"Hahahahaha… hahahahaha!" Fang Han's laughter thundered across the sea, wild and sharp like blades slashing through the air. His amusement was anything but genuine—it was fury boiling over.
"Fang Han, what are you laughing at?" Cang Baizi's face stiffened. Behind his calm façade, greed flickered uncontrollably in his eyes. His gaze was locked onto the massive Five-Prison King Cauldron, unable to look away.
A treasure of this level—a genuine treasured artifact—was something even a cultivator at the Celestial stage might never possess. And this was not just any cauldron; it was one of the finest of its kind. If it fell into Cang Baizi's hands, he could refine top-tier elixirs, extend his lifespan, and maybe—just maybe—ascend to the Heaven-Man Realm before old age claimed him.
How could he possibly let Fang Han take it alone? If he couldn't seize it outright, he would at least share the credit—claim it belonged to the sect, use sect law as a pretext, and force Fang Han into handing it over.
That was the luxury of so-called righteous sects—when they coveted something, they wrapped their greed in rules and rhetoric. In the demonic path, such things were simpler: whoever had the stronger hand kept the prize.
But before Cang Baizi could push further, Fang Han's laughter abruptly stopped. His voice turned cold, cutting through the waves like a blade of ice.
"You want to know why I'm laughing?" Fang Han's eyes burned with a killing gleam. "Because I've met countless petty men in my life—jealous, spiteful, shameless—but I've never seen one as despicable as you. A shameless hypocrite who dares twist truth into lies!"
"You think you deserve a share of this treasure?" Fang Han's words dripped with venom. "You call yourself a cultivator? You haven't even formed true qi, yet you dare talk of contribution? The Jueming Island Lord could have killed you with a flick of his finger! Even Long Xuan could slaughter you a hundred times over, and you dare to stand before me claiming credit?"
His killing intent surged. "Believe it or not, I could seal your cultivation right now and make you wish you were dead!"
"You! How dare you!" Cang Baizi's face flushed red with fury, his voice trembling with outrage. "Fang Han, you've grown arrogant! You think a bit of divine power makes you untouchable? You insult your peers, defy sect rules—you're walking the path of demons! No wonder Senior Brother Hua Tiandu said you reek of demonic taint. You've lost all restraint! You're a disgrace to the sect! I'll see to it that this cauldron returns to its rightful place—even if I must drag you before the elders!"
Fang Han's expression turned glacial. "So that's how far shamelessness can go. Twisting right and wrong until the world turns upside down."
His tone dropped, a deathly calm before the storm. "I've had enough of this."
With a flick of his sleeve, his Wood Emperor Qi roared to life. Verdant energy condensed into a massive azure sword, stretching a hundred feet long, its edge humming with primal power.
It fell like divine judgment.
A thousand and five hundred horses' worth of force came crashing down from the sky—unyielding, unstoppable.
Cang Baizi's own power was barely a fraction of that—perhaps a hundred horses at best. Against Fang Han, he was like a candle before a hurricane.
"Stop!"
The shout came not from Cang Baizi, but from Xiao Buyè, the Lord of the Island of Endless Night. His son, Xiao Shi, had been beaten half to death by Fang Han before; the man had been waiting for this chance.
Xiao Buyè's flying sword flashed into the air, glowing with blue light. Four more beams joined his—the other four island lords had moved as one.
"Five Waves of the Southern Sea!"
A cold, commanding voice rang out from Yuhua Island's mistress, a sharp-eyed beauty whose every movement carried killing intent.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The five flying swords collided with Fang Han's descending strike, one after another, their combined rhythm perfectly timed. Though their individual strength was modest, together they formed a seamless defense—like waves overlapping in succession, dispersing the might of a tidal force.
Each of these five island lords had only seven or eight dozen horses' worth of strength, yet through cunning coordination, they held their ground against Fang Han's blow.
"Fools," Fang Han's voice was low, deadly. "You dare interfere in my sect's affairs? Do you truly wish to die?"
The air chilled.
He could not slaughter his fellow Yuhua Sect disciples, but these sea rogue cultivators? Killing them would violate no law. In fact, it might even earn him prestige.
Without warning, Fang Han's killing intent exploded. His sword qi split into five streams—five sky-blue blades of divine energy—each aiming straight for an island lord.
"So, you mean to strike us separately?" Xiao Buyè sneered. "Fool! We five have trained together for years. Our divine power flows as one!"
Five streams of qi linked in the air, merging into a coiling formation that pushed back against Fang Han's blades. "My son is a disciple of Yuhua Sect," Xiao Buyè shouted, his tone dripping with disdain. "Soon he'll be a True Disciple like you. You're nothing special, Fang Han!"
"Die."
Fang Han's voice was flat—almost calm—but death rode on every syllable.
His five swords instantly converged into a single, piercing beam—the Heavenly Wood Divine Needle. It shot forward with lightning speed, tearing through the void.
A flash.
Xiao Buyè's sword shattered like glass. The azure light pierced straight through his chest, embedding itself within his body.
A heartbeat later, his scream was drowned in the sound of rending flesh. A colossal green tree erupted from within him, splintering his bones and tearing his body apart.
His son's voice echoed over the waves—raw, broken, unbelieving.
"Father—!"
But the cry vanished into the wind.
The Lord of Endless Night Island, Xiao Buyè—was dead. Killed in a single strike.