Autumn had settled over the Feathered Mountain. Leaves fell in golden waves, baring the trees and painting the peaks in solemn hues. From a distance, the mountain range looked austere yet majestic — the kind of crisp, vast air that made one feel both small and alive.
Fang Han and Princess Hongyi stood amidst the withering trees, both subtly twitching their noses, sensing something hidden in the air.
"Someone's following us," Hongyi murmured, her tone laced with amusement. "How bold. Don't they know I'm the ancestor of assassins, the gold medalist of killers? But Fang Han, it's strange you noticed before I did."
"It's nothing," Fang Han replied lightly. "My spirit has grown sharper, that's all." His hand brushed the sleek feathers of the Immortal Crane. "Once we're past the mountain, we'll deal with them."
The crane squawked in protest as Fang Han climbed onto its back. "Ah! You've gotten heavier—twice as heavy! You'll crush me!"
"Really?" Fang Han looked puzzled, then smirked. "But you can carry a horse with one claw. You can handle me."
After cultivating the Yama Golden Body, his flesh had condensed, his bones hardened. Though his frame looked leaner, his weight had doubled — five or six hundred jin now. His blood and marrow gleamed like mercury, his skeleton dense as forged iron. That was the essence of a "Golden Body" — flesh as heavy and resilient as gold itself, a vessel of terrifying power.
With a resigned snort, the crane spread its wings and glided low through the mountain mist, carrying the two across a hundred li until they reached the barren hills beyond Feathered Mountain.
"Seal your ears," Fang Han said calmly. "I'll flush them out."
The princess and the crane obeyed. Fang Han stood still for a moment, then inhaled deeply — a single, thunderous breath. His body swelled like a bellows, his skin stretching taut until he looked like a golden toad about to explode. The pressure that radiated from him was suffocating — raw, crushing might.
Then he opened his mouth.
"Wu! Gu! Pa! Ma! Hong! Ya! Fou! Po!"
The Eight Heavenly Dragon Sounds erupted — not as scattered noise, but as a focused beam of force that tore through the forest like divine thunder. Trees bent and snapped, leaves shredded into spirals. A small tree directly ahead was ripped clean from the earth.
Within moments, the space several li away began to shimmer and distort. The air twisted — and from the distortion emerged several disciples in Feather Gate robes, their faces pale with shock. The Concealment Talismans in their hands burst into flame, their stealth undone.
These were spies — disciples cloaked by enchanted seals that silenced heartbeat, breath, and presence. But against Fang Han's will-infused Dragon Sound, their magic shattered like glass.
He leapt lightly onto the crane again, swooping down toward them before they could flee.
"You dare spy on me?" His voice was ice.
The disciples panicked. "He's found us!"
They turned to run — but Fang Han was faster. A blur, a flash, a few dull thuds — and all of them were struck unconscious.
He could have killed them easily, but within the sect, crippling or murdering a fellow disciple was a grave crime. Even when he fought Yuan Jiankong, he'd merely knocked him out.
Red Princess frowned. "You stunned them all. How will you question them now?"
"We'll take them," Fang Han replied, waving his hand. A stream of yellow light swept out, wrapping the unconscious disciples and drawing them into the Netherworld Diagram. "Once we're underground, I'll make them talk."
"You can't keep them too long," Hongyi warned. "If the sect notices missing disciples, they'll investigate."
"Don't worry. We'll be in the underworld for a month. That's long enough to tame them."
"I know a fissure near the Great Li Empire border," she said thoughtfully. "It leads straight into the subterranean realm."
"Perfect. We'll go there."
Across the world, countless fissures pierced the crust — gateways into the vast, dangerous underworld. The desert rift beneath the Hanhai Sands was infamous, but too perilous for now. They would take a quieter path.
Mounting the crane once more, the two soared into the skies, vanishing into the amber horizon.
Meanwhile, atop Heaven's Peak — the tallest mountain of the Feather Gate, piercing the clouds — nine golden towers hung suspended above the summit, casting holy light that warded against all demonic intrusion. Within the mountain's alchemical chamber sat Hua Tiandu, cross-legged before a roaring cauldron. Inside, three thousand sky demons — and one Great Might Vajra Demon King — writhed in a storm of flame.
"Hua Tiandu! You'll never refine me! Heaven-Demon Self-Destruction!" the demon roared, detonating itself with a blast that shook the cauldron from its base.
Hua Tiandu's eyes flashed cold. He pressed down with one hand, instantly quelling the explosion. The room fell silent except for the hum of spiritual fire.
"Failed again?" one of the true disciples asked.
"The demon's cultivation reached the Celestial Human Realm," Hua Tiandu said quietly. "Killing him is easy. But erasing his will to distill pure essence requires something more. Without it, he can always invoke self-annihilation."
"What are you missing, Master?"
"Yellow Springs Sacred Water."
His gaze turned distant. "It's the essence of the world's life force — once a divine river flowing through the earth. But when the Yellow Springs Emperor tried to refine it for himself, the river vanished. Since then, the true Sacred Water has never been found."
"Master," another disciple said, lowering his voice, "rumor has it that the Netherworld Diagram has resurfaced… and that it may be connected to Fang Qingxue."
"I know," Hua Tiandu said calmly. "That's her fortune, not mine to seize. Focus instead on what matters — in a few years, the Grand Immortal Gathering of the Ten Great Sects will convene. I expect you all to represent our Feather Gate well… and bring me glory."
His tone was soft, but the air trembled with power — the calm before another storm.