Hundreds of Sky Demons, led by several near–Demon King–level leaders, combined their powers into a massive assault. The Heavenly Wolf Smoke Sphere that Fang Han had conjured began to tremble, its defensive strength nearing its limit.
"Pine-Wave Zither! Cloud-Water Flute!"
Seeing the crisis, Xu Yue'er and Ye Yu—two of the eight Jialan Society disciples—refused to stand idle. They lifted their instruments, ready to unleash sonic waves to empower Fang Han's magic.
"Not yet!" Fang Han barked. "If you play now, you'll shatter the Wolf Smoke Sphere faster and hurt yourselves!"
Indeed, the Heavenly Wolf Smoke was a demonic artifact—and sound waves within it would strike indiscriminately. Without sentient will, the artifact could not distinguish friend from foe.
"What do we do, then?" Xu Yue'er cried anxiously.
"When I count to three, I'll withdraw the Wolf Smoke. We'll charge straight through the demons. You two, use your zither and flute to shield yourselves!"
There was no time for hesitation. Fang Han's words fired off like arrows from a crossbow.
"One! Two! Three! Heavenly Wolf Smoke—withdraw!"
The enormous smoke sphere collapsed inward at once, vanishing into a vortex of air so fierce it tore several Sky Demons to pieces before sucking them into oblivion.
"Heavenly Wolf Battle Armor!"
The gathered smoke reformed around Fang Han, solidifying into dark armor as he hurled himself into the mass of Sky Demons.
Boom!
The collision was like thunder. Hundreds of demonic bodies struck him with terrifying force. Fang Han felt every bone in his body scream in pain; the armor shattered instantly into black mist and vanished back into the Seven Fiend Gourd.
Deprived of flight, Fang Han plummeted to the ground, landing hard but alive. Thankfully, he had been near the surface—had he fallen from true altitude, even his iron body would have been pulp.
That was the danger of relying solely on external treasures before reaching the Divine Ability realm—no true control, no safety. Many cultivators had met their end that way, falling to their deaths when their magic tools failed.
But just as Fang Han caught his breath, the Seven Fiend Gourd at his waist began to pulse. A strange demonic aura rippled out, and the fragments of the Wolf Smoke reknit themselves into form.
With a thought, Fang Han once again donned the Heavenly Wolf Battle Armor.
"A true treasure indeed!" he exulted. "Even capable of restoring a shattered artifact!"
The Seven Fiend Gourd's restorative power was something only a treasured artifact could possess.
Then came a shriek of demonic hunger. Over a dozen Sky Demons surged toward him, trying to bore into his flesh and consume his mind. But the reformed Wolf Smoke whirled to life, enveloping them in a dark storm before dragging them all into the Netherworld Diagram within Fang Han's body.
Once submerged in the Yellow Spring's holy waters, their demonic essence was washed clean, transforming into pure spiritual energy—refined into Biluo Spirit Pills.
Reinvigorated, Fang Han leapt skyward again, cutting down dozens of demons in flashes of shadow and flame. Meanwhile, the zither and flute began their haunting duet. Sound waves rippled through the air, scattering the remaining Sky Demons and clearing Fang Han's path.
By the time the echoes faded, over seventy demons had fallen, their remnants distilled into nearly two hundred Biluo Pills. Not enough to empower him yet—but a start.
"Kill him!" bellowed one of the towering Demon Leaders.
The five most powerful Sky Demons surged forward together, dark winds howling around them. Their fists churned with black light, coalescing into a massive spectral maw that lunged to devour him.
"They've learned demonic arts!" Fang Han's eyes gleamed. "Perfect—killing them will yield far stronger pills!"
With renewed ferocity, he charged. His armored body blurred, sidestepping the biting phantom and slamming his fist straight through a demon's chest. The creature shrieked, its body twisting as Fang Han's roar tore its spirit apart.
"Wolf Claw!"
He seized the scattering demonic mist, dragging it into the Netherworld Diagram. Inside, Yan's voice echoed in awe.
"What potent essence! Look—this one formed a pill the size of a bean!"
Indeed, a Biluo Pill the size of a broad bean gleamed emerald green, radiant like living jade.
"This is it," Fang Han thought, elated. "The stronger the demon, the richer the spirit!"
But the remaining Demon Leaders, realizing their peril, fused together—becoming a colossal whirlwind of shadow. It spun through the air, crushing everything in its path.
Fang Han roared back, but his voice scattered uselessly against the wind.
"You're wasting energy," Yan chided in his mind. "Without proper technique, your roar has no focus. Let me teach you The Heavenly Dragon's Eight Tones! Channel your spirit into sound—let your will become vibration. Against bodiless demons, it's unmatched!"
A cascade of ancient sigils, tones, and diagrams surged into Fang Han's mind—mystic patterns shimmering with power.
Thus began his initiation into The Heavenly Dragon's Eight Tones.