The meteor plunged into a blessed land. With a tremendous crash, heaven shook and earth trembled. A cliff collapsed under the impact, sending dust billowing ten thousand feet high and rocks flying everywhere.
Beside it, a silver ribbon of waterfall splashed waves across the sky. All the surrounding spirit trees snapped, and every stalk of precious grass lay flattened and disheveled.
A flock of spirit birds cried mournfully, shooting into the sky in fright and fleeing into the distance.
Ye Fan poked his head out of the cauldron. A blessed land met his eyes, filled everywhere with misty spiritual energy, auspicious light and rosy radiance emerging without end.
"May I ask if you are Fellow Daoist Ye?" Before Ye Fan could take more than a few looks, a boy with red lips and white teeth appeared before him. Looking at Ye Fan's face, he froze in a daze.
"How did you know my surname was Ye?" Ye Fan was astonished. He had barely landed, yet someone was already asking his name.
"My patriarch divined that this cliff would suffer a calamity, smashed apart by a young man surnamed Ye riding a cauldron." The boy spoke with involuntary respect, his eyes unconsciously drifting toward the cauldron beneath Ye Fan's feet.
Forged from feathered green gold and still flowing with black-and-yellow light, the cauldron was truly a treasure rarely seen in the world, one that would tempt even an Ancient Great Emperor.
Ye Fan was utterly shocked. Before he had truly arrived on this ancient star, someone had already calculated his arrival. Wasn't such an ability far too heaven-defying?!
Filled with an indescribable feeling, Ye Fan hurriedly asked, "Who is your patriarch?"
"The master of the Eight Sceneries Palace!" the red-lipped, white-toothed boy declared proudly.
"The master of the Eight Sceneries Palace?