"Exactly. Experts who reach the Longevity Realm can bend the flow of time itself. The stronger their cultivation, the greater the distortion. It's said that the Supreme Immortal Taoyuan, at the tenth tier of the Longevity Realm, could manipulate time in three hundred and sixty degrees. Terrifying, truly terrifying… Even the Yellow Springs Emperor back then would have…"
Yan's voice grew faint with dread. He was actually scared.
But Fang Han burst into wild laughter. "Hahaha! Heaven favors me! Truly, heaven favors me! I never imagined this place could alter the passage of time. Three hundred and sixty years of cultivation here equals one year outside! I've been lamenting the lack of time—how could I defeat Hua Tiandu in just ten years? But thirty-six hundred years? Now that I can do!"
Here, three thousand six hundred years inside would be barely ten years outside.
Yan quickly threw a bucket of cold water over him. "This place isn't suited for cultivation. Your Green Emperor Wood Sovereign Art needs abundant wood-essence to advance—none of which exists here. The qi is thin, no elemental essence, no pills. Anyone who entered could never leave. They likely starved long before their lifespans ran out."
Fang Han inhaled sharply and swept his gaze around. The grand hall was devoid of all essence—no metal, wood, water, fire, or earth. Nothing nourishing. No heavenly herbs. No spirit pills. Just weathered bones and a decaying palace.
He glanced toward the path they entered from—only to find that the "Taoyuan Radiance" had vanished completely. Beyond the palace lay only a vast, roiling chaos that made his skin crawl.
"Entering here is hard enough. Leaving? Even Longevity experts would struggle. And in this void of all essence, what can you cultivate? Your cauldron's pills may last three or five years at best." Yan knew exactly what Fang Han was thinking.
"Let me think… let me feel…" Fang Han murmured. The chaotic aura outside made him instinctively avoid any reckless attempt to break out.
Then a sudden thought jolted him. He focused inward, sensing the sapling of the World Tree nestled in his brow. The tree that constantly drank in Immortal World qi had nearly gone silent the moment they entered this sealed dimension—its absorption was intermittent, faint, almost dying.
But… not gone.
A surge of joy raced through Fang Han's chest.
The connection wasn't severed—weak and flickering, but still there!
The World Tree truly lived up to its legends: the primordial divine tree that touched the Immortal Realm itself. Even in this strange pocket of warped time, it could still sip at the Immortal World.
With that connection, cultivation was still possible! And though this place lacked wood-element qi, the World Tree's essence was more than enough to elevate his Wood Emperor energy to new heights.
"Hahahaha!" Fang Han laughed again, exhilarated.
"What now?" Yan asked irritably.
"The World Tree can still absorb Immortal qi! With its wood-essence, I don't need any other elemental qi!" Fang Han said excitedly.
"What? Even here it can reach the Immortal World?" Yan was stunned.
"It's slower. Much slower. But enough to keep me alive." Fang Han nodded. Even those in the divine abilities realms needed pills to live; even Longevity experts needed Immortal qi. In a place like this, without essence or sustenance, everyone would simply starve into dust.
His cauldron held three thousand Nascent Infant Pills, two thousand Longevity Golden Pills, and a few thousand Big Biluo Pills. Enough for maybe several years. And with a demoness in the cauldron, he couldn't let her starve, either.
Suddenly, Fang Han spat blood. His strength receded like a tide—the Mad Demon Life-Shortening Pill had worn off. A crushing weakness took over as he sensed a chunk of his lifespan slip away.
"Fortunately you took the Nine-Aperture Golden Pill—it extends life. Otherwise, a cultivator at your level would be a withered old man right now," Yan muttered.
Fang Han had lost a hundred years of life.
Yan continued, "The Nine-Aperture Golden Pill grants seven hundred years. Your Yama Golden Body and your comprehension of the Earth Treasury doctrine add three hundred more. A thousand-year lifespan—comparable to a Golden Core expert. But now, you've only nine hundred left."
"Nine hundred years, huh? Good enough. I can cultivate here for nine hundred years… but outside, that's barely two years." Fang Han chuckled bitterly.
Nine hundred years here would be two outside. Unless he broke through, he would die of old age while the outside world barely blinked.
"Then start your cultivation. You've battled nonstop lately—your foundation needs time to settle." Yan urged.
"Not yet." Fang Han sat, adjusted his qi, then slowly stood. "This hall has secrets. And so many bones—something valuable must remain."
The grand hall was vast, its walls marked with sealed doors and shifting runes radiating danger. He didn't dare touch them.
He walked across piles of white bones, the crunching echoing through the hollow palace. From these remnants he could tell they came from all paths—demonic, orthodox, ancient, foreign.
He picked up a rusted sword, little more than scrap. Yan shook his head. "A pity. That was once a top-grade flying sword forged from millennia-old cold iron. But nothing withstands this kind of time erosion. Even immortals decay. Nothing in heaven and earth is truly eternal… unless one finds the fabled Gate of Eternal Life."
The melancholy in Yan's voice struck Fang Han like a blow. Even cold iron decayed here. What was nine hundred years of life? Too short.
Even the heavens and earth crumble.
Could he escape this fate? Or would he end up like these forgotten corpses?
He searched for a long time but found no pills—these people had died only after all their pills ran out.
Then—"Hm? What's that?"
He kicked aside a skeleton—one unlike the others. Its bones were jade-white, untouched by decay. Hardened. And within the skull, a glimmer of radiant light.
A treasure lay beside it: a small embroidered flag with a fiery red bird woven into the fabric. Heat pulsed from it—the unmistakable aura of a treasure-grade artifact.
"The Vermilion Bird Banner!" the demoness gasped. "That's Firecloud Fairy's banner—one of the Top Ten Beauties of the Immortal Dao! She cultivated to the seventh Divine Ability—Golden Core. Ten years ago she entered the Void Realm… and vanished. So she died here."
"Entered ten years ago? That means it's been thirty-six hundred years in here…" Fang Han murmured. "No wonder she died of old age. A beauty turned to bone. What a pity."
He picked up the Vermilion Bird Banner—amazingly, it still functioned. Three thousand six hundred years had worn much away, but not enough to destroy a treasure.
The once-renowned Golden Core beauty had become nothing but bones.
"Fang Han! Her Golden Core seed—it hasn't decayed! Her Golden Core is intact!" Yan suddenly shouted. He slashed the skull open, revealing a radiant sphere rising from within.
Not a pill.
A master's condensed life-seed.
Her true Golden Core.
Flesh rots.
Bones crumble.
But Golden Cores—Golden for a reason—endure.
They are creation made immortal.