Chapter 2216: The Human Heart

“You.” Ji Ning Shuang's delicate body trembled. Her originally indifferent eyes filled with mist at a visible speed, forming crystalline frost under the moonlight. That was Ye Chen, her Ye Chen, Ye Fan's father, the person she loved most. She didn't need to see his face; just from his silhouette, she could recognize him, because that figure was etched deeply into her soul, and even through the cycles of reincarnation to utter destruction, she would never forget.

As onlookers, Chu Xuan and Chu Ling trembled uncontrollably, their beautiful eyes brimming with tears that blurred their vision. In the haze, that silhouette felt even more real than in their memories—it was Ye Chen, the one who haunted their dreams.

“It’s Dad; he’s still alive,” Ye Ling cried, tears streaming down her face.

“It’s the old man-in-law, my dear old man-in-law,” Tang San Shao sobbed messily, wiping his nose, and even tried to hug Ye Ling. But she didn’t even glance at him before kicking him away.

“Am I seeing this right?” Xiao Yuan Huang blinked in astonishment, rubbing his eyes hard before looking again. That figure with red hair fluttering and a cloak billowing was so impressive it was almost dazzling.

“It’s the real old seventh,” Kui Niu laughed, straightening his back proudly, his large bovine eyes wide and round. Among their sworn brothers, his seventh brother was the most outstanding.

“Another three years, and that guy just won’t die, will he?” Long Jie took a deep breath, feeling his irritation flare up every time he saw Ye Chen. It was that guy who had taken the goddess from his heart. Still, despite the annoyance, there was excitement—for Dong Shen Yao Chi's sake, the person she loved most was alive, and that was enough.

“What a surprise, truly a surprise,” the various emperor’s sons clicked their tongues in amazement, even the taciturn Xuan Yuan Di Zi couldn’t help but sigh.

For a moment, everyone felt an urge to poke a huge hole in Ye Chen’s body just to see what he was made of. Was he immortal? How could he keep coming back no matter what?

Three years after three years—you die, then live, then die again. Are you toying with us? Every few days, a big shock, every so often, a major scare. You’re practically a miracle worker!

“I told you, you cheap bastard, you wouldn’t die that easily,” Xie Yun shouted boisterously.

In his excitement, he accidentally kicked Xiong Er flying.

“You old hag, pay for my tears!” Si Tu Nan cursed loudly.

Even more pumped up than Xie Yun, Si Tu Nan smacked Xiong Er down again as soon as he got up, not even giving him a chance to catch his breath.

“The hell with you,” Xiong Er’s face turned pitch black as he started to swear.

But before he could finish, he was kicked over again—it was one of the Da Chu people who did it, though no one could say exactly who.

Not to exaggerate, from the moment he fell, he never got back up. All he saw were slaps and stomping feet. That poor fresh meat of his almost got trampled into a pulp.

“It’s him, it’s Ye Chen, our Zhutian's war god, and he’s still alive.”

The cries from the people rose in waves, merging into a roaring tide that grew louder and louder.

“How did he come back to life?”

“Three years later, Da Chu's Tenth Emperor has created another myth, returning against all odds.”

“Our Zhutian is not without heroes.”

The excited shouts surged like a mountain flood or a tidal wave, shaking the heavens and making the sky tremble.

The return of the Sacred Body was incredibly inspiring. That creator of countless myths, the war god of the Eight Wastelands, had come back to Zhutian, ready to continue his legendary tales and immortal legacy.

“This is just too much,” Xuan Wu Huang marveled, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

“Is he really unkillable?” Wu Huang looked fierce.

If you tallied it up, this was how many times now—die once, live once.

These repeated comebacks made people think that the underworld was like Ye Chen’s family home. Whenever he missed it, he’d go back for a visit, stay a few days, and then return.

“In the future, if he dies again, don’t bother reporting it to me; I don’t have the time,” Kui Niu Huang said meaningfully. Dying once brought sadness, living once brought joy—it had left even a clan’s emperor feeling numb.

“When he died, I even shed two tears for the bastard,” Sheng Yuan Huang muttered under his breath, glaring at Ye Chen while polishing his iron staff. He was just waiting for the battle to end so he could whack Ye Chen a couple of times. Those tears couldn’t go to waste.

