Shrouded Sky - Chapter 26 - Primeval Star Atlas

Ye Fan stood with one hand on the ancient bronze coffin, still as the moon reflected on a tranquil lake. He remained motionless, a transcendent aura radiating from him. In that moment, he appeared ethereal and otherworldly, like an immortal untainted by mortal dust, ready to ride the wind and vanish into the clouds.

But inside, Ye Fan was far from calm. The divine melody of the Dao echoed in his heart like a deep abyss or vast ocean—profound and immense. Every word struck like a collapsing sea or a cracking abyss, resonating throughout heaven and earth.

It sounded like ancient Buddhist chanting, or perhaps the prayers of primeval gods—endlessly flowing, slicing through the eternal sky, slowly entering his heart and shaking his soul, causing ripples of thoughts and confusion. He didn’t even know where he was anymore.

In the distance, the others watched his still figure, puzzled. They didn’t understand what was happening. He just seemed like a celestial being, untouched by the mundane world, radiating a pure and otherworldly presence.

Ye Fan remained motionless, the divine voice ringing in his ears—vast, mysterious, and incomprehensible. At times, it felt like he stood on the edge of an abyss or the depths of hell; at others, as if he had stepped into the pure land of the gods. Strange emotions surfaced, leaving him both vigilant and lost.

The sacred voice was not long-winded—on the contrary, it was concise, just a few hundred words. It gave the impression of great wisdom wrapped in simplicity, a sense of serenity and truth after all the glory had faded.

The voice rang out again and again, each word shaking Ye Fan’s soul like thunder across the mountains, then settling like the moon rising over a quiet sea. The hundreds of ancient characters etched themselves into his heart, and yet the sound did not stop—it continued echoing in his ears.

Throughout this process, the bodhi seed in Ye Fan’s chest grew increasingly warm, making his whole body feel bathed in a soft glow. It was this seed that allowed him to hear this mystical voice.

Legend has it that the bodhi tree can awaken divine insight, illuminate the self, and help one sense the rhythm of heaven and earth. Clearly, this particular bodhi seed—buried beneath the ancient tree in front of the Grand Thunderclap Temple—was no ordinary object.

While Ye Fan stood motionless, the others grew suspicious. Someone suggested pulling him away, since he was touching an ancient bronze coffin—something that naturally raised concern.

Pang Bo circled Ye Fan twice and saw no signs of pain on his face. Instead, Ye Fan radiated a serene, almost divine air. A faint divine aura seemed to emanate from the coffin itself.

In the end, Pang Bo didn’t act rashly. He simply stood guard nearby and waited quietly.

“Could something evil have possessed him?” Li Changqing stared at the bronze coffin, then at Ye Fan.

Others tightened their grip on their divine relics. A few even stepped back. The mysterious ancient coffin filled them with unease.

Pang Bo snapped, “What’s wrong with your head? Can’t go a minute without throwing dirt at Ye Fan, can you? What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“Enough. No more arguing,” Zhou Yi frowned slightly and looked around. “We still don’t know if more divine crocodiles are hiding in this bronze coffin. We need to be careful and search thoroughly.”

Everyone tensed up again. That was a real concern. Since one divine crocodile had already appeared, who’s to say there weren’t two—or even more? Their lives were at stake. Fourteen people had already died to these terrifying creatures.

They split into two groups—not too far apart so they could still help each other—turned on their phones, and gripped their divine relics tightly as they began searching through the dim surroundings.

But after scouring every corner, both groups regrouped without finding anything. Still, no one dared relax. The coffin was enormous. It was more than large enough to hide several divine crocodiles. And they couldn’t rule out the possibility that some were clinging to the higher sections of the coffin walls—those areas were too dark to see.

“Let’s stay alert. It’s better to be cautious,” Lin Jia reminded everyone, offering some reassurance. “Even if another divine crocodile is hiding, it probably fears the divine relics in our hands—otherwise it would’ve attacked already.”

Suddenly, everyone heard a strange sound—faint, almost inaudible, yet deeply disturbing. It stirred their very souls. It sounded like drums—muffled, distant, and filled with sorrow. Then, a bell chimed—melancholy and ethereal, yet incredibly real.

“Where is that sound coming from?!”

Everyone was shocked, looking around, but saw nothing.

The mournful drums and sorrowful bell seemed to echo through the coffin walls, sending chills down everyone’s spine.

