"Fang Han, congratulations on stepping into the Divine Ability Realm. From here on, the skies are open before you—freedom and power await. If you can defeat me today, the Yin-Yang Longevity Pill and the Golden Radiance Flame Mirror, a Pure Yang artifact, will be yours. A single step further toward true mastery."
On the stage stood Long Xuan, the woman in yellow robes, the undefeated champion of the Mountains and Rivers Ranking for several years running. Her voice was gentle, her expression calm, as if this were a friendly chat rather than the prelude to battle.
"What? Junior Sister Long, you still intend to fight me?" Fang Han looked mildly surprised. "You've seen my strength. Do you really think you have a chance?"
By right, Fang Han should have called her "Senior Sister." But in the Feather Transformation Gate, seniority was determined not by age or entry date, but by cultivation. Now that he had reached the Divine Ability Realm, the title of "Senior Brother" was his by default.
Long Xuan only smiled. "Fang Han, your mana is vast and refined. It's clear you've long since crossed into the Divine Ability stage. Ye Nantian, even with the Eight Desolate Sword and the Gate of Rebirth, couldn't match you. By reason, I should yield—but I can't. I need that Yin-Yang Longevity Pill. My cultivation has reached its critical point. One more surge of vital energy, and I'll break through. With that pill, I could ascend at once. Without it… three to five more years of grueling accumulation await."
Her words flowed like a spring stream—serene, confident, natural.
Fang Han nodded slightly. So she really is on the verge of breakthrough. To declare she needed only three to five more years showed not arrogance but certainty—this was someone who had already refined her spirit and mind to the Divine level, lacking only the final surge of energy to transform spirit into law.
No wonder she dared to face him head-on.
And as the Mountains and Rivers champion for years, she would not be without her own treasures—perhaps even one surpassing Ye Nantian's Eight Desolate Sword.
"In that case," Fang Han said, his tone respectful but steady, "please, Junior Sister Long, make your move."
He knew she was an important figure in Jia Lan's association, with whom he had formed a solid alliance. Still, the first-place reward—a Pure Yang artifact—was not something he could afford to let go. The Golden Radiance Flame Mirror could greatly nourish Yan, the spirit within him; the stronger Yan became, the better elixirs it could refine, and the more of the Yellow Springs Diagram's power could be restored.
That ancient Dao artifact—rumored capable of evolving into an immortal weapon—was now only a shadow of its true might. But if it regained its power, it could turn the tides even against Hua Tiandu himself.
For now, though, victory here was the next step.
"Be careful, Fang Han!"
Long Xuan's tone sharpened. A sudden frost filled the air. Though not as bone-piercing as Hua Tiandu's Frozen Nether Qi, it was enough to make Fang Han's limbs tingle with cold.
Behind her, a sword rose silently—a long, dragon-shaped blade of pure ice crystal, faintly gleaming with light. Within its depths, the silhouette of a hornless frost dragon writhed and roared.
"This sword is called Han Chi—'Cold Hornless Dragon.' It was forged from the body of a true frost wyrm that once dwelled in the northern seas. Its power surpasses even the Eight Desolate Sword. Be careful not to let its chill touch you. The dragon's spirit can release the Frost Soul Thunder, which freezes the very blood. Even a master struck by it would be frozen solid and shattered to pieces."
Her voice was calm, almost kind, as if she were explaining rather than threatening.
Fang Han stood with hands behind his back, silent but utterly alert. His mana stirred like a storm; within three feet of his body, the air twisted and spun, dispersing the cold. His flesh, tempered through infernal trials and molten torment, had long since reached the level of a Hellfire Body. Cold meant nothing to him—he could probably sleep bare-skinned on a glacier without discomfort.
"Go."
Long Xuan's gentle command sent the Han Chi sword into motion. The dragon blade flicked its tail, letting out a clear metallic cry before it lunged forward. Streams of icy light burst from its edge; snowflakes filled the air, the moisture freezing into sparkling shards mid-flight.
Crack! The reinforced stone of the platform froze and split into deep fissures.
So lifelike… the weapon itself has spirit.
Fang Han's body stiffened as the sword's cold pressed in, making his mana flow sluggishly. Frost crept over his brows. But instead of panic, he moved. His body surged with power, air currents roared around him, and the friction kindled heat—waves of rolling warmth scattering the chill.
When a cultivator's mana reached a certain intensity, their flight alone could set the air aflame. Fang Han wasn't yet at that stage, but he could still create blazing turbulence easily.
"Capture!"
His voice cut through the wind as he blurred into motion, leaving afterimages across the platform. A massive hand of pure mana condensed in midair, reaching to seize Long Xuan herself. If he could capture her and force surrender, the duel would end—his rewards secured.
After all, Long Xuan's sword was powerful, but not as dangerous as Ye Nantian's Gate of Rebirth. She hadn't yet truly entered the Divine stage; her power, though refined, lacked the transformed force of spirit-made-law.
But just as the mana hand closed in, Long Xuan's calm smile flickered with faint amusement.
"Han Chi Dragon Soul—Frost Soul Thunder!"
Boom!
The dragon spirit on the blade opened its jaws. A white orb, no larger than an egg, shot forth—and struck Fang Han's mana hand dead center.
It detonated instantly.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
A burst of frozen light exploded outward, and Fang Han's mana construct shattered like glass. The white mist of cold condensed into ice crystals, expanding with terrifying speed, forming walls and ridges of frost that closed around him—until he stood sealed within a glittering fortress of ice.