The Quasi-Emperors of Tian Xuan Men paused for a second, then exchanged glances, their mouths twitching and expressions turning awkward.

They had already given up everything, but that guy had come back to life.

This situation was awkward, wasn’t it?

How could it not be awkward?

You Ming Sheng Zhu stroked his beard and glanced at the old fellows beside him, his eyes seeming to say: How about we return the emperor weapons?

That makes sense!

The group of old fellows nodded in agreement.

Earlier, it was because Ye Chen had perished, and no one else could access Ming Di Huang, that all hope was lost. Add to that the tribulation disasters and the invasion of the heavenly demons—Zhutian’s forces were utterly crushed by Hong Huang. The provocations from Hong Huang had driven them to madness, leading them to a desperate, all-or-nothing stand.

But the moment they saw Ye Chen, everyone realized it was better not to smash that jar after all.

With Ye Chen back, there was still a chance to reach Ming Di Huang. As long as Di Huang stood guard, Zhutian could turn the tide.

“Ye Chen! Ye Chen!”

The chants from all directions grew even more fervent, with people raising their weapons and shouting as if welcoming their king or crowning him.

In that moment, it wasn’t just the younger generation—even many from the older generations set aside their dignity and yelled at the top of their lungs.

The most dazzling junior had returned against the heavens, making their aged hearts feel young again. Most importantly, it gave them hope.

It was as if that junior named Ye Chen was a beacon of hope, carrying the dawn of tomorrow. With him, he could light the way forward and guide the people through thorns and trials.

“This is the human heart, the direction of the people’s will, the convergence of all hopes,” Di Mie in the corner smiled contentedly.

“His brilliance is unmatched in ten thousand ages,” Tian Zhu laughed, his words sincere.

What they called the human heart was also the belief of all living beings. Since ancient times, only great emperors could gather it, yet a junior at the Great Saint realm had achieved it.

The fame of the Sacred Body wasn’t a gift from others; it was fought for on the battlefield. At the peak of the great dao, there would surely be a place for him. Even if he didn’t become an emperor, he would stand shoulder to shoulder with one.

Or perhaps, even outshine the emperors.

As they spoke, the two turned their gazes toward Hong Huang.

Compared to the people of Zhutian, the faces of the Hong Huang clan were grim.

At a glance, they were a sea of twisted, ferocious expressions, with bloodshot eyes ready to burst and teeth gritted like raging demons.

Their grudge against Ye Chen had seeped into their bones.

That day, upon hearing of Ye Chen’s death, the entire Hong Huang celebrated for three full days. From the peak Quasi-Emperors to the lowest Qi Condensation juniors, everyone was thrilled to madness.

Now, seeing Ye Chen alive, how could they accept it? The excitement they felt back then was matched only by the madness they felt now—anger tearing at their guts, rage shattering their insides. They wished they could devour his flesh, drink his blood, and torture him to death to quench their hatred.

“How interesting,” Han Jiang laughed, his expression more ferocious than excited, his body trembling with exhilaration. His lips curved slightly, and his eyes gleamed with radiant immortal light.

He had only recently been unsealed, and all he’d heard since were tales of Ye Chen. As an emperor’s son, how could he submit?

Unfortunately, Ye Chen had died in the Spirit Domain, so they never got to fight.

Now, with Ye Chen’s return, he could make up for that regret. He believed himself unbeatable in the same realm and capable of slaying the Ancient Sacred Body.

Then, all the myths Ye Chen had created and the glory he bore would become his. Ye Chen would be his stepping stone, and he would climb on his shoulders, treading on his blood and bones, all the way to the highest peak.

Ye Chen ignored Han Jiang’s sinister laugh completely—or perhaps dismissed it entirely. He had slain more than one emperor before; what scenes hadn’t he seen? Would he fear a Hong Huang emperor’s son?

He didn’t turn around, speaking to Ji Ning Shuang with his back to her, cracking his neck. Though his words were roguish, they were filled with a husband’s tender affection, distilled through a thousand years of reincarnation, each one etched with eternal marks.

“Clean yourself up and wait for me in bed. I’ll handle the fighting.”