When Fang Han smiled, something about that quiet, determined expression sent an inexplicable chill down Jia Lan's spine. Beneath his calmness burned an unyielding resolve—something fierce and mournful, the kind of will forged from resentment that refused to die. That resentment had become his fuel, the fire behind his relentless cultivation and indomitable advance.
Indeed, this was a great favor.
The Yin-Yang Longevity Pill—six hundred years of life essence condensed into a single elixir, capable of reshaping a cultivator's fate. Even Jia Lan, who had already broken through to the Heaven and Human Realm and possessed an eight-hundred-year lifespan, felt a pang of temptation. After all, the very essence of cultivation was a struggle against Heaven itself—to seize time, to claim more life from the void. No one, no matter how mighty, would refuse another year of existence.
Many had spent centuries striving for the next realm, only to perish mere steps away, their lifeforce spent, their dreams unfulfilled.
So when Fang Han freely gave away such a treasure, Jia Lan felt both admiration and unease. His act was not only generous—it was final, as if he had cut off all retreat. A man burning his own bridges to forge forward, even if it led to death.
And that death, Jia Lan thought, was almost certain. She pitied him for it. For all his talent, Fang Han could never hope to surpass Hua Tiandu. Yet she still accepted his favor, knowing what it meant. Long Xuan was a core figure of her Jia Lan Association. Once she entered the Mystical Power Realm and became a True Disciple, the association's power would grow considerably.
"I'll accept this on Long Xuan's behalf," Jia Lan said softly, taking the pill into her hand. "When you've mastered your divine art, come to Jia Lan Peak. I'll have her thank you in person."
"No need for formality. I'll go to the Heavenly Yuhua Palace first, but afterward, I'll pay you a visit, Senior Sister," Fang Han replied. He knew that with this gesture, he had bound a strong alliance. In a sect as vast and treacherous as the Yuhua Gate, an ally like Jia Lan was no small protection—it was the difference between standing alone and standing unshaken.
"Jia Lan," Ling Xiao said from nearby, his tone edged with frost. "Your peak forbids men from entering, yet you invite him? You must be bending your own rules."
"The rules are mine to make," Jia Lan replied coolly. "For a Yin-Yang Longevity Pill, breaking them once hardly matters."
Ling Xiao's lips twisted into a sneer. "If you could draw Fang Qingxue into your little Jia Lan Association, you might one day challenge Hua Tiandu himself for the position of Sect Master once the current one ascends. But this boy? A man who won't live ten years? What use is he to you?" His eyes flashed coldly as he looked at Fang Han. "Do take care of yourself."
With that, his body dissolved into violet mist and vanished, disappearing through some secret movement art.
"Don't mind him," Jia Lan said gently. "Ling Xiao is close to Senior Brother Hua. He can be sharp-tongued, but he won't move against you in the shadows."
Fang Han chuckled lightly. "Seems I've already made enemies before even becoming a True Disciple—Zhong Tiandu, Dong Lingxiao, Nan Wanluo... quite the collection. But since Hua Tiandu's already one of them, what's a few more?"
"Long Xuan will be waiting for you at my peak," Jia Lan said simply, and with a step forward, her form blurred and vanished like a mirage. Fang Han could only marvel at how effortlessly these True Disciples manipulated space itself—their mastery of divine arts was far beyond his current reach.
"Let's go."
The elders who had been watching silently took to the skies. They did not interfere in the rivalries between True Disciples like Jia Lan and Ling Xiao—such matters were above them. Even figures like Elder Jin Lieri, father of Jin Shitai, would think twice before crossing those two.
Fang Han followed the elders as they soared toward the Heavenly Yuhua Palace—that vast palace suspended among the clouds in the heart of the Yuhua Mountains. It hung half-veiled in mist, like the dwelling of an emperor or a god, majestic and unreachable.
He had never been here before. One glance, and awe filled his heart.
What kind of power could lift an entire city into the sky? he wondered. To suspend mountains and halls above the clouds—it must be power on the scale of ten thousand armies multiplied ten thousandfold… perhaps even beyond comprehension.
He couldn't even begin to calculate it. And though he longed to ask "Yan," the ancient dragon spirit within him, the creature had sealed itself away with the Great Annihilation Technique, hidden deep in slumber.
Cautiously, Fang Han followed the elders into the palace. Beneath his feet, the clouds drifted softly, translucent as silk. From here, he could see the entire mountain range below, the cities, rivers, and plains of the mortal world stretched out like a painted scroll.
To live here long enough, he thought, would surely make one breathe the air of immortals.
Within the Heavenly Yuhua Palace, halls upon halls rose like stairways to the heavens, each higher and grander than the last. Fang Han felt as though he were walking into the celestial courts of the Jade Emperor himself.
"This is the True Transmission Hall," one elder said, stopping before a grand gate. "It's where the sect's divine arts are bestowed upon new True Disciples. Inside, the Grand Elders will test you. If you pass, they'll personally teach you one of Yuhua Gate's Eight Great Divine Powers—and grant you a mountain of your own."
Fang Han looked up at the massive plaque above the gate. The three characters 'True Transmission Hall' gleamed with golden radiance. His heart tightened. Steeling his spirit, he stepped forward.
As he entered, he deliberately sealed away every trace of the Yellow Springs Diagram and anything related to Yan or the Nether Emperor. His memory blurred at the edges—a precaution against divine scrutiny.
The first figure he saw was the Teaching Elder, whom he had met several times before. The familiar presence steadied his nerves.
But beside him stood another—one Fang Han had never seen. A boy, no older than sixteen in appearance, pale-faced, hair black as ink. Yet the air around him carried such oppressive weight that Fang Han's heartbeat thundered like drums.
No... not a boy. A monster in human form.
"Don't be afraid," said the youth in a voice that sounded impossibly ancient. "Though I preside over the Heavenly Execution Platform, I am cautious when it comes to slaying our sect's disciples."
Fang Han's spine went rigid. The Heavenly Execution Elder! He bowed deeply, his tone solemn. "This disciple greets the Elder!"
"What do you think of him?" the Teaching Elder asked.
The Heavenly Execution Elder's eyes flickered—and in that instant, Fang Han felt as though his very being was stripped bare. His flesh, bones, and even his soul were laid open to view. When those eyes swept over his Heaven Gate, Fang Han felt a violent ripple inside his mind, as though the Elder might peer straight into his memories. Thankfully, he had already sealed them—otherwise, the secrets of the Yellow Springs and the Nine Aperture Pill might have been exposed.
After a long silence, the elder finally withdrew his gaze. "He may be taught."
The Teaching Elder nodded. "Since you have spoken, there can be no mistake."
He raised a hand—and a brilliant jade tome descended before Fang Han, glowing with threads of divine light.
"This," the elder said, his voice echoing through the vast hall, "is your first step toward mastering true power."