"My Heaven Demons… damn it! These people are the worst—of all times to show up, why now? I've only collected two hundred thousand demons. I'm still miles away from eight million!"
Fang Han wanted nothing more than to peacefully devour the countless Heaven Demons lurking in the Flesh-Mire—but fate clearly had other plans. Instead, a Demon Marshal being hunted by a wave of immortal cultivators had crashed their quiet operation, turning everything upside down.
The Flesh-Mire wasn't exactly small, but it wasn't big either—just a minor outer-star world, equivalent to a mortal kingdom. To ordinary people it would seem vast and boundless, but to cultivators? Quite the opposite. And now that so many supernatural experts had entered the area at once, the air churned with violent power, heaven and earth trembling as if the entire world were about to collapse.
Countless Heaven Demons disintegrated instantly in the storm of unleashed spells—each one a stab to Fang Han's heart.
Those demons were supposed to be his wealth.
If he had been allowed to cultivate quietly, gathering a full eight million demons, he could have fully activated the Five-Prison King Cauldron. With all 999 arrays blazing at full power, he could resist even a seventh-level Golden Core master.
With that strength, he could explore the dangerous regions of the Returning Void, claim rare immortal fates, grow his power, expand his influence…
And with the leftover demons, he could refine Bi Luo Great Pills—a fortune in themselves. He could trade them in the Ten-Thousand Returns Market for rare herbs, use them to befriend fellow disciples, bribe subordinates, win loyalty…
But now?
Everything was ruined.
A massive fortune—gone.
Fang Han gritted his teeth hard enough to crack bone. But there was nothing he could do except ramp up the Swallowing-Spirit Array, Soul-Eater Array… anything that could capture as many remaining demons as possible before the storm consumed them.
"Bold fiend!"
Just as he was devouring another wave of demons, a thunderous crack split the sky. Golden light flashed. A Daoist in a purple-gold Eight-Trigrams robe swooped down above the Cauldron. He raised his hand, releasing a bolt of divine lightning that exploded across the Cauldron, shaking it violently and forcefully interrupting Fang Han's absorption.
"So it's a disciple of the Taiyi Sect! I am a disciple of the Yuhua Sect. I am here to subdue demons. Why do you call me a fiend?"
Fang Han shot out from the Cauldron, voice ringing sharply.
That Eight-Trigrams robe was unmistakable—Taiyi Sect's signature true-passing attire. Fang Han knew it at a glance. He could have parried the lightning easily, but given the situation he chose not to escalate.
"Oh? A disciple of the Yuhua Sect?"
The Daoist studied him briefly, but his gaze locked greedily on the Five-Prison King Cauldron, unable to hide the hunger in his eyes. Finally, he said,
"I am Fushou Zhenren, true disciple of the Taiyi Sect. If you are an immortal sect disciple, why are you using a demonic artifact?"
"Your sect has its rules. My Yuhua Sect has its own." Fang Han felt a chill at the name Fushou Zhenren. Anyone who called themselves Zhenren had already reached the fifth realm—Heaven-Human Realm. Not someone to take lightly.
"Hmph. Your senior brother Hua Tiandu has already begun drafting new sect laws—purifying the Immortal Way and forbidding disciples from using demonic artifacts. You mean to say you didn't know?"
Fushou Zhenren's tone carried that innate Taiyi arrogance—a pressure like that of imperial officials speaking to commoners.
It wasn't posturing. It was bred into them.
Even cultivators of equal strength often unconsciously hesitated when facing a Taiyi disciple. It was like mortal martial masters instinctively fearing government officials.
"Titles… Orthodoxy…"
The words suddenly surfaced in Fang Han's mind, carrying their own oppressive weight.
"Fushou Zhenren, are you here to hunt the Demon Marshal, or interrogate me? Hua Tiandu is Hua Tiandu. The Yuhua Sect is the Yuhua Sect. When he becomes Sect Master, he can make whatever rules he wants." Fang Han's voice turned cold.
"As your elder, I am reminding you: immortal disciples must be upright. Using demonic tools brings shame to your sect."
Fushou Zhenren's expression was stone. "And in three years, the Ten Immortal Gates will hold the Grand Immortal Assembly. They will select elite disciples to form a united enforcement corps—punishing violations across all sects. You should curb your behavior before you regret it."
