"This Coffin-Suppressing Lamp wasn't forged by Shakyamuni. It should already be tens of thousands of years old." Ye Fan removed the lamp bearing a human-faced ghost visage, examined the mottled Dao marks upon it, and reached his conclusion.
"At the very least, it came from the hands of a Primordial Great Saint. The lamp oil inside was added later—could Shakyamuni have refined it from his own body?"
Since he could cut flesh to feed an eagle, extracting oil to fuel a lamp was not impossible.
"If I ever meet Shakyamuni in the future, I'll ask him for you." Qin Sheng smiled.
"You should keep this Coffin-Suppressing Lamp. It might come in handy someday."
Qin Sheng could deal with the vicious ghosts the Coffin-Suppressing Lamp could suppress himself; he could still deal with the fierce souls it could not suppress.
To him, this thing was truly of little use.
"This lamp suits the Wicked Daoist. I'm not a tomb raider, but it's still a treasure, so I can't just pass it up." Ye Fan stored the Coffin-Suppressing Lamp in his Sea of Bitterness.
"There's nothing else here." Qin Sheng and the other two left the Eighteen Levels of Hell.
"That divine crocodile and the fierce ghosts have vanished without a trace. Let's return to Earth first, in case something changes." As Ye Fan spoke, the sound of raging waves suddenly resounded between heaven and earth, as though a tsunami had erupted.
Ye Fan froze. How could there be a tsunami on Mars?
Was a sea of stars also a sea, and the Milky Way also a river?
"Something's coming." Qin Sheng looked toward the horizon.
Black seawater, like the Northern Sea of Ziwei Ancient Star, emerged from the end of heaven and earth. It surged violently, sweeping directly toward the Great