The spirit crystals in Fang Han's possession were spoils from the underground citadel of the Great Asura Witch—a treasure coveted by every cultivator. Within each crystal pulsed condensed magical essence, allowing those in the Mystical Power Realm to replenish their mana in battle, fighting tirelessly without fear of exhaustion.
Long Xuan had assumed Fang Han's mana was nearly depleted, never imagining that he carried spirit crystals capable of endlessly refueling his energy. To her, he had seemed on the verge of collapse—but in truth, he was a dragon drawing strength from hidden currents.
Each crystal, once drained, would become nothing more than a dull gemstone. Yet even a single one could sustain Fang Han for quite some time. And he had not one, but hundreds—taken from the depths of that demonic fortress. Though he had consumed dozens in body-tempering over the past months, his reserves were still abundant.
"Such a pity," Long Xuan sighed, accepting her sword and treasures back into her hands as she stepped off the stage. "It'll take me another three to five years before I reach the Mystical Power Realm." Her tone carried deep disappointment—a weight heavier than defeat itself.
Fang Han watched her departing figure and smiled faintly, as if struck by a quiet realization.
"Good! The first place on the Mountains and Rivers Ranking!"
"A dark horse has appeared!"
"Fang Han, come to the front of the board."
From the stands, several elders beckoned him. Fang Han nodded, put away his crystals, and guided his qi to float up to the grand platform before the colossal Mountains and Rivers Ranking. His name now gleamed at the top, while Long Xuan's had slid to second place.
The Princess Hong Yi had surprisingly seized fifth, while Yuan Jiankong and Ye Nantian had fallen from the rankings entirely.
"This is a Yin-Yang Longevity Pill and the Golden Light Flame Mirror—a Pure Yang treasure. The pill is one of the supreme elixirs of our Yuhua Sect," announced an elder, his voice echoing through the air. "Our Supreme Patriarch and the Grand Elders refined only five of these over sixty years. Even though you're already in the Mystical Power Realm and don't need it for advancement, it can still fortify your mana and strengthen your physical body. More importantly, it will extend your life by ten cycles of sixty years—six hundred years of longevity!"
As he spoke, the massive board shimmered, and a beam of light shot out, carrying a rotating black-and-white pill and a hexagonal crimson mirror toward Fang Han.
The pill floated on a cushion of five-colored mist, half black and half white, divided by a line like a human spine. It radiated an ancient, balanced power—life and death intertwined. Its quality rivaled that of the Nine Aperture Golden Pill Fang Han had once taken.
To gain six hundred years of life—such a gift was almost unthinkable.
Even a mortal who had tempered their body to the tenth level could live at most one hundred fifty years before their flesh failed them. Those who broke into the Mystical Power Realm gained great strength, yes—but not longer life. Their vitality, converted into energy, actually shortened their years.
Thus, the cultivation world often said:
"Divine powers aid strength, not life. Magic is one thing—longevity another."
Only at the Fifth Level—Heaven and Human Realm, when one could form protective spirit arrays within their body, could a cultivator reinforce their organs and extend life up to eight hundred years.
That was why such masters commanded respect—why the sect so highly valued Fang Qingxue, sending her to the Minor Immortal Realm for seclusion.
For disciples beneath that level, any elixir that lengthened life was beyond priceless.
Even the Jiazi Elixir, which extended lifespan by just sixty years, had driven inner disciples to ecstasy when Hua Tiandu once bestowed it upon them.
Fang Han studied the Yin-Yang Longevity Pill in silence. Having consumed the Nine Aperture Golden Pill and cultivated the Yama Vajra Body, his vitality was already extraordinary—perhaps beyond measure. What was six hundred more years to a man whose flesh defied decay itself?
The Golden Light Flame Mirror, however, gleamed like a crimson sun, etched with flame-shaped lotus patterns—pure, radiant, and bursting with vitality.
A true Pure Yang treasure, Fang Han immediately recognized.
"This mirror can unleash purifying fire to refine demons," explained the elder. "But it also contains Pure Yang essence. Draw a few strands into your body, and it will temper your bones and improve your spiritual foundation. Take it now, and then report to the Heavenly Yuhua Palace. The Elders will assess your lineage and officially promote you to True Disciple. You will be granted your own mountain—and taught one of the Eight Great Divine Arts of our sect!"
Hearing this, Fang Han's heart leapt.
He possessed great mana, but no true divine techniques yet—no Heaven's Frost Qi, no Purple Lightning Blade, no Grand Freedom Golden Sword Qi. Once he mastered even one, his power would soar.
"Fang Han," said Jia Lan, rising from her seat with a faint smile, "you hid your strength well—even I misjudged you. But I'm pleased. Thanks to you, I won a Heavenly Wood Needle."
"Senior Sister Jia Lan's gift of the sword—how could I forget?" Fang Han replied.
Then, after a moment's thought, he took out the Yin-Yang Longevity Pill.
"This pill—please give it to Long Xuan for me. With it, she might ascend to the Mystical Power Realm as well. Our sect could use one more true disciple."
"What?"
Jia Lan froze. Even the elders—and Dong Lingxiao, who was preparing to leave—turned with stunned faces.
"Do you understand what you're giving away?" Jia Lan said sharply. "That pill grants six hundred years of life. Some of our true disciples have withered and died before reaching the Heaven and Human Realm because they lacked such years. People kill each other over mere decades of longevity!"
Fang Han only smiled.
"I've sworn to face Hua Tiandu upon the Execution Platform within ten years. If I cannot defeat him, I'll end my own life. If I can—my strength and lifespan will both have grown beyond measure. If I can't—then six hundred more years mean nothing.
Better to trade it for a debt of fate—a great favor."
His calm tone silenced the hall.
In that moment, Fang Han seemed not a mere disciple—but a man whose will burned brighter than the Pure Yang mirror in his hand.