"That won't be necessary," Fang Han laughed. "Zhenren, you should continue chasing the Demon Marshal. Don't waste time."
By now, the streaks of golden sword-light in the sky had already flown far away. The Heaven Demons had scattered—some obliterated, some captured by other immortals, others fleeing into the depths of the Flesh-Mire, never to reappear.
"The Taiyi Sect has issued a Heavenly Mandate to hunt the Demon Marshal. As a member of the Immortal Way, you are obligated to aid in demon-subjugation," Fushou Zhenren said, still studying Fang Han, clearly weighing his options.
"Of course. Hunting the Demon Marshal—I shall do my part," Fang Han answered immediately.
"Oh?"
This time it was Fushou Zhenren's turn to be startled. He had expected resistance, but Fang Han had agreed without hesitation.
"In that case, let us go."
"Very well."
Fang Han stepped back into the Cauldron and followed at an unhurried pace.
Fushou Zhenren didn't bother to look back as he accelerated, faster and faster—but Fang Han easily kept up.
"Fang Han, don't involve yourself in this," Long Xuan whispered from within the Cauldron. "The Taiyi people are domineering. They might use you as a scapegoat. And you know how deep the Demon Marshal's ties are with Fang Qingxue. We must not expose ourselves."
"No matter. If I refuse him, he'll find another excuse to trouble me. Besides—who's using who isn't decided yet. This hunt is too big a spectacle to miss. And with our current strength, we can protect ourselves easily. More importantly—this is the perfect time to refine Blood Sky. And during the hunt, we might gain significant advantages…
If I make a splash for the Yuhua Sect, the sect will favor me even more."
His eyes glittered—calculating.
He wanted a grand opportunity to rise, to challenge Hua Tiandu. Without shaking the world at least once, he would never gain the prestige needed to oppose him.
Prestige first.
Then influence.
Then a faction like the Jialan Society.
Then Hua Tiandu's reforms would face resistance.
"Blood Sky, no matter how fierce, is still just a tool. Submit to me—or lose even the last fragment of your spirit."
As he flew, Fang Han sent a portion of his consciousness into the King Cauldron, where Blood Sky remained bound within one of the Cauldron's arrays.
He had long lacked a true flying sword. This demon blade suited him perfectly—a weapon that could cleave ghosts and gods alike. Once refined, its power would multiply tenfold, far surpassing his half-finished Cutting Technique.
WoooOOOM…!
Even suppressed, the blade radiated killing intent. It thrashed violently, rejecting Fang Han's will, bloodlight blazing.
"Hmph. Such arrogance for a mere blade. The stronger you are, the more I want you."
Fang Han's Wood Emperor gang-qi surged as he forced his will into the blade.
"Blood Night King…
Blood Night King…
Blood Night King…"
A vicious chant echoed through his mind. A monstrous presence surged out of the blade—a blood phantom with vast, crimson wings. The stench of blood clogged Fang Han's nose and mouth, drowning him in a sea of gore.
"So this is Blood Sky's spirit? The Blood Night King. Still immature… nowhere near Yan's wisdom. Strong, yes—but right now you're a trapped beast, raging in vain."
He recognized the figure as the blade's spiritual projection, trying to strike back and force him into submission—but it was its last desperate attempt.
"Yellow Springs Holy Water."
The instant he commanded, Blood Sky was tossed into the Yellow Springs Diagram. The Forgetfulness Waters wrapped around the blade, and the blood phantom in Fang Han's mind faded drastically as the blade's spirit shrieked in agony.
"Even you cannot withstand Forgetfulness Water?"
Smiling faintly, Fang Han drove his Wood Emperor qi deeper, seizing the blade's internal formation.
The blade contained only a single core array—but it was immense and complex, composed of countless smaller formations, like organs forming a body. If given enough time, Fang Han suspected this array could evolve into a living entity.
And when that happened, Blood Sky would become a Dao-tier treasure.
But that was for the future.
Right now, the vast formation gradually came under his control.
With a final burst of will—
Blood Sky submitted.
It dissolved into a streak of blood-red lightning and flew into Fang Han's hand, humming violently, its blade gleaming like a sliver of crimson thunder.