Time flowed like water, slipping away quietly—another twenty years had passed.
The Holy Dynasty's rule had become deeply entrenched over these two decades.
The bloodshed and turmoil of the past had been replaced by order and relative peace. Across the vast lands of Central Province, cities thrived, trade routes were well-connected, and though common folk still lived under the governance of the cultivator class, at least their lives had basic guarantees—they no longer lived in constant fear as before.
Ye Fan's strategy of "turning evil into righteousness," driven by the alternating application of iron-fisted enforcement and conciliatory policies, had achieved remarkable results.
The Holy Dynasty, a nation founded on the demonic path, had actually begun to don the mantle of "legitimacy" in the eyes of the world.
However, in stark contrast to the flourishing national strength was the unmistakable air of decline at the very core of the Holy Dynasty's power.
Holy Emperor Qin Ao, the once-invincible overlord whose might had once pressed upon the entire realm, had ultimately failed to breach the barriers of the Longevity Realm.
The life essence he had overdrawn from practicing demonic arts in his early years, combined with the mysterious "Life-Sapping Powder" poison that even Ling Guzi was helpless against, clung to him like a bone-deep curse, continuously eroding his vitality.
His cultivation had irreversibly declined. Now he barely maintained himself at the threshold of the early Longevity Realm. The suffocating presence he once commanded had long since dissipated, replaced by a deep and heavy twilight gloom.
His face was wizened, his hair white as frost. He spent most of his time resting in the depths of the palace, sustained only by precious medicinal pills.
Naturally, the enormous burden of running the Holy Dynasty's vast state apparatus fell almost entirely upon the shoulders of Crown Prince Ye Fan.
Ye Fan, the former "traitor," was now the de facto Regent Crown Prince in every sense.
He was diligent in state affairs, politically shrewd, and managed the court with impeccable order. Whether mediating between rival factions or implementing new policies, he displayed astonishing political talent and a masterful sense of balance.
More remarkably, his attitude toward Qin Ao remained absolutely consistent.
Every morning without fail, Ye Fan would arrive at Qin Ao's bedchamber to pay his respects, reporting in detail the important affairs of the previous day and seeking imperial guidance.
Even for matters he could easily decide on his own, he would respectfully present them and ask Qin Ao to "make the final call."
In public, he always stood a half-step behind Qin Ao. His words and bearing were full of reverence for his "Imperial Father," striving to maintain Qin Ao's dignity as the Holy Emperor.
Initially, Qin Ao hadn't been entirely free of misgivings.
Power was a bone-corroding poison—he had experienced it firsthand and knew its allure all too well.
He worried that once Ye Fan's wings were fully grown, he would gradually sideline him, or even... he dared not contemplate the worst-case scenario.
This insecurity had haunted him especially as his cultivation continued to decline.
But Ye Fan's twenty years of unwavering conduct, like the proverbial frog in slowly heating water, had melted away his final defenses bit by bit.
Watching Ye Fan always maintain humility and deference in his presence, watching him govern the empire more prosperously and stably than during Qin Ao's own peak, yet never showing the slightest ambition to overstep—Qin Ao's heart, once frozen by betrayal, was finally and completely thawed.
"To have a son like this, what more could I ask for..." In the quiet of night, Qin Ao would gaze at his aged reflection in the mirror and often sigh with such sentiments.
In this life spanning two existences, having survived death and dominated a realm, though he had no blood descendants, he had gained a "foster son" who served him with unwavering loyalty—allowing him to rest easy in his twilight years and entrust his life's work. In his view, this was the greatest blessing fate could bestow.
That last lingering attachment to power gradually transformed into complete trust and reliance on Ye Fan.
As for the Ten Divine Sons, they observed the changes of these twenty years with cold eyes, without interfering overmuch.
Their goal remained clear and singular: to win this chess game between the upper and lower realms.
Whether Qin Ao lived or died, who specifically governed the Holy Dynasty—as long as it didn't deviate from the path to ultimate victory, they couldn't care less.
Ye Fan's abilities and "loyalty" effectively maintained the Holy Dynasty's stability and accelerated the digestion and absorption of the Spirit Realm, which served the upper realm's interests. As for the seemingly touching "father-son bond" between Ye Fan and Qin Ao—in their eyes, it was nothing more than a chess piece performing its duty to perfection.
As long as the people of the lower realm ended up on the Deification Registry when all was said and done, the process hardly mattered.
Beneath the calm surface, however, undercurrents never ceased.
On this particular day, after handling a mountain of state affairs, Ye Fan didn't go to visit Qin Ao as usual. Instead, he sent invitations to the Ten Divine Sons, requesting a meeting in the Eastern Palace's secret chamber.
The atmosphere in the chamber was delicate. The Ten Divine Sons sat or stood in various postures, but all eyes were focused on Ye Fan in the host's seat.
The Ye Fan of today carried himself with composed authority—he no longer needed to walk on eggshells like the "adopted son" of years past.
Without excessive pleasantries, Ye Fan cut straight to the chase, his voice calm but carrying an irresistible force: "Fellow Immortal Venerables, I've invited you here today to discuss a matter—or rather, to propose a transaction."
The Divine Sons maintained their composure, waiting for him to continue.
