Back in his chamber at the Inner Immortal Court, Fang Han shut every door and window tight, then sat cross-legged in the pill room to cultivate his mind. His old quarters in the Outer Court still stood empty—he had no luggage, for everything of importance was stored within the Yellow Springs Diagram, a boundless artifact whose internal space could swallow a mountain whole.
The Inner Court's rooms were unlike those of the outer disciples. Each was a pristine structure of white spirit stone—tall, serene, and vast, as if carved from a celestial cave. Once its heavy stone door was closed, no sound nor person could intrude. Every suite was a self-contained sanctum, complete with bookshelves, a pill room, a spring-fed pool, and a vaulted ceiling inlaid with shining orbs.
Those orbs weren't mere pearls, but spirit-light gems—they absorbed the essence of sun, moon, and starlight by day, then glowed softly through the night.
In his pill room stood a massive furnace taller than a man, its belly round and embossed with flame sigils. Streams of crystalline spring water trickled nearby. It was a sight no outer disciple could ever hope to enjoy.
The furnace wasn't gold, nor iron, nor jade—yet it was a superior magical vessel, capable of refining weapons and medicine alike. Most importantly, the chamber was utterly pure, perfect for cultivation.
Within the Inner Court, every disciple's private abode was sacred ground. To intrude upon another's cultivation was a severe crime, punished by months of grueling labor in the mines or the sect's fields—digging spirit ore or tending immortal rice as a common farmer.
Fang Han sat near the furnace. Its warmth and stillness filled the air—a perfect place to refine both mind and body.
Yan's voice rose in his mind.
"This furnace connects to the earthfire below. Its top crystal draws down the true solar flame. You can merge both at will—balance heaven and earth's fires to refine anything. You don't yet know the art of alchemy, nor how to temper metals or mix herbs—but you can use this furnace to temper yourself."
"Use it… to temper my body?" Fang Han blinked.
"Exactly. Leap into the furnace. Treat yourself as the elixir. Who said a furnace is only for pills and swords? Many great masters have trained within the flames, hardening their spirits and flesh alike. Even in Yuhua Sect, such methods exist—though you haven't learned them yet. Fortunately, I know one—an ancient art of the Yellow Springs Gate: The Infernal Body of Yama.
"Right now, your progress, even with demonic pills, will be slow. Your spirit hasn't yet reached the height needed to transcend mortality. You must change your method."
Yan's tone had turned grim. He knew about Fang Han's ten-year challenge with Hua Tiandu—and how urgent things were. Even with all his resources, it might take years to reach the Divine Power Realm. And even then, to Hua Tiandu, he would still be nothing more than an insect.
"The Infernal Body of Yama?" Fang Han repeated, wary of the name alone.
Yan's voice turned solemn. "To forge it, you must endure the cruelest agony under heaven. Can you withstand it? The first stage will strengthen both spirit and flesh beyond measure—but to complete the transformation, you must one day reach the Tenth Realm of Divine Powers and defy destiny itself."
Fang Han's eyes hardened. "Whatever your method, tell me. I'll do it."
Yan's claws flicked from within the Yellow Springs Diagram. The massive furnace's lid lifted with a clang.
Gurgling water streamed forth from the diagram, flooding into the furnace. Flames roared beneath, and from above, a beam of pure sunlight cascaded through the crystal aperture, igniting the sigils along the furnace's belly. The holy water began to boil, releasing waves of pale mist.
With a guttural cry, Yan flung eighteen Blood Demon Pills and eighteen Celestial Jade Pills into the churning water. The mixture hissed and shimmered with a strange, intoxicating fragrance.
"The Eighteen Hells… the Eighteen Torments!" Yan roared. "Fang Han—leap in! Submerge yourself! Temper your spirit through agony, but never forget these words:
'Unshaken as the Earth.
Serene as the Hidden Vault of Heaven.'
"No matter how much pain you suffer, endure it. If your mind wavers, your spirit will scatter—and you'll be cooked alive into nothing but mush."
"You want me to jump in? To boil myself?" Fang Han stared at the bubbling cauldron, realization dawning.
"This is Yellow Springs Holy Water, unlike any mortal liquid," Yan said. "Only this can refine the Infernal Body of Yama. Other waters would destroy you outright. The pain will be beyond imagining—like being fried in oil. Even in the Yellow Springs Gate, few dared attempt it. Fail to endure, and your cultivation—and life—end here. Have you decided?"
Fang Han gritted his teeth. "Boiling oil? Then let's see if I can still laugh in hell."
He tore off his robe, his skin gleaming with a faint inner light, then inhaled sharply, channeling his qi until his blood roared like a river. With a leap like a carp breaching the dragon gate, he plunged headlong into the cauldron.
Splash! Steam exploded upward.
As he dove, the Yellow Springs Diagram on his back flew free, hovering outside the furnace. Yan emerged from it, eyes glinting, then slammed the heavy lid shut—sealing Fang Han within.
Inside, the boiling water seared his flesh.
"So hot…! I can't—no! I will endure! This… this is what real cultivation feels like!" Fang Han roared within the cauldron. "The soft, gentle methods before were child's play—this is true fire! This is how you forge a body of gold!"
Pain consumed him—every pore aflame, every nerve screaming. His blood surged, vaporizing into red mist. He had never imagined such agony existed.
To be boiled alive—what torment could be greater?