This was the first time Fang Han had ever witnessed a spirit beast transcending into a demon.
And not just any beast—the Blackwater Serpent King, a colossal monster of primeval lineage.
The surge of demonic aura roared through the sea, carrying a nauseating stench that whipped up violent storms. Winds howled, waves howled back, and even ghosts might have wailed along with them. Had any mortal ships been sailing nearby, their crews would've died from sheer terror before the waves even struck.
Before mastering divine abilities, a sentient creature could only be called a spirit beast. Take Crane Fairy, for instance—she could cast illusions to beguile mortals through sheer spiritual will alone. That was what mortals called "a creature attaining spirit."
But if she were to transform her mind into true mana—entering the realm of Divine Abilities—then she would become a demon.
Spirit beasts and demons stood on different rungs of existence, as far apart as mortals in the Flesh Realm and cultivators in the Divine Ability Realm.
Although Crane Fairy had gained immensely from following Fang Han—eating countless elixirs, receiving Garan's enlightenment—she would still need at least sixty years and a stroke of fortune to cross that threshold. Every day for those six decades, she'd have to refine her flesh and blood with pure pills to drive out every impurity.
That was why Fang Han hadn't brought her along. Out on the boundless ocean, she would have been more a burden than an aid.
Now, at the storm's heart, the Blackwater Serpent King writhed. Fang Han, cloaked in true energy, hovered several dozen miles away, close enough to see every scale.
Each one was as large as a man's face, bristling upright like blades. Its maw gaped wide enough to swallow an elephant whole—literally the kind of "snake devouring an elephant" that people used to tell as fairy tales.
Its ivory-like fangs glistened with venom, each one as long as a man's arm and sharp enough to cut steel. Fang Han knew that those fangs were deadlier than Asura bone spikes—if a master of the Heaven-Human Realm forged them through ritual tempering, they could become blades fit for a treasured sword.
If this monstrous serpent truly transformed into a flood dragon, how terrifying would its mana become?
Even now, standing within its aura, Fang Han could sense that its energy surpassed his own by more than double. His refined qi was equal to the strength of six hundred warhorses; this beast pulsed with at least a thousand.
If it entered the Divine Ability Realm and condensed true astral essence like he had—how strong then? Three thousand horses? Five thousand?
Still, creatures like the Blackwater Serpent rarely gained actual divine powers. Without the protection of one of the Five Great Demon Sects, their chances of survival during the transformation were slim.
For in this moment—crossing the threshold between spirit beast and demon—they were at their most vulnerable, their power radiating like a beacon to every cultivator in a thousand miles. Most never lived to see the dawn.
Now, amid the swirling maelstrom, the serpent seemed to sense danger. It saw Fang Han and his companions, its shriek tearing through the storm like a blade. Waves heaved, and illusory phantoms shimmered across the sky, its mind lashing out to frighten all onlookers away.
But illusions meant nothing to those who had mastered true divine abilities.
Still, the serpent couldn't stop or flee—it was locked in the critical moment of transformation. Any interruption now, and its mind would shatter into madness—its vast body nothing more than a soulless husk.
"We wait," said Long Xuan, slipping closer through the water curtain. "Once it finishes the transformation—once it becomes a flood dragon—we strike. Will you handle the interlopers, or shall I?"
The Witch raised her hand, weaving a Concealment Talisman. The three vanished into the storm's veil—breath, sound, and form erased.
"What's your plan?" Fang Han whispered.
"That serpent is far more useful to you than to me," Long Xuan replied through a thread of mana. "I've already taken a Yin-Yang Longevity Pill and gained six hundred years. Time is on my side—you only have ten. I'll deal with the hidden predators. When the serpent completes its metamorphosis, you strike fast and take it down. Do you have a treasure that can contain it?"
"I'll manage," Fang Han answered curtly. "Witch, you assist Long Xuan. Whatever I gain today, you'll both share in the spoils."
Long Xuan smiled faintly—Fang Han's decisiveness pleased her. She was no fool, and she knew the value of timing.
Then—
"It's happening!" Long Xuan hissed.
The serpent's roar split the heavens. Its mana exploded outward like a breaking dam, rippling through sea and sky.
Two massive bulges rose from its skull, and with a sound like cracking stone, a pair of coral-like horns burst forth—over three meters long each.
The transformation was complete.
But the exertion drained its mana—the storm around it faltered, then collapsed. Millions of pounds of seawater crashed back into the ocean, turning the air into sheets of rain.
"Now!"
Fang Han's hand shot forward. A surge of Wood Emperor Qi erupted from his palm, condensing into a towering jade-green tree that smashed downward toward the newborn flood dragon.
For creatures like this, ordinary flying swords were useless—but Fang Han's "Green Emperor Wood Emperor Art" was the perfect counter. One solid strike to stun; subdue first, then seal.
The colossal green trunk struck home with a thunderous crack. The serpent-turned-dragon let out a wail that shook the sea, its body crashing into the waves below, thrashing weakly.
It had only just transformed—its mana unstable, body frail. In any fair fight, Fang Han might never have stood a chance. But this was the perfect moment.
"Wood Emperor—Heaven's Net!"
The jade tree unraveled, twisting into countless vines that spread like a vast web, descending over the flailing dragon.
And then—
"Trying to steal my prey?"
A blur streaked up from the sea, black and fast. Fang Han felt the air explode around him—the newcomer's flight broke the sound barrier, leaving a cone of white mist in its wake.
"Careful—it's Han Chi!" Long Xuan shouted, loosing her sword in the same instant. The Cold Python Blade screamed through the storm, clashing against the figure.
"Foolish girl," came the man's voice.
He barely moved—just a flick of his wrist—and Long Xuan's blade was sent flying back into the sea.
The man blurred again, darting through the air like lightning, and before the Witch or Long Xuan could react—
Crack!Crack!
Two palm strikes landed in an instant. Both women screamed as they were hurled into the waves below.
The figure twisted midair and shot straight toward Fang Han.
He barely had time to see the man's silhouette before the pressure hit him—dense, crushing, suffocating.
The air itself hardened under the weight of the man's aura.
"Not good…" Fang Han's heart lurched.
"This one's at least Third Stage—Astral Qi Realm!"
His blood went cold. The man had already refined his true energy into Astral Qi.