What was the true force of ten thousand galloping warhorses?
On a battlefield, the thunder of a charging legion could shake the earth itself. If that overwhelming force were concentrated into a single body, the result would be nothing short of terrifying. In the cultivation world, there was an unwritten rule: if one person's power could rival the charge of ten thousand horses, they were worthy of being called "boundlessly mighty."
Normally, only those who had reached the fifth tier of the Divine Ability Realm—Heaven's Will—could wield such strength.
But now, after refining the Saint of Laws' Relic, Fang Han—still only in the second tier of the Divine Ability Realm—had already stepped into that realm of power. Not unprecedented, perhaps… but certainly rare enough to shake the world.
Only the heirs of the greatest sect masters—favored sons who could do no wrong—might ever be granted a relic of this caliber. For anyone else, even prodigies of noble birth, it was an unattainable dream.
"Boundless might… limitless power…"
Fang Han felt his mind flooding with new strength—waves of force surging like an ocean storm. His entire body filled with power: through his veins, his meridians, his flesh, even each strand of hair. Everything sparkled like crystalline jade.
Even his fingernails had crystallized into something resembling adamantine diamonds, each one gleaming with sword-sharp energy—like miniature flying blades ready to cut the world.
His hair. His nails. His pores. Everything was crystallizing. Pure excess power overflowing from within.
And the torrent hadn't stopped. It kept pouring out of his core, threatening to tear his body apart, threatening to reshape him into a man-shaped gemstone of pure spiritual crystal.
Fortunately, his cultivation of the Yama Golden Body gave him blood circulation twenty times stronger than the average expert—and his past brush with "woodification" had taught him how to dissolve runaway energy. With those two advantages, he forced the crystallization to melt back into raw force and return to his mind—where it became fully his.
What little remained seeped into his flesh, tempering him once again.
His Yama Golden Body emerged far stronger. Every breath, every movement, carried the rumble of thunder. With his physical body alone, he could crush someone freshly entering the Divine Ability Realm.
"Damn, I didn't expect the Saint's Relic to hit this hard. Good thing your body's tough enough—or you'd have turned into a gemstone statue… or exploded outright!"
Yan's voice carried genuine shock.
"You've never refined one before?" Fang Han asked.
"Of course not. The origin essence of a Golden Core master? No one can casually obtain that."
"So ordinary cultivators really can't use it. It'd kill them faster than it strengthens them." Fang Han exhaled. His body crackled—not with bone, but with the sonic booms of spiritual power ripping through the air inside him. His strength had reached a terrifying height.
A single punch now could rival a divine weapon.
He told Yan as much.
Yan chuckled darkly. "The Yama Golden Body was always meant to rival artifacts. The body is the greatest weapon—more intricate than any tool. Countless body-forging arts treat the flesh itself as a divine artifact. At higher realms, cultivators inscribe formations into their organs to extend their lifespan. Our Yama Golden Body is not the strongest, but it's definitely among the top five."
"I'm at twelve thousand galloping horses of power now!" Fang Han laughed. He slapped his hand against the Five-Prison King Cauldron—and the artifact roared forward, slicing through the frozen North Ocean.
Fire trailed behind it like a comet's tail, long and blazing. The heat alone melted mountains of ancient ice, blasting glaciers into clouds of steam. Fang Han didn't bother hiding anymore—at this speed, anyone who saw him would only see a flash of fire before he vanished.
The cauldron was several times faster than before—nearly as fast as Stone Dragon's instantaneous killings.
With his newly multiplied strength and fifty thousand Heavenly Demons helping him, Fang Han could now power eight of the cauldron's thirty-six speed formations simultaneously.
The legendary Windstorm Demonic Waves Formation, Sevenfold Sky-Escaping Array, Heaven-Phantom Flight Array… all roaring at once. At full power, the cauldron could pierce the sky and roam outer space.
He wasn't quite there yet—but he was close.
Inside the cauldron, Long Xuan could barely stabilize herself before the entire world rocked. The speed increase made her feel weightless, as if she were being ripped apart. Only her Divine Ability-level physique kept her alive.
Even so, she was stunned—Fang Han's power had suddenly skyrocketed.
Did he break through? No… not even forming Astral Qi would give him this much power…
The cauldron now crossed hundreds of miles in the blink of an eye.
"Fang Han, turn left—another thirty-five hundred miles and we'll reach the Gate of Returning Void. Hide your aura. If a Demon King senses us—and worse, if the Demon Gods of the outer realms notice—there won't even be time to run."
Fang Han nodded. A Demon God was equivalent to a Longevity expert; even a mere avatar could erase him.
He began withdrawing his power, preparing to drop speed and activate the cauldron's concealment formation.
But then—
Something appeared far ahead.
Several black-clad figures.
Fang Han's heart dropped. At this speed, he couldn't stop in time. Even slowing down took a long distance. Anyone ahead would be hit—hard.
"What idiots wander around this frozen wasteland!"
He roared: "MOVE! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
But the cauldron was faster than his voice.
The black-clad figures sensed something and turned—only to see a blazing comet crashing toward them. They scattered instinctively.
Too late.
Two of them were hit head-on. They didn't even have time to scream. Their bodies vaporized instantly, erased by sheer force and heat.
Long Xuan shot to her feet. "Fang Han—you killed people! If they belong to a sect, this will be trouble. We should run! No one knows who we are."
But Fang Han had already stopped the cauldron. Momentum carried them over a hundred miles, but eventually the artifact hovered still. Fang Han flew out to face the survivors.
The remaining four black-clad figures shot toward him, power flaring in dark, crackling arcs.
"Everyone," Fang Han called, "I couldn't slow down in time. I didn't do it intentionally. Which sect do you belong to?"
They froze for a moment—then their expressions twisted in recognition.
"Fang Han. So it IS you!"
Fang Han blinked. He didn't know them at all.
"Two of our warriors died. We can't explain this to the Divine Sovereign. We'll have to unseal ourselves… and kill you."
Their bodies pulsed. Chains of black light appeared—then snapped one by one.
"You killed our people! Hand over the Water Gu Demon's essence, kneel, and swear loyalty to us—we may spare you. Refuse, and die!"
One figure fully unsealed itself. Bone-like armor erupted from its skin. It looked demonic, yet radiated no demonic aura. Instead, a sacred, noble pressure swept out—like a superior species, born to rule humans, demons, immortals, and beasts alike.
Yan saw this and shrieked—the most terrified he had ever sounded.
"Fang Han! They're not human. Not demon. Not beast. They're Outer-Realm God-Race! Impossible! They were all slaughtered ten thousand years ago in the Three-Realms Cataclysm! How can they still exist?!"
Not even Heavenly Demons had ever frightened Yan this badly.
But these beings did.
And that said everything.