The mortal body was fragile—terribly fragile.
Even a cultivator who had reached the Mystic Power Realm could not rely on flesh alone. If their spiritual energy was dispersed in battle, leaving the body unguarded, even a single minor wound could prove fatal. A fall from the skies could crush them to death. Only those who reached the Heaven–Human Realm, capable of weaving divine arrays within their own flesh, could make their bodies truly resilient.
Before that stage, one's foremost task was to protect the body. Once the flesh was damaged, cultivation stalled. Even spiritual energy would wane and dissipate, leaving the practitioner hollow and spent—until life itself guttered out.
But there were secret methods—rare, perilous, and priceless—that could temper flesh alongside spirit. Those who practiced them often rose far beyond their peers, earning the favor of sect elders as potential immortals-in-the-making.
Fang Han was one such anomaly. As the chosen successor of the demonic emperor of the Yellow Springs Sect, he cultivated the Yama Golden Body, a technique famed for its terrifying physical resilience.
Now, he fully understood the extent of that power. Even if an enemy shattered his protective energy, a spiritual weapon's blade could not pierce his skin. A fall from the heavens would leave him bruised, not broken. His fists could smash through flying swords; even the Sonic Demon Blade, a top-grade spirit weapon, would fail to harm him.
Only a treasured artifact—a true divine weapon—could now threaten his life.
Still, in combat, strength of flesh was secondary to spiritual power. No body, no matter how mighty, could lift itself to flight. Against the mobility of energy cultivation, brute force alone was clumsy and earthbound.
What the Yama Golden Body granted him was endurance—stamina that let him recover faster and cultivate longer. His Wood Emperor Qi was condensing, inching toward crystallization. It was the sign of approaching the Astral Qi Realm—a tremendous leap in power.
He assessed every fiber of his being, mapping every pulse of energy, every subtle shift in breath.
"To refine true Daoist Astral Qi," he murmured, "I must first elevate my spirit. I've touched the threshold, but the word Astral still eludes me."
The difference between Daoist True Qi and Daoist Astral Qi was only a single character—but the gap was as vast as heaven and earth. Astral Qi was sharper, purer, deadlier. A mere strand could shatter waves of True Qi.
Cultivators at the Second Realm, the True Essence Stage, commanded the strength of three to six hundred steeds. But those in the Third Realm, the Astral Qi Stage, wielded the power of a thousand to three thousand horses.
Fang Han's True Qi rivaled two thousand horses—but against a true Astral Qi cultivator, he would still be outmatched. Astral Qi simply crushed True Qi through purity alone. It would take five thousand horses' worth of True Qi to resist two thousand of Astral Qi.
That was why—even with Long Xuan, the demoness, the Five Prison King Cauldron, and the Forgetful Water—he could not defeat Yao Dian of the Taiyi Sect. They had escaped only because their foe was caught unprepared and wounded.
While Fang Han pondered, a tremor pulsed through the cauldron. From another chamber, silvery waves of energy rippled out—heavy and fluid, like molten mercury. The air vibrated with the sound of crashing tides.
Long Xuan had achieved True Qi.
"So fast!" Fang Han's eyes brightened. "The Yin–Yang Longevity Pill truly lives up to its legend."
That pill's effects did not end once one reached the Mystic Power Realm; its hidden energy continued to blossom over time—just like Fang Han's own Nine Aperture Golden Core.
A screen of mist parted. Long Xuan emerged, her expression radiant.
"I finally did it. I thought I had only a sixty percent chance, but the pill's remaining essence awakened and carried me through the barrier. Even my body feels stronger now—Fang Han, your aura… it's unbelievable!"
She had barely finished speaking before she sensed it—his presence, vast and crushing, like a mountain exhaling storms. His mere breath seemed capable of sweeping her aside.
Fang Han smiled slightly.
"I made a small breakthrough myself. No Astral Qi yet—but my body has been reborn through fire and medicine. Let's leave the cauldron."
Long Xuan studied him sharply.
"There's killing intent in your tone."
He didn't deny it. His smile carried a cold edge. The arrogance of the Taiyi Sect's disciples had finally stirred something ruthless within him.
"The disciples of Taiyi cannot be slain lightly," Long Xuan warned. "Their deaths would bring calamity. Even with both of us together, we could only fight Yao Dian to a draw. If all three of their true disciples joined forces, we'd have to flee again."
She was right. Yao Dian had already reached the Yin–Yang Realm—two full realms above them. Their first clash had been underhanded; he hadn't yet used his sect's treasures. This time would be different.
Fang Han's eyes gleamed.
"I never said I'd kill them myself. I said I'd borrow a blade."
Long Xuan stiffened.
"You mean… the Demon Commander?"
Fang Han's grin deepened.
"Men grow rich through risk; horses fatten on night grass. Hua Tiandu cozies up to Taiyi—so I'll take the opposite path."
With that, he leapt from the cauldron, his gaze lingering on a fragment of the World Tree within. He still couldn't refine it—its power lay dormant, awaiting centuries of patient corrosion from the cauldron's pulverizing magic. Someday, he would awaken its purest wood energy and ascend once more.
The Demoness and Long Xuan followed him out. Fang Han dissolved the Mirage Formation, stowing the cauldron within the Netherworld Diagram, leaving no trace behind.
Far away, in a hidden chamber within the Xuangui Pavilion, Haishan watched the scene through a scrying mirror. The bronze hall appeared within its misty surface, then slowly cleared as the Mirage faded, revealing Fang Han's trio.
"So that's what they were hiding," Haishan muttered. "An impressive formation—but the materials they used… gone."
A disciple at his side frowned.
"We waited hours and saw nothing, Senior Brother.""Inform the Taiyi disciples," Haishan said with a sly smile. "Tell them we've found traces of the Feather Transformation Sect. They'll reward you handsomely. I'd like to see what happens when those wolves clash."
Meanwhile, Fang Han's voice echoed through the empty bronze hall:
"Brother Haishan, thank you for your generosity. We are finished."
With a gentle push, the grand doors opened, and the three soared into the sky—out across the endless blue sea until the island vanished behind the horizon.
Then, three streaks of sword light burst from behind, ripping through the waves like shooting stars. In an instant, they blocked the trio's path.
Yao Dian. Xia You. Yu Fen.
"I've been waiting," Yao Dian said coldly. "Hand over the Five Prison King Cauldron and surrender. I'll give you a shred of dignity and deliver you to Hua Tiandu myself. You used a vile demonic treasure to wound me—I'll overlook it once.""If you resist," Xia You added, "we'll strip you of your cultivation and leave you as mortals.""Your struggle is meaningless," Yu Fen sneered. "Our Taiyi Dao stands supreme. You're no match for even my single hand. Try your demonic cauldron again—let's see if it saves you twice."
Fang Han's expression darkened, his eyes flickering like lightning.
"The Taiyi Sect may be powerful, but don't forget—I have backing. Hua Tiandu is not the only genius in Feather Transformation Sect. My senior sister, Fang Qingxue, can match him in every way. If you dare cross me, she will make you pay."
His words boomed across the sea, amplified by the Heavenly Dragon Resonance technique, echoing for miles.
Yao Dian's laughter thundered in reply.
"Fang Qingxue? That tainted woman who dallies with demonic men? She dares threaten us? Taiyi stands above heaven itself! Even Hua Tiandu must bow before our sect!"
A voice like silk and thunder rolled down from the skies.
"Is that so?"
Light rained down like petals of divine fire. The air shimmered with auspicious glow.
From the cascade of brilliance descended a man—young, elegant, and terrifyingly calm.
The Demon Commander, Ying Tianqing.