Chapter 185: Land of Ill Omen
Ancient events faded with the passage of time, the dust of history buried deep beneath the earth—this was the truest portrayal of the Northern Domain. As the years stretched on, once vibrant lands turned desolate, and the races of old became nothing but clouds of history.
Now, the Northern Domain was left with nothing but endless emptiness and bleakness. Gazing into the distance, the boundless earth held nothing at all—only a monotonous reddish-brown.
A dozen riders galloped swiftly. Old Fifth Zhang’s village was two hundred li away. At this pace, they could return before sunset.
Ye Fan also rode a horse, keeping pace with Old Fifth Zhang as he earnestly inquired about various secrets concerning Source.
A thousand years ago, the *Source Heaven Scripture* had been lost, and many Source-seeking secret arts had vanished with it. Old Fifth Zhang deeply regretted this; every time he spoke of it, he sighed.
Ye Fan was somewhat disappointed as well. That was undoubtedly an extraordinary book, and he longed to glimpse its contents. To trace the dragon veins of Source and locate peerless divine Source—such methods were astonishing and earth-shattering. Once mastered, one would become a honored guest of the Holy Lands. This remarkable book held immeasurable value. The dozen riders galloped on, leaving behind a dozen trails of dust.
After more than an hour, the horses slowed. They had only covered seventy or eighty li—these were not fine steeds, merely ordinary horses with limited stamina. “Giddy up!”
Suddenly, seven or eight riders appeared on the horizon, moving at incredible speed like a whirlwind, kicking up towering dust clouds. In the blink of an eye, they were upon them.
Their mounts were no ordinary horses. They gleamed with light, tall and powerful, majestic and imposing. These were Dragon-Scale Horses, shaped like horses but covered in azure scales. They could travel four to five thousand li a day without tiring. “Bad news, they’re bandits!” The sharp-witted youth named Wang Shu changed color.
“Stop right there, all of you!” a dark-skinned middle-aged man barked.
Eight Dragon-Scale Horses surrounded them, blocking Ye Fan and the others. The riders all shouted, “Hand over the Source you’ve dug up, or this place will be your burial ground.”
Ye Fan had finally experienced the chaos of this lawless land firsthand. In broad daylight, bandits roamed freely, killing and robbing without hesitation. “Sir, we haven’t gathered a single grain of Source today. We have nothing,” Wang Shu explained with a flattering smile.
“Less nonsense! You Source diggers never cry until you see the coffin. Hand it over and you can leave, or else today will be your death day,” the dark-faced middle-aged man in the center scolded. “Sir, we truly have nothing. If you don’t believe us, feel free to search us. We won’t resist,” Old Fifth Zhang said with a cupped fist salute.
Ye Fan patted Old Fifth Zhang on the shoulder, telling him not to worry, and sized up these men. “Old man, get out of the way!” A bandit stepped forward, fixing his gaze on Ye Fan, sensing a trace of Source energy on him.
“Still claiming you have no Source? This tender-skinned youth must be hiding quite a bit,” another bandit said, cracking his whip and lashing it heavily toward Ye Fan, cursing, “You dare lie to our faces!”
“Snap!”
Ye Fan grabbed the whip firmly and said to Old Fifth Zhang and the others, “Go ahead and wait for me up ahead.” “You little brat, who do you think you are? A mere Source digger dares act like this?” The bandit swept his gaze around and said, “Who dares to leave? All of you stay put!”
“Thud!”
Ye Fan yanked him off the Dragon-Scale Horse but didn’t kill him. He had many questions for these bandits. Old Fifth Zhang and the others took the chance to flee into the distance.
The bandit leader, accustomed to plundering, immediately sensed something was wrong. He abandoned his Dragon-Scale Horse and shot into the sky, trying to escape.
“Still trying to run?” Ye Fan flicked his fingers, and eight bursts of finger wind, like eight hammers, struck their bodies. The eight men tumbled to the ground.
The bandit leader was merely a Life Spring realm cultivator. To Ye Fan, he was utterly insignificant. These men all turned pale, knowing they had kicked an iron board. “Are you really bandits? The Source you have combined doesn’t even weigh half a jin.” Ye Fan was quite dissatisfied. “Tell me in detail, what bandit groups are nearby?”
Half an hour later, Ye Fan led eight Dragon-Scale Horses as he caught up with Old Fifth Zhang and the others. “If I bring these Dragon-Scale Horses back, will it cause you trouble?”
The dozen or so young men eyed them eagerly, but Old Fifth Zhang shook his head. “Let them fend for themselves. Only bandits ride such beasts. If our village had these exotic mounts, it would be too conspicuous.”
“Bandits run rampant. Don’t the local sects do anything?” Ye Fan asked.
“How could they? Bandits are like locusts—one batch leaves, another comes. There’s no way to control them.”
“It’s good enough if they don’t collude with them. I’ve heard that many sects secretly back bandits for plundering.”
Ye Fan further understood the chaos and bloodshed of the Northern Domain. This was practically a paradise of sin.
“No wonder cultivators from other regions come to the Northern Domain to take risks. Here, there’s no law. As long as you have strength, you can be a local tyrant.”
Ye Fan felt this suited him well. He wouldn’t have to worry about Source.
Before sunset, they finally completed the two-hundred-li journey.
Ahead lay a stone-built stockade of only a few dozen households, totaling no more than two hundred people.
As they approached, Ye Fan saw that the folk were indeed fierce. Regardless of age or gender, all the villagers gripped sharp knives. Only when they saw it was Old Fifth Zhang and his group returning did they breathe a sigh of relief and lower their blades. “Big Beard Chen came again. He said there are only five more days. If we don’t hand over the Source, he’ll wipe out our entire village.” The villagers were downcast, sighing heavily. “The other teams that went out also came back empty-handed.” “The nearby areas have been over-mined over the years. The Source is exhausted. How can we gather any in such a short time?”
Ye Fan settled down. In the Northern Domain, most houses were made of stone. His lodging was clean and had been carefully tidied.
That evening, Old Fifth Zhang and the others warmly hosted him. They specially slaughtered a sheep. Everyone sat around a bonfire, taking the golden, oil-drizzled whole sheep from the roasting rack. They tore into the meat with big bites and drank from large bowls.
The men of the Northern Domain were mostly rough, even bandit-like, and inevitably engaged in drinking contests. Ye Fan ate heartily. After days of constant fleeing, this feeling allowed him to relax.
During the meal, he asked Old Fifth Zhang about several place names, inquiring about their locations.
Old Fifth Zhang had someone bring a parchment map and pointed them out—all within a hundred li radius. These were strongholds he had learned of from the bandits.
Now, Ye Fan urgently needed Source to boost his strength. That very night, he took action, launching successive raids on three bandit strongholds.
The results left him deeply disappointed. Each den had only a dozen or so men. From all three places combined, he found just over two jin of Source.
“Not enough for me. I need to target a major bandit.” At this point, Ye Fan intensely missed the Source region of Yaoguang Holy Land. That was truly a treasure land. The outer areas were extremely barren, incomparable to it.
This stone stockade was located in an oasis spanning a dozen li in radius. On the horizon stood a solitary mountain, towering several thousand meters high. It had no soil, no vegetation—it was entirely a stone mountain.
At dawn, sunlight spilled down, giving the massive stone mountain an immensely solemn feel.
When Ye Fan walked out of his stone house, he happened to see Old Fifth Zhang facing the sunrise and bowing toward that mountain. This struck him as very strange.
The young man called Er Lengzi explained naively, “Old Fifth Zhang’s first task every morning is to worship that mountain.”
Ye Fan’s heart stirred. That mountain was likely no ordinary place; there must be a hidden story. Just then, Old Fifth Zhang approached. He didn’t explain anything, simply inviting Ye Fan to breakfast. “Er Lengzi, tell me, what’s so strange about that mountain?” Ye Fan asked when no one else was around.
“I don’t know. Old Fifth Zhang won’t let us near it. He says it’s a land of ill omen,” Er Lengzi shook his head.
After breakfast, Ye Fan set out, moving like a wisp of smoke. In no time, he reached the foot of the mountain.
It was entirely purplish-brown, as if polished from dull purple gold—heavy and solid. It stood four thousand meters high, extremely steep, impossible for ordinary people to climb.
Ye Fan was astonished to find many sword and blade marks on it, nearly weathered away. Only by careful examination could they be discerned.
He tried scratching the stone wall with a finger and found it as hard as refined iron. This purple rock was very peculiar.
Ye Fan drew a sharp breath. For such a hard mountain to have weathered to this degree, what era had those blade and axe marks been left behind? It was impossible to estimate!
He slowly rose into the air, growing more shocked. The marks weren’t just on the cliff face at the mountain’s base; blade and weapon puncture holes covered the entire mountain, extending all the way to the halfway point.
At the halfway mark, the purple mountain rose and fell sharply, like a giant sword thrusting into the sky, its momentum overwhelming.
Ye Fan was amazed to find that, besides various weapon marks, there were many palm prints and finger holes, nearly weathered, faintly discernible.
“These must be traces from before the Primordial Era. Otherwise, on such hard purple stone, these holes couldn’t have nearly worn away.” Ye Fan flew to the summit and gazed into the distance. He saw mountain ridges in every direction.
“There are nine mountain ridges in total, barely visible on the far horizon. This purple mountain seems to be at the center.” Ye Fan had no expertise in geography and couldn’t spot anything special. In the end, he focused solely on this purple mountain.
The summit was bare, with nothing on it. Morning sunlight fell, making the entire mountain appear even more majestic. “Nothing special about it. Could there be Source inside?” Ye Fan summoned the Golden Book and slashed at the summit.
The purple mountain was extremely hard, especially at the top, but the Golden Book still cut through it. Sparks flew, and rocks scattered. Before long, a large pit appeared on the summit.
Ye Fan frowned. He found nothing unusual. This wasn’t the kind of stone that contained Source; it shouldn’t yield any. In the end, he returned empty-handed to the stone stockade.
The next day, he woke early and watched from a distance. Sure enough, Old Fifth Zhang’s first act after leaving his house was to bow to that mountain.
At breakfast, he couldn’t hold back any longer and asked, “Old man, is that mountain very special? Why do you bow to it every day?”
Old Fifth Zhang’s expression tightened. He sighed and said, “That is a land of ill omen. You must never go there. My ancestors said that in the entire Northern Domain, no one can provoke it.”
“Provoke…” Ye Fan was even more shocked. “What exactly is in that purple mountain?”
“I don’t know what’s in it. I only know it’s a land of ill omen.”
Ye Fan didn’t get any answers. He wandered around the stockade, then found Er Lengzi and questioned him again, but he couldn’t say anything definitive either.
The sharp-witted youth Wang Shu happened to pass by. He had a good impression of Ye Fan, knowing he had stayed to help the village. “I know a bit. Once, when Old Fifth Zhang was drunk, he wept bitterly and said that place is a land of ill omen, connected to some ancient Great Emperor.”
Ye Fan was immediately stunned. Since ancient times, how many Great Emperors had the entire Eastern Wasteland produced?
Only a handful—a mere few individuals. They had reigned supreme over the realm, shaking the past and present. Almost no one could surpass their achievements.
The few terrifying Extreme Dao weapons of the Eastern Wasteland had all been forged by those few. No one else could refine them.
At that moment, Ye Fan felt his blood boil. He almost shouted out loud. Connected to an ancient Great Emperor? His mind raced with countless thoughts.