The Palace of Absolute Doom, though grand and majestic by mortal standards—akin to a governor's mansion—was unimpressive when compared to the celestial splendor of true immortal sects. Yet this suited its owner, the Lord of Death Island, perfectly. As a rogue cultivator, he lacked the vast resources or followers to construct palaces spanning hundreds of miles.
There were no protective formations or forbidden arrays surrounding it either. Setting up great formations required mastery beyond the Fifth Heaven of Divine Abilities—reaching the "Heaven-Man Realm," where one could harmonize with celestial forces, align with stars and tides, and weave natural and arcane powers into a cyclical whole, amplifying their might a thousandfold.
The Lord of Death Island clearly had not reached that realm. Had he done so, Fang Han would have perished long ago.
And because of that shortcoming, when Fang Han unleashed his Wood Emperor True Qi, the hidden palace was instantly revealed—had there been protective formations, even he couldn't have broken through so easily.
Boom! Boom!
As the palace emerged from concealment, Fang Han sensed faint fluctuations of magical power deep within it. His eyes narrowed. With a flick of his hand, five streams of azure qi shot forth, forming five colossal divine trees that descended from the heavens, crashing down with devastating force. Entire halls crumbled under their impact—gilded with gold and pearls though they were, their mortal treasures meant nothing to a cultivator.
Gold and silver were useless to those who walked the immortal path—they could neither purchase pills nor artifacts. In the mortal empire under the Taiyi Sect's control, the official currency wasn't gold or silver but Xuanhuang Coins, forged with spiritual essence. Even then, most cultivators preferred direct barter.
Suddenly, an enraged roar shook the ruins.
"So, your cursed soul has found Death Island after all!"
The Lord of Death Island burst out from the depths of his palace, and with him soared a colossal cauldron—an enormous furnace the size of a small house.
It was a cauldron-shaped dwelling, no mere decoration but an actual alchemical furnace radiating formidable aura. The air around it whirled violently with spiritual energy, and faint glimmers of treasure-light flashed along its surface. Its material was unknown, but the power emanating from it—dense medicinal fragrance and surging spiritual waves—was awe-inspiring.
It was unmistakably a Treasure-grade alchemical cauldron.
"No wonder!" Long Xuan gasped, nearly choking on her own breath. "So that's how this rogue cultivator reached the Third Layer of Divine Abilities—he's been relying on a treasure-tier cauldron! A single one of these could trade for a hundred flying swords or magic robes!"
Among all treasures, the cauldron was the most crucial for cultivators.
It was their field, their livelihood. Mortals had land to grow food; cultivators had cauldrons to refine elixirs—their sustenance. A powerful cauldron meant endless pills, weapons, and even ways to temper one's body. Fang Han's Yama Golden Body, for example, required a cauldron to "boil" himself within divine fire.
To own a treasure-tier cauldron was to secure one's future.
Long Xuan's cauldron was already a Spirit Artifact—impressive by normal standards.
Fang Han's, however, was but a Magic Artifact—inferior in grade. He was fortunate to have the Netherworld Diagram, Water of Forgetfulness, and the alchemist Yan Luo to compensate.
Even within the mighty Feather Transformation Gate, few possessed treasure-tier cauldrons—perhaps ten in total. Only true elites like Dong Lingxiao, Jia Lan, Wan Luo, and Yao Guang had them. Their rapid rise in cultivation was directly tied to their cauldrons. Hua Tiandu's cauldron, a Dao Artifact once wielded by the Immortal Lord Panwu himself, was another level entirely—and a major reason his power soared so far beyond his peers.
Forging such a cauldron required an incomprehensible network of arrays: formations to filter impurities, control divine fires, summon celestial flames, regulate airflow, adjust medicinal balance, channel spiritual music to nurture pill spirits, and repel demonic interference. A single high-grade cauldron could contain hundreds or even thousands of formations.
In contrast, most weapons had only a few.
Now it was clear—this was why the Lord of Death Island could refine Gang Qi. His cauldron had given him the edge.
Yan Luo's voice roared from within the Netherworld Diagram:
"A treasure-tier cauldron! Perfect! With this, we can use fire-alchemy instead of water-alchemy! You could even throw ten Asuras into it and temper them into one with your flying swords! Your Yama Golden Body could advance further!"
Fang Han's response was decisive:
"Then we'll take it—no matter the cost. Wood Emperor True Qi—Transform into Blades!"
Thousands of green divine swords erupted into the air, raining down upon the Lord of Death Island.
"Kill!" the island lord bellowed. His Heavenly Gang Doom Hands manifested as endless palm shadows, colliding against the storm of green blades.
The air exploded with a deafening chorus—blinding lights flared, the palace below crumbled to dust, and gold and jewels scattered like rain.
Fang Han skidded back ten meters before regaining balance. The Lord of Death Island was hurled thirty meters backward, crashing into his own cauldron.
A direct clash—and Fang Han had the upper hand!
His combined strength, bolstered by the Blackwater King Serpent's essence, equaled the force of two thousand galloping stallions. His Wood Emperor Qi was of superior quality—sharp, resilient, overwhelming.
The island lord stared in disbelief. "How has your power increased so much?"
"Demon, die!" Long Xuan's Ice Dragon Sword struck, freezing seawater into towering ice walls that locked the man in place.
"Frost Soul Divine Thunder!" she shouted, and her sword transformed into an icy dragon that spat blinding bolts of white lightning. The explosions shattered the man's protective Gang Qi.
"Five Prison King Cauldron!" the island lord roared in desperation. The giant furnace behind him spun rapidly, spewing five torrents of flame that detonated on contact with the ice.
The world shook.
Ice shattered, the sword screamed and returned to Long Xuan's grasp. She retreated behind Fang Han, unharmed but grim.
"Ha ha ha! With my Five Prison King Cauldron, you can't touch me! Once I enter it, no evil shall harm me!" He leapt toward the cauldron.
But Fang Han sneered. "Wishful thinking."
His qi condensed into a thin, radiant needle—sharp as divine will itself.
"Heavenly Wood Divine Needle!"
The needle pierced through the air in an instant, breaking through Gang Qi and burrowing straight into the man's body. The island lord tried to force it out—but it suddenly expanded, transforming into a massive divine tree that split him apart.
A scream echoed. Blood rained down.
The Lord of Death Island exploded into dust.
His remaining Gang Qi surged skyward and dispersed—a sure sign of a fallen master.
Fang Han ignored the blood mist. The true prize was the cauldron. Capturing living opponents was nearly impossible—even Hua Tiandu couldn't contain the Great Mighty Demon King before it self-destructed. Killing was easy; subjugation was not.
"His head!" Long Xuan shouted. She froze the severed head in ice—proof of the kill and a bounty worth collecting.
Fang Han, meanwhile, reached for the cauldron—the Five Prison King Cauldron, now drifting without an owner.
But before he could grasp it—
Dozens of figures burst from a nearby gorge.
"So someone got here first! Leave the cauldron!"
A rain of swords and magic weapons tore through the air.
Among them, a golden beam surged forward, its power equal to three or four hundred galloping horses, wrapping around the cauldron to snatch it away!
"More scavengers? At this exact moment?" Fang Han's fury blazed. "This island was hidden beyond reach—how did all these vultures appear now?"
Cursing under his breath, he flared his qi. His Wood Emperor True Qi spread like a swamp, ensnaring the incoming weapons.
Then half of it transformed into a massive hand that seized the cauldron—and tore the golden beam apart with sheer force.
Even through the chaos, he caught sight of the one wielding that golden light.
A young woman. Holding a gourd.
It was Fang Qingwei.