Ye Fan spoke slowly: "The Holy Dynasty's power now stands at its zenith, with all lands submitting. Only the Yunmeng Marshes in the south continue to resist. This is a great regret in His Majesty's heart, and the last stumbling block to our grand unification."
His gaze swept across the assembled group as he continued: "I propose to personally lead the campaign, assembling the Holy Dynasty's elite to march south, wipe out the Immortal Spirit Valley in one stroke, and thoroughly eradicate Xiao Chen and the remaining rebels!"
At these words, several Divine Sons' eyes flickered with a strange light. A campaign against the Yunmeng Marshes was naturally something they'd welcome—but that hardly seemed like a "transaction."
Ye Fan shifted gears, revealing his true intent: "However, I, Ye Fan, am not a selfless man. I am willing to fight this final battle for the Holy Dynasty and the upper realm, but on one condition—"
He paused, then enunciated each word: "Once the Spirit Realm is completely pacified and the upper realm wins this chess game, I, Ye Fan, must remain in the Spirit Realm. I will not enter the Deification Registry, nor will I follow you all back to the upper realm."
The secret chamber instantly fell into dead silence!
This condition was entirely beyond any of the Divine Sons' expectations!
Zhan Wuji was the first to sneer, his eyes full of mockery: "Ye Fan, have you been so intoxicated by power that you truly believe this Crown Prince position in the Spirit Realm is eternal? Know this—once the chess game in this realm ends, everything becomes passing clouds!"
Ling Guzi also frowned slightly, musing: "Crown Prince Ye, this matter concerns your own dao path—please reconsider. The Spirit Realm is ultimately a lower realm; remaining here offers limited prospects."
Even Han Junru looked puzzled.
Facing their questions, Ye Fan's expression remained unchanged as he said calmly: "My mind is made up. The Spirit Realm may be a lower realm, but it is the place where I, Ye Fan, was reborn, and the land I've poured my heart and soul into building. I harbor no greed for power, but I have some reluctance to leave this place.
More importantly..."
His gaze grew profound, looking into the void as if seeing some intangible presence: "My Imperial Father is advanced in years and needs someone to care for him in his final days. Since I have received his grace and called him Imperial Father, I must fulfill a son's duty. If I leave, who will look after His Majesty in his twilight?
And to whom should the Holy Dynasty's foundation be entrusted? This matter, to me, is more important than those illusory divine titles."
These words were spoken with deep sincerity and perfect reason, portraying the image of one who embodied both "loyalty and filial piety" to the utmost.
The Ten Divine Sons exchanged glances, rapidly communicating through divine sense.
"He wants to bind himself completely to this realm, to Qin Ao's sinking ship?"
"Actually saves us the trouble of dealing with him later."
"Stay in the Spirit Realm? Heh, this realm's origin is already under our control. If he stays, he's just a bird in a cage—he won't be making any waves."
"Trading a guaranteed victory for the reputation of a 'loyal subject and filial son' and the rule of a lower realm? For him, that deal might be worth it."
"As long as he can swiftly pacify the south and finish the chess game, what's the harm in agreeing?"
Quickly, consensus was reached.
Ling Guzi spoke as their representative: "Since Crown Prince Ye's mind is resolute, considering your immense contributions to the Holy Dynasty and your commendable filial devotion... we can agree to this.
Once the Spirit Realm is unified and the upper realm prevails, you may remain in this realm, succeeding Qin Ao as Lord of the Spirit Realm."
A glint of light flashed through Ye Fan's eyes that was difficult to detect. He rose and offered a formal bow: "Thank you, Fellow Immortal Venerables, for granting this request!"
With the transaction completed, the atmosphere in the chamber softened considerably.
The following day, Ye Fan went to Qin Ao's bedchamber to report on the military campaign.
Naturally, he made no mention of the deal with the Divine Sons. He simply said that seeing His Majesty's constant worry over the unresolved south, he, as a loyal son, wished to personally lead the royal army to fulfill His Majesty's dream of unification—so that during His Majesty's reign, he could witness true peace across the realm and a unified empire.
Upon hearing this, the aged Qin Ao on his sickbed, his clouded old eyes suddenly blazed with gratification and excitement.
He gripped Ye Fan's hand tightly, his voice choking: "Fan'er... you have thought of everything! Good! Good!
Your imperial father awaits your triumphant report! When you return victorious, I shall personally hold a celebration in your honor, and formally entrust this vast empire to you!"
Looking at Qin Ao's utterly unguarded trust and anticipation, Ye Fan's face showed precisely the right amount of emotion and determination as he bowed deeply: "Your son will not fail His Majesty's great expectations!"
Soon after, the Holy Dynasty's massive war machine began operating at full efficiency once more.
Countless warships and cultivator legions began massing at the southern border. The clouds of war, after decades of absence, once again gathered over that mysterious and perilous expanse known as the Yunmeng Marshes.
Ye Fan stood atop the high command platform, gazing southward, his eyes deep and inscrutable.
The war he had personally proposed—was it to fulfill Qin Ao's dream, to honor his bargain with the Divine Sons, or did it conceal a deeper, unknown purpose?
Perhaps only he himself knew the answer.
...
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