“Could that be the funeral music of an ancient emperor?”

Suddenly, more sounds followed—as if countless mourners were paying tribute at a funeral, offering prayers and laments for a single individual.

The death knell rang, and the drums pounded. It felt like an enormous and unparalleled funeral was unfolding before their very eyes. In every direction, it was as if a sea of humanity mourned in sorrow and reverence.

Then came nine consecutive dragon roars, loud and soaring—shaking the heavens and resonating through the land, as if imprinting a real scene into the fabric of the universe.

In that instant, everyone felt as if they were witnessing an ancient emperor’s rise to rule the vast expanse, followed by the most majestic funeral ceremony the world had ever seen.

There were no actual images. These were all impressions sparked by the dragon roars and the imagined crowds in prayer. The group quickly snapped out of it, but the lingering sound of mourning still surrounded them, sending shivers down their spines.

“Our divine relics are glowing again…”

Sacred light shimmered. Every divine artifact began to emit light—not a resurgence of divine power, but more like the final flow of fading brilliance. Countless strands of divine light streamed out, all rushing toward the walls of the bronze coffin, merging into the ancient engraved images.

The green patina on the coffin walls couldn’t hide the carvings of ancient ancestors and gods. At this moment, they all shone with divine brilliance, as if about to come to life. The wild beasts and divine birds etched into the copper also looked vivid, filled with mysterious power.

“Look—the star atlas is glowing!”

Everyone turned their eyes to a massive panel of carvings. It was the largest of all: a vast, primeval star atlas. Every star was twinkling brightly. The dark coffin wall behind it looked like the night sky itself, with endless stars shining within it.

“There’s a fine glowing line on the star atlas. Could that be the star path we’ve been traveling?”

Everyone gathered around, speaking in awe.

This star atlas was immense—like a sea of stars. Most stars were as tiny as dust, but a few were much brighter and more prominent.

“Those seven bright stars… that must be the Big Dipper!”

When Wang Ziwen pointed that out, everyone stared at the cluster of stars. In front of that thin glowing line—presumably the star road—the Big Dipper sparkled brilliantly, drawing everyone’s gaze.

There were other stars just as bright. A few people recognized them and looked amazed. Zhou Yi, refined in both appearance and education, immediately identified several of them. “Those are the traditional Chinese constellations.”

In ancient China, the night sky was divided into regions with unique names—summarized by the Three Enclosures, Four Symbols, and Twenty-Eight Mansions. This star atlas followed that ancient system and highlighted several of the most renowned stars.

“Looking at this ancient star atlas, and then at that glowing star road… it’s incredible. Maybe the ancients weren’t just being superstitious when they divided the sky like this. Each constellation might represent a different region of the universe, with important meaning…”

“Exactly. This might relate directly to the star road we’re traveling on—or even the creation of all life…”

Everyone was speechless with awe.

“Look! That glowing line is still extending… Is it showing our path forward? A visualization of the star road itself?”

“It’s getting closer and closer to the Big Dipper!”

Everyone was stunned. They had started on Earth’s Mount Tai—and now, in just a short time, they might already be near the Big Dipper? It felt dreamlike, surreal, completely unbelievable.

Given current human technology, even flying for millions of years wouldn’t get us near the Big Dipper. It’s simply too far.

Everyone was wide-eyed and stunned.

“Ahead of the Big Dipper… there’s an even brighter star—Polaris. Could that be our destination? In ancient times, Polaris held great significance.”

Someone guessed it might be their endpoint. On the star atlas, Polaris did indeed shine brilliantly—one of the brightest stars on the map.

“Hard to say. We might still go even farther into deeper space.”

Just then, someone cried out in alarm:
“The glowing line has stopped—it’s fixed on the region of the Big Dipper!”

At the same moment, everyone felt the bronze coffin shake violently, as if heaven and earth were trembling.

“It feels like we’ve reached our destination…”

“Could this really be the dwelling place of the gods?”

“Maybe it’s the legendary Immortal Realm…”

“Or perhaps a supremely advanced technological civilization.”

“If gods and immortals truly exist, maybe we’ll meet those legendary figures ourselves.”

“We’ve traveled the star path forged by the gods—what kind of world awaits us at the end?”

Everyone was on edge—nervous, yet filled with anticipation. No one wanted to stay inside the coffin any longer.