"Fang Han, something's coming!"
Long Xuan was the first to react. She knew that Fang Han was in the middle of refining the Five Prisons King Cauldron — the most delicate, dangerous moment for any cultivator. The instant the first streak of sword-light tore across the horizon, she was already on her feet, drawing the Frost Flood Dragon Sword. A thin veil of mist spread over the area — no more than a few acres wide, but dense with killing chill.
That mist was no ordinary fog. It was Frost Soul Divine Mist, and even a brush against it would turn flesh to ice, freezing blood and soul alike. Having reached the Realm of Divine Ability and cultivated the Myriad Waters Divine Art, Long Xuan wielded her sword with cold precision — every drop of mist was death.
"What's going on? Could it be that Cang Baizi refuses to give up and brought more people? No... this isn't his sword aura. Who are they?"
Fang Han, startled from his trance, looked up. The sky was alive with flying blades — fierce, disciplined, and radiating immense spiritual pressure. Each of the newcomers was clearly a master of the Divine Ability Realm. But their sword styles were foreign to him, until Long Xuan identified them.
"That's Taiyi Sect's sword light! They use the Taiyi Split-Light Swords — each capable of dividing into countless threads of qi, weaving deadly webs of light. These people aren't here for peace. They're hunting something — or someone."
"Taiyi Sect..."
Fang Han tried to summon his power, but his mind swam. A wave of exhaustion hit him so hard his vision dimmed. His eyelids felt like lead, every breath dragging him toward sleep — the kind of bone-deep fatigue that only comes when one's spiritual sea is drained dry.
The body stores stamina in the flesh. But mana — that comes from the mind, the very soul. Once depleted, even the strongest cultivator would collapse like an empty shell.
He had burned through nearly everything refining the King Cauldron — ninety percent of his power gone. Even standing upright felt like a strain.
"Damn it. They chose the perfect time to strike. Robbing me while I'm half-dead... but I can't let them succeed." His eyes flashed with resolve. "Luckily, I still have spirit crystals. Painful as it is, I'll have to use them now."
With a thought, hundreds of spirit crystals burst forth from the Netherworld Diagram, floating before him. Pure spiritual energy surged out of them, flooding into his mind, refilling the dried sea of his consciousness.
Crack. Crack. Crack!
One by one, the crystals shattered, their power spent, falling as dull stones to the ground. By the time the last one broke, Fang Han's spirit had cleared. His mana had recovered to nearly full strength — but his entire stockpile was gone.
He looked down at the heap of useless stones and felt as if his heart were bleeding.
Up above, Long Xuan's voice rang cold and sharp:
"Disciples of Taiyi Sect, what brings you to this island? I am Long Xuan, True Disciple of Yuhua Sect. The Ten Great Immortal Sects are sworn to coexist in harmony. We aid each other against demons and calamities, and never trespass without cause. You come with swords drawn — what is the meaning of this?"
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Three beams of sword-light descended, freezing in midair. The night glowed with metallic brilliance — the energy of pure Geng Metal filling the air. From within the light stepped three cultivators clad in purple-gold Taoist robes embroidered with eight trigrams.
Their eyes gleamed like polished gems, cold and crystalline, reflecting terrifying vitality. Fang Han sensed it instantly — even their bodies were stronger than his Yama Golden Body.
Divine Ability experts were usually defined by their mana, not their physique. For their flesh to radiate such power meant they practiced rare, body-tempering arts — secret legacies few sects ever shared.
"My Yama Body can muster the strength of thirty horses — six times that of most cultivators at my level," Fang Han thought grimly. "But these three... they're stronger still. Terrifying."
The first of the three spoke, his tone flat as stone.
"Taiyi Sect True Disciple — Yao Dian."
"The same."
"Taiyi Sect True Disciple — Xia You."
"Taiyi Sect True Disciple — Yu Fen."
Their names fell like iron proclamations. The air itself seemed to bow before them. Fang Han felt as though he stood before imperial envoys — officials sent from Heaven to deliver judgment.
Then came the sound of more sword-lights arriving. Disciples — dozens of them — descended in perfect formation. Their movements were uniform, their aura synchronized, like an army drilled to absolute precision.
The discipline was suffocating. Not a single breath wasted, not a single gesture out of line.
Fang Han felt a chill deeper than any mist.
"Such order... no wonder they're feared. Not like our Yuhua Sect — too free, too scattered."
Most immortal sects prized freedom and individuality, scorning mortal hierarchies. But Taiyi Sect was different — it was a fortress of law and control, more rigid than any mortal dynasty.
Long Xuan's eyes narrowed. "Three True Disciples — what business do you have here?"
Yao Dian's expression didn't flicker.
"You slew the demon pirate, the Island Lord of Doom, and seized his treasure — the Five Prisons King Cauldron. That cauldron is no mere artifact. It was forged eight hundred years ago by the Great Heavenly Demon of the Five Prisons — from Nine Heavens Meteoric Iron, Fivefold True Steel, Seven-Colored Divine Stone, Bloodshadow Wraith Essence, Eightfold Divine Wood, Earth's Breath Clay, and the blood sacrifice of three hundred and sixty-five demon kings.
"When that demon ravaged the mortal world, it was struck down by our Sect's senior brother Kunyangzi. Though it escaped, it perished centuries later. The cauldron has since fallen into dark hands. We are here to reclaim it — to prevent it from bringing calamity to the world."
"There must be a mistake," Long Xuan said calmly, not even blinking. "We have no such treasure."
"Zhang Wei," Yao Dian said curtly.
A disciple stepped forward — the same one who had once fired a sky-piercing arrow at Fang Han. He bowed slightly, his tone dripping with mockery.
"Even a True Disciple of Yuhua Sect can lie so smoothly. I saw it myself — you fought over the cauldron, even turned on each other. The Island Lord died in your hands, and Cang Baizi vanished soon after. You think I wouldn't notice? I was hiding nearby, cloaked with a Sky-Veil Talisman. None of your Yuhua spells could detect me."
Long Xuan's face darkened. She hadn't expected witnesses — let alone from Taiyi Sect.
"Step back, Zhang Wei," Xia You said coolly, waving his hand. Then he turned to Long Xuan. "The Five Prisons King Cauldron is a demonic relic. It doesn't belong in the hands of the righteous. It must be taken and destroyed. Rest assured — Taiyi Sect's code forbids us from keeping such a thing. Anyone who practices demonic arts or wields a demon artifact is stripped of all cultivation and cast out as a mortal."
Yu Fen followed, voice like thunder. "We of Taiyi Sect honor the Immortal Way. Even your senior brother Hua Tiandu once spoke at the Grand Celestial Assembly of purging all traces of the Demon Path. Hand over the artifact — or come with us to Taiyi Sect and see it destroyed before the assembly."
The night fell silent. Only sword-light flickered — cold, sharp, and utterly without mercy.