arrogance. In this peaceful pure land, she was as pure and otherworldly as a fairy. Finally, she drifted away like a gentle breeze, gracefully vanishing into the picturesque depths of the Cave Heaven.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo were led to a low hill. Here stood three or five thatched cottages, two or three bamboo groves, a herb field beside the cottages, and several old trees growing close together.

No jade towers or crystal pavilions—everything seemed ordinary and simple. Yet it excelled in tranquility and naturalness, as peaceful as a pure land beyond the mortal world. The soul felt cleansed, far from mortal trivialities, washing away all worries.

“Stay here for now.” The elders instructed and explained a few things before leaving. Another classmate, also brought into Lingxu Cave Heaven, was housed elsewhere, not with Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

Near noon, a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy arrived with a food box, offering them a meal. The food was simple and light: lotus root slices, polygonatum, poria, gastrodia—mostly medicinal herbs.

“Can we even eat this? Not a scrap of minced meat. The past two days we’ve lived on wild fruit and spring water, and now this? Our mouths are so tasteless, it’s like spring water is about to flow out.”

Despite the lack of oil or fat, Ye Fan and Pang Bo cleaned their plates, not even a leaf left.

“Can you bring a roast chicken?”

The boy stared, stunned. “N-no. The Cave Heaven doesn’t provide such things. If you’re still hungry, I can bring more.”

“Why no meat? I’ve seen cranes, white deer, and many rare birds and strange beasts. Roast a couple—those cranes look plump enough.”

The boy fled in a hurry, as if encountering a snake or ghost, afraid to get close.

“Cultivating in an immortal sect isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. This life is too harsh—no meat? How will we survive?” Pang Bo complained.

Ye Fan was starving too. He craved a roast chicken, a pork knuckle, a jug of good wine—anything to feast heartily.

Over the next dozen days, the elders never reappeared. But the boy delivering food gradually grew familiar with them. Through constant conversation, Ye Fan and Pang Bo grew accustomed to the archaic Chinese. The boy envied them—new disciples rarely got independent residences; they had to achieve success in cultivation to open a cave abode.

“Three or five thatched cottages count as our own cave abode?”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo put on the clothes the boy brought. Except for their short hair, they looked no different from others in Lingxu Cave Heaven.

“Not exactly. Everything around this low hill is yours. Once you gain the ability, you can open a proper cave abode.”

“Since the hill is ours, no one would mind if we kill a deer or roast a couple of cranes, right?”

Hearing this, the boy fell silent, finding them really bold—their thoughts were completely different from ordinary people.

“Don’t worry, we won’t act recklessly. Tell us—what exactly is cultivation?”

This was a question they both cared deeply about. So far, they knew nothing, having only heard vague mentions of the “Sea of Bitterness,” “Divine Bridge,” and “Other Shore” without understanding their meaning.

The boy shook his head, unable to say much. He’d only recently entered Lingxu Cave Heaven and hadn’t truly embarked on the path of immortals.

“It seems you can’t wait.” Just then, a white-haired elder with a childlike face appeared at the hill. His robes fluttered, feet not touching the ground, as if riding the wind to the cottage. He nodded at the bowing boy. “You may go.”

“May we ask who you are?” Ye Fan and Pang Bo didn’t recognize this elder with a ruddy complexion and snow-white long hair—he looked like an otherworldly old immortal.

“I am Elder Wu Qingfeng of Lingxu Cave Heaven. I teach all disciples who have been here less than three years.”

“Greetings, Elder.”

“No need for formalities.”

“Elder, can we improve our meals? At this rate, we’ll ascend to immortality before even cultivating—this food is too bland. We’d salivate even at the sight of a grasshopper.” Pang Bo complained repeatedly.

Wu Qingfeng’s expression turned serious. “The mortal world is full of greed. Entering a Cave Heaven, the first step is to cut off worldly glories and purify both body and mind. If you can’t even resist the temptation of taste, you’ll struggle to overcome the myriad allures on the path of cultivation.”

Pang Bo had no retort to this. As for Ye Fan, since he hadn’t joined the Cave Heaven, he felt even less entitled to make demands.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo had many questions, but Ye Fan hesitated to ask. Pang Bo, now an official disciple of Lingxu Cave Heaven, held back nothing. He invited Wu Qingfeng to sit on a wooden stump outside the cottage and began asking questions—they knew nothing about cultivation.

“Do you think the sky is pure?”

“Cloudless and clear as washed jade—naturally pure.” Ye Fan didn’t understand the purpose of the question, but when the elder looked at him, he answered.

“Wrong. It’s filled with endless dust.” Wu Qingfeng held out his palm. “Even within this palm, there’s endless dust.”

“What… do you mean?” Pang Bo asked, confused.

Wu Qingfeng remained calm, like an otherworldly sage, and continued, “What do you think this endless dust is?”

“What else could it be? Just dust.”

“It is dust, yet not merely dust.” The elder spoke softly, evenly.

“I get that it’s dust, but what else could it be?” Pang Bo pressed.

“Worlds. Vast, boundless worlds.” Wu Qingfeng’s tone was casual, natural.

“Vast worlds… are you joking?” Pang Bo stared, skeptical.

“You’ll understand someday. A single speck of dust, a blade of grass, a tree—each is a world.”

“Can you put it more plainly? It feels like listening to heavenly scriptures. I get the literal meaning, but the deeper significance escapes me entirely.”

Wu Qingfeng sat there, smiling faintly. “Let’s set that aside for now. What I mean is: the heavens and earth hold endless dust, and each grain is a world. Likewise, our bodies are the same—seemingly empty, yet containing countless ‘gates,’ as many as the dust in the cosmos. This seemingly tiny body holds innumerable ‘gates’; to keep opening them, to discover the ‘true self’—that is cultivation.”

Seeing both look startled, Wu Qingfeng remained unperturbed. “Now, do you understand what cultivation is?”

“Sort of… I think.”

“Good. Ponder it slowly. For now, let’s talk about the Sea of Bitterness. Countless methods exist in the world, but all begin the path to immortality from here.”

“Elder, please explain this in detail.” Though they hadn’t truly started cultivating, Ye Fan and Pang Bo knew that initial concepts were most crucial.

“All things in the world age. Some endure forever, timeless and immortal; others live and die in a day, their lives fleeting even in the blink of an eye.”

“Elder, this is too vague. What are you trying to tell us?”

The elder didn’t mind the interruption. He pointed to an ancient tree nearby. “Can you tell how many years it has lived?”

“Of course—cut it down and count the rings.”

“Exactly. Time is ruthless; it leaves marks on all things. Trees have rings, and our bodies too have a wheel of life.”

“Humans have such things?” Ye Fan and Pang Bo found it absurd.

“The cultivation I speak of begins with the wheel of life in the human body…”

Chapter 039 The Wheel of Life

“All things have a source of origin and growth, and within our bodies, there is such a place—it is the root of vitality, storing the essence of the entire body. It is called the ‘source wheel of life,’ or simply the ‘wheel of life.’” Elder Wu Qingfeng spoke slowly, his tone steady.

“Where is this wheel of life?” Pang Bo asked.

“Below the navel.” Wu Qingfeng pointed to the area below Pang Bo’s navel. “Its position is exactly the most perfect dividing point between the upper and lower halves of the body.”

Ye Fan was slightly startled, immediately thinking of the human body’s golden ratio—the position the elder spoke of coincided perfectly with it. The dividing line at 0.618 of the total height from foot to crown, known as the human golden ratio, lies just below the navel. This proportion of the human form is considered the most aesthetically pleasing.

In fact, there are many golden ratio points in the human body, and these local dividing points are all extremely important. Among them, the largest golden ratio point of the human body… below the navel, which seems less significant on the surface.

Hearing Wu Qingfeng say this was the wheel of life, the root storing the body’s vital essence, a light flashed through Ye Fan’s mind. Perhaps the most important golden ratio point of the human body truly is the “source of all things’ origin and growth.”

The wheel of life is not a single point but an area. According to Wu Qingfeng, it forms a palm-sized circle centered on the point below the navel, a storehouse of essence.

Wu Qingfeng emphasized seriously, “The wheel of life: mortals use it for procreation, while cultivators use it to nurture their bodies. It is the foundation of all who walk the path of cultivation.”

As Wu Qingfeng explained, the wheel of life is the source of divine power. For a cultivator to embark on the path to immortality, everything begins here.

For ordinary people, the wheel of life will dry up over time. Every year, time leaves its marks on it, just like the tree rings. When the body ages, the wheel of life is covered with the marks of the years. Eventually, it will break completely.

“Can you tell how many marks are on our wheels of life right now?”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo, once young men in their twenties, had now been rejuvenated to the appearance of 11 or 12-year-olds—a stunning transformation.

“Your wheel of life bears eleven marks.”

Hearing this, Pang Bo grinned and laughed. Compared with those classmates who had lost their youth, the things he had experienced were simply “against the heavens”. He pointed at Ye Fan and asked, “What about him? His situation should be the same as mine, right?”

Wu Qingfeng, already aware of Ye Fan’s physique, still examined him carefully. The conclusion aligned with what others had said: Ye Fan’s wheel of life was eerily silent, his Sea of Bitterness as hard as divine iron, steady as a boulder—unshakable, impossible to open.

“His physique is extraordinary. I cannot fathom it, nor count the marks. Presumably, it is similar to yours.” Here, Wu Qingfeng’s expression turned odd. “His vitality is as vigorous as a flood dragon or elephant. If he could cultivate… what a pity.”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo now understood what the wheel of life was, but many questions remained.

“The wheel of life is the foundation of a cultivator. Reach the legendary realm where the wheel remains crystal clear, without scars or marks, as pristine as at birth—and there may be a glimmer of hope to become an immortal.”

“Is becoming an immortal extremely difficult?”

“What the mortal world calls ‘immortals’ are merely cultivators who can fly through the sky and traverse the earth. Whether true immortals, as in legends, exist is uncertain. To my knowledge, in the vast Eastern Desolate, no one has become an immortal in thousands of years. Perhaps only sacred shrines, ancient clans passed down since the primeval era, or certain ancient demons know the truth.”

“Elder, you’re shattering our resolve. We’ve just decided to cultivate, and you tell us immortals might not exist—it’s quite discouraging.”

“Spring flowers do not survive autumn; cicadas do not live through winter. Mortals live but a hundred years. If one lives for thousands of years, they have defied the natural order—truly, in a sense, an immortal.”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo understood the elder’s meaning. From the moment a cultivator embarks on the path, they transcend mortals. Powerful ones can even live for thousands of years, breaking the world’s rules. Even if they never become true immortals, their struggle is not in vain—they have defied fate, altering their destiny.

“Indeed, I do not entirely deny the existence of immortals. Perhaps we simply cannot touch that realm.”

Next, Ye Fan and Pang Bo asked more questions, and the elder answered patiently.

“We keep hearing about the ‘Sea of Bitterness’—what exactly is it?”

“It is the endless sea of tribulations that shrouds the wheel of life.”

“What do you mean?” Ye Fan and Pang Bo were confused.

“Once a cultivator reaches a certain realm, the palm-sized wheel of life, on the inside, becomes like a true world. The Sea of Bitterness is born with it, coexisting with the wheel.”

“Please explain in detail. The wheel of life and the Sea of Bitterness seem to be in the same place—what is their relationship?”

“The Sea of Bitterness overlaps with the wheel of life, or more precisely, the Sea of Bitterness submerges the wheel. Not only does time wear away at the wheel, but the Sea of Bitterness also erodes it little by little.”

“So that’s what ‘crossing the Sea of Bitterness’ means?”

Wu Qingfeng nodded. “Exactly. The root of all a cultivator’s power lies in the wheel of life. One purpose of cultivation is to traverse the entire Sea of Bitterness.”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo were shocked. “If the Sea of Bitterness is boundless and submerges the wheel of life, how can one traverse it completely?”

“Yes, it is endless. Thus, even the most brilliant cultivators, after thousands or tens of thousands of years, still turn to dust.” Wu Qingfeng sighed, then his eyes filled with longing. “Legends say true immortals must completely traverse the Sea of Bitterness, transforming it into a spring of life—one drop enough to resurrect the dead and heal bones.”

“Sigh, that’s just a legend. Whether immortals exist is still a question.” Pang Bo sighed. “Please tell us about things that truly exist.”

“The Sea of Bitterness is endless, but to gain a long life, a cultivator must not be trapped within it.” Wu Qingfeng’s eyes shone with divine light. “Create life within the Sea of Bitterness, nurture vitality amid desolation, cultivate divine meridians, forge a heavenly bridge, reach the Other Shore, and stand at the end of the Sea of Bitterness.”

Ye Fan pondered, confused. “If the Sea of Bitterness submerges the wheel of life, and they are intertwined, then cultivating a divine bridge to reach the Other Shore and escape the Sea of Bitterness—would that not mean leaving the wheel of life? Is it not the root of a cultivator? Can one be separated from it?”

Wu Qingfeng nodded in approval. “I said the wheel of life is the foundation, the root of all, but I did not say there is nothing beyond it.”

Pang Bo’s eyes widened. “What else is there?”

“To become an immortal, cultivating only the wheel of life is far from enough. The divine bridge is the key to crossing the Sea of Bitterness, connecting to other mysteries within the body…”

“Does that mean there is more than one wheel of life? Or are there several similar existences in the human body?” Ye Fan was astonished.

“To become a peak powerhouse in the world, cultivating the wheel of life to perfection is sufficient. But to become an immortal, cultivating only the wheel of life is far from enough.” Here, Wu Qingfeng shook his head—even he did not know if immortals truly existed. He continued, “Even for a once-in-a-millennium genius, devoting a lifetime to cultivating just the wheel of life brings endless benefits. Cultivating divine meridians, forging a heavenly bridge, reaching the Other Shore, and gaining a long life is no easy feat. Remember: never aim too high. Only by laying a solid foundation can you proceed.”

Chapter 040 The Dao Scripture

Time passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, three months had gone by. Ye Fan and Pang Bo gradually adapted to life here, first through a shift in their mindset, slowly accepting everything.

During this period, the two hadn’t engaged in so-called cultivation. Instead, they’d been absorbing common knowledge and pondering their future paths. Elder Wu Qingfeng didn’t press them; on the contrary, he took the initiative to teach them various experiences and insights into cultivation.

This was crucial for Ye Fan and Pang Bo. It wasn’t until another month passed that they felt they’d fully integrated and understood these teachings, ready to begin cultivating.

“The Wheel of Life and the Sea of Bitterness are intertwined. To cultivate the Wheel of Life, one must cultivate the Sea of Bitterness. In a sense, then, all cultivation begins with the Sea of Bitterness.”

Cultivation is an arduous process, especially for those just starting on the path of immortality. Guidance is essential; otherwise, one wouldn’t know where to begin, let alone how to breach the door to cultivation.

In the next two months, I will help you embark on the path of cultivating immortality and make you become formal immortality cultivators. After that, I will no longer teach you individually. You need to go to Lingxu Cliff and listen to profound teachings with others.

Though Ye Fan hadn’t joined Lingxu Cave Heaven, Wu Qingfeng didn’t exclude him when imparting teachings, treating him the same as Pang Bo. The elder knew that even if Ye Fan persisted in cultivating, it would yield no results. Before the ancient desolate era, Ye Fan’s physique would have been hailed as the world’s supreme saintly physique, but now it was nothing more than a useless shell.

For beginners, laying a solid foundation is paramount—only then can one climb higher in the future. Wu Qingfeng brought out what was reputed to be the strongest foundational method in the world… The Dao Scripture.

A scripture that dares to be named after “Tao” is sufficient to demonstrate its extraordinariness. It records the laws of the Great Tao and is an unparalleled method. According to legend, it is a celestial scripture. In the vast Eastern Wasteland, only a few ancient scriptures can be compared with it, yet none of them can completely surpass it.

Naturally, Lingxu Cave Heaven couldn’t possess the complete Dao Scripture. A mere Cave Heaven lacked such profound heritage. What they had was but the opening chapters of The Dao Scripture. Moreover, even these opening chapters weren’t unique to Yan territory—otherwise, it would surely have drawn disaster, enough to wipe out the entire sect.

Undoubtedly, having the opening chapters of The Dao Scripture was a great blessing for talented disciples. It could lay an incomparably solid foundation, greatly benefiting their future cultivation.

Although these basic cultivation methods are extremely precious, they are no longer exclusive secrets. Therefore, Wu Qingfeng did not hide them from Ye Fan and directly taught them to the two. The “Tao Scripture” is indeed a profound and extensive ancient book, worthy of being passed down in the Eastern Wasteland for endless years. Just the first few chapters, with only a few thousand words, took Wu Qingfeng a full half - month to explain. Every sentence in the “Tao Scripture” contains profound meaning and endless wisdom, expounding the methods of cultivation in an extremely subtle way. Even powerful cultivators, upon seeing these first few chapters, would be amazed at how profound basic cultivation can be.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo practice assiduously every day. According to the “Tao Scripture”, the first step is to sense one’s own life wheel, and then guide the essence to impact the Sea of Bitterness. This process involves extremely subtle sensing methods and unique guiding techniques.

But these alone are not enough. It’s difficult to make a breakthrough by practicing in seclusion. One also needs “fairy qi” to guide. Every day, Wu Qingfeng would personally take action. Based on the basic techniques of practicing the “Tao Jing” with his own body, he would place his hand below the navels of Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

After over ten days, Pang Bo finally sensed something, detecting the existence of his Wheel of Life. In the days that followed, he began attempting to guide the essence stored in his Wheel of Life to assault the Sea of Bitterness.

However, Ye Fan still showed no reaction. His life wheel was deathly silent and as hard as divine iron. Even a powerful person like Wu Qingfeng couldn’t inject “immortal qi” into it, let alone guide anything.

“It’s truly unimaginable… how such a physique could exist…” Wu Qingfeng frowned, finally forced to give up. He’d nearly exhausted all his essence to assault Ye Fan’s Wheel of Life, but it remained unshakable.

“Elder, please help! Give Ye Fan one more push—maybe success is just moments away.” Seeing Wu Qingfeng about to quit, Pang Bo quickly pleaded.

“Sigh, it’s not that I refuse, but there’s truly nothing I can do. A physique like his can’t be guided by anyone; in the end, he must rely on himself.” Wu Qingfeng shook his head.

“How could this be? What if… you try again?” Pang Bo smiled, pleading.

“Before the ancient desolate era, this physique was called the supreme saintly physique. Naturally, it’s beyond our understanding, with countless secrets. But for some reason, it can no longer reclaim its former glory. Whether it requires a special cultivation method or something else—who can say?”

At this, Ye Fan was still in meditation, not yet roused.

Pang Bo pressed on: “I think it’s worth your while to investigate further, Elder. If you discover the reason, maybe you can restore the boundless power of the primeval supreme saintly physique. Then Lingxu Cave Heaven’s rise to greatness would be just around the corner.”

Wu Qingfeng, having lived for so long and seen through the world, couldn’t be swayed so easily. He shook his head, amused: “In the post-primeval era, this physique has appeared a few times. Even the powerful sacred shrines of the Eastern Desolate were helpless. With Lingxu Cave Heaven’s heritage… do you really think we stand a chance?”

“Huh?”

Just then, Wu Qingfeng seemed to suddenly sense something. He reached out his hand again, pressed it below Ye Fan’s navel, and then concentrated all his energy to investigate.

“Well, Elder? Is there hope?” Pang Bo asked anxiously.

After a long time, Wu Qingfeng lowered his hand, exhausted, shaking his head: “The Wheel of Life and Sea of Bitterness are still as hard as divine iron, silent, without the slightest fluctuation. However, I had a strange sensation—his vital blood essence seems even more vigorous. Though it’s restrained, hard to detect, I caught a fleeting surge just now.”

“Vigorous vital blood essence?” Pang Bo was confused.

“Indeed. The two of you accidentally ate a sacred fruit in the Ancient Desolate Forbidden Land and drank divine spring water, transforming your physiques, greatly enhancing your vitality.” Here, Wu Qingfeng looked puzzled. “These days, he’s practiced The Dao Scripture with no progress, never sensing his Wheel of Life. Yet now his vital blood essence seems even more abundant—stronger than yours.”

Pang Bo clicked his tongue. “Didn’t you say The Dao Scripture is reputed to be the strongest foundational method in the Eastern Desolate, a legendary celestial scripture? It should be highly targeted. The opening chapters are for cultivating the Wheel of Life—how did his practice end up boosting his vital blood essence instead?”

“This…” Wu Qingfeng frowned, unable to make sense of it.

Just then, Ye Fan opened his eyes. His gaze shone with divine light, his spirit and energy brimming.

Seeing how vibrant he looked, Wu Qingfeng grew even more perplexed. “Did you sense your Wheel of Life?”

Ye Fan shook his head, speaking honestly: “No.”

“Then did you feel anything unusual?” the elder pressed.

Ye Fan didn’t want to hide anything. The elder had treated him sincerely, sparing no effort to help, never discriminating against his peculiar physique. Every day, he’d expended vast amounts of essence to assist him.

“Though I didn’t sense the Wheel of Life, I feel refreshed all over, brimming with energy.”

“Did you notice any changes?” Wu Qingfeng asked again.

“It feels like I have endless strength.” With that, Ye Fan lifted a huge stone in front of the thatched cottage with one hand, calm and unhurried, as if expending little effort.

Wu Qingfeng gasped. “From how effortlessly you did that, your single arm must have strength of several thousand jin. With both arms, you’re probably close to the strength of an elephant.”

Beside him, Pang Bo was also shocked. They’d both undergone the strange transformation of rejuvenation, with roughly similar strength before. But now, he felt he couldn’t match Ye Fan’s divine power.

Wu Qingfeng left, puzzled. He couldn’t fathom why—Ye Fan still couldn’t sense his Wheel of Life, yet could this still be called a mortal?

After the elder left, Ye Fan suddenly ran, darting like a gust of wind across the low hill. Pang Bo’s eyes widened. “Not only has your strength increased—your speed has picked up too!”

In the days that followed, the elder taught even more diligently. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to instruct them individually. Before long, Ye Fan and Pang Bo would have to go to Lingxu Cliff to listen to teachings with the others.

“Master leads the disciple to the door, but the cultivation depends on the individual.” Once you officially embark on the path of cultivating immortality, everything depends on yourself. The Lingxu Cave Heaven will provide profound cultivation techniques and medicinal baths, but teachings and answering questions are carried out collectively. After all, the elders themselves also need to practice and don’t have the time and energy for individual guidance.

“Soon, you’ll go to Lingxu Cliff. Be cautious there—endure when you can, don’t rush to fight.”

Chapter 041 Opening the Sea of Bitterness

Over the past two months, Elder Wu Qingfeng had spared no effort in teaching Pang Bo and Ye Fan, guiding them onto the path of immortality. Pang Bo’s cultivation progressed smoothly: he’d sensed his Wheel of Life, could already guide the flow of essence, and his next step was to open the Sea of Bitterness, preparing to unlock the source of divine power for the future.

Ye Fan still couldn’t sense his Wheel of Life. It remained unwavering, silent as ever. Yet each day of cultivation left him refreshed, invigorated, brimming with energy. These days, his strength grew by the day, his speed surged, and his body seemed to hold an endless well of spirit and vitality.

Time flew. Two months passed in a blink, and Wu Qingfeng was set to leave, ending his individual teachings.

“The path of immortality is perilous. Only with unwavering resolve and perseverance can one achieve anything.” With those words, the elder drifted away.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo bowed deeply to his departing figure—not out of empty ceremony, but from sincere gratitude.

At the foot of the low hill, three or five thatched cottages and two or three bamboo groves stood in quiet harmony. Days of simple meals and plain tea had gradually become familiar to them.

Tomorrow, they would cultivate at Lingxu Cliff. Ye Fan had hesitated—he hadn’t joined Lingxu Cave Heaven, and it felt improper to follow Pang Bo to study the methods. But Wu Qingfeng had given him a jade token: with this, even non-disciples could cultivate there.

The bright moon hung high, its pure light spilling down like soft water waves. The woods near the low hill blurred, as if draped in a thin veil.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo stared up at the starry sky, silent for a long while. They searched for the star of their hearts, but the night was dotted with unfamiliar stars—no trace of the sky they’d once known remained.

On the far side of the stars, their past was too distant to reclaim.

“Who knows the palace in the sky—what year it is tonight…”

“Men have joys and sorrows; the moon waxes and wanes… May we live long, sharing this beauty even a thousand miles apart.”

They lay on the grass, gazing at the sky, rough teacups in hand. But the tea rarely reached their lips, mostly spilling onto their faces.

“We can never go back…”

Then, silence stretched between them. They lay there, watching the stars, saying nothing more.

After a long time, the stillness broke.

“We have to live well…”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo were optimists. This brief melancholy was a farewell to the past—from now on, they would face the future with calm resolve.

They quickly set aside these thoughts, turning to discuss cultivation. Though they’d only cultivated for two months, it felt like a “new birth”—an unprecedented experience. The path of immortality was vague, the future unforeseen, but now that they’d stepped onto it, they would walk it unwaveringly.

Lingxu Cave Heaven was one of the six Cave Heavens and Blessed Lands in Yan territory. Though it couldn’t compare to renowned great sects, it still housed nearly a thousand cultivators, with hundreds of young disciples.

Dawn broke, painting the cliffs in golden light, bright and radiant.

Lingxu Cliff was a sheer precipice, composed of over a dozen low stone cliffs, unconnected, each separated by a distance. None were tall—only seventy or eighty meters high.

Early morning brought many young disciples. With varying levels of cultivation, they chose different stone cliffs, gathering below to listen to teachings suited to their current realm.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo arrived early. As new initiates, they had only one choice: the last stone cliff. Already, dozens had gathered there—men and women, forty or fifty in total. The youngest were seven or eight, their faces childish and innocent; the oldest were in their thirties, their faces marked by experience.

Whoosh!

A flash of light streaked across the sky, landing on the stone cliff. The glow faded, revealing a white-haired elder sitting cross-legged. His gaze swept down faintly, pausing briefly on Pang Bo and Ye Fan before he began to impart teachings.

At the same time, divine rainbows descended on other cliffs—all elders of Lingxu Cave Heaven. The cliffs were spaced far enough apart to avoid interference.

Listening to cultivation methods as dawn broke, many below felt a sense of novelty—most were new disciples.

The elder on the cliff remained impassive. His voice, calm and unemotional, was thorough, covering all matters beginners needed to note.

Half an hour later, the teaching ended. The elder on the cliff looked down, expressionless. “Ask questions if you have them. If not, we end here for today.”

Several youths stepped forward, asking questions. The elder answered each, then, seeing no more inquiries, rode a divine rainbow into the sky.

Their first time listening to profound teachings was uneventful, even dull, in Ye Fan and Pang Bo’s eyes. Under Wu Qingfeng’s guidance these two months, their foundations were solid; they’d long since learned all the points to note.

“The opening chapters of The Dao Scripture are enough to sustain us for two years. These minor methods are boring— the elder already covered them.”

“Don’t aim too high,” Ye Fan chided. “Didn’t the elder stress it? Foundations must be rock-solid. There’s a reason he insisted we come here.”

Over the next half-month, though they found it tedious, they came daily. Gradually, they realized the benefit: the teaching elder occasionally shared his own insights from cultivation—a priceless gift. For beginners, these experiences were like guiding beacons, offering inspiration when compared to their own progress, speeding their growth.

That morning, the teaching elder on the cliff suddenly opened his palm. Dozens of glows shot down, landing in Ye Fan, Pang Bo, and the others’ hands—small jade vials, smooth and glossy. Opening them released a rich, fragrant aroma.

“This is medicinal liquid to aid in opening the Sea of Bitterness,” the elder said, his words still concise, sparing no excess.

The Sea of Bitterness and the Wheel of Life were intertwined. To unlock the vast essence stored in the Wheel of Life, one must constantly expand the Sea of Bitterness.

The liquid in the jade vials was precious, distributed once every three months—four vials per person a year.

Pang Bo’s Sea of Bitterness had slowly changed: over three months, it had grown from the size of a date pit to a fingernail, wreathed in wisps of vital essence, making him seem more vibrant.

Ye Fan also drank a small bottle, but there was no change. His Sea of Bitterness was still deathly silent and could not be opened. Even an area as small as a sesame seed could not be activated - not a single trace of life essence was flowing.

Yet in these days, his strength and speed kept growing. Energy boiled within him, his vitality surging like a flood dragon or elephant.

“I’ll just keep cultivating like this,” he thought. “Even if I can’t cultivate the Sea of Bitterness or connect to the Wheel of Life for now, my body’s growing stronger. That can’t be a bad thing.”

“I think you’re way better off,” Pang Bo grumbled. “I’ve been cultivating the Sea of Bitterness all day, and my strength hasn’t grown, my speed hasn’t picked up, and I still can’t use any profound methods. What’s even the point?”

The next day, he couldn’t hold back. Below the stone cliff, he asked the teaching elder, “Elder, must we cultivate like this forever? When can we ride divine rainbows?”

The old man gave him a casual glance. “You can’t get fat by eating one mouthful, and you can’t reach the sky in one step. If you want to run before you can walk, you’ll only fall.”

Though chiding, the elder still answered—mostly to give hope to those below, explaining what lay ahead in cultivation.

“Only when the Sea of Bitterness is large enough can you proceed to the next step: opening a channel in the Sea of Bitterness straight to the Wheel of Life at its depths, forming a ‘spring eye’ to release the divine power source of the Wheel of Life. Only then will you achieve something, able to wield basic profound methods—the magical abilities you desire.”

Chapter 042 Planted Headfirst

Time flew. Four months had passed since Ye Fan and Pang Bo began studying at Lingxu Cliff. On this day, the teaching elder bestowed medicinal liquid once more.

The glossy jade vials stood barely two inches tall, with a circular base just an inch in diameter—scant liquid inside.

The liquid, emerald green with a unique herbal fragrance, worked wonders for opening the Sea of Bitterness, saving cultivators countless hours and effort. It was said to be extracted from a hundred herbs, equivalent to the vital essence stored in the human Wheel of Life, known as “Hundred Herb Elixir.”

Whoosh!

The teaching elder on the cliff transformed into a divine rainbow, shooting into the sky, vanishing into Lingxu Cave Heaven’s depths in the blink of an eye.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo tucked away their vials, ready to leave. But a fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy stepped forward, blocking their path boldly. “Lend me two vials of Hundred Herb Elixir.” He reached out to grab them, giving no chance to refuse.

“Who are you to demand that?” Pang Bo swatted his hand away, glaring sideways.

Ye Fan noticed the onlookers stepping back in fear, and saw the boy clutching five or six vials—plainly, this was outright robbery.

The boy’s face darkened when his hand was brushed aside. “How dare you glare at me?”

Pang Bo and Ye Fan wanted no trouble. They’d only been in Lingxu Cave Heaven a short time, and with everyone here being cultivators, they preferred to avoid conflict. They stepped back, intending to leave.

“Think you can slip away without a word? Did I agree?” The boy sneered, grabbing Pang Bo’s wrist with one hand while reaching for the elixir with the other.

Though Pang Bo was weaker than Ye Fan, his strength still dwarfed fellow disciples who hadn’t mastered profound methods. With a shake of his arm, he sent the boy staggering, nearly falling.

Enraged, the boy shouted, “You dare hit me? I’ll make sure you can’t get out of bed for three months!”

In moments, several more boys around his age pushed through the crowd. Onlookers stepped back in fear—clearly, they recognized these boys. Each clutched six or seven vials of elixir, obviously stolen.

They surrounded Ye Fan and Pang Bo. The boy who’d first picked a fight sneered, “Teach them a lesson. Three months in bed.”

“Where there are people, there are grudges—even cultivators aren’t exempt.” Ye Fan said no more, walking forward. A boy jumped in his path, only to be kicked aside.

Pang Bo scoffed, “Stealing from your own sect? No wonder you’re so bold. We have to teach you a lesson, or who knows what evils you’ll commit later.” He struck harder, slapping each nearby boy flying—they tumbled like gourds.

“How dare you hit me?” The ringleader, his cheek swelling, glared venomously at Ye Fan and Pang Bo. He scrambled up, running off. “You’ll regret this!”

Without tapping the divine power source in their Wheels of Life, these cultivators were only slightly stronger than mortals. Next to Ye Fan and Pang Bo, they might as well have been ordinary.

In the distance, a fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy said to a twenty-something youth beside him, “Your little brother’s useless. I told him to test them, and he made a fool of himself.”

The youth looked awkward but deferred to the younger boy, asking cautiously, “They don’t seem special. Was the test really necessary?”

“My granduncle wanted it done. Rumor says they ate some divine medicine…” The younger boy sneered dismissively. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother with them.”

The youth shuddered, clearly fearing the boy’s granduncle. “Even if they did, the medicine’s long since been absorbed. What does your esteemed granduncle plan to do?”

My grand-uncle believes that their bodies may still have great medicinal value. Unfortunately, he only heard about these recently - he’s very angry.

“This…” The youth felt a chill, hesitating. “Even if their bodies have leftover properties, can they really be extracted?”

“Can’t extract them directly? Then bleed them.” The younger boy smiled coldly, far beyond his years. “Or just refine their bodies. I suspect… that’s what my granduncle intends.”

The youth shivered. That alchemist elder was notoriously cruel. As a Lingxu Cave Heaven elder, few dared cross him. If those two boys became his “medicinal ingredients,” they’d never survive.

The fourteen-year-old spoke as if ordering subordinates, “Here comes your useless brother. Go with him to test those two. See if their physiques are worth my granduncle’s time to refine.”

“At once.”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo had kept a low profile, but they were already targeted—though they didn’t know it. As they pushed through the crowd to leave, they were blocked again.

This was a twenty-something man, his body shimmering faintly with light—clearly, he’d mastered some profound methods, able to wield minor supernatural powers.

“Brother, teach them a lesson for me!” The boy who’d started the fight glared hatefully. The other boys, seeing their backup arrive, began shouting insults.

“Break their legs and throw them in the lotus pond to feed the fish!”
“Make them kneel and kowtow a thousand times!”

The boys yelled, emboldened by their protector, hurling abuses at Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

Ye Fan frowned. He wasn’t angered by the boys, but something felt off—as if someone was deliberately targeting them.

“Why did you attack my brother?” The young man’s face clouded, staring them down.

“Which eye saw us ‘attack’ him?” Pang Bo’s brows shot up. He could tell the man was looking for an excuse—backing down now would only invite worse.

“What do you want?” Ye Fan asked directly.

You hurt my younger brother. You’ll pay for this. The man sneered and stepped forward.

A crowd gathered, watching from a distance—no one dared intervene. Most disciples here were new, fearing the glowing young man.

“Break their legs! Make them kneel!”
“Feed them to the fish!”

The boys jeered again.

Whoosh!

Light flashed. The young man lunged like a ghost, his palm and fingers glowing like jade, slashing at Ye Fan’s neck like a blade.

He held back—sure this strike would knock Ye Fan down. But to his shock, Ye Fan reacted instantly, stepping sideways to dodge, then grabbing his wrist with a thud.

“Let go!”

The young man was surprised but didn’t think Ye Fan could threaten him. He tried to fling Ye Fan away, but his fingers felt clamped in a vice—pain shot through his arm, and he couldn’t break free.

Bang!

Pang Bo struck out, landing a punch on the man’s back. The force was astonishing. The young man’s body trembled, and blood oozed from the corner of his mouth.

Ye Fan, still gripping the wrist, swung the man around like a scarecrow, then smashed him into the ground.

Thud!

Dust erupted, the ground shaking. The light on the young man’s body winked out. He screamed, spitting up mouthfuls of blood, twitching.

Onlookers froze. No one expected Ye Fan to take him down—so cleanly.

It wasn’t that the young man was weak—he’d mastered some profound methods. But he’d never gotten to use them. Ye Fan could now lift thousands of jin with one arm, strength like a flood dragon or elephant—power that even minor supernatural abilities couldn’t withstand.

“You started this, then call us ‘attackers’? Fine—let’s make it true.” Enraged, Pang Bo charged. The boys tried to run, but the crowd blocked them, trapping them.

Thud, thud, thud!

Pang Bo kicked them back one by one, then pinned them down, slapping them repeatedly—crack, crack, crack.

What did you say before? Break our legs? Feed us to the fish? Make us kowtow a thousand times? You’re courting death!

He kept slapping, leaving their faces swollen and bloody, like pig heads. They howled in pain.

“Can’t even use a speck of supernatural power, yet you play tyrant? You’re so arrogant—today, we’ll teach you a lesson, so you don’t think you’re immortals!”

Pang Bo stood, kicking them repeatedly. Their cries echoed, but he felt exhilarated, hitting harder.

“Tell us—why target us?” Meanwhile, Ye Fan kicked the young man, sending him rolling, convulsing, blood dribbling from his lips.

“Refuse, and I’ll throw you in that pond—planted headfirst!” Ye Fan kicked again, his immense strength sending the man flying eight or nine meters.

Pang Bo’s eyes lit up. “Great idea!” He squatted, lifting five or six boys at once with brute force, heading for the nearby lotus pond.

“No! Put us down!”
“Help! Murder!”
“Please! Spare us!”

Pang Bo ignored them, heaving each into the pond. It was thick with mud—with his strength, they went in headfirst, planted upright in the muck.

“Don’t kill them…” Ye Fan warned.

“Relax. These losers are on the path of immortality. Even without profound methods, their bodies are stronger than mortals—they can hold their breath for at least half an hour.”

“Talk, or you get the same?” Ye Fan kicked the young man again.

Pang Bo strode over. “Skip the talk. Plant him headfirst—he’ll spill it then.”

Ye Fan, seeing the man still silent, said no more. He lifted him and hurled him forward.

Onlookers gaped. What strength! The pond was forty or fifty meters away, yet Ye Fan tossed a grown man like a spear.

Plop!

True to form, the young man shot into the mud like a spear, most of his body vanishing—only his calves stuck out, kicking weakly.

“Monster!”
“Where’d this freak come from? He looks gentle, like an 11 or 12-year-old—how’s he so strong?!”

The crowd stared, murmuring. But most felt a strange satisfaction—those bullies had deserved it.

Suddenly, the crowd parted, people stepping back fearfully to make way. A fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy, his face as dark as water, walked over, flanked by several twenty-three or twenty-four-year-olds—their bodies glowing faintly.

“That’s Elder Han’s grandson, Han Feiyu…”
“His granduncle is also an elder—a master alchemist.”
“Be quiet! Don’t talk about him—you’ll regret it!”

Han Feiyu, the teenage boy, approached coldly, speaking to Ye Fan and Pang Bo, “Do you think Lingxu Cave Heaven is a playground? Assaulting others in public—do you fancy yourselves enforcers?”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo ignored him, turning to the pond.

Han Feiyu’s face darkened further. He told his four companions, “Get rid of them. They’re annoying.”

Ye Fan turned, “Big words. So you’re the one pulling the strings. No need for talk—you’re next to be planted headfirst.”

Han Feiyu’s eyes flashed coldly. He muttered almost inaudibly, “Looks like I’ll have to send granduncle two corpses instead…”

Chapter 043 Divine Patterns

Han Feiyu’s face was dark, cold light flickering in his eyes. A sneer curled his lips as he stared at Ye Fan and Pang Bo like they were dead men, saying no more.

The four young men beside him, hearing his near-command, stepped forward together. Smirks of disdain on their faces, they slowly surrounded Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

One of them lowered his voice, as if not wanting others to hear. “You idiots who don’t know the immensity of heaven and earth. There are people in the Lingxu Cave that you can’t afford to offend. How dare you say those words just now - you’re courting death!”

Another young man stepped forward and sneered with a mocking look on his face. “You’re quite imposing, aren’t you? You’ve just entered the sect and you’re already so bold. You don’t even know how to write the character for ‘death’. But I don’t think you’ll die - it’s more painful to be in a living hell. You’ll be begging to die then.”

“There’s a way to suffer less,” a third chipped in, speaking casually, as if Ye Fan and Pang Bo were mere grasshoppers he could crush at will. He sneered, “You could break your own legs, kneel and beg for mercy, then crawl into the lotus pond and plant yourselves headfirst in the muck. A nice little upside-down dip.”

“If I were you, I’d bash my head in now. Spare myself the agony.”

The four spoke casually, dismissing Ye Fan and Pang Bo entirely. Their taunts and jeers filled the air as they blocked all escape routes, standing at four corners.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo were never ones to swallow insults. The four’s words were beyond the pale, yet they stayed calm, replying nonchalantly.

“What are these four idiots on about?”

“Must’ve slammed their heads in a door on the way out. Why else would they prattle on like fools?”

They spoke as if watching a sideshow, commenting offhandedly as bystanders. This instantly enraged the four young men. These two boys, whom they’d deemed no better than grasshoppers, showed no fear. Their casual indifference, their utter lack of respect, and their venomous tongues stoked the four’s anger. Their smirks vanished, faces darkening.

“Courting death!” One snapped, but didn’t rush forward. They’d noticed the two’s inhuman strength—no need to stumble over such trivial foes.

Hiss!

A faint glow rippled from his lower abdomen. A divine pattern, like a chain of light, shot out, coiling toward Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

“Divine patterns from the Sea of Bitterness!”
“The teaching elder said—only those with some cultivation can wield profound arts. This one’s a master!”

Gasps erupted from the onlookers. Most here were new disciples, rarely seeing supernatural abilities. They watched, tense.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo moved like lightning, dodging to either side. The chain-like light brushed past them, but quickly reversed, coiling back.

This was their first time facing a cultivator who could wield profound arts. Unsure of the divine pattern’s power, they dodged again. But the pattern clung like a shadow, impossible to shake—bright, metallic, glittering, winding closer.

Bang!

Ye Fan suddenly picked up a huge rock nearby and faced the diving thunder pattern. When the two collided, the booming sound was deafening. On the thousand - jin huge rock, a deep crack like an axe - chop instantly appeared.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo paled. Cultivators who could wield profound arts were truly formidable—mortals would stand no chance.

Hiss!

Although the chain - like patterns left deep marks on the stone, its light dimmed and its power was exhausted. It dissipated into a faint glow and shot back into the young man’s sea of bitterness. He staggered back two steps, his whole body trembling.

“These grasshoppers have strength beyond the ordinary. Be careful. Getting hurt by them would be humiliating.” One of the four whispered.

Hiss! Hiss! Hiss! Hiss!

Four soft sounds. Four lights of different colors bloomed in their Seas of Bitterness. Four chain-like divine patterns shot toward Ye Fan and Pang Bo from all sides.

At the same time, Ye Fan and Pang Bo launched a fierce counterattack. The cliffside was littered with rocks—thousand-jin boulders flew from their hands, shaking the four patterns.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Their power is astonishing. One huge rock after another hurtles towards the pattern in mid-air, and more stones rain down on these four young people.

The four cultivators, newly adept at profound arts, were thrown into chaos. Though they’d cultivated traces of divine power, forming chain-like patterns, they couldn’t control the patterns quickly enough to dodge the boulders, unable to land effective blows.

Cultivating traces of divine power in their Seas of Bitterness had greatly enhanced their physiques, but in raw strength, they were no match for Ye Fan and Pang Bo. With thousand-jin boulders flying at them, they could only dodge.

Boulders filled the air. The four young cultivators were forced back, terrified of being crushed by the massive stones.

Whoosh!

At that very moment, Ye Fan suddenly rushed forward at an extremely fast speed, leaving behind a faint afterimage.

Bang!

The next moment, he appeared before one young cultivator, landing a simple, direct punch to his nose and mouth. The man flew sideways.

It was a punch of striking beauty and raw power! Ye Fan moved with effortless grace, his arm swinging like a natural law—elegant, yet when the fist landed, it was brutal, sending the man flying over ten meters.

A spray of blood erupted from the cultivator’s mouth and nose, arcing several meters through the air. Seven or eight teeth flew with it, clattering to the ground.

On the other side, Pang Bo couldn’t hold back any longer. He rushed forward at an extremely fast speed and smashed a huge rock towards another cultivator. With a crack, the sound of bones breaking was heard. The man swayed and fell to the ground.

Bang!
Bang!

Two more heavy blows. The remaining two were taken down by Ye Fan and Pang Bo. In that moment, they unleashed a violent beauty—fists like hammers, sending the two spitting blood.

The four divine patterns dimmed, vanishing back into their Seas of Bitterness. Ye Fan and Pang Bo dragged the four limp cultivators into a line, standing over them.

“What did you say earlier? That we know nothing of heaven or earth? That we’re courting death? Now I ask—do you know?” Pang Bo kicked them, sending them rolling like balls.

“Treating us like grasshoppers, ready to crush us?”
“Saying we should break our own legs, kneel and beg, then crawl into the pond to plant ourselves headfirst…”
“Wanting us to live in torment, begging for death? What big talk!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ye Fan and Pang Bo loathed these four, sparing no mercy. They kicked and stomped, treating them like roaches, reducing them to heaps of flesh on the ground.

“Enough!” Han Feiyu, who had been watching coldly from a distance, finally stepped forward. His eyes were cold, and his face was so gloomy that it seemed as if water could drip from it. Although he was only fourteen or fifteen years old, his temperament far exceeded that of his peers - extremely gloomy.

Pang Bo glanced at him sideways. “You say enough, so it’s enough? Who the hell are you?”

“Let them go!” Han Feiyu’s voice was icy, chilling the onlookers to the bone.

“Who says we’ll listen to you?!” Pang Bo refused outright.

Ye Fan ignored him entirely, casually squatting to lift two of the men. He stretched, swinging his arms with effortless grace.

The two figures shot through the air like spears, flying forty or fifty meters to plunge straight into the pond’s muck—like lances driven into the earth, leaving only their feet sticking out.

You are courting death!

Han Feiyu finally showed rage, his body radiating cold, advancing with a frosty aura.

Ye Fan paid him no mind, lifting the other two and hurling them. Plop! Plop! Two more headfirst plants, their bodies vanishing into the distant muck.

The onlookers were stunned and too shocked to speak.

Hiss!

Han Feiyu’s Sea of Bitterness burst into brilliant, blinding light. A square wooden seal, less than an inch long, shot out, glowing with green light. It swelled rapidly, crashing down toward Ye Fan and Pang Bo.

Gasps erupted. This was a solid green wood seal—not mere traces of divine power from the Sea of Bitterness. It was far beyond the four divine patterns.

As the green wood seal emerged from the Sea of Bitterness, green qi curled around it, exuding a crushing pressure.

Chapter 044 The Immortal Seed

Ye Fan and Pang Bo didn’t even have time to dodge. The green wooden seal was far faster than those divine patterns. In an instant, it arrived and directly enveloped them from above.

The square green wood seal had been less than an inch long when it first emerged, but in the blink of an eye, it swelled to the size of a house. Green qi swirled around it like mist.

Under the immense pressure, Ye Fan and Pang Bo felt as if a mountain was crashing down, straining every muscle to resist.

Bang!

They lifted their hands to prop it up, trying to heave the descending seal away. But in an instant, the ground cracked beneath them, their feet sinking into the earth—a testament to the force bearing down.

Bang!

The green wood seal trembled, endless green mist billowing around it. It swelled again, towering like a palace, crashing downward.

“Even ten-thousand-jin boulders would’ve been tossed aside. What kind of cursed thing is this, so heavy…?”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo’s arms grew heavier by the second. Their feet sank deeper; their knees vanished into the ground, leaving cracks spiderwebbing across the earth.

Do you like to be planted upside down? Then I’ll plant you all alive as ‘human trees’ right now.” Han Feiyu walked forward, and his cold smile sent shivers down one’s spine.

Bang!

The green wood seal trembled, mist curling around it like thin smoke. Pressure spiked—Ye Fan and Pang Bo sank further, their chests now below ground. The seal hovered less than a meter above the earth.

“We’ll be crushed to paste at this rate.” Ye Fan whispered to Pang Bo, sensing danger.

“Relax… I won’t let you die easily…” Han Feiyu sneered, clearly intent on torture.

By now, their arms were numb. If this continued, they’d be crushed into the ground. Ye Fan signaled for Pang Bo to let go, to break free and charge. Pang Bo shook his head—he feared leaving Ye Fan to bear the weight alone, sure to be crushed.

“No time left… no other choice…” Ye Fan gritted out. The pressure above was too great; even with his flood dragon-like strength, he couldn’t hold on much longer.

Pang Bo knew the truth: one of them had to break free from the restraints and defeat Han Feiyu, otherwise both of them would die. But the one who stayed behind would face a desperate situation - it was barely possible to maintain the seal even with the two of them working together, and one person had no chance at all.

No choice remained. Someone had to stay. Pang Bo, no stranger to hard decisions, released his grip, slamming a hand against the ground to yank his lower body free.

Bang!

The green wood seal trembled, glowing faintly. The sudden loss of support made Ye Fan’s arms shake. He sank deeper, his chest fully buried. The seal crashed down, grinding him into the earth.

Pang Bo’s heart lurched. He charged like an arrow, faster than ever, tackling Han Feiyu in a blur, his hands clamping down like vices.

Han Feiyu never imagined one of the two, pinned down, could break free—let alone pounce on him, tearing at him like a ravenous wolf.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Pang Bo straddled Han Feiyu, pounding his fists down like a drumroll.

Onlookers gasped—no one expected Pang Bo to escape.

Although Han Feiyu’s strength is not as good as Pang Bo’s, he has also cultivated a trace of divine power, and a faint glow appears on the surface of his body. When Pang Bo’s fist strikes down, it only makes a trace of blood ooze from the corner of his mouth.

Even so, Han Feiyu’s eyes turned red. He’d never suffered such humiliation. He strained, his Sea of Bitterness flaring to life, flinging Pang Bo away. Then, chain-like divine patterns shot from his Sea of Bitterness, bright and glittering, coiling toward Pang Bo.

Pang Bo dodged, lifting a boulder to block, then hurling it back.

“I’ll tear you apart!” Han Feiyu’s face twisted, his divine patterns swirling around him like lightning, striking at Pang Bo.

Boom!

At that moment, the green wood seal, which had crushed the ground, suddenly shot upward. Ye Fan, lifting it with both hands, burst from the earth, swinging it at Han Feiyu. Green light blazed, mist swirling—it crashed down like a small mountain.

Han Feiyu, unable to split his focus between the seal and his patterns, had left Ye Fan an opening in his fight with Pang Bo. Ye Fan moved like lightning, leaving a long afterimage, charging behind the seal.

As the seal reversed course, Han Feiyu paled. He abandoned his attack on Pang Bo, recalling his patterns to seize control of the seal, aiming to kill them both.

But Ye Fan was too fast—arriving with the seal. Just as Han Feiyu steadied it, Ye Fan lashed out with a kick, slamming into Han Feiyu’s face. Blood sprayed; Han Feiyu flew twenty meters, spitting blood. The seal, now uncontrolled, crashed back to earth.

Ye Fan didn’t pause, turning into a blur to give chase. Before Han Feiyu hit the ground, Ye Fan was there, slamming a foot down midair, driving him into the earth. The impact shook the ground—Han Feiyu’s body nearly snapped in two.

Almost simultaneously, Pang Bo arrived, kicking hard at Han Feiyu’s stomach.

“Stomp his head! Don’t let him focus!” Ye Fan shouted.

Pang Bo understood instantly—Han Feiyu mustn’t regain control of the wooden seal, or they’d be in danger again.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Both wielded inhuman strength—each kick could send a thousand-jin boulder flying. They stomped on Han Feiyu, the ground trembling under each blow. Had his Sea of Bitterness not pulsed with light, shielding his body, he would have been trampled to paste by now.

The onlookers were dumbfounded. The two had been in a desperate situation, but now they had turned the tables and were beating Han Feiyu severely — it was truly incredible.

“Trying to torture us to death? So venomous at your age—who knows how cruel you’ll grow. Might as well crush you now!”

Though they spoke this way, they had no intention of killing him—things would escalate too far. But they refused to let him off easy, their kicks dimming the light around him more and more.

Han Feiyu tried to seize the green wood seal, but failed each time. The seal rose and crashed repeatedly. He was half-stunned from the beating, unable to focus. In the end, his Sea of Bitterness faltered, the light fading. He rolled, screaming, under the stomps of two men with divine strength.

“Cultivated a Sea of Bitterness, tapped a trickle of divine power, and think you’re a master? You’re not even worthy to kill us!”
“We’ve no grudge—why target us?”
“Such a young age, such a venomous heart… trying to torture us to death…”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo held nothing back, fearing Han Feiyu was feigning weakness. Soon, his face swelled, tears and blood streaming, his head bloating like a pig’s.

Though writhing in pain, Han Feiyu’s eyes still blazed with hatred, fixed on them.

“This kid’s truly ruthless. We should finish him off.”
“He’s made this personal—letting him live’ll only spell trouble.”

Hearing their whispers, Han Feiyu finally panicked, shouting, “Don’t kill me…!” He yelled loud enough for all to hear, then added softly, “Spare me, and my granduncle—an elder of Lingxu Cave Heaven—will spare you. Kill me, and you’ll die too…”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo frowned. This complicated things.

“The grudge is too deep… no going back now…”

Han Feiyu paled, begging, “Don’t kill me! It’s nothing— I’ll never bother you again…”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo exchanged glances. Killing him in front of everyone would invite an elder’s wrath—they’d surely die.

In the end, Ye Fan dragged him to the pond, lifting him by the legs, ready to hurl.

“You…!” Han Feiyu’s eyes spat fire. A headfirst plunge would humiliate him beyond repair, making him a laughingstock in Lingxu Cave Heaven.

Whoosh!
Whoosh!

Light flashed. Two divine rainbows descended from a distant cliff, landing by the pond. Onlookers stepped back—these were true masters, able to ride rainbows. Their Seas of Bitterness must gush like divine springs, fully connected to their Wheels of Life, unleashing their divine power source.

“Senior Brother Li Fei! Senior Sister Wang Jing…!” Han Feiyu called out, “You’re patrolling for discipline today? Arrest these two—they’re trying to kill me!”

The man and woman, around twenty-seven or eight, exuded a celestial aura—he graceful, she ethereal. Not overly handsome or beautiful, but radiating the essence of cultivation.

Li Fei glanced at Han Feiyu coldly. “We saw everything. You started it. They’re not to blame.”

“You…!” Han Feiyu seethed, but dared not defy them.

Wang Jing stepped forward, addressing Ye Fan, “He’s at fault, but this is too much. Put him down.”

Seeing that no one was taking Han Feiyu’s side, Ye Fan gave up and threw him by the pond.

Han Feiyu stood there, hatred for Pang Bo and Ye Fan burning in his eyes. He glared fiercely at Li Fei and Wang Jing, snorted coldly, and then turned around and left.

Li Fei called after him, “Junior Brother Han, I advise you to act wisely. Pang Bo has been officially recognized as an Immortal Seed by Elder Wu Qingfeng. Even your granduncle can’t protect you if you act out.”

“What?!” Han Feiyu spun around, shocked. “H-he’s an Immortal Seed?!”

“Indeed.”

Most disciples didn’t grasp the weight of “Immortal Seed,” but as an elder’s grandson, Han Feiyu knew. Every Cave Heaven and Blessed Land guarded Immortal Seeds like treasures—they were the future of the sect.

Years of searching might yield not one. Such a cultivation-worthy physique was rare beyond measure; once found, they were groomed as heirs. Lingxu Cave Heaven had no more than five Immortal Seeds.

“How… how is that possible…” Han Feiyu refused to believe. “If he’s an Immortal Seed, why is he still studying at Lingxu Cliff?”

“Elder Wu Qingfeng didn’t want him to feel superior. In truth, he personally taught Pang Bo months ago, even passing down The Dao Scripture.” Wang Jing answered.

Hearing The Dao Scripture had been passed to Pang Bo, Han Feiyu’s face turned ashen—no doubt now, Pang Bo was an Immortal Seed.

Li Fei added, “Elder Wu Qingfeng has been watching them closely. He saw what happened just now, so he felt it necessary to announce Pang Bo’s status. Don’t act rashly.”

Han Feiyu’s face was hideous. He flung his sleeve and stormed off.

Pang Bo stared, then snapped out of it as Han Feiyu left. He looked at Li Fei and Wang Jing, perplexed, “So… I don’t have to hold back with him?”

Wang Jing, thinking he feared retaliation, reassured him, “No need to worry. Not even the sect leader’s kin would dare harm you…”

“Good to know…” With that, he charged after Han Feiyu—not out of fear, but to keep beating him.

Li Fei and Wang Jing froze, at a loss for words.

Han Feiyu’s face twisted, feeling as if he’d swallowed something foul. He fought back his rage, pushing through the crowd and vanishing.

Chapter 045 Hundred Herb Elixir

Ye Fan and Pang Bo’s overwhelming victory over Han Feiyu left everyone stunned. In the eyes of the onlookers, these two 11 or 12-year-old boys were “incredibly fierce”—clearly lacking a divine power source, yet they’d beaten an elder’s grandson senseless, nearly crippling him. The crowd gaped in disbelief.

“They’re way too fierce!”
“How can kids their age have such divine strength?”
“Fighting barehanded, overpowering Han Feiyu, even shaking off Elder Han’s green wood treasure seal—unbelievable!”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Even disciples at other cliffs—those who’d joined earlier and had deeper cultivation—noticed the commotion. Learning that Elder Han’s grandson Han Feiyu had been badly beaten, they erupted in astonishment.

“Those boys look so gentle—who knew they’re this tough? You really can’t judge a book by its cover…”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo had always kept a low profile, but now they were the center of attention. Disciples from other cliffs flocked over, eager to see these two powerhouses.

“What? That Pang Bo is an Immortal Seed?”

The news left everyone shocked. Senior disciples knew what an Immortal Seed meant—the future heir and hope of Lingxu Cave Heaven, someone who might lead the sect to glory.

“No wonder he’s so brave—he’s gifted with extraordinary talent.”
“Han Feiyu really kicked an iron plate this time. He can’t even take revenge later—he’ll just have to swallow this insult…”

Now, the crowd looked at Pang Bo with complex emotions. Many quickly resolved to befriend him.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo paid no mind to the stares. They bent down to collect the small jade vials scattered on the ground—over thirty vials of Hundred Herb Elixir. The boys who’d first picked a fight had been planted headfirst in the muck, but the elixirs they’d stolen were left behind.

New disciples received only one vial every three months—proof of its value. The sight of two boys with over thirty vials made the onlookers’ eyes green with envy.

“Those who cultivated divine patterns must have better stuff…”

Unsatisfied, Ye Fan and Pang Bo turned to the young men stuck in the muck. These had cultivated traces of divine power, nurturing a divine pattern in their Sea of Bitterness—their cultivation surpassed ordinary disciples, so they must be “richer” than the boys.

Exchanging a look, they started “pulling onions”—yanking five young men out of the mud one by one, patting them down.

“Why do they only have a few vials each…”

After searching them thoroughly, they found only five vials per person—fewer than the boys’ haul. Their dissatisfaction left the crowd speechless.

Hundred Herb Elixir was distributed by cultivation level that day. Five vials per person was already generous for these young men.

Li Fei and Wang Jing, still watching, exchanged helpless glances. They’d never seen such unconventional junior brothers.

These young people slumped to the ground like mud, too weak to get up. Ye Fan and Pang Bo searched them thoroughly and then threw them back into the pond - this time not headfirst, so as not to cause any fatalities. Then they fished these people out and threw them onto the muddy ground.

Finally, they approached the green wood seal, trying to push it. It was far too heavy—liftable, but useless in battle. Kicking it twice, they strode off.

The crowd stared. These two were like locusts—robbing everyone in broad daylight without a care, even trying to cart off the green wood seal…

“Thanks, Senior Brother Li Fei! Senior Sister Wang Jing!” Ye Fan and Pang Bo called from a distance as they pushed through the crowd, hurrying away.

Han Feiyu’s face was livid, burning with rage. He didn’t even retrieve the green wood seal, storming toward a valley deep in Lingxu Cave Heaven.

The valley was spacious, filled with herb fields of exotic flowers and rare grasses. The air reeked of medicine, thick with spiritual energy. No other plants grew—only precious herbs, their fragrance and essence making it a veritable spiritual valley.

Along the way, the apprentices saluted him one after another, but he turned a blind eye and rushed straight into a cave in the middle of the valley. The fragrance of medicine was even stronger here. Outside the cave, there were eighteen half - man - high alchemy furnaces. Their materials were unknown, and they looked simple, unsophisticated, and heavy.

“Yu’er, what happened to you?” A hoarse voice asked from inside the cave. No one emerged, but it seemed to perceive everything outside.

“One of those two is an Immortal Seed…” Han Feiyu stood outside, grinding his teeth, recounting the incident to his granduncle.

If I had known that they had taken the divine medicine before and a little blood essence would be enough. It’s a pity that I learned about it too late - now it’s troublesome. Elder Han fell silent and only spoke again after a long time, “Let’s leave the immortal seeds aside for now. As for the others… let’s wait and see.”

“Granduncle, you mean…” A sharp light flashed in Han Feiyu’s eyes.

“I mean do nothing. Focus on your cultivation.” With that, the cave fell silent.

“Yes!” Han Feiyu was filled with reluctance in his heart, yet dared not disobey. He bowed towards the cave, then turned around and left.

Back at their residence, Ye Fan and Pang Bo counted their spoils—sixty-six vials of Hundred Herb Elixir, a fortune.

“Han’s a real ‘good guy’…” They both chuckled.

Playing with the jade vials, they calmed down. Though they’d defeated Han Feiyu and the others, a strong sense of crisis lingered. Mere physical strength, even as great as a flood dragon’s, might make them champions among mortals, but against those who’d cultivated divine power and could wield profound arts, they lacked versatility—ultimately outmatched.

They needed to cultivate desperately: open the Sea of Bitterness, connect to the Wheel of Life, let divine springs gush forth. Only by mastering their divine power source could they truly grow strong—it was the root of a cultivator.

Driven by this urgency, they threw themselves into cultivation. Over the next two days, Pang Bo drank six vials of Hundred Herb Elixir, practicing the methods in The Dao Scripture. His Sea of Bitterness finally expanded. But after the seventh vial, something went wrong—essence rampaged in his Sea of Bitterness, pain like needles stabbing him.

“Bad—haste makes waste. The teaching elder said new disciples can’t withstand too much elixir. One vial every three months—he was right…” Pang Bo, sweating profusely, gritted his teeth to endure.

“I’ll get help.” Ye Fan moved to open the door.

“No—I can take it.” Pang Bo refused. He endured for most of the day until the pain ebbed, chuckling bitterly: “Guess you really do eat one bite at a time, walk one step at a time. Ordinary disciples get one vial every three months. Me, an Immortal Seed, downing six or seven in two days—already pushing it.”

He looked at Ye Fan curiously. “You drank six or seven too. No pain, just more spirited. What’s up? Still no stir in your Sea of Bitterness?”

Ye Fan shook his head. His life wheel and Sea of Bitterness were still deathly silent, without the slightest ripple. The only effect of cultivating the “Tao Scripture” was to enhance his vitality.

“Six or seven vials and no reaction—you can handle more. Keep going, Ye Fan. Maybe something weird’ll happen.”

“Not a chance. My physique wastes the elixir. Better save it for you to breakthrough—get that divine spring gushing, reach higher realms.”

“Relax. They’ve confirmed I’m an Immortal Seed—they won’t skimp on elixir. Elder Wu Qingfeng said repeatedly: a cultivator’s state of mind matters. He knew my potential but sent me to Lingxu Cliff to avoid arrogance. Clearly, he’s tempering me. Things’ll change—elixir won’t be scarce.”

Pang Bo made sense. No need for formality between them—Ye Fan agreed, and they began downing the elixir in bulk.

One vial, two vials, three vials…

Ye Fan silently circulated the mysterious techniques recorded in the “Tao Scripture”. At this moment, he didn’t feel anything unusual about himself, but a strange change was slowly taking place within his body…

Chapter 046 The Golden Sea of Bitterness

In a single day, Ye Fan downed thirteen vials of Hundred Herb Elixir. Adding the seven from the previous two days, he’d consumed twenty vials. Beyond the surging essence in his veins, he felt no discomfort at all.

Watching him drink like this, Pang Bo grew frightened. “Let’s stop for now. My heart’s racing, my eyelids won’t stop twitching—I’m scared you’ll just boom and explode. I’d never see you again…”

“You jinx, stop talking nonsense…” Ye Fan focused, sensing his Sea of Bitterness. “I think I feel something strange.”

“What? Did it work?” Pang Bo’s face lit up. “I’ll fetch Elder Wu Qingfeng to help guide you!”

Ye Fan stopped him. “No. I need to sense it on my own.”

Wu Qingfeng had once said: Ye Fan’s physique could only be relied upon itself—no one else could guide it. He’d likened it thus: if an ordinary Wheel of Life was soil, Ye Fan’s was divine iron. Seeds planted in soil, with care and tilling, would surely take root and thrive. But divine iron? No matter what you sowed—even immortal roots—nothing would grow. Only if the divine iron transformed from within might there be a glimmer of life. External conditions, no matter how favorable, could never change that.

That faint strange sensation thrilled Ye Fan. His physique, hailed as a saintly physique in the primeval era, was now dismissed as useless. He’d never accepted that. This hint of something more filled him with resolve.

Pang Bo’s eyes nearly popped out as Ye Fan guzzled vials like water. His heart was in his throat.

“I’m begging you… slow down. Watching this, I’m terrified. Let’s save the rest for tomorrow, okay? I’m really scared…” By then, a pile of empty vials lay on the ground—Ye Fan had drunk forty.

“Don’t worry. I feel fine. The surging essence in my veins has settled, but my Wheel of Life is trembling violently.”

Ye Fan kept drinking, draining every last vial. Excluding the seven Pang Bo had consumed, he’d downed all fifty-nine remaining!

“How do you feel?” Pang Bo asked, tense.

“I finally sense my Wheel of Life. The divine power source there is boiling…” Ye Fan fell silent, channeling the profound methods in The Dao Scripture to assault his Sea of Bitterness.

Pang Bo gaped, muttering, “Boiling divine power source in the Wheel of Life… I’ve never felt that…”

The thatched cottage grew quiet. Ye Fan sat cross-legged like a stone statue. Pang Bo hovered nearby, anxious and restless.

After an unknown time, light erupted in the cottage, accompanied by the roar of a tsunami. Boundless divine radiance—golden, brilliant—burst from Ye Fan’s Sea of Bitterness, crackling with thunder and lightning.

Pang Bo froze, speechless, staring in awe.

From the Sea of Bitterness within Ye Fan, thousands of divine rays burst forth, like a rainbow piercing the sun. Golden waves surged violently, thunder rumbled, and lightning raged – a fierce tsunami raged up, with huge waves towering into the clouds!

Such a strange sight occurring within the Sea of Bitterness was simply unheard of. Pang Bo was so shocked that he couldn’t speak, muttering to himself, “What’s going on…”

The cottage resounded with deafening tsunami roars, like the charge of ten thousand armies. Pang Bo slapped himself to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

“Tsunami spanning the sky, thunderous as drums, ten thousand towering waves…” His mouth went dry. It felt like a dream—the rumble of waves like stampeding armies. In that moment, it was as if they stood not in a cottage, but on a shore, facing a vast, heaving ocean.

Ye Fan sat motionless. Divine radiance bloomed in the Sea of Bitterness, extremely dazzling. The waves roared, golden light shone brightly, lightning split the sky, and the sea waves rose into the air.

“That golden ocean… could that really be his Sea of Bitterness? Why is it visible from the outside?” Pang Bo stared at Ye Fan, baffled. His Sea of Bitterness glowed brilliantly, waves surging without cease.

He was certain: the tsunami’s roar came from Ye Fan’s Sea of Bitterness. It was staggering—this inner sea, hidden within the body, truly roared like a real ocean.

Pang Bo stood frozen. The rumble echoed; those golden waves seemed ready to burst forth, pressing down on him with immense force.

“Why is it golden?” After the shock of the tsunami faded, Pang Bo slowly calmed.

If that golden ocean was Ye Fan’s Sea of Bitterness, it was utterly extraordinary. Pang Bo could barely comprehend it. With his own inner vision, his Sea of Bitterness was pitch-black, lifeless. Wu Qingfeng had said: until the Wheel of Life was connected, vital essence only lingered above the Sea of Bitterness. The sea itself was desolate, void of life—either dark green or pitch-black.

Yet Ye Fan’s Sea of Bitterness was nothing like that. It defied everything Wu Qingfeng had described.

“Boom…!”

Thunder erupted repeatedly above the churning golden sea, mingling with the towering tsunami. The world blazed with light; sky and sea merged, awash in brilliant gold, dazzling to behold.

Pang Bo watched, terrified of accidents. Through it all, Ye Fan seemed unaware, silent, steadily channeling the methods of The Dao Scripture.

After hours, the golden light dimmed, the tsunami’s roar fading. Another half-hour passed, and the cottage finally fell silent. Ye Fan’s Sea of Bitterness settled, its light retracting, the roar vanishing.

Soon, Ye Fan opened his eyes, their light sharp and bright. As he stood, he seemed to come alive, exuding a faint celestial aura.

“What happened? How do you feel now?” Pang Bo asked, urgent.

“I sensed my Wheel of Life, saw the boiling divine power source, then assaulted my Sea of Bitterness. I saw a golden ocean… I thought it might be an illusion.”

Pang Bo’s mouth dropped. He nodded vigorously. “It wasn’t. Because… I saw it too.”

“You did?” Ye Fan looked shocked.

“Absolutely. You have no idea how spectacular it was—tsunami spanning the sky, ten thousand rays of divine light, brilliant beyond words. The whole cottage shook. Lucky we’re in a remote spot, or it would’ve caused a huge stir.”

Listening to Pang Bo’s account, Ye Fan finally believed: the golden ocean and tsunami weren’t illusions.

Pang Bo pressed, “How do you feel? I saw that golden Sea of Bitterness vanish at the end. Did it fail?”

“I don’t know if it counts as success…” Ye Fan channeled The Dao Scripture. A tiny golden speck—no bigger than a sesame seed—appeared at his Sea of Bitterness, glowing brightly.

“It’s small, but that’s fine. With cultivation, it’ll grow.” Pang Bo was thrilled. “I’m sure your Sea of Bitterness is extraordinary—golden, nothing like others. Its light even shone through your body…”

Though he’d only cultivated a “grain of sea,” Ye Fan was overjoyed. He’d broken through, opening his very own golden Sea of Bitterness.

“Why do I feel faint divine power pulsing from that sesame-sized sea? Could it be… the essence is concentrated?” Pang Bo frowned, confused.

Chapter 047 Hardships

A cultivator’s Sea of Bitterness, as the name suggests, is desolate, lifeless, void of vitality. Yet at the very center of Ye Fan’s Sea of Bitterness, that tiny golden speck blazed like the rising dawn, brimming with vibrant life.

As Pang Bo had noted, this golden grain of a sea pulsed with faint divine power. Though weak, it was clearly extraordinary—radiant as the essence of rainbows, utterly distinct from others’ Seas of Bitterness.

“Could it be you’ve connected to your Wheel of Life?” Pang Bo speculated. “Maybe you’ve opened a channel to the Wheel of Life beneath the Sea of Bitterness, letting divine springs gush upward—hence this miraculous sight.”

“No channel opened, no divine spring surging.” Ye Fan shook his head, dismissing the idea. He was certain: this was indeed his Sea of Bitterness, not a divine spring from the Wheel of Life.

Pang Bo marveled, “Truly astonishing. The Ancient Desolate Saintly Physique is really one-of-a-kind. Could golden Seas of Bitterness be unique to this physique?”

“I’ve only just opened it. Who knows if I can keep cultivating.” Ye Fan’s joy didn’t cloud his judgment.

He turned inward, examining his Sea of Bitterness. That sesame-sized golden speck, surrounded by endless darkness and emptiness, yet its light couldn’t be fully smothered—like a bright moon hanging in the sky. Hope swelled in Ye Fan’s heart: perhaps one day, he could open a vast golden Sea of Bitterness, dispelling all darkness and death, breathing life into this desolate realm.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo discussed for hours, concluding that Ye Fan’s physique was so peculiar it was like a bottomless pit—requiring massive amounts of Hundred Herb Elixir to open the Sea of Bitterness. Unlike others, he feared no excessive medicinal power overwhelming his Sea of Bitterness; his was an abyss, impossible to fill.

This realization troubled them. New disciples received one vial every three months—four a year. Ye Fan had used fifty-nine vials just to open a sesame-sized Sea of Bitterness—equivalent to over a decade’s worth for others. It was staggering!

As Wu Qingfeng had said: the higher one climbed on the path of cultivation, the harder it became. Each step forward required ten times the effort of the last.

Ye Fan frowned at the thought. This logic surely applied to the consumption of Hundred Herb Elixir. Needing dozens of vials just to start—what astronomical numbers would he face when his cultivation deepened?

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.” Pang Bo’s eyes lit up as if he had thought of something. “Tell Elder Wu Qingfeng that you can cultivate! If the Desolate Ancient Saint Physique is successfully awakened, it will surely shake the Yan Region, even the entire Eastern Wasteland. It’s simply unimaginable! I’m sure the elders of the Spirit Void Cave Heaven will be greatly shocked and spare no effort to support you.”

Ye Fan thought carefully, then shook his head. “Can’t tell them.”

“Why?” Pang Bo puzzled.

“First, Lingxu Cave Heaven can’t deter the Eastern Desolate. If word leaks, I’ll die. Second, though this golden Sea of Bitterness is miraculous, I suspect I still can’t keep cultivating—it might still be a useless physique.”

Pang Bo nodded at the first reason. Leaking the news would bring death.

“About the second… I think you’re overworried.”

Ye Fan shook his head. “I finally understand why this physique, though occasionally appearing in the post-primeval era, rarely succeeds. This consumption alone is beyond ordinary sects. The early stages are manageable, but the path of immortality is long. Each step demands ten times more. Progressing like this—growing exponentially—even mid-cultivation would require unimaginable amounts. Even sacred shrines or ancient clans from the primeval era would struggle. It might not be worth it—such resources could nurture countless other talents.”

“Is that why the Ancient Desolate Saintly Physique became a useless physique?” Pang Bo looked shocked.

Ye Fan mused, “This is just what I’ve found in early cultivation. There must be more to it. Otherwise, sacred shrines and ancient clans wouldn’t abandon it so easily. Far harsher conditions or obstacles likely exist.”

“How could this be…” Pang Bo stared, feeling Ye Fan’s path looked dim, his cultivation road fraught with hardship.

Yet Ye Fan showed no despair. “If an Ancient Desolate Saintly Physique were easy to cultivate, it would lose its meaning. The harder the path, the more extraordinary it is. Ride against the waves, climb the cliffs, cross the abysses—go as far as possible. Maybe one day, we’ll glimpse the summit.”

In the days that followed, Ye Fan and Pang Bo trained harder, striving to improve.

During this time, Wu Qingfeng summoned Pang Bo to Lingxu Cave Heaven’s back mountains, officially confirming him as an Immortal Seed. He urged Pang Bo to work diligently, to let divine springs gush in his Sea of Bitterness soon—then he’d take him as a closed-door disciple.

As an official Immortal Seed, Pang Bo received eight vials of Hundred Herb Elixir monthly—a huge upgrade from four a year. And as his cultivation grew, supplies would increase, meeting all his needs. No more shortage of elixir.

In the deep mountains, Pang Bo asked Wu Qingfeng many questions, eager to uncover the secrets of Ye Fan’s golden sea of bitterness.

Wu Qingfeng talked about many secrets regarding the Sea of Bitterness and pointed out that some people with exceptional talents indeed displayed extraordinary phenomena when opening the Sea of Bitterness.

“What kind of abnormal sight？”

Wu Qingfeng described over a dozen, but none mentioned a golden Sea of Bitterness.

Finally, Pang Bo couldn’t hold back. “When opening the Sea of Bitterness—could there be a tsunami spanning the sky, ten thousand divine rainbows, and a golden ocean?”

“Impossible!” Wu Qingfeng shook his head, then hesitated a bit. “Perhaps in the legend, the so - called ‘Divine Constitution’ that reappeared in the Eastern Wasteland could display such an unparalleled abnormal phenomenon. But the commotion wouldn’t be this huge either.”

Rumors had spread lately: a rare divine physique had reappeared in the Eastern Desolate—even more than one. Said to be growing, hidden in sacred shrines or ancient clans. Wu Qingfeng had heard such tales too.

“Those rare geniuses are all taken in by sacred shrines and ancient clans…” Wu Qingfeng sounded resigned.

Pang Bo relayed this to Ye Fan, adding, “That golden Sea of Bitterness must be extraordinary. Even the legendary divine physique, when first opening its Sea of Bitterness, might not stir such a commotion. I hope you can keep cultivating—one day, you’ll rival the geniuses nurtured by sacred shrines and ancient clans.”

Ye Fan thought long, then looked at Pang Bo. “I think I should leave Lingxu Cave Heaven.”

“Why?” Pang Bo was shocked, confused by the sudden decision.

“I came to learn how to cultivate. But it’s no longer suitable for me. I need to seek opportunities elsewhere.”

“No! If you go, I go too.” Pang Bo refused firmly.

“You’re an official Immortal Seed now. Lingxu Cave Heaven will spare no effort to nurture you—no need to leave. But me? With this physique, staying here won’t help.”

Chapter 048 The Scripture Not of This World

“Share weal and woe—if you leave, I’m coming with you.” Pang Bo spoke firmly, resolved to go with Ye Fan. Ye Fan couldn’t agree. Now confirmed as an Immortal Seed, Pang Bo had a bright future. Leaving would reset everything, his path fraught with uncertainty—even danger.

“I have another reason for leaving. We humiliated Han Feiyu, making him lose all face…”

Pang Bo cut him off. “Don’t worry about him. I’m an Immortal Seed now. He won’t dare act up anytime soon. Once we grow stronger, what have we to fear?”

Ye Fan shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I’ve asked around these days. His granduncle is a master alchemist, desperate to refine a batch of ‘Huan Yang Dan’ to extend his lifespan. For years, he’s spared no cost to gather spirit herbs, even venturing into deep mountains and swamps himself. He only returned a few days ago, and Han Feiyu immediately picked a fight with us. I think this is no coincidence.”

Pang Bo nodded. He’d found it odd too—they’d had no prior dealings with Han Feiyu, no reason for conflict.

“Are you saying… his granduncle has designs on us?” Pang Bo caught on, recalling their past. They’d eaten sacred fruit, rejuvenated—if Elder Han learned of this, he might well target them.

“I suspect his lifespan is nearly up, and he’s desperate to make Huan Yang Dan. He likely has his eye on us.” Ye Fan judged, then added, “As an Immortal Seed, he wouldn’t dare touch you. But if I stay, something bad might happen.”

“That old bastard!” Pang Bo frowned. He no longer tried to stop Ye Fan, but insisted on going with him.

“If you come, I won’t leave.” Ye Fan was firm. He refused to hinder Pang Bo’s cultivation—Lingxu Cave Heaven was truly his best choice.

Pang Bo knew Ye Fan well. Seeing his resolve, he fell silent, sitting there glumly.

“Bring paper and ink. I’ll leave the Ancient Scripture with you.”

Only Pang Bo knew Ye Fan had obtained an ancient scripture from the bronze coffin. Ye Fan had once recited a few lines, which Pang Bo had found incomprehensible—too obscure, like heavenly writing. Even Ye Fan himself hadn’t grasped its meaning, pondering for ages without a clue.

“Those lines are gibberish to me. Keeping them is useless. Lingxu Cave Heaven won’t lack profound methods. No need to bother writing.”

Ye Fan ignored him, grabbing paper and brush. The moment he began writing, a heavenly chorus like the toll of great bells echoed in his heart. Hundreds of ancient characters flowed through his mind like a stream, filling him with clarity. His brush danced like a dragon, swiftly inscribing lines—yet something strange happened.

The brush stopped, the characters vanishing!

As his brush stilled, the ancient characters on the paper faded, the paper itself turning to ash—like some mysterious force dwelled in his strokes.

At the same time, hundreds of characters in his mind dimmed, and the resonating sound gradually faded away. Pang Bo was stunned, shocked by this strange situation. “I think… stop. This immortal script is too strange.”

These hundreds of characters were unrecognizable, older than even ancient bronze inscriptions. Ye Fan hadn’t understood them at first, but when the heavenly voice had etched them into his mind, their meanings had slowly dawned.

Ye Fan mused, recalling Wu Qingfeng’s words: before the ancient desolate era, there were sacred scripts. Each character embodied Dao rhythms, holding mysterious power—even copying them could trigger uncanny events. Some speculated writing these characters might channel heavenly forces, stirring chaos in spiritual energy, causing strange occurrences.

“Could each stroke of these characters contain a ‘momentum’? When written, they disrupt surrounding spiritual energy, ultimately destroying the paper…” Ye Fan muttered.

He tried carving them into the ground. The moment his “brush” (a stick) stopped, a tiny spark flickered across the ground—all characters vanishing without a trace.

Pang Bo shook his head in disbelief. “This scripture is haunted! Stop!”

“It’s not haunted. These characters are extraordinary. Each stroke holds a ‘momentum,’ disturbing spiritual energy fluctuations. Combined, their momentum can channel heavenly forces, erasing the scripture itself.” Ye Fan deduced.

The more mysterious the scripture, the more unfathomable its creator. These hundreds of characters, arranged as they were, prevented the scripture from manifesting in the world—as if it were a secret text never meant to exist.

Ye Fan gave up. The scripture was too obscure; even if he left it, Pang Bo wouldn’t understand.

In the end, Ye Fan resolved to leave. Pang Bo saw him off in silence. Walking along the cobblestone path from the mountain’s depths to Lingxu Cave Heaven’s exit, Ye Fan stepped onto the bluestone steps—and the ancient scripture echoed in his heart again. He turned to Pang Bo. “Beneath these hundred-odd bluestone steps of Lingxu Cave Heaven, there might be something extraordinary. You should visit often…”

Pang Bo suddenly glared. “Don’t go.”

Ye Fan sensed it too, turning to see a familiar figure duck out of sight—a young man they’d once “planted headfirst” in the muck.

“Han Feiyu’s not giving up. He’s having us watched.”

“Don’t leave yet. If they see you going, they’ll ambush you on the way.”

Ye Fan nodded. They turned back. The young man was gone, but on their way, they spotted Han Feiyu rushing over with several others.

Pang Bo’s face darkened. If they hadn’t noticed the spy, letting Ye Fan leave today would have been a lifelong regret. He roared, “Han Feiyu, you bastard! Think your granduncle can protect you? Want to kill whoever you like? Come at me if you dare!”

Han Feiyu paled. If other elders or the sect leader thought he meant harm to Lingxu Cave Heaven’s Immortal Seed, even his granduncle couldn’t save him.

“Stop spouting nonsense. I just happened to pass by.” He fled with his men, looking flustered. He had come for Ye Fan—he’d learned Ye Fan was leaving with a bundle, planning to ambush him.

Pang Bo seethed. “That bastard’s been spying on us, waiting to kill you. Don’t leave yet.”

Ye Fan agreed. With insufficient strength, leaving now would be suicidal.

The next month passed quietly. Han Feiyu dared not spy on them, lying low—afraid Pang Bo would report him to other elders.

One day, Pang Bo returned from Wu Qingfeng, looking dejected.

“What’s wrong?” Ye Fan asked.

“News that might matter to you, though not to me.” Pang Bo sighed. “I agree staying here long is dangerous for you. I asked Elder Wu Qingfeng to send you away…”

“This is indeed good news.” Ye Fan smiled. “It’s not a permanent farewell. We’ll meet again. By then, I hope you’ll be the powerful Sect Master Pang who is renowned throughout the Eastern Wasteland, so much so that even the Holy Lands and Ancient Clans will fear you.”

Pang Bo hated parting but had no choice. “We’ll wait a few days. Soon, Elder Wu Qingfeng will select promising disciples for training in the ancient ruins outside Lingxu Cave Heaven.”

Eons ago, Lingxu Cave Heaven had been ruins, cleared by later generations into a blessed land. Its history stretched back to the ancient desolate era.

The original ruins were vast, endless—Lingxu Cave Heaven occupied but a fraction. Vast uncleared regions teemed with ancient trees, rare birds and beasts, and precious herbs. Each year, elders led disciples there for training—not just to temper them, but to broaden their horizons.

These wild, wooded ruins weren’t safe. Fierce beasts and birds dwelled there. Even with elders present, deaths occurred yearly.

“Rumor says rare herbs grow there—some even spirit medicines. If we find any, we can exchange them with the accompanying elders for pills on the spot.” Pang Bo looked at Ye Fan. “You need Hundred Herb Elixir badly. A good haul there could ease your needs for now.”

Chapter 049 The Mixed Bunch

This was indeed good news for Ye Fan. Gathering spirit herbs or hunting rare birds and beasts here could solve his urgent need. That golden grain of a sea in his body was like a drying lake, desperate for massive essence to replenish it—only then could he continue expanding it, letting the golden ocean reappear.

“Elder Wu Qingfeng is leading the team personally. No need to worry about that bastard Elder Han scheming.”

It was settled: both Ye Fan and Pang Bo would join the training.

Two days later, Wu Qingfeng and another elder led over a hundred disciples out of Lingxu Cave Heaven, heading for the adjacent ancient ruins.

Ancient trees tower to the sky, presenting a primeval scene. From afar comes the earth - shattering roar of wild beasts, faintly carrying a savage and fierce aura. Strange and ferocious birds several meters long circle in the sky - all of them are huge creatures.

“I’ll remind you again: be cautious. This training is no trivial matter—it concerns life and death…” Wu Qingfeng listed many precautions, concluding with an example: “In the past, some disciples, greedy for rare spirit herbs, ventured deep into the ruins. Encountering barbaric beasts there meant certain death. The deeper you go, the more terrifying the fierce birds and beasts. Many of them are ancient heterogeneous species from the ancient times - even the elders of the Lingxu Cave Heaven can’t deal with them. “Never” take risks and go deeper!

The two elders and over a hundred disciples soon reached the ruins. Spiritual energy lingered here, no less abundant than in Lingxu Cave Heaven. Scarcely arriving, someone spotted herbs.

“Don’t pick those with too short a growth period…” the Li Elder reminded.

Giant trees here were so large that several people linking arms couldn’t encircle them. Old vines were as thick as thighs. Calling this “ruins” was a misnomer—it was more like a primeval forest.

“Giant python!”

Just entering the woods, someone screamed, spotting a bucket-thick, multicolored python.

Puff!

The python, covered in colorful spots, spewed a cloud of mist, engulfing the screaming disciple. A shrill cry echoed.

Other disciples shuddered, retreating quickly. As the mist dispersed, only a white skeleton and pools of yellow liquid remained on the ground—the surrounding plants withered instantly.

Wu Qingfeng hurried over, frowning. “Odd. Why encounter a poison dragon right at the edge of the ruins?”

Elder Li joined him. “This python is called a ‘poison dragon,’ its venom lethal. Avoid its mist—one touch, and you’ll die instantly.” He added, “Its gallbladder is excellent for alchemy. Capable disciples can collect it.”

Seeing such a venomous python right at the edge, no one dared imagine what horrors lay deeper. A disciple dead on arrival sent chills through the group—all grew cautious.

“I’ll get the gallbladder!” A sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl stepped forward, advancing. A green light flared in her Sea of Bitterness, spreading to her arm and shooting from her fingertips. The green glow, sharp as a sword, hissed—cleaving the poison dragon in two.

The girl carefully extracted a fist-sized gallbladder, exchanging it with Elder Li for a vial of Hundred Herb Elixir on the spot. Other disciples perked up—most had the strength to kill such a python. As long as they overcame fear, they could gain something here.

“Don’t fear, but don’t be reckless. There may be more bloodshed and death ahead, but this is what you must endure. Flowers in a greenhouse must face harsh reality someday—otherwise, they’ll never truly grow.”

Though the elders spoke this way, they frowned. Losing a disciple right at the edge boded ill.

Suddenly, a shrill bird cry pierced the sky from deep in the ruins—like metal scraping, making eardrums ache. Everyone froze, looking toward the sound. A golden bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, diving toward a mountain peak.

“What’s that?!”

All gasped. The golden lightning was too fast to see clearly—only a blazing golden streak.

Wu Qingfeng’s expression turned grave. “That’s a lightning bird—swift and fearsome as lightning, born with thunder power. Even I’d only detour if I met it.”

“Roar…!”

Abruptly, a thunderous roar erupted. From the mountain where the lightning bird had dived, a giant ape covered in scales leaped a hundred meters into the air, pouncing at the bird.

“It’s a scaled ape!” Elder Li paled. “Must be a scaled ape king—otherwise, it wouldn’t be this strong, daring to attack a lightning bird.”

Wu Qingfeng frowned. “The ruins are restless. This training will likely have twists. Let’s not go too deep.”

The piercing bird cries and beast roars echoed from the depths, as if rending the sky. Disciples paled. Seeing someone easily kill the poison dragon had boosted many’s confidence, but now they understood—the ruins were far more terrifying than imagined. The deepest parts held super beings they couldn’t provoke.

“Let’s enter the ruins from another area…” Wu Qingfeng, still uneasy about this region, led the group to another spot—the ancient ruins were vast enough.

After walking over ten miles, they reached a field of scattered stone forests. Passing through, they reentered the ruins.

“One last reminder: don’t go more than ten miles deep, or your lives will be at risk. Know your limits!”

Here, the group split up—small bands of three to five, each eager to gain something. Hundred Herb Elixir was a powerful temptation for disciples opening their Seas of Bitterness.

Han Feiyu was also on the training trip. Cold light flickered in his eyes as he looked at Ye Fan and Pang Bo, but quickly averted his gaze when they noticed.

“Han Feiyu, you were almost killed by these two?”

Several young men and women, around eighteen or nineteen, stood with Han Feiyu—all brimming with spirit, their movements glowing faintly. Han Feiyu stood at the edge, clearly just a member, not the center.

“One’s an Immortal Seed but newly initiated, knowing nothing. The other’s a useless waste who can’t cultivate. Losing to such fools—you’re disgracing Elder Han.”

The man and woman speaking were around seventeen or eighteen. Though younger than the others, they were surrounded like stars around the moon.

Pang Bo flared up. Their arrogance—openly calling Ye Fan a waste—was too much. “How dare you talk like that? Can’t you speak like a human?”

The seventeen-year-old girl sneered. A beauty mark graced her lips; though pretty, she exuded a bone-chilling cold. “Quite the temper. Don’t think being an Immortal Seed lets you look down on everyone. The future is uncertain—even Immortal Seeds can wither!”

“Who’s looking down on whom? Did we provoke you? You start with insults, calling people ‘waste.’ If we’re ‘arrogant,’ what does that make you—blind?” Pang Bo retorted sharply.

“Were it not for the elders’ order forbidding internal fights here, I’d teach you how to behave like a proper disciple.” The beauty-marked girl’s eyes flashed coldly, sweeping over Ye Fan before fixing on Pang Bo. “Even as an Immortal Seed, you can’t bring just anyone here. These ruins are sacred to Lingxu Cave Heaven—trash has no right to enter.”

The seventeen-year-old boy beside her mocked, “Not everyone is meant to cultivate. Know your place.” His cold gaze turned to Ye Fan. “Please leave. This is for Lingxu Cave Heaven disciples only—outsiders aren’t allowed.”

“Shut your damn mouths!” Pang Bo was enraged. Insulting Ye Fan was insulting him. He wanted to rush forward.

Ye Fan held him back, glanced at everyone, and remained silent. He took out a jade pendant, showed it to everyone, and then strode forward.

“It’s Elder Wu’s pendant…”

Their faces darkened. They’d tried to drive Ye Fan away, but their words had been in vain.

Han Feiyu stepped forward. “Senior Sister Lin Lin, Senior Brother Li Yun—let’s not trouble them for now. Granduncle forbade me from provoking them. He’d punish me if he knew.”

After walking several hundred meters, Pang Bo said, “I remember now—I saw them in Lingxu Cave Heaven’s back mountains, far away, didn’t pay much attention. Elder Wu Qingfeng mentioned them in passing. The woman’s name is Lin Lin, also an Immortal Seed. The man is Li Yun—not an Immortal Seed, but his talent is exceptional, no less than an Immortal Seed.”

Ye Fan glanced back. “Seems your days in Lingxu Cave Heaven won’t be peaceful, even if you’re safe.”

Pang Bo didn’t care. “Pressure fuels motivation. My goal is to surpass those bastards in three years. Now I get why Elder Wu Qingfeng sighed about ‘mixed quality’ lately…”

“Lingxu Cave Heaven isn’t as peaceful as it seems. Elders likely oppose each other. Be careful.” Ye Fan warned.

“I know. Elder Wu Qingfeng said he’ll take me as a closed-door disciple. After you leave, I’ll probably train in the back mountains. I won’t stir up trouble until I’ve achieved something.”

Ye Fan thought for a while and then shook his head. “It’s a pity that we’re too weak right now. Otherwise, we could have planned to solve these troubles for you.”

“It’s fine. They can’t touch me.” Still fuming, Pang Bo said, “Don’t mind their words.”

Ye Fan smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m too lazy to argue with them—their words mean nothing.”

“Good. Focus on cultivation. Once your golden Sea of Bitterness expands, they’ll see who the real waste is.”

Soon, Lin Lin, Li Yun, Han Feiyu, and others caught up—passing by, not targeting them.

“We delve into the ruins. Leave the perimeter to those fools…” Lin Lin sneered softly. Her beauty mark was glaring, exuding a chill.

Ye Fan stood aside, watching them leave, still silent.

“Bitch!” Pang Bo fumed, but held back—he wasn’t strong enough to confront them yet.

Over the next two days, Ye Fan and Pang Bo found dozens of herbs. But exchanging them with the elders only earned two vials of Hundred Herb Elixir. Many others fared similarly—some got none. And in those two days, three more disciples died.

“The outer areas have few herbs with enough growth period—most were picked clean by previous disciples. As for rare birds and beasts, they’ve probably fled at the sight of so many people. No chance to hunt them.”

Two vials were useless to Ye Fan, doing nothing. Discussing it, they agreed: to find real spirit herbs or spirit beasts, they’d have to go deep like Lin Lin’s group.

This is too dangerous. Those fierce birds and beasts are beyond our ability to deal with. And if we run into Lin Lin or Li Yun… They may not attack us openly, but they will surely plot against us secretly.

They talked longer, finally looking into the distance.

They wanted to leave this area for another. Two days ago, that lightning bird—blazing gold—and the scaled ape king, leaping a hundred meters into the air, had left a deep impression. Why were these terrifying creatures fighting? They suspected there was a reason.

At this point, the depths of the ruins have quieted down. Sneaking there might yield astonishing rewards.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo were decisive. Making up their minds, they set off, sneaking toward that region.

Chapter 050 Jade Snake Orchid

No sooner had Ye Fan and Pang Bo neared the area than they froze in alarm. Hundreds of bucket-thick poison dragons flicked their tongues, their venomous mist corroding swathes of forest. From deep in the woods came low roars—countless large beasts prowled among the trees.

For some reason, they didn’t attack each other. Restless, they gathered in growing numbers, surging outward like a tide. Most of these fierce creatures were unrecognizable.

Above, a large group of fierce birds were circling at low altitude - each several meters long, and their shadows blotted out the sky and covered the sun.

“What’s happening?”

Ye Fan and Pang Bo stared, astounded. A sea of barbaric beasts and endless fierce birds massed here, restless as a churning tide.

Ye Fan observed for a while. “I think they’re all retreating from the depths of the ruins.”

“Could the lightning bird and scaled ape king’s fight have scared them all out?”

It’s highly unlikely. Even if the beast kings were engaged in a battle, it wouldn’t stir up so many strange beasts and spiritual birds.

“How do we get past? These fierce birds and beasts are packed like a tide—they block the way entirely.”

Find a roundabout way. This is definitely an opportunity. I suspect there is a vacuum zone deep down - perhaps the super beast kings are fighting, or something else has driven most of the fierce birds and beasts to the edge.

They trekked over ten miles, finding a sheer cliff. Climbing via vines, crossing several crags, then descending along old creepers, they finally slipped into the deep woods, evading the tide of beasts and birds.

“It’s so quiet here!”

Ancient trees towered, old vines coiled, lush and green—but the silence was eerie, as if all life had fled. Not a sound stirred.

What happened deep in the ruins? Even a king - level beast battle wouldn’t be like this. There must be another reason! Otherwise, why would all the fierce birds and beasts be fleeing? Ye Fan and Pang Bo looked at each other, full of doubts, but they still continued to move forward. Soon, they went deeper for more than ten li. The trees became more and more distorted, presenting a truly primeval scene.

“Hiss… Hiss…” A series of hissing sounds came from a field of scattered rocks, as if a group of snakes were flicking their tongues. There was a multicolored mist swirling around, exuding a stench.

“Giant snake!” Pang Bo whispered.

Among the chaotic rocks, coiled a huge python as thick as a water tank, spitting out multicolored poisonous fog, clearly in a very irritable mood.

“This is no ordinary snake - look at the jade horn on its head!”

This huge python, as thick as a water tank, had scales as big as a palm, with bright colors, glittering in the sun. What was most peculiar was the jade horn on its head, emitting colorful lights that merged into its head like silk threads.

“This horned snake has become a spirit, absorbing the essence of sun and moon. If it grows claws on its belly, it’ll be a legendary flood dragon.”

They tensed. Not all beasts had fled—some powerful ones remained. But this giant snake, too, seemed restless, as if wanting to flee but hesitating.

Suddenly, a low boom echoed from the ruins’ depths, like a distant drumbeat.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo felt an inexplicable sense of unease. The one - horned snake began to tremble, then it swam frantically towards the depths of the stony ground.

“Snake nest!”

These stones were its lair. It plunged into a huge black hole and refused to come out again. As the multicolored mist dissipated and the stench lessened, the stony ground clearly came into view.

“This must be what the teaching elder called a ‘jade-horned snake’!” At first, they hadn’t connected it, but seeing the dark hole, memories surfaced.

“I remember the teaching elder saying: jade-horned snakes evolve from old pythons that absorb sun and moon essence for over a century. Near their dens grows a rare spirit herb called ‘Jade Snake Orchid’…”

They recalled it vaguely. Beyond teaching profound methods, the elder had lectured on cultivation texts, weapons, and spirit herbs these past months. Ye Fan and Pang Bo had focused on cultivation, skimping on other knowledge. They’d crammed before the training—otherwise, they might not have recognized these herbs quickly.

“It really is Jade Snake Orchid!”

Excitement surged. At the cave’s entrance, they spotted three palm-high plants—snow-white, translucent, resembling small white snakes standing upright, with jade-like leaves and glowing white flowers atop.

The plants looked extraordinary, shimmering faintly, their fragrance drifting on the wind.

“It’s definitely Jade Snake Orchid!”

Seeing it, the teaching elder’s words echoed in their minds. They remembered its precious value.

Legend has it that an old python absorbs the essence of the sun and the moon, and the spiritual energy in its lair overflows. Most plants can’t bear it, and even the fairy grass will turn into powder if placed there for a long time. Only a strange orchid survived and absorbed the spiritual energy together with the python. After a hundred years of being bathed in spiritual essence, it has condensed a large amount of the essence of the sun and the moon. Resembling a python in shape, it is thus named “Jade Snake Orchid”.

This orchid has an extraordinary effect in detoxification and can neutralize many strange poisons. Growing beside the snake’s lair, it exactly corresponds to the saying that “wherever a venomous snake appears, there must be a fairy grass for detoxification”. Moreover, having absorbed the spiritual energy together with the python, it has condensed a large amount of the essence of life, and is highly cherished by cultivators.

They stifled their urge to rush over. Legend said this was the python’s own reserve; when the orchid fully took the python’s form, the snake would devour it. Anyone stealing it would face the python’s wrath.

“This jade-horned snake has evolved, but these three orchids aren’t fully python-shaped—still unripe.”

“How to pick them…”

“I think the old snake was scared, hiding deep in its den. We can sneak over—should succeed.”

“Not safe. Wait. If that low boom sounds again, we’ll rush in, grab them, and flee at once.”

“Good. Wait patiently.”

They hid in the stone field. Unsure what was happening in the depths, they guessed the commotion would continue, and the boom would sound again.

Sure enough, within a quarter-hour, three booms echoed. Ye Fan and Pang Bo felt their souls tremble, an odd dread creeping over them.

Steeling themselves, they sprinted forward, plucking the three Jade Snake Orchids from the cave entrance, then fled the stone field without looking back.

After running several miles, they stopped. Behind them, rumbling shook the stone field—clearly, the old snake had emerged.

“Boom!”

Another low boom from the depths jolted their hearts, sharp pain searing their chests. But the sound silenced the stone field where the old snake lurked.

“Lucky we made it. I was terrified it would chase us. It’s a spirit—even strong cultivators can’t handle it, let alone us!” They sat on a boulder, wiping sweat.

Ye Fan and Pang Bo examined the Jade Snake Orchids. They truly resembled small snakes with leaves and flowers, their stems marked with scale-like patterns, translucent as suet jade. Their fragrance permeated the senses, refreshing body and soul.

It’s a pity that they are not fully ripe yet…

“Be grateful. This stuff is hard to come by.”

“Legend says it’s packed with vital essence. Wonder how effective it really is.”

“Find a safe spot and try it.”

They’d never trade Jade Snake Orchid to Lingxu Cave Heaven’s elders for Hundred Herb Elixir. This must be far more potent than essence extracted from a hundred herbs.

Climbing vines to a cliff, they found lush vegetation but no birds or beasts—utterly quiet.

“Eating Jade Snake Orchid should protect us from snakes, scorpions, and poison bugs for a while.”

They decided Ye Fan would try one first. His physique was peculiar, immune to excessive medicinal power overwhelming his Sea of Bitterness.

Ye Fan bit off half an orchid. Fragrance exploded, filling the cliff. His mouth overflowed with sweetness, every pore opening. Spiritual energy swirled around him; the broken orchid exuded vital essence, shimmering with faint rays. He quickly popped the other half into his mouth.

Sitting cross-legged, he circulated the methods of The Dao Scripture, motionless as stone. Soon, his breathing quickened, face flushing scarlet, veins bulging, skin reddening—faint light flickering over his body.

Pang Bo watched nervously, feeling the powerful spiritual energy impacting Ye Fan’s flesh and blood. He could clearly hear Ye Fan’s blood roaring like a river, and the essence of life surging within his body, scouring his physical body - light spilling outwards.

After half an hour, the roaring in Ye Fan’s veins faded. His breathing deepened, pulse steadying—he seemed more vibrant.

“Boom!”

Suddenly, his Sea of Bitterness erupted with blazing golden light, divine rainbows shooting forth, brilliant and dazzling.

“Here it comes!” Pang Bo’s heart raced.

The scene from before repeated: Ye Fan’s Sea of Bitterness transformed into a golden ocean, tsunami roars rumbling like ten thousand armies, deafening.

The waves surge, soaring up to the sky, shining with golden light - an endless ocean, with rough waves rolling upwards, and divine radiance spreading in all directions.

“Rumble!”

Thunder cracked, golden lightning splitting the sky, ten thousand peals echoing. Destructive power intertwined with boundless vitality, surging in the flashing bolts.

The golden ocean, waves towering, merged with blazing lightning—a world of endless divine radiance.

The deafening tsunami echoed. Even having witnessed it before, Pang Bo stared, transfixed—the golden Sea of Bitterness seemed to vibrate with strange power.

Ye Fan’s Sea of Bitterness blazed, gilding the surrounding scenery.

After two hours, calm returned. Golden light faded, the roar died—his Sea of Bitterness fell silent. He seemed more ethereal, exuding an otherworldly aura.

Half an hour later, Ye Fan opened his eyes—two flashes of lightning seeming to dart from them. His gaze shone, spirit and vitality brimming.

“How do you feel?”

“Amazing. My Sea of Bitterness grew!” Circulating The Dao Scripture, a golden spark lit up his Sea of Bitterness. The sesame-sized grain had swelled to a soybean’s size, like a divine lamp burning steadily.

“This speed… incredible!” Pang Bo rejoiced, astonished. Ye Fan’s Sea of Bitterness had expanded many times over.

The golden Sea of Bitterness pulsed with faint divine power, making every movement feel effortless. Divine radiance from the sea nourished his flesh. Circulating the scripture, a golden ray shot from his fingertips—hiss—piercing an ancient tree ahead.

Pang Bo gaped. “Y-you… can wield something like ‘divine patterns’ now!”

“Jade Snake Orchid is extraordinary. Its vital essence is far stronger than those dozens of vials of Hundred Herb Elixir!” Ye Fan marvelled. Opening his golden Sea of Bitterness had been surprisingly smooth.

Pang Bo grinned. “This training wasn’t for nothing. Three spirit herbs like this—more than all others combined, I’ll bet.”

“Wonder what’s happening in the depths. Should we go deeper?”

Absolutely. Walk further ahead - there might be more gains. All the fierce birds and beasts have fled; such opportunities are rare! And there might be astonishing changes taking place in this depth - perhaps it’s an excellent opportunity for us.

<<<- To be continued, stay tuned… ->>>