"Is there truly such a technique in this world—one that can transfer another's cultivation into your own? If that's possible, wouldn't that mean that every time I kill an expert in the Divine Ability Realm, I could simply wash his mana clean with the Forgetfulness Water and graft it onto myself? If so, wouldn't I become invincible after killing just a few more?"
Fang Han had agreed, yet hesitated again.
Not because he regretted his choice—but because this so-called Transplanting Flowers, Grafting Trees technique was far too absurd, too incredible, defying the laws of cultivation itself. Refining the essence of the Blackwater King Serpent into elixirs to slowly strengthen himself—that was logical. But directly transferring its raw power into his body? That was beyond reason.
Mana was like physical strength.
Killing a tiger and eating its flesh to gain nutrition and energy was normal. But saying you could transfer the tiger's strength into your own body directly? Impossible.
"The art of transferring mana—it's a secret technique of the Yellow Springs Gate," Yan said darkly. "But it's not as easy as you think. Once you experience it, you'll understand why no one dares to try it twice. Even this time, you might die from mana conflict—your body could literally explode. And even if you succeed, it's useless in the long run. When you reach higher levels—those at the ninth or tenth stage of Divine Ability have the power of hundreds of thousands of warhorses. Immortality experts can move mountains and fill seas. Killing one or two and stealing their mana? What's the point? You'd only gain a drop in an ocean, while gambling your life, making deadly enemies, and earning a bloodthirsty name. Besides, they don't even have Forgetfulness Water. And the higher one's cultivation, the deeper the mana imprint—it becomes impossible to transfer. If that Blackwater Serpent had reached the True Qi Realm, you'd be dead the moment you tried. This art is for those desperate to advance quickly—those willing to wager their life."
Yan's tone grew heavy. "If you truly decide to do it, clear your mind and follow my breathing and qi circulation exactly. One mistake—just one—and you'll die without a doubt. Even now, your chance of survival is fifty-fifty. But if you don't risk it, you'll never surpass Hua Tiandu. Entering the Void Domain will be suicide without greater strength."
Fang Han understood perfectly. "Cultivation is like business—the thicker the capital, the greater the profit. Hua Tiandu's foundation is enormous. Every pill he refines equals years of my hard work. Without risk, I'll never catch up."
Yan let out a low chuckle. "You're sharper than most. Fine, let's begin."
A series of intricate qi circulation formulas entered Fang Han's mind.
He turned to Long Xuan and the Witch beside him. "I'm about to cultivate a secret art. Guard me—make sure no one disturbs us."
"No problem. My mana's recovered anyway." Long Xuan waved her Cold Flood Sword, transforming it into mist that cloaked the area. The Witch obeyed without protest; with Fang Han holding her life, she dared not resist.
Satisfied, Fang Han nodded. "Her concealment technique is impressive—like merging with the ocean itself. Perfect for this place."
Then he closed his eyes and said, "No one must disturb me now."
Moments later, his mana surged violently, then condensed into stillness. His face twisted in pain as though deep in meditation.
"What's this act?" Yan asked. "You're not actually cultivating yet."
Fang Han snorted coldly. "Caution is survival. Long Xuan knows I carry a Dao Artifact. That's too much temptation. Though she's a fellow disciple, we're alone on an uninhabited island. If she kills me and takes it, who would know? So I'll feign deep cultivation to test her heart. If she passes this test, then I'll trust her enough to explore the Void Domain together. If not—then I'll know to guard myself."
Yan chuckled softly. "Fang Han, you truly are something else. Even at a time like this, you're probing allies."
For over an hour, Fang Han maintained his false cultivation, sweating profusely, every muscle tense. Long Xuan sat quietly, unmoving, her expression calm and vigilant. Seeing that she harbored no ill intent, Fang Han finally relaxed—and began the true Transplanting Flowers, Grafting Trees.
Yan's qi surged into Fang Han's body, half channeling into him and half into the stupefied Blackwater King Serpent lying nearby. Yan was like the axle connecting two wheels.
Then—boom!
The moment their energies connected, Fang Han's mind exploded with pain. The serpent's alien mana poured into him like wildfire, clashing violently with his own.
He hadn't expected it to be this brutal.
Blood burst from his seven orifices, his body shaking as if it would burst apart. His skull felt ready to explode.
The violent reaction didn't stop—it chained itself, one detonation after another.
Fang Han knew—this was the moment of life or death. If he lost control now, the conflict between foreign and native mana would consume him entirely.
"Mana grafting—forty-nine cycles! Great Evolution, Heaven's Mechanism, the One returns to the Source! Emperor of the Underworld, unshaken! Gate of Earth Treasury, open! The sea accepts all rivers—its vastness lies in tolerance!"
He focused every ounce of his will, abandoning pain and fear. His mind became a vast ocean—tolerant, boundless. He guided the violent foreign mana into this ocean, dissolving the explosions one by one, absorbing and refining them into his own essence.
A miracle—it worked.
The alien power melted into his mana, merging flawlessly.
Fang Han's body swelled like an inflated sphere, floating in midair. Long Xuan and the Witch stared in disbelief.
"What kind of technique is this?" Long Xuan murmured. "I've never seen such a phenomenon. If something goes wrong and he explodes, I'll be held responsible..."
As a fellow true disciple, she'd face severe consequences if Fang Han died during a joint mission. Even rumors would ruin her name.
But before she could think further—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A series of explosions thundered from Fang Han's body. Each time, blood spurted from his mouth like an arrow.
"Not good!" Long Xuan paled.
Then—suddenly—Fang Han's eyes snapped open. His swollen body deflated, his aura condensing to terrifying intensity. He exhaled once—
A storm blasted out. Stones flew skyward, trees uprooted, waves roared.
Long Xuan and the Witch could only stare.
"What power...!" Long Xuan gasped. "At least the strength of two thousand warhorses!"
The Witch's eyes widened in shock. "Impossible! No one can gain so much power so fast!"
But Fang Han had done it.
He had truly mastered the Transplanting Flowers, Grafting Trees technique—
and emerged reborn.