After a brief wait, the two Wanhui Immortal Island disciples hurried back in. "Senior Brother, Senior Sister, your chamber is ready. The herbs you requested have all been delivered. Please, follow us."
"So fast? As expected of one of the Ten Great Daoist Sects," Fang Han said with a hint of admiration. Among the spiritual ingredients he'd requested were several extremely rare items—the Yin-Earth Dragonworm, the millennia-old silver-scaled pangolin—things that would normally take months to gather from the desolate mountains or ancient marshes. Yet here, he had traded a mere ten spirit robes and a severed head, and received it all within moments.
He was already calculating. I still have thirty-six flying swords and eight spirit-grade robes left. I wonder what else I can exchange them for?
Though such things were useless to him now, for body-refinement disciples, they were priceless treasures. Most sects—Yuhua Gate included—had a sea of outer disciples, yet few possessed even a single flying sword or spirit robe. Wanhui Island was surely no different.
As they walked deeper into the Xuangui Pavilion, Fang Han's mind turned over trade possibilities—while the two island disciples ahead suddenly spoke up.
"Senior Brother," one of them said carefully, "you seem well-equipped. You wouldn't happen to have more flying swords or spirit robes? We at Wanhui Island would be glad to exchange them for something that could help your cultivation."
"Oh?" Fang Han smiled. "And what might you have to offer?"
"That, we can't say," the disciple replied. "But Senior Brother Hai is waiting for you in the inner chamber. He'll handle it personally."
They led the trio down several winding corridors until they stopped before a massive bronze hall. With a grinding creak, the doors opened.
Inside stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with a calm yet commanding presence—one who didn't need to raise his voice to command respect. The spiritual energy coiled beneath his skin marked him clearly as a master of the Divine Ability Realm.
"Greetings, fellow Daoists of Yuhua Gate. I am Haishan, a True Disciple of Wanhui Immortal Island," he said warmly.
"Haishan Daoist, well met," Fang Han replied, stepping inside. The bronze doors closed behind them with a deep clang, cutting off all sound from outside.
The hall was vast—seven or eight hundred paces across—and almost entirely empty. Only in the center stood several enormous crystal vats, each brimming with herbs and luminous fluids.
Seven of the largest vats—taller than two men—contained massive jellyfish, each radiating thick waves of spirit energy. Even now, their psychic force brushed against Fang Han's mind, trying to induce illusions. They had clearly gained sentience.
"These must be the seven jellyfish Long Xuan needed," Fang Han thought. "Rare ocean beasts that lurk a thousand fathoms deep. Catching even one would take months."
The rest of the vats were filled with the materials he had requested—piles of spirit roots, glowing ores, and rare minerals that filled the air with fragrance.
"Fang Han," Haishan said with a faint smile, "I heard you slew the Lord of Jueming Island. Quite the feat. Rumor has it, you also had some… unpleasant encounters with Taiyi Sect. In fact, a few of their disciples are here, upstairs in this very pavilion—apparently waiting for you. But don't worry—they've no idea you're here yet."
"How well-informed you are," Fang Han said with a polite, unreadable smile. "Let's not waste time. You wanted to make a trade? I do have some spare artifacts. What can you offer that might enhance my cultivation?"
"You practice Yuhua Gate's Heavenly Wood Scripture, one of your sect's Eight Great Divine Powers, yes?" Haishan said, his tone even. "In that case, this might interest you."
He raised a hand, and a piece of dark wood floated to his palm.
It was the size of a man's hand, twisted into a vaguely humanoid shape—like a root carved by heaven itself. Its texture was dense and purple-black, like sandalwood, yet heavier—much heavier.
Fang Han caught it—and nearly fell to his knees. The weight crushed down on him like a mountain. It was only by channeling his qi that he managed to lift it again.
"So heavy…"
"Impressive," Haishan said, eyes narrowing slightly. "To have such power in the Qi-Refining Stage—remarkable indeed."
Fang Han sensed that Haishan himself was also in the Qi-Refining Realm, but his energy was far weaker—perhaps equivalent to five hundred galloping horses. His qi burned crimson, from a technique Fang Han did not recognize.
"What kind of wood is this?" Fang Han asked, frowning. "I can't sense any wood elemental essence from it."
Haishan hesitated, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face. "To tell the truth, I don't know either. I've tried refining it many times—with fire, with water, even with spirit swords—but it cannot be melted, cut, or infused with qi. So I concluded it must be some kind of heavenly treasure. Since you practice the Heavenly Wood Scripture, it's only fitting I offer it to someone who might appreciate it."
"You don't even know what it is?" Fang Han thought wryly. "So it's just useless junk you couldn't figure out how to use."
He said nothing aloud, but the skepticism showed clearly on his face.
"If you can offer thirty more spirit artifacts," Haishan said lightly, "this treasure is yours."
"Thirty?" Fang Han looked at him as though he were insane. "Haishan, that's far too generous. I couldn't possibly accept such a priceless thing."
