After a decade of brutal survival in the alien world of Beidou (北斗) Star Domain, the 35-year-old wanderer finally sees a way home. But just when hope feels real, fate plays its cruelest trick—not because of enemies or cosmic disasters, but because of a simple, careless mistake made by someone he trusted. Episode 157 of Shrouding the Heavens (遮天) doesn't rely on flashy battles or shocking twists. Instead, it pulls viewers into a quiet storm of emotions: the ache of leaving brothers behind, the weight of a promise to aging parents, and the bitter irony of a homecoming that never arrives. This is not a story about winning fights. It's about losing everything you thought you'd protected.
The Brutal Choice
Standing before the Five-Colored Altar, a legendary teleportation array that can cross star systems, Ye Fan feels his heart race. For ten years, he has dreamed of Earth—his real home, where his parents wait. But his closest friend, Pang Bo (庞博), refuses to go. He has awakened the bloodline of the Monster Race within himself. Returning to Earth, a planet of ordinary humans, would make him an outsider. He would have to work odd jobs, pay bills, and hide who he is. Here in the Beidou Star Domain, he can cultivate immortality, eat without worry, and walk a path of limitless power.
It's a brutal, realistic trade-off. Ye Fan understands. He doesn't blame Pang Bo. But his own heart is tied to two elderly faces he hasn't seen in a decade. The fear haunts him: What if they die before I return? That fear is stronger than any desire for immortality. So he makes his choice. He hugs his brothers—the ones who fought alongside him, bled with him, survived impossible odds—and steps toward the ancient bronze coffin. He doesn't look back. He can't afford to.
The Nine Dragons Coffin hums with ancient power. Inside, Ye Fan has already seen a shocking vision: a corpse identical to his own lying in another coffin. That mystery remains unsolved. But now, his only thought is Earth. He trusts the star coordinates given by the unreliable dog-like creature known as the Black Emperor. What could go wrong? Everything.
The Fatal Mistake
The Black Emperor is brilliant but careless. He hands Ye Fan a set of star maps, coordinates carefully marked. But in his usual sloppy manner, he reverses the direction completely. Instead of flying toward Earth, the bronze coffin hurtles into an entirely unknown region of space. Ye Fan realizes the error only when familiar constellations fail to appear. By then, it's far too late. The coffin drifts through darkness, pulled by unseen currents, while he stares out at alien stars that offer no comfort.
Twelve years. That's how long he drifts. Twelve years of solitude, of rationing food and hope, of fighting off cosmic beasts and surviving radiation storms. He grows older. His hair grays at the temples. He celebrates lonely birthdays by scratching marks on the coffin wall. Every night, he whispers to his parents in his mind: “I'm coming. Just wait a little longer.” He doesn't know if they can hear him. He doesn't know if they're still alive. But the hope keeps him moving, keeps him from losing his sanity in the endless void.
Finally, after more than a decade of nightmare travel, the bronze coffin crashes onto Earth. He stumbles out, weak and disoriented, but alive. He's almost fifty years old now. The familiar smell of soil and air fills his lungs. He runs—actually runs—to the small house where his parents lived. The door is locked. Windows dark. A neighbor, old and gray-haired herself, recognizes him with a gasp. And then she tells him. Both his parents died years ago. His father from a broken heart. His mother from illness, calling his name until her last breath.
The Heartbreaking Homecoming
Ye Fan walks to the cemetery in a daze. He finds two gravestones side by side, weathered by seasons he never witnessed. His knees hit the dirt. He doesn't cry at first. He just kneels there, remembering their faces, their voices, the meals they cooked, the scoldings they gave. Then the tears come—not a flood, but a slow, endless leak. He talks to them for hours, telling them about the monsters he fought, the brothers he made, the stars he saw. He tells them he's sorry. He says it again and again, until his throat is raw.
There's no dramatic fight scene here. No revenge. No resurrection. Just a middle-aged man kneeling before two cold stones, realizing that his ten-year obsession and twelve-year exile have bought him nothing but regret. He stayed alive for them. He crossed the universe for them. And he arrived too late. The show doesn't sugarcoat this moment. It lets the pain sit, raw and uncomfortable, because that's the truth of cultivation worlds too: power can't turn back time. Immortality can't resurrect the dead.
This loss changes Ye Fan forever. He rises from his parents' grave not as the homesick boy who left, but as a man with nothing left to lose. The invisible chains tying him to Earth finally snap. He understands now: if he wants to protect anyone ever again, he must become unstoppable. No more hesitation. No more divided heart. He will walk the Emperor's Path, fight across the heavens, and crush anyone who stands in his way. Not for glory. Not for eternal life. Just for the simple, desperate need to never kneel before another grave he couldn't reach in time.
