The Six-Yang Sacred Water was a rare elixir refined by a master of immense power, condensed from six forms of pure masculine essence—Solar Yang, Minor Yang, Profound Yang, Fierce Yang, True Yang, and Radiant Yang. Each drop strengthened one's spirit, fortified the body, and, when infused into one's cultivation, made true energy denser and pushed progress forward at remarkable speed.
Among the three Taichi Sect disciples, only Yao Dian possessed a gourd of it; Yu Fen and Xia You didn't even have a single drop. That alone spoke volumes about its value.
But now, the instant a bead of this sacred water fell onto the fragment of the World Tree, the shard drank it in greedily. To Fang Han's astonishment, a line of fresh vitality rose from the ancient wood—no doubt about it, life was awakening. A faint green bud pushed from its surface, and with it surged a tidal wave of wood-element energy so thick that Fang Han felt swallowed by a vast green ocean.
For a moment, it was as though the world itself had become a tree.
This wood energy… I could push the Green Emperor Wood Emperor Art to an entirely new level. If I absorb this, condensing Daoist Armor Qi will be effortless!
Fang Han quickly circulated his qi, intent on drawing the World Tree's power into his own. But the moment his Wood Emperor true qi touched that sacred aura—
it was devoured.
His energy poured out uncontrollably, like a broken dam flooding open.
The bud on the shard behaved like a tiny monster, wildly sucking away his strength.
"Not good!" Fang Han felt his face drain of color. He forcefully severed his own qi flow and locked everything within his mind-sea. Only then did the devouring stop.
A month's worth of cultivated true qi—gone in seconds.
With only nine years left until his duel with Hua Tiandu, losing even a month was an unbearable setback. Rage surged through him. He had an impulse to smash the shard to pieces and rip off the troublesome bud.
"Damn it…"
"Don't be angry. This is a good thing," Yan suddenly said, his tone thoughtful.
"A good thing?" Fang Han's voice was cold. "I nearly reached the threshold of condensing Armor Qi. Now I'll fall behind by who knows how long."
Yan replied calmly, "It makes perfect sense. I purified the shard with Forget-Emotion Water, and your Six-Yang Water awakened its dormant life. This bud isn't stealing from you—it's being nurtured by you. Think of it as feeding a tiger cub. At first it needs you to survive, but when it grows up, it becomes the king of mountains."
The demon spirit's voice trembled with excitement.
"If you raise it into a sapling—into a true young World Tree—it will draw immortal qi from the void on its own. Then your strength will skyrocket. This ancient divine tree surpasses even the Huangquan Diagram. It might one day help you ascend to immortality."
Fang Han stared at the budding shard. He could feel its vast, terrifying potential—just incomplete.
He exhaled slowly. "Fine. I'll feed it. Every day, I'll give it my Wood Emperor true qi. Let's hope it grows into something I can use."
And so began a grueling routine.
Each day Fang Han cultivated within the Five-Prison King Cauldron, condensing true qi only to feed nearly all of it to the insatiable bud. Fortunately, he had seized three thousand Life-Extension Golden Pills and three gourds of Nascent Soul Pills from his battles; without such abundance, he would never have survived this consumption.
Time passed quickly.
Whenever the cauldron drifted near a deserted island, Fang Han emerged to unleash the Green Emperor Wood Emperor Art, stripping ancient forests of their millennia-old vitality. Countless islands were left barren in his wake.
Weeks passed. He refined no new qi, reached no new breakthrough, yet his foundation grew terrifyingly solid. He found understanding in stillness—understanding of wood-element laws, of the ebb and flow of life force.
Even the bud grew, slowly but unmistakably, preparing to develop leaves and roots. Once it did, it would become self-sufficient—and overwhelmingly powerful.
One day, as Fang Han cultivated, a noble, refined wood aura drifted across his senses. He leapt from the cauldron, rising above the waves, and spotted a massive island ahead. Towering peaks rose above dense forests of ancient trees, each radiating a luxurious energy.
A grove of golden nanmu—every tree at least fifteen hundred years old.
"Perfect. Golden nanmu of this age holds extremely refined wood essence. This will strengthen my Wood Emperor qi even further."
He flew over the island and unleashed his art.
A great vortex formed around him, ripping the spiritual essence from the ancient trunks. Trees burst like shattered barrels, collapsing into dead husks.
"Stop!"
A flash of light erupted from the island as several young men and women soared into the air.
"How dare you destroy the golden nanmu around the Thunder Emperor's Domain! Identify your sect immediately!"
Fang Han blinked. None of them had reached the Divine Ability realm; all were mere body-refinement cultivators with spirit garments and flying swords.
"Thunder Emperor? Never heard of him. The demonic path has seven emperors—Huangquan, Innate, Mortal Dust, Bloodshadow, Sky-Severing, Ghost-God, Barbarian. None called Thunder Emperor."
"Thunder Emperor was a primordial divine spirit," a young woman declared proudly. "He ascended ages ago. These forty-nine islands are the domain of his successor—the reincarnation of the Thunder Mother herself."
"Reincarnation of the Thunder Mother?" Fang Han's brows rose.
Yan's voice slithered into his ear, low and sharp.
"Fang Han… look at their movements. Their martial techniques—they're from the Yuhua Sect."