"What a blade. Blood Sky… its spirit is terrifying. Even Yan's power doesn't feel as vicious as this."
The moment Fang Han gripped the demonic saber Blood Sky, he felt its spirit howling, snarling—a tidal wave of bloodlust surging up through his arms, threatening to drown his mind.
This blade's spirit wasn't merely restless—it was ravenous.
It felt like holding a starving beast on a chain. Every heartbeat, it tried to break free and drink blood. Controlling it drained an enormous amount of energy—if not for Fang Han's absurdly deep reserves, he wouldn't last a minute.
No wonder the Seven-Night Demon Lord rarely used it. A single misstep and the blade's blood-hunger could taint the wielder's mind.
But in Fang Han's hands, that danger meant nothing.
The World Tree within him continuously absorbed essence from the Immortal Realm, flooding his body with endless power. No matter how wildly Blood Sky rioted, he could suppress it with ease.
The blade could exhaust anyone else—but not him.
With the saber in his grasp, his confidence soared.
Its destructive might was extraordinary—superior even to the Five-Prison King Cauldron in sheer killing power. The Cauldron had greater utility, yes, but in a deadly fight? Nothing beat Blood Sky.
"At last… a weapon that truly fits my hand."
Turning the blade, Fang Han's gaze drifted to the man flying ahead—Fushou Zhenren.
A dark thought flickered through him.
What if… he used Fushou Zhenren as the saber's first sacrifice?
A sudden strike. Kill him. Take his treasures. He had already killed three Taiyi disciples—what was a fourth? Taiyi Sect loved lording over others. Wiping that arrogance from one of their so-called "Zhenren" would be satisfying.
And someone of Fushou's status in Taiyi definitely carried high-grade treasures…
The impulse hit him hard.
But only for a moment.
Now was absolutely not the time.
Fang Han forcefully crushed the murderous urge, suppressing the blood-hunger seeping from Blood Sky's spirit. He followed silently behind Fushou Zhenren, neither speaking nor acting.
Ahead, Fushou Zhenren also sensed a hint of demonic aura, assuming Fang Han was refining yet another demonic artifact. He had no idea Fang Han had just subdued a legendary blade that could terrify even a Demon Lord. Had he known, his thoughts would be… very different indeed.
"Still steeped in demonic influence… are immortal disciples all like this now?"
Fushou sneered coldly. "If he hadn't flashed his Yuhua Sect identity, I'd have mistaken him for a demon cultivator. But using poison to fight poison might be useful. When the siege against the Demon Marshal begins, he won't be able to hold back…"
One man and one cauldron shot across the air above the Flesh-Mire, chasing the golden streaks of light in the distance. After half an hour of pursuit, the scenery abruptly shifted.
The Flesh-Mire ended.
Ahead lay deep, starlit sky—dotted with suspended stone spheres, eerily similar to the Heavenly Demon Battlefields.
Beyond that… was outer space.
A place where one could easily lose direction and be lost forever.
With his current cultivation, Fang Han dared not step into true void.
But the end of the Mire didn't lead to space. Instead, hanging before them was a warped, pitch-black Void Passage—dozens of miles wide. No one knew where it led, but Fang Han knew one thing for certain:
It wasn't the passage that led home.
"Move! This passage leads to the Taiyuan Immortal Estate—a celestial grotto of the ancient Taiyuan Immortal Lord!"
Fushou Zhenren barked. "The Demon Marshal intends to flee inside, using the Immortal Lord's formations to fight us. Clever bastard."
He shot a glare at Fang Han's hesitation.
"Go! Entering might even grant you immortal fortune. Many have!"
"Is that true, Long Xuan?" Fang Han asked quietly.
Long Xuan snorted. "Technically yes. But that was ten thousand years ago. The Taiyuan Immortal Estate was created by Taiyuan Immortal Lord himself. Over countless ages, countless cultivators have looted the outer sections dry. Only the deepest core remains—but no one has ever entered. Even Longevity-level experts were shredded by the inner formations."
So Fushou was playing ignorant… or pretending Fang Han was.
Either way, he was misleading him.
"I understand."
Fang Han's eyes narrowed. Then he said loudly,
"In that case, Zhenren Fushou, let us enter!"
He and the Cauldron dove into the Void Passage.
A twist of space later—
The world opened.
