"Yan, that was a bit too rough… such beauty reduced to bones…"
Fang Han sighed.
Yan only shot him a cold glance, ignoring the sentiment entirely as he examined the Golden Core floating before them.
Three thousand six hundred years had passed, yet this Golden Core of Divine Ability Seeds still shone with flawless radiance. It hovered in the air, slowly spinning, emanating a pressure so immense it forced Fang Han a full step backward. The spiritual-cloth robe he wore split open again under the crushing force, the seams tearing as though suffocating under the weight.
His qi surged violently before he managed to subdue it.
Fortunately, he still had several spirit-grade robes stored in the Yellow Springs Diagram—spoils taken from the Lord of Dead-End Island. Expensive or not, clothes could be replaced; survival came first.
"This Golden Core… it's terrifying. I doubt Zhao Xuanyi or Song Weiyi's cores were ever this strong," Fang Han murmured. He had tasted the power of those two Taixuan Sect elites—nearly died for it.
"Zhao Xuanyi and Song Weiyi are disciples of the Taixuan Sect. Their techniques are peerless. By logic, Firecloud Fairy's Golden Core shouldn't surpass theirs," the demoness said, steadying herself after retreating several steps.
Yan snorted. "Firecloud Fairy belonged to the Exquisite Blessed Land. And who founded that land? Exquisite Immortal Venerable—once a Taixuan master before she rebelled. Their disciples learn many of Taixuan's methods—everything except their most forbidden classics and primordial secret incantations.
"Tsk, tsk… this Golden Core contains twenty-eight divine abilities:
Dragon-Tiger Windcloud Arts… Ever-Spring Method… Blessing Ritual… Fate-Weaving Technique… Black Sun Tempest… Great Solar Fire Disaster… Truly formidable.
"But no Doomsday Calamity… naturally. Among the Three Disasters and Nine Tribulations, it is the rarest, the pinnacle. Once mastered, heaven mourns and earth wails, sun and moon dim—the apocalypse descends…"
Yan muttered in alternating reverence and critique as he analyzed the core.
Fang Han listened intently, gleaning insights from every word.
"So… can we refine this Golden Core?" Fang Han finally asked. The power inside it was overwhelming—if he could absorb it, the result would be extraordinary.
"You haven't reached the Heaven-Man Realm. You cannot comprehend the grand arrays woven into it," Yan said. "Refining it is impossible."
"So once I reach the Heaven-Man Realm… I can refine it and instantly become a Golden Core master?" Fang Han's voice trembled with excitement.
"No. At best you'll form a false Golden Core. This core belongs to another. Her effort, spirit, and essence are imprinted within it. If you force it into yourself, you will forever lose the possibility of reaching the Longevity Realm.
"Forging one's Golden Core is a baptism of the soul—a transformation of life itself. Skip that, and your life becomes incomplete. You'll gain strength but no evolution, no increase in lifespan. Only by gathering your own essence, spirit, vitality, law, and qi into a seed can you gain true transformation."
Yan's tone was unusually earnest—he seemed afraid Fang Han might choose the shortcut.
Fang Han exhaled slowly. "I see. Refining this would give me the power of a Golden Core expert but cripple my future. Just like wielding someone else's treasure—not worth the price. Then… it's useless?"
"Hardly." Yan smirked.
"By studying it, you'll learn the methods of all twenty-eight divine abilities. And once you reach Heaven-Man, you and I can use Yellow Springs Sacred Water to dissolve this Golden Core, reducing it back to its primal energy. You'll then absorb that energy, forge those divine abilities anew, and finally build a Golden Core stronger than hers, centered on the Five Emperor Demonic Sovereign Arts."
A clear path unfolded before him.
Fang Han's eyes lit up. "Twenty-eight divine abilities… that's insane! The more I master, the stronger my future Golden Core!"
Time, however, was always the bottleneck.
Every divine ability took decades—sometimes an entire mortal lifespan—to master. Without miraculous resources like the Heavenly Wood Needle or the World Tree, even Fang Han's Wood Emperor qi would have required fifty years at minimum.
To cultivate twenty-eight arts normally? Impossible.
No wonder so few ever touched the Golden Core Realm. Without an extended lifespan, training ended in death long before mastery.
But with this Golden Core's ready-made essence, and with Heaven-Man comprehension, Fang Han's future cultivation would be like drawing water from a well already dug.
Even the fearsome Black Sun Tempest and Great Solar Fire Disaster—mystic arts of the highest tier—would become his.
Fang Han exhaled, resolve sharpening.
"This forced detour into the Taiyuan Immortal Mansion… when I escape, I'll settle every debt. Taixuan Sect. Hua Tiandu. None of you will escape."
Yan stored the Golden Core in the Yