Chapter 1800: Earth
A water-blue star lay ahead, beautiful and crystalline, like a blue diamond set in the starry sky. Spacecraft occasionally darted about, streaking across like brilliant auroras.
Ye Fan stood in the outer realm, quietly gazing down. Time flew like a shuttle, years like arrows—over six thousand years had passed. Looking back, what had he gained, and what had he lost?
All these years, he had been on distant star battlefields. What kind of era was that?
Neither Zhang Wenchang nor Pang Bo had returned only once. Zhang Wenchang always came back after crossing tribulations; in his words, it was a rebirth, and he had to come see. Pang Bo brought his descendants, letting them experience the homeland’s customs, treating it as an important journey in life.
As for Ye Fan, he had many past concerns. His enemies were too powerful; he feared drawing the flames of war here, always suppressing the urge and emotion to return. Later, when he became invincible across heaven and earth, that worry should have vanished. But inertia kept him still, never turning back, until today.
“I’ll go down first. You all take your time,” said the Dragon Horse, trailing a streak of lightning as it plunged into the star below.
Ye Fan and the others descended as well. With a flash of light, they appeared on a mountain peak. Spiritual energy swirled—humanity had developed, and Earth’s environment had greatly improved, now suitable for cultivation. Of course, this was also fundamentally due to the ninety-nine dragon mountains beginning to emit vital energy.
“I’m leaving first,” Zhang Wenchang said, unusually silent and reserved, departing alone.
Back when he entered the stars, his wife was pregnant, and he couldn’t stay by her side—a lifelong regret. Later, he learned she had found a good man. All he could do was weep bitterly on the other side of the stars, then silently gaze and offer blessings from afar.
Earth had many ancient formations. Over six thousand years, people had realized this land was far larger than they imagined. They could now scientifically uncover parts of its sealed history and geography.
Civilization was advanced here, with brilliant technology and cultivators appearing among mortals, long accepted by the world.
“Master! Uncle-Master!”
When Ye Fan and Pang Bo arrived at the overseas Penglai Immortal Island, an old man with an immortal air, crane-white hair and a childlike face, flew over and performed a grand bow. He was Ye Fan’s former nominal disciple, Zhan Yifan.
After over six thousand years, he had been a Great Sage for many years, but ultimately couldn’t withstand time, now so aged.
In contrast, Ye Fan remained young, his blood vitality vigorous, appearing around twenty years old. Time had left no trace on him.
This place had become the Heavenly Court’s base on Earth. The island was vast, like a continent, but hidden from the mortal world, hard for outsiders to find.
Many disciples looked at him with strange eyes—he was far younger than their ancestor Zhan Yifan, the contrast too great and odd.
“Come here, all of you! This is your true ancestor!” Zhan Yifan announced.
Penglai shook. Countless disciples rushed over, numbering tens of thousands. The Heavenly Court was now Earth’s most powerful inheritance, unmatched.
They had long known that their ancestor had become an emperor in the universe, called the Heavenly Emperor, invincible across the nine heavens and ten lands. But they had never seen him or known of his return.
Today, Ye Fan’s sudden arrival caused an earthquake. Disciples training outside rushed back upon hearing the news, incredibly excited.
“Master!”
Next, You Weiyu and Yan Xiaoyu, the immortal couple of Penglai Island, awoke from deep seclusion to pay respects. Like Zhan Yifan, they were Ye Fan’s nominal disciples, with extraordinary talent, having visited the Heavenly Court headquarters in the deep stars several times.
“It’s a pity. Sister Huang Tiannu passed away,” You Weiyu sighed softly.
People have birth, aging, sickness, and death; cultivators are no exception. Even they might follow in a thousand years, unable to reverse it.
“Xu Ye… she also…” Yan Xiaoyu whispered, knowing she was the daughter of their master’s mortal confidante.
“I already know,” Ye Fan sighed.
So many years had passed. His old friend Xu Qiong could no longer be in the mortal world, turned to yellow earth long ago—a powerless defiance of heaven.
And Xu Qiong’s daughter, Xu Ye, lively and spirited in youth, the little demoness in Little Pine’s eyes, later took up cultivation. But over six thousand years, she too had passed away on this island.
Two thousand years ago, when Little Pine received the news, he wept bitterly. During his time on Earth, he and Xu Ye had been the best of friends.
Now Little Pine was sealed and couldn’t come; otherwise, he would surely grieve.
Mortal affairs—everything dissolved in the river of time. Friends and family from that worldly life were no more. Ye Fan could only heave a long sigh.
Pang Bo patted his shoulder, saying nothing. He had returned several times, and seeking the descendants of his parents and elder brother had also been deeply sorrowful.
“Master, this way,” Zhan Yifan said.
They entered a cemetery at the back of Penglai Immortal Island. An ancient grave, aged by time, was constantly tended. Around it, flowers and grass were fragrant, and snow maples grew in clusters.
This was his parents’ tomb, moved here by Zhan Yifan and others. Over thousands of years, the world had changed dramatically—seas turned to mulberry fields, the outside transformed beyond recognition.
“I want to be alone for a while,” Ye Fan said to everyone. He had long heard his parents’ grave was here. Despite his profound cultivation, his heart ached, and his eyes blurred.
The others withdrew, not disturbing him.
Ye Fan sat alone before the grave. No one could hear what he murmured. They only saw his back, feeling his loneliness. He didn’t move all night.
Only at noon did he rise, walking to another tomb. Seeing the engraved characters “Xu Ye,” he couldn’t help but gently touch them, standing there for a long time.
When Ye Fan left the cemetery, the others saw nothing unusual, only a deep loneliness. But there was no violent emotional upheaval after great grief, as they had imagined.
Only Pang Bo understood: that mortal era was more precious to Ye Fan than anything, yet it was lost, never to return.
In the following days, Ye Fan taught several disciples profound Dao insights, then left to walk alone.
Dragon Tiger Mountain, Gezao Mountain, Zhongnan Mountain, Emei Mountain—all bore Ye Fan’s footprints. But nowhere could he find an old acquaintance. The sect leaders of those days had passed away who knows how long ago.
The Sun-Dwelling Daoist, Kunlun Sect Leader Xue Chen, the Immortal Sword Sect Leader, and others had later broken through to the Saint realm, but ultimately rode the crane west.
Ye Fan walked into the mortal world. In the city center, skyscrapers rose like scales, while in the distance, the environment was beautiful, gardens orderly arranged. Spaceships occasionally streaked across the sky, flashing with colorful light.
This was no longer the city he knew—it had changed greatly. Even in the suburbs, he couldn’t find traces of the past.
Ye Fan passed several old places, then suddenly stopped. In a quiet villa district, he sensed a familiar fluctuation and walked forward.
“It’s you…” The door opened, revealing a beautiful face. She looked at Ye Fan on the lawn.
A woman, her face still young, but her hair completely white. She stared blankly at him, then came to her senses, smiling: “You’re back too.”
She was Lin Jia, one of those who had crossed the stars with him to reach the other shore. Later, she had great fortune and became a disciple of the Woodcutter Old Man. When the Dao Palace organization merged into the Heavenly Court, she left.
White hair, youthful face—in truth, if not for her powerful cultivation preserving her appearance with divine arts, she would have aged.
Lin Jia invited Ye Fan inside, brewed him a cup of light green tea, and set it on the table. This startled him, plunging him into distant memories.
Back then, he loved to brew a cup of light tea, sit by the window, and read all kinds of books—a true enjoyment. Years had passed; he had nearly forgotten that feeling.
“You’re nostalgic. You still live in the same city,” Ye Fan finally spoke.
“I’m tired. I just want peace, to live out this life quietly. Some beautiful past memories are worth recalling,” Lin Jia said.
That single word “tired” revealed her true state of mind—weary of everything in the stars, so she returned, reintegrating into this city.
The Woodcutter Old Man had two disciples: Lin Jia and Zhou Yi. They chose different paths.
Zhou Yi never yielded, always striving upward. He had broken into the Quasi-Emperor realm many years ago, deeply studying the Book of Changes and Bagua. His power was now unfathomable, with a fearsome reputation in the stars.
After the Dao Palace organization vanished, he didn’t join the Heavenly Court. Instead, he chose to struggle on his own, hoping to reach the pinnacle and enter the Great Emperor domain.
But over six thousand years, he too had aged. Now, he gazed at his homeland from the stars, a few strands of white mixed in his hair.
“I’m not the only one who returned. Yi Yi is also tired. And Kaide—though old in years, his heart is young—has become the God of Light in the Western world,” Lin Jia said with a smile.
At that moment, the Dragon Horse had wandered to the West, visiting the Light Divine Court, making a ruckus.
“Hey, Yellow-Hair, you’re something! Running away from Mount Sumeru was one thing, then joining the Heavenly Court and running again. Now you’re playing the holy man yourself. You really want to compete with your so-called god?” the Dragon Horse shouted, guzzling wine in a Light Divine Hall deep in the void, drinking merrily with Kaide.
Around them, winged angel attendants looked on, all baffled. They had no idea who this sacred beast was, making their lord personally accompany him. He looked more like a great demon.
Back in the villa district, Lin Jia sighed softly. “Over six thousand years have passed. I wonder how many of those from back then remain.”
Ye Fan reflected. Of the thirty-some people back then, very few were left now. “Besides you and me, there’s Zhou Yi, Kaide, Pang Bo, Zhang Ziling, Liu Yiyi, Zhang Wenchang, Wang Ziwen, and Li Xiaoman.”
Lin Jia sighed again, then suddenly said, “Why don’t we gather once more? At Mount Tai. I always feel like I’m in a great dream. I really want to wake up.”
Ye Fan extended his divine sense, summoning Pang Bo and Zhang Wenchang. Both felt strange, but ultimately agreed to Lin Jia’s proposal.
“Should we bring everyone back from the stars?” Zhang Wenchang asked.
A few days later, atop Mount Tai, the rising sun painted the clouds with rosy hues, making it look like an immortal realm. After nearly sixty-five hundred years, the same people stood here again.
They gazed at the sky, as if waiting for something. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to register on the literature site and recommend it. Your support is my greatest motivation.)