They emerged into a completely different realm—no trace of the Flesh-Mire's corruption. Instead: clear skies, bright light, lush mountains and rivers. Not a single shadow in sight.
A pocket world carved directly from the void.
The miniature heaven stretched for a thousand or two thousand miles, its edges giving way to swirling chaos—violent enough to slice anything to powder.
At its heart floated a massive palace—larger even than Yuhua Sect's own Feathered Celestial Palace. Dozens of smaller palaces circled it like stars around a moon, most of them broken and looted.
But in the skies below—
Battle raged.
Boom! Boom! Boom—!
A pillar of demonic smoke—like a column of pitch-black lightning—pierced the sky. Within it was the Demon Marshal Ying Tianqing, roaring and lashing out. Wherever he stepped, his lotus of white bones bloomed, forcing back attackers in every direction.
Hundreds surrounded him.
Most were Divine Ability cultivators, though a few low-level ones wielded powerful artifacts to compensate. They worked in coordinated formations, weaving spells together to trap the Demon Marshal.
But the most dazzling figure was a tall, imposing man clad in golden robes.
Nine dragon-shaped streams of golden light circled him—intercepting the Demon Marshal's strikes blow for blow.
"That one!" Yan exclaimed. "A Daoist Golden Core expert—Seventh Realm!"
"He's strong," Fang Han murmured, eyes sharpening. "To fight the Demon Marshal head-on… only a Golden Core Seventh Realm expert could suppress someone who has already formed a golden core seed."
With Blood Sky subdued, twenty-some thousand Heaven Demons stored in the Cauldron, and the King Cauldron under his control, Fang Han felt a surge of boldness.
A dangerous thought stirred.
Could he test himself… against a Golden Core Seventh Realm?
"Absolutely not!" Yan barked. "That level is nothing like the Seven-Night Demon Lord. One wave of his power would crush you. And a master like that—without a supreme treasure? Impossible."
Yan quickly shifted topics, eyeing the distant palace.
"If you want to fight Golden Core experts, reach the Heaven-Human Realm first. Look at that—Taiyuan Immortal Estate! Even the Yellow Springs Emperor never broke into the deep interior. The formations inside were terrifying beyond belief. Taiyuan Immortal Lord was a being who ascended directly—Longevity-tier cultivators were as ants before him."
Yan's voice held naked longing—but also hopelessness.
A place like this would have been stripped bare ages ago if anyone could reach its core.
"Zhenren Fushou! Senior Brother Zhao Xuanyi has trapped the Demon Marshal! But the Marshal carries an innate Bone Relic—he may break through soon. Once he escapes deeper into the Immortal Estate, we won't be able to pursue him."
A streak of golden light landed before them—a Taiyi disciple, whose gaze immediately locked onto the massive Five-Prison King Cauldron.
"Zhenren Luk Ming," Fushou said. "This is a disciple of Yuhua Sect. He acquired a top-tier demonic treasure and follows me to subdue demons."
Luk Ming's eyes brightened.
"Oh? This is… the long-lost Five-Prison King Cauldron. Once owned by the Five-Prison Heavenly Demon, later wounded by one of our elders, and now in the hands of a Yuhua disciple."
"Indeed," Fang Han said, stepping out of the Cauldron. "A treasure of heaven and earth belongs to the worthy. I have informed my Sect Master. Once my cultivation rises, he will use supreme immortal techniques to convert this Cauldron into a Dao artifact—no longer a demonic treasure, but one of the immortal way."
"Is that so?" Luk Ming studied him intently.
"Then let us join forces and strike the Demon Marshal hard."
"Gladly."
Fang Han lifted his hand.
A flash of blood-red light erupted—a tidal wave of murderous aura surged outward like a storm. Both Fushou and Luk Ming recoiled instinctively, shock twisting their faces.
"That aura…!"
"Blood Sky!"
"You hold the demonic saber Blood Sky? How?!"
Both Zhenren were stunned.
Fang Han raised his voice, letting divine sound shake the air:
"In the Flesh-Mire, I slew the Seven-Night Demon Lord—the Nine Yin Demon God's own son! His supreme weapon fell into my hands. This saber is mine by right!"
He didn't swing the blade.
He didn't charge the Demon Marshal.
He simply stood before the gathered immortals…
and began proclaiming his own greatness.
And the world listened.