Chapter 604: Field Hides the Qilin

**Chapter 608: The Kirin Hidden in the Fields**

Jin Chixiao was first taken aback, then a fiery anger surged within him, his veins bulging. He nearly swore aloud, wondering when he had ever been treated with such contempt. Even if he didn't recognize the ancient divine script, he shouldn't be rebuked in such a manner. Yet, he dared not retort. Impaled by the golden war spear and suspended in mid-air, his life was in Ye Fan's hands, and he didn't dare to even breathe heavily.

"You have the blood of Primordial Kings flowing within you. As their descendant, have you not even learned those characters?" Ye Fan asked, clearly displeased.

"Through continuous intermarriage with humans, we've nearly become half-human. Our ancient blood has thinned, and the mark of the Ancestor Kings has long since faded," Jin Chixiao explained. He felt a deep unease. For a proud descendant of the Golden King to be called illiterate—there was nothing more humiliating or ridiculous. He longed to devour this detestable enemy whole.

Ye Fan was immensely disappointed, his face devoid of warmth. He had finally captured an ancient creature, hoping it could translate the Immortal Tear Green Gold scripture, only to find it didn't recognize a single word.

"Where is the Nine Heavens Blue Sky Bell King?"

"It has been sent to the Northern Plains."

"Nonsense! Hand it over immediately!" Ye Fan glared.

Jin Chixiao's heart pounded. He cautiously explained, "The Azure Bell is the weapon of an invincible king, but it has been sullied. I had someone send it back to my family for purification..."

"Does the Golden Family possess Divine Earth Milk?" Ye Fan asked, surprised.

"We have some. It should be able to restore the treasure to its former glory," Jin Chixiao replied cautiously.

"When will they send it to you?" Ye Fan mused. With a rare treasure like Divine Earth Milk, the Azure Bell could certainly be purified.

"I don't know..."

"Then what good are you?" Ye Fan cried out in frustration. He had encountered an ancient creature that didn't know the ancient script, and even the Bell King had been sent away. The more he looked at Jin Chixiao, the more he found him an eyesore.

"If you spare my life, I'm willing to pay any price," Jin Chixiao begged for mercy, having sensed the other's murderous intent.

"You've ambushed me three times; do you still expect to live?" Ye Fan said no more. With a flick of the golden war spear, he reduced Jin Chixiao to a bloody pulp, obliterating his body and spirit.

"No..."

In the distance, three Grand Elders rushed over and witnessed the scene. Their hearts shattered. Their young master had died like this; it would be incredibly difficult to account for.

Ye Fan departed without a backward glance, leaving only a faint afterimage as he vanished into the boundless sky.

"How much is floating life like a dream? Floating life brings ever more worries. No one grants me the art of immortality; in the mountains, let me sing long through the spring days..."

The woods were lush, slender vines wrapped around ancient trees, and a bluestone path wound its way deeper into the mountains. A woodcutter sang loudly, lending a poetic ambiance to the scene. Ye Fan traveled westward, choosing this mountain range, located over a thousand li from Xiba City. He intended to meditate here and strive for the Fourth Transformation of Dragon Ascension.

This place wasn't remarkably beautiful, but it possessed a harmonious blend of mountains and water. Lakes dotted the landscape below, and a dilapidated Taoist temple nestled within the mountains. Though not a land of immortals, it exuded an aura of returning to simplicity. From a distance, Ye Fan saw the woodcutter descending the bluestone path from the mountain. He carried a bundle of firewood, was sturdily built, and had a full, bushy beard.

"Brother, hearing your song, might you be a cultivator?"

"Young man, you misunderstand. I am but a commoner, no cultivator at all. I simply heard an old Taoist priest singing and remembered the words."

Ye Fan, surprised, asked, "May I ask where that esteemed master resides?"

"There's a Taoist temple in the mountains. An old Taoist priest used to live there, but it has fallen into disrepair over the years. That old Taoist was very old; he passed away a few years ago."

Ye Fan's heart stirred. He bid farewell to the woodcutter and followed the bluestone path into the mountains. After traversing nine peaks, gazing across one to the next, he finally spotted a dilapidated Taoist temple nestled on a low hill. On that low hill, there were no verdant bamboo or lush foliage, nor any spiritual herbs or precious grasses. It was utterly simple, with a small vegetable patch that had long been overgrown with weeds.

"Dharma, dharma, the source is beyond dharma. Emptiness, emptiness, is also not empty. Silence and clamor, speech and quietude are fundamentally one. When in a dream did one ever speak of dreams? Usefulness within usefulness is useless. Effort within effort applies effort. If the fruit ripens, it naturally turns red. Do not ask how to cultivate or plant..."

Two hunters emerged from the mountains, clad in animal skins. They walked with vigorous strides, carrying bows and arrows, and effortlessly bore a wild deer, showing no signs of sweat despite their strong physiques.

"Brothers, what is it you are reciting?" Ye Fan asked, stepping forward.

"Oh, this? We often heard an old Taoist singing it and unknowingly memorized it. Every time we pass by here after hunting, we can't help but sing it when we think of him," one hunter replied.

This was an enlightened master. Ye Fan was now certain that the old Taoist on that low hill was no ordinary person.

"It's a pity, he was too old. He passed away two or three years ago," the other said.

Ye Fan asked a few more questions and learned that the old Taoist had also taught them some simple breathing techniques that could strengthen muscles and bones, perfectly suited for ordinary mortals.

"Young man, are you seeking immortals and the Tao? It's a pity you arrived too late..."

Clearly, the two hunters held the old Taoist in high regard and paused to share a few more words. The old Taoist was extremely ancient; even their grandfathers recalled him being there when they were very young. No one knew how many years he had lived alone on the mountain.

"Thank you, brothers," Ye Fan said before departing. This time, he followed the mountain path and finally ascended the low hill.

The small Taoist temple, old and squat like a thatched hut, had been dilapidated for several years. Deserted and quiet, no one entered or left. In front of the small Taoist temple stood an ancient pine tree, its hollow trunk so wide that many people could barely embrace it. Its branches were gnarled and vigorous, yet its leaves were sparse; the old tree was nearly withered. There was no herb garden, only a single, overgrown vegetable patch. Additionally, a grape arbor stood with dry, withered vines, from which hung merely two or three small bunches of purple grapes.

"This Taoist temple and the ancient tree have been here for at least four thousand years..." Ye Fan's heart trembled as he sensed the aura of immense time. Had the old Taoist built this temple himself? Had he personally planted this ancient tree? If so, he was undoubtedly a formidable master.

Ye Fan entered the dilapidated Taoist temple and searched meticulously, hoping to find some clues. However, the interior was covered in thick dust, completely devoid of ancient texts or inscriptions. It was very ordinary, indistinguishable from any other common Taoist temple: a worn-out prayer mat, a few tattered Taoist robes, and a fly whisk gnawed by insects. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

Ye Fan emerged and walked to the back of the Taoist temple. There, he found a small burial mound, without a tombstone or inscription, just a simple pile of yellow earth.

"This is his tomb. He passed away without leaving a single word, nameless, and his cultivation method was not passed down to posterity..."

Standing before the yellow earth mound, he activated his Source Heaven Divine Eye, gazing into the earth, wanting to discern the cultivation level of the skeleton beneath.

"Huh..." He was startled. It was an empty tomb, devoid of any remains. "No, there are ragged Taoist robes, hair, and shoes and socks..." His heart stirred. Could this be a cenotaph?

"Transformed into the Dao!" He was greatly astonished. He finally confirmed that there must have been a corpse, but it had dissolved itself before death. This was undoubtedly the mark of a true master. Generally, only individuals at or above the level of Peerless Kings can achieve this "Transformation into the Dao," dissolving themselves back into the natural world. This is genuine assimilation into the Dao, not mere self-destruction of the physical body.

"Indeed, powerful figures reside in hidden mountains, and Kirin are found in humble fields. In such an unassuming place, an ancient king, or even a Saint, had passed away!" Ye Fan was incredibly surprised. This person's name had never been known to the world; no one knew him, and he had simply passed away in obscurity.

"It's not that there are no masters in the world; they simply remain unknown. This was a peerless master, likely no less powerful than the Peerless Divine King Jiang Taixu, perhaps even a step further—very possibly a Saint." Yet, this person had passed away just like that, leaving nothing behind, not even a name.

Ye Fan thoroughly searched the place, using his spiritual sense to explore the prayer mat, fly whisk, Taoist robes, and other items, yet found no treasures.

"It's too complete. He truly left nothing behind for future generations. For such an unfathomable existence, the severing of his lineage is an immeasurable loss."

Ye Fan settled down here. The place was very quiet, perfectly suited for him to meditate and comprehend the Dao, undisturbed by anyone. The low hill and the dilapidated Taoist temple possessed an ineffable Dao charm, making them perfectly suited for quiet cultivation, exuding an aura of returning to simplicity.

"He's gone. How could his secluded retreat be ordinary land, especially since he dissolved into the Dao here? This place is bound to become a sacred cultivation ground in the future."

Ye Fan had obtained the dragon marrow, but simply consuming it wouldn't allow him to enter the Fourth Transformation of Dragon Ascension. Everything still depended on his own enlightenment of the Dao. While the dragon marrow contained fragments of the Great Dao's laws that could assist, they were not the fundamental key to breaking through. The primary factor lay within the cultivator's own heart.

Late at night, all was silent, and stars twinkled above. Ye Fan sat cross-legged in front of the Taoist temple, his five centers facing upward. A great dragon ascended from his back, eventually taking form and circling around him in a dance.

"Occasionally, beneath a pine, I rest my head on a stone to sleep. No calendar in these mountains, I know not when winter ends, nor the year..."

Suddenly, a soft whisper startled Ye Fan awake. He abruptly opened his eyes. At that moment, a dark cloud drifted by, obscuring the stars and moon. The land was plunged into darkness, and the mountains were utterly black. Right in front of the Taoist temple, before the ancient tree too wide for many to embrace, a person appeared out of thin air. The voice was precisely his.

Ye Fan's heart trembled. Who was this person, capable of bypassing his spiritual perception and appearing so close? It was terrifying. He activated his divine sense and observed carefully. In an instant, a chill ran down his spine. An old, withered, and small Taoist priest, his ancient robes fluttering, stood beneath the withered tree. He was very familiar with the aged Taoist robe; it was identical to those inside the temple and indistinguishable from the clothing found beneath the earthen mound.

A chill ran down Ye Fan's spine. He looked at the old man's hair and saw a broken wooden hairpin that was equally familiar, identical to the one in the grave. "What the devil!" Ye Fan suddenly stood up, backing away several steps. How could someone who had clearly transformed into the Dao reappear?

"How many times has the human realm transformed into mulberry fields? Though mulberry fields change, the essence remains. Who among them can truly merge with immortality?"

The thin, small old Taoist walked beneath the ancient tree, murmuring to himself, seemingly merging with the pitch-black night.

"You..." Ye Fan instinctively stepped back.

A gentle breeze swept through, carrying the fresh scent of vegetation. The dark cloud in the sky drifted away, and the clear wind still lingered before the temple, but the old Taoist had vanished without a trace. Ye Fan's scalp tingled. He didn't even dare to shift his gaze, staring intently ahead, but the old Taoist had seemingly evaporated, leaving no trace.