"Twenty, then," Haishan said quickly, realizing Fang Han wasn't biting.
"This treasure's too mysterious. Even my Heavenly Wood Qi can't penetrate it. Perhaps it's meant for a higher realm. You should keep it—you might even trade it for a Dao Artifact someday," Fang Han said with a faint smile.
Haishan sighed. "Fang Han, I've just taken in a dozen new disciples. I've no spare flying swords or robes for them. Out here at sea, without flight or weapons, they're helpless against spirit beasts. Give me fifteen flying swords, and I'll part with the wood."
Fang Han thought for a moment—then smiled. "Very well. I'll help you out. I happened to seize some from Jueming Island's vaults."
With a flick of his sleeve, fifteen streaks of light flew out—fifteen exquisitely forged miniature swords.
"Take them. And don't bother about the wood—it's a gift between friends. All who walk the Dao are kin."
Haishan blinked in surprise at Fang Han's generosity, then shook his head firmly. "No, a trade it shall be. I can't accept such a gift for free."
"Then a trade," Fang Han agreed easily. "I'll also be using this chamber for cultivation, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," Haishan said, smiling now. "This hall is forged from Ninefire Bronze—it's my own meditation chamber. You'll be undisturbed here."
With that, he departed.
Long Xuan took the strange wood, channeled her qi—and found she couldn't infuse it at all. It was harder than diamond, utterly impervious. "I don't know what this is. Perhaps a fossil from some ancient era. Still, that was quite a generous trade—fifteen flying swords could've earned you a mountain of pills from the sect."
"It's fine," Fang Han said. "Better to make an ally at sea than hoard what I'll never use."
He tossed the wooden piece into his sleeve, where it vanished into the Netherworld Diagram.
"Yan," he called, "take a look at this. Any idea what kind of wood it is?"
The ancient spirit stirred within the Diagram. "Hmm… strange indeed. Let me see."
He poured Forgetting Emotion Water over it—but the liquid, which could melt stone and dissolve metal, simply rolled off without leaving a mark.
Yan's tone sharpened. "Impossible! Nothing resists the Forgetting Emotion Water!"
His spectral form flared, the air crackling with energy. Flames and water rose together, fusing into raw chaos. He even summoned the Five Prison Cauldron, engulfing the wood in purifying fire.
"Fang Han! Channel your Wood Emperor True Qi! Let's see if the power of the Green Emperor's Dao can move it!"
Fang Han obeyed, sending waves of green-gold energy surging through the cauldron.
The wood trembled faintly—but that was all.
Then Yan froze. His spectral eyes widened. And suddenly, he began to laugh—a deep, mad, triumphant laugh that echoed through the void.
"Hahaha! I know it! I know what this is!"
Fang Han had never seen him so elated. "What is it?"
"This," Yan declared, "is Jianmu! The World Tree!"
"The… World Tree?"
"Yes. In ancient legend, a colossal tree once stood at the center of heaven and earth—Jianmu, the World Tree. It connected the mortal realm to the Immortal World itself. Through it, men could climb to the heavens. But a Primordial Being severed it, cutting off the path between mortals and immortals. Some say it was destroyed forever… but if I'm right, this is a fragment of that tree!"
"The World Tree…" Fang Han whispered, awe creeping into his voice.
"No wonder even the Forgetting Emotion Water couldn't penetrate it, nor your Wood Emperor Qi refine it," Yan continued, voice trembling with excitement. "Only something from beyond the mortal world—something that bridges worlds—could resist such power. This is indeed a fragment of Jianmu."
"Incredible… so it's real," Fang Han murmured. "Then what use does it have?"
"I'm not sure," Yan admitted. "But if you can ever draw out its wood essence, your Wood Emperor Technique may reach heights unseen since the dawn of time. Still—it's only a fragment. Don't expect it to grant you instant transcendence."
Fang Han nodded, smiling faintly. "Even so, fortune has favored me. No wonder Haishan couldn't recognize it. If you couldn't at first, what chance did he have?"
He paused, then asked suddenly, "Yan, tell me—what is the Immortal World really like? You once said an Immortal crippled your Dao foundation. How powerful are they, truly?"
Yan's voice turned distant. "The Immortal World is not a place—it's another dimension entirely. Only those who master the laws of existence can break through the barrier of heaven and enter it. The Yellow Springs Emperor nearly succeeded—until an Immortal struck him down. I didn't even see what happened before I fell and slept for ages. But I know this: in that realm stands the Gate of Eternity. Whoever finds and enters it achieves true immortality—beyond decay, beyond the death of suns, beyond the end of worlds."
"Sounds like a myth," Fang Han said quietly. "But who can say? Myths often start with truth."
He exhaled slowly and sat cross-legged on the bronze floor. "Enough dreaming. Let's focus on the present—refine the Yama Golden Body to the Earth Treasury Realm. More qi. More power."
The hall fell silent, save for the faint hum of his gathering energy—while deep within the Netherworld Diagram, the fragment of the World Tree pulsed once, as though remembering the heavens it once touched.