# Chapter 1687: Vow to Reach Great Accomplishment
Recommending a new book by a great author, "Martial Arts Defy Heaven" — the legendary story of the top ten gene chain master, the madman Qiao Wufa, who sought to condense a microcosm by competing for the Eternal Star Core, only to be reborn after an unexpected destruction of his body.
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"An Miaoyi fell into the Underworld, leaving me a remembrance through her vow, saying... 'we shall meet in the next life.'"
Ye Fan walked alone through the cosmos, gazing at the boundless starry sky, his heart wracked with grief. He needed power—the peerless divine might to battle a Supreme Being—or else how could he storm the Underworld?
The Buddhist pagoda had been broken for several levels, five hundred years already covered in dust. The dust also shrouded old memories. The Western Desert could no longer see the once-existent Ayu Lake, nor could it see that graceful figure.
Ye Fan descended to the ground, walking step by step, searching diligently. Back then, the two of them had walked around the lake together, listening to the distant, lingering chimes of the ancient temple—a scene that still seemed before his eyes.
Ahead lay only rubble. The great bell had shattered centuries ago, rust half-buried in the soil. Ayu Lake had dried up, becoming a stretch of Gobi desert, nothing but sand and gravel.
That once peerless elegance, that figure as white and pure as a lotus, was no longer in the human world. Everything had become the past. Only the wind remained, blowing through tattered scriptures, rustling loudly. Damaged scripture wheels turned, producing discordant sounds, no longer the Zen chanting of the Buddhist gate.
He still remembered—in that dusk when the evening glow filled the sky and the setting sun dyed the sacred temple red—they had bid farewell. She had seen him off with a smile, a brilliant smile, yet crystalline tears had slipped down her cheeks.
"Ah..."
Ye Fan stood by the shore of Ayu Lake in the Western Desert, roaring up at the sky. His hair was disheveled, dancing like dragons and snakes, releasing his most powerful aura.
Sand and stones flew, dust surged like tidal waves, crashing against the shore and splitting the highlands, sweeping toward the distance like a flood peak, startling the entire vast land.
A bitter laugh—this was a helpless look back.
At the bottom of the dried-up lake, spring after spring cracked open, water gushing forth, clear and crystalline. After two days and two nights, Ayu Lake was filled. Looking down from the sky, it resembled a teardrop.
The dust of Ahan Temple was swept away. The tiles and rubble lay dim and lusterless, still scattered there—broken walls and ruined foundations, unchanged. Ye Fan did not wish to rebuild them.
"A miracle!"
"The waters of Ayu Lake have reappeared! Heaven above has shown its grace!"
On the highlands, many herders ran about, spreading the news, gathering toward Ayu Lake. Many wept with joy.
This place had once been fertile land, abundant with fish and grain. But since the Dark Turmoil, the spiritual veins here had been severed, and the highlands had become desolate.
"Ayu Lake has reappeared! Heaven has bestowed its grace upon us once more! This is the brilliant pearl of our highlands, our most precious sacred lake will bring us prosperity!"
Many people cheered. Some elderly were so moved that tears streamed down their faces. They kowtowed with every step, making a pilgrimage toward this place. Many imitated them, praying by the lake.
"Eh... that person... he looks exactly like the one in the painting! He's the immortal from back then!"
Suddenly, an elderly man on the verge of death showed surprise in his cloudy eyes. Trembling unsteadily, he walked forward—he had seen Ye Fan.
By the lake, Ye Fan stood quietly, immersed in his own world, gazing at Ayu Lake, thinking of the past, bit by bit.
"May I ask, are you the immortal from back then?" the old man's voice trembled.
Ye Fan turned around. Seeing them, he let out a soft sigh and said nothing.
"It's him... the person in the painting!"
"Our ancestors once saw him back then. He walked here with a female Bodhisattva, once scattering divine light and helping many people."
"Yes, that female Bodhisattva once cultivated here, saving many people. Many households have her portrait."
They had lived here for generations. Their ancestors had said that a female Bodhisattva once cultivated here, showing great kindness to everyone on the entire highland—treating the gravely ill, using divine light to bathe newborn infants, helping herders open fertile pastures, and channeling rivers to irrigate the wilderness.
Some had seen this female Bodhisattva walking together with Ye Fan, the two like a pair of immortal lovers, leaving a deep impression on the herders' ancestors.
"Is the female Bodhisattva still here?" An old man pushed aside his grandchildren's support, knelt down to give thanks, and inquired.
Ye Fan's heart ached. Now only he remained—how could he respond? He raised his hand and scattered a rain of light, covering everyone, revitalizing the elderly man on the verge of death, curing all ailments of the middle-aged, and making the children spirited and healthier.
"He is the divine man from back then! The one who was with the female Bodhisattva! Can you tell us where the female Bodhisattva went? We have always enshrined her portrait, grateful for generations."
Behind him, a herder gathered his courage and asked loudly.
Ye Fan was silent. His hands slowly moved, and the earth rumbled beneath him, the entire highland shaking. Now his Source Art had reached its peak, capable of transforming heaven and earth. Soon, he reconnected the underground dragon veins, and spiritual energy gushed forth.
Then, he soared into the air, pointing his fingers like blades, carving river channels across the land. Before long, water flowed along the channels, moistening the barren soil and reviving its vitality.
"The celestial immortal has shown his power! Thank heaven above for its grace!"
Seeing this, many herders knelt down, their voices like a tidal wave.
"It is not that heaven above has eyes, nor that heaven and earth have feelings. Do not bow to me. This is something the female Bodhisattva in your hearts once did. I think if she were still alive, she would do the same. If you wish to offer sacrifices, if you wish to bow, then honor her. Remember her name—An Miaoyi!"
In the sky, Ye Fan's figure faded away.
In an era when Mount Sumeru had shattered, the Great Thunderclap Monastery had collapsed, Buddhism had declined, and faith was lost, the beings of Ayu Highland never forgot this female Bodhisattva. This showed how deeply she had touched their hearts in the past.
From that day onward, the collapsed Ahan Ancient Temple—its broken walls and ruined foundations—was rebuilt. The ancient temple rose again, once more bathed in the sacred glow of the setting sun. The herders washed the tiles and rubble, covering them as before, still using the original ancient materials.
The temple enshrined not the Buddhas of the heavens, but only one woman—An Miaoyi. Every day, people prayed, and the incense grew stronger. Even the originally clay statue began to show vitality and luster.
Ye Fan also went to Lantuo Temple, but unfortunately found nothing—not even a single trace. He climbed Mount Sumeru, but now it no longer had its former grandeur; it was somewhat desolate. Although many strong practitioners and preachers had come from the Amitabha Ancient Star Domain, it could never compare to the grand atmosphere of the former number one holy land of Buddhism.
Bodhi trees stretched to the sky, covering the mountains and fields.
Ye Fan walked aimlessly, leaving his footprints alone on Mount Sumeru. Then he journeyed eastward, crossing Central Province, heading toward the Eastern Wasteland, searching for traces of the past.
Unfortunately, everything was like a dream, like a bubble, like an illusion, like lightning—all buried in the past.
"An Miaoyi is no more..." Ye Fan walked alone through the mountains and rivers, appearing in the great wilderness like a lone wolf, silhouetted against the blood-red setting sun, looking very lonely.
He needed to become stronger. He needed to reach the step where he could battle a Supreme Being. Looking back over five hundred years, the bits and pieces of the past stirred his emotions, made his blood boil, and gradually his blood began to surge.
"Underworld, I will break in!"
With a long roar, the myriad mountains and valleys rumbled. Like a comet streaking across the sky, he appeared in many places that day.
When he found the ruins of the Divine City in the Northern Domain and paid his respects there, it caused a sensation. Someone recognized him, and the news spread like a hurricane across the entire Eastern Wasteland.
"The Sacred Body Ye Fan, who disappeared for many years, has returned!"
"Heavens, it's him! The peerless expert of today, who has slain six or seven ancient imperial princes—who can contend with him?"
The Eastern Wasteland shook. Countless strong practitioners rushed over, especially many rising cultivators and young experts who had emerged in recent decades, all extremely excited.
"Senior, is it really you?"
"Senior Ye, please accept me as your disciple!"
A crowd surrounded him. Some excitedly performed great bows of worship, while others knelt, hoping to become his disciples.
Several hundred years had passed. Ye Fan's former enemies had either turned to ashes or been beaten so badly by his disciples that they couldn't lift their heads. His name shook the starry river, naturally attracting much admiration.
And the achievements of that battle over three hundred years ago could not be erased. He had sacrificed himself for the Dao, his blood splattering across the stars, falling for centuries, only to miraculously return—naturally becoming a legend.
Ye Fan looked at these young, inexperienced faces and thought of many things. He too had once been so full of vitality, with ambitions to swallow mountains and rivers. But now he found that all his pursuits had gradually changed.
Only five hundred years had passed on his cultivation path, yet his life already had irreparable regrets. One could imagine what those great emperors who had survived a hundred battles and grown old alone had faced. Just thinking about it felt desolate.
Ye Fan helped up those still somewhat immature youths, silently passed through the crowd, and headed into the distance. How could he have the mood to take on disciples?
Outside the crowd, some old acquaintances saw him. The Wanchu, Dayan, and other holy lands had largely collapsed during the dark age, with only a few survivors remaining. Seeing Ye Fan now, their expressions were extremely complex.
A man with hair white as snow but the face of a middle-aged man wore a wooden expression. He was the later-selected Holy Son of Wanchu. Although he had succeeded as Saint Lord, they had ultimately declined and retreated into the mortal world. Looking at Ye Fan, who had once been his equal but now shook the entire universe, he could only smile bitterly. Time, so merciless, had buried too much.
Among them, a woman with clear eyes watched quietly, as serene as ever. Ye Fan sensed something, turned back, and nodded. He recognized her as the Holy Maiden of Daoyi, whom he had met a few times and had a decent impression of.
"Brother Ye, we can only gaze at you from afar now. What you said back then about the Sacred Body reaching great accomplishment and becoming invincible under heaven is about to come true." By the roadside, another imposing man with jet-black hair spoke.
He was the later Saint Lord of the Dayan Holy Land. As time passed, he found he could no longer keep up with that person from the past, left far behind.
Ye Fan turned back, nodded in acknowledgment, and completely disappeared from this place.
The Wind Clan had not been destroyed. A carriage drawn by nine phoenixes pulling a sun chariot stopped in the distance. Someone inside watched, only to let out a helpless sigh. Now Ye Fan was a figure who gave even ancient imperial bloodlines headaches—few could compare to him.
The Big Dipper naturally still had many ancient clans. Many came to watch, all with complex emotions. Facing Ye Fan, they could only lower their heads and make way.
Ye Fan's appearance shook the Big Dipper. Many familiar and unfamiliar people rushed over, wanting to meet him, including survivors of the Great Xia Imperial Dynasty, as well as cultivators and masters from the Heavenly Demon Palace, the Jade Pool, and other places.
He did not stop. He went far away alone, deep into the great wilderness, with three words echoing in his ears: "We shall meet in the next life..."
His heart felt as if it were being twisted. Others thought his cultivation speed was already fast enough, but he felt it was still insufficient—he still could not sweep across the six directions and eight wastelands. There were still Supreme enemies in this world!
He began to break through his cultivation barriers. His blood boiled within him. He observed the sun, moon, mountains, and rivers, following the Dao naturally, letting it enter his eyes, his heart, and his spirit. He read the imperial scriptures of predecessors, one passage after another taking form, like ancient emperors surrounding him.
Ye Fan sat in meditation, with the sun, moon, mountains, and rivers as his teachers, and the imperial scriptures as his companions. He wanted to soar into the sky, to face all enemies in the world directly!
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