# Chapter 1279: Returning as a Saint
Nine Great Emperors had vanished, but the endless heavenly tribulation and lightning remained, rumbling overhead, shaking the vast star domain.
Ye Fan stood beneath the heavens, calming his emotions, then ascended once more. He knew the heavenly punishment was not over—there were still dangers ahead waiting for him to overcome.
"Kill..."
A desolate aura rushed toward him, as if he had arrived at the end of the primordial universe, witnessing a divine war from before the ancient era—iron horses and golden spears, battle cries shaking the heavens!
Ye Fan found himself in a vast battlefield, as if transported to the primordial age. Thousands upon thousands of troops surged forward, magnificent and grand. Countless heavenly soldiers and generals appeared, along with ancient palaces and giant halls standing amidst chaotic lightning.
The primordial Heavenly Court!
These words surfaced in his mind instantly. His spirit trembled violently, as if he had truly returned to that era. Countless human-shaped lightning bolts charged toward him—were they the heavenly soldiers and generals of the primordial age?
Was this the mythological era? In the distance, chaotic deities roared, shattering sun, moon, and stars. True Golden Crows soared across the nine heavens, locked in continuous great battles!
A magnificent scroll, an immortal epic—this was the true portrayal of the battlefield before him. Incomparable. Ancient men cried out, supreme beings roared, fighting until the starry rivers shattered.
Those majestic halls, those towering heavenly gates, stood lofty and imposing upon the sky.
Immortal mist hazy, chaotic qi entwined, the ancient architectural complex stretched boundless and vast.
Countless people were slaughtering each other, fighting before these heavenly palaces and gates. All of this was still formed by lightning, filled with the aura of the mythological era.
"Kill..."
Battle cries shook the heavens. Heavenly soldiers and generals filled the surroundings. This was an unprecedented great war. Ye Fan, dragging his exhausted, wounded body, was swept into it, engaging in the final campaign.
Vermilion Birds danced across the nine heavens, their wings spreading to shatter starry rivers. Teng snakes pierced through the void, sweeping past, causing stars to fall. This was a terrifying scene of great annihilation.
Ye Fan was amidst it all, not retreating. He pressed forward without hesitation, charging alone to the front. His battle blood boiled, and all who stood in his way were swept aside.
He fought before the ancient Heavenly Court, participating in this campaign, bathing in the blood of countless people, stepping over boundless bones as he advanced, seeking the direction of his own path to the Dao.
Human-shaped lightning, palace-shaped thunder—all of it was lifelike, as if real scenes. Even when he punched through the head of an ancient saint with one fist, the scene of blood spraying was equally realistic.
Ye Fan pondered—had these beings once existed in heaven and earth, recorded by the world through Dao marks, wanting to reveal something to later generations?
He fought all the way, seeking his own path, harboring an invincible belief. Ascending to heaven, descending to earth, traversing a hundred thousand miles, he alone was supreme. He killed until the surroundings were vast and empty, with no opponent in sight.
This was a fierce, brutal battle. Charging through thousands of troops, Ye Fan had just become a saint, yet he experienced such a great calamity-like baptism. For stabilizing his realm, it was immensely beneficial—a precious sedimentation after sublimation.
He didn't know how many days and nights he had fought. Ye Fan killed until he was utterly exhausted, no longer seeing any figures. Beneath his feet were countless corpses. He alone charged into the deepest part of the ancient Heavenly Court.
Boundless fallen leaves drifted down, one after another, all stained with blood, carrying a chill, and even more a sense of desolation.
This was the bleak scene outside the central heavenly palace. Not a single soldier guarded it—only deathly silence and tranquility, along with the eternal ancient sorrow after glory's decline.
Tribulation ashes covered the ground, forming a thick layer. Though they were also formed by lightning, they were so real, as if no one had set foot here for a million years.
Ye Fan's steps were firm. Step by step, he walked toward this desolate central heavenly palace, ascending the stairs, entering the empty hall.
With a vigilant heart, he looked toward the supreme throne at the very center. His heart trembled—it was not empty. There was a hazy, indistinct figure!
Sitting alone, as if bearing the loneliness of eternity, faint and blurry, the universe and starry river revolved around him. There was an aura of swallowing the primordial universe, dominating past and present.
Emperor Venerable!
Ye Fan stopped, dragging his wounded body, standing in the central heavenly palace, confronting that dim figure.
In the central heavenly palace, within this hall, would there be an unprecedented great war that would shock past and present? Ye Fan was prepared.
If this was Emperor Venerable, he would be extremely powerful, his strength unimaginable. Otherwise, how could he have commanded the ancient Heavenly Court? Ye Fan would face another life-and-death great trial!
Ye Fan's expression was calm, his heart steady. He harbored an invincible belief, an aura of swallowing the eight directions and six realms. No matter whom he faced, he could regard them with composure.
Even if it really was Emperor Venerable, so what? He could fight him!
Ye Fan had no fear in his heart. He alone was supreme—this was an unshakable invincible will. Dragging his wounded body, he walked forward, expecting to fight Emperor Venerable. However, that hazy light scattered completely, and no powerful being manifested.
The primordial Emperor Venerable dissipated with the wind, completely fading and dimming.
"Did he never appear here?" Ye Fan muttered to himself, with a trace of melancholy, a trace of disappointment, and even more a sense of regret.
"What did what I saw foreshadow? Was Emperor Venerable's remnant will guarding the final Heavenly Court alone, ultimately annihilated in eternal desolation? I saw it, I know nothing..."
Boom!
Suddenly, an ancient cauldron flew out—three legs, two ears, a vessel of the Dao, suppressing past, present, and future!
As soon as it appeared, it charged toward the Primordial Qi Cauldron above Ye Fan's head. They collided violently, while also scattering streaks of immortal light, attacking him.
"It's... the Green Cauldron, it's... in the state of just becoming a saint weapon!" Ye Fan looked on in shock.
The two cauldrons clashed, star domains collapsed, some planets directly shattered. Wherever they swept past, everything was crushed.
In this world woven with lightning, even the Green Cauldron was engraved and manifested—truly shocking. The two cauldrons continuously collided, engaging in fierce battle.
After a day and a night, Ye Fan dragged his exhausted body, an ancient cauldron floating above his head, as he passed through the ancient Heavenly Court.
At this moment, various phenomena appeared one after another, cutting across this universe. Unfortunately, apart from the Dragon Horse, no one witnessed them—all were the most terrifying celestial phenomena from past and present.
Things like nine stars in a line, ten suns appearing together—these were simple phenomena. Chaotic deities roaring, star domains being destroyed—countless. The Kunpeng shook once, striking across three thousand worlds, its ferocious aura reaching the heavens.
"It's over..."
Ye Fan ascended to the peak, sat before the Chaotic Sea, and cast the cauldron into it, quietly watching it float.
Instantly, various thunderclaps sounded. Chaotic qi shot out in all directions, clanging as it swept toward the cauldron, while also pouring into Ye Fan's physical body.
The final refining of the cauldron—using chaotic light and fire to temper it—made the myriad things patterns on it even more complex and changeable, lifelike, as if about to pierce through the walls.
The deity born within the cauldron chanted the ancient scripture from the Nine Dragons Coffin, making the cauldron increasingly solid, ancient, and majestic, like facing a clear cosmic star sea.
Finally, everything scattered. Only Ye Fan stood beneath the starry sky, a cauldron floating above his head, letting down billions of strands of starlight and ten thousand strands of mother qi, making him appear blurry and unreal.
Ye Fan's tribulation crossing this time took a long time. Immortal Fourth becoming a saint—ten years of campaigning, ten years of bloody battle, ten years of suppression. Today, he broke through in one go to the third heaven of the saint realm, breaking through three levels consecutively.
If anyone had been here, they would have turned to stone. Every step forward for a saint consumes enormous resources, and many find it hard to advance even an inch in years. Yet now, someone had just become a saint and broken through three levels.
The lightning disappeared. Many planets in this star domain had exploded. Only now did it calm down. Starlight scattered, illuminating everything brightly.
Ye Fan let out a long cry. Countless silver waterfalls descended, and endless stars shed their radiance, converging toward him, baptizing his body, replenishing his massive consumption.
After becoming a saint, one could travel alone in the universe, absorbing the power of the void. Ye Fan's entire body was radiant—with the power of starry rivers and moonlight, as well as other cosmic divine energies.
For an entire day and night, he only stopped then. His flesh flowed with crystalline luster, his black hair like a waterfall. Multiple divine gates within his body's treasury opened, filling him with saintly power.
Within his brow, a golden little figure stepped out. The three-legged, two-eared round cauldron immediately shrank, hugged into the little figure's arms, then flew into the Immortal Platform, disappearing before his forehead bone.
Everything was complete. Ye Fan's every move possessed boundless power. At this moment, he could pluck stars and catch the moon—this was not an illusion, but truly having this kind of might!
He had successfully stepped into the ranks of saints, undergoing a qualitative leap from then on.
In the distance, the Dragon Horse's heavenly tribulation had long disappeared, but its transformation was not yet over, still in progress. This surprised Ye Fan quite a bit.
There, a huge sacred cocoon was formed by various order divine chains entwined. Additionally, wisps of Dao-dissolving power entangled there.
The Dragon Horse was wrapped in a large cocoon, like several moons, revolving around that great star that was constantly interweaving Dao-dissolving power, flowing with vast saintly power.
A horse actually learning from silkworms to form a cocoon—this was truly unimaginable.
Ye Fan had already become a saint. His eyes were deep as the ocean, containing the trajectories of ancient stars' movements, scenes of star domains being destroyed, profound and endless. He stared at that cocoon.
He knew the Dragon Horse had obtained a great fortune, rare since ancient times. That Dao-dissolving great star had interwoven endless order divine chains and laws, wrapping it, allowing it to be reborn within. After becoming a saint, it would be unfathomably deep.
"Boom!"
A few more days passed. The great cocoon exploded. The Dragon Horse's entire body was covered in flames, sacred flames leaping and dancing. It trod upon the starry sky, emitting terrifying sounds like mountains collapsing and seas roaring.
"This seat has broken through! Awoo... woof, roar!" Whether it was horse, dragon, or wolf, various howls and roars continued, expressing its inner excitement.
"This seat has broken through two levels consecutively, rare since ancient times. Who can contend?" The Dragon Horse roared. After becoming a saint, its nature was hard to change, its frivolity fully displayed.
But when it saw Ye Fan, it suddenly froze, unable to help shouting: "Is there no heavenly justice? This seat nearly dissolved into the Dao, barely surviving nine deaths, only to obtain this fruit of the Dao, yet I'm still one level behind you?!"
"Let's go, we're returning." Ye Fan soared into the air, sitting on its back, holding a black-gold long spear. With one thrust, he pierced through the universe, entering the Primordial Dao Arena.
Before the square of the second human sacred city, twelve gates opened one after another. Ku Toutuo, Mu Guanghan, Tuoba Yu, Ouye Mo, Yu Xian, and others came out one after another.
As for Di Tian's subordinates, the six ancient saints stood coldly in the distance, watching the exits. They had already come out early, waiting here.
The leader of the Thirteen Desolate Riders, Gu Ling, urged his silver sacred wolf, stepping through the void, galloping out. Then came a large number of cultivators, returning to the ancient city one after another.
Among them, a young man with gloomy eyes, followed by several elders, looked into the distance together, as if waiting for something. The young man surrounded in the center was none other than Yan Chifeng. In the Primordial Dao Arena, he had escaped death through a substitute death technique.
The second leader of the Thirteen Desolate Riders, Ye Wuhun, urged his sacred beast, the Azure Dragon, to approach in an instant. He whispered something to Yan Chifeng, his gaze equally cold.
Half an hour later, the twelve gates were about to close, with no one entering or leaving. Everyone was stunned—Ye Fan had not come out. His performance had been witnessed by all. Could it be that even someone as powerful as him had fallen inside?
"Time is up. Close the Dao Arena!" Great Commander Yu Han ordered.
"There is still a seed contestant named Ye Fan who has not come out. Logically, he should not have fallen inside. Great Commander should use the Dao Mirror to shine immortal light, check whether he has fallen, and then make a decision." An old man spoke. He was a master under the Guide Envoy.
"No need." The Great Commander's expression was cold.
"This... according to the rules, one must use the Dao Mirror to inspect before closing the exit. Otherwise, if someone is not dead and gets trapped inside the Dao Arena, the consequences would be unthinkable. If the sacred beast king inside awakens, those who failed to leave in time would most likely fall."
"Close the Dao Arena!" Great Commander Yu Han gave the order coldly.
The twelve gates rumbled as they closed, sealing the world behind in the void.
"Heh, dead. You're dead after all. If you can't survive, you're nothing!" Guan Cheng laughed, very cold and sinister, very cold. His Dao heart had stabilized, carrying a kind of coldness. Facing the twelve gates, he said darkly: "The victor is king, the loser a bandit. Die here. When the arena opens again next year, you'll be nothing but a pile of dirt."
"What are you saying?!" Rui Wei glared at him.
"I'm just stating a cruel fact." Guan Cheng responded coldly.
"Boom!"
Suddenly, a heaven-shaking, earth-splitting sound came. One of the gates shattered. A figure on a mount, divine flames leaping, like a war god, came galloping with a spear, shaking the heavens.
"What? He came out!"
Everyone was greatly shocked.
That figure on the mount was shrouded in divine light, brilliant as the morning sun, blazing as immortal fire. Rumbling, it stepped through the gate, charging straight out, divine might covering the world.
Ye Fan held a single black long spear, riding his horse forward, like an immortal king descending to the mortal world, shaking people's hearts.
Especially Guan Cheng, who was right in front. Seeing this scene, his heart pounded with fear. He had just been sneering coldly, and now he saw the very subject charging out. His heart was filled with unwillingness. Subconsciously, he raised his bronze halberd forward.
This was a kind of hostility, a kind of unwillingness, completely instinctive. Such a peerless great emperor had not died, coming out so powerfully, making him hateful and helpless.
Seeing this, Ye Fan thrust his spear forward. The Dragon Horse's hooves thundered, shaking people's spirits.
Clang!
The bronze halberd shattered. Ye Fan charged through, divine light shining in ten thousand directions. Guan Cheng let out a great cry, unable to block at all. He was pierced through by the spear, blood dripping. Ye Fan lifted him up with one hand on the spear, suspending him in midair.
Everyone's hearts trembled, filled with shock. It was too fast—from Guan Cheng revealing hostility and instinctively striking, to Ye Fan thrusting his spear—all completed in a flash of lightning and flint.
A peerless spear strike!
Ye Fan flicked his wrist, throwing the spear. It traced a terrifying trajectory, carrying Guan Cheng as it flew. With a clang, it landed before Great Commander Yu Han.
Blood splattered everywhere. The black long spear trembled, pinning Guan Cheng to the ground. Blood splashed, landing on the Great Commander's feet.
The scene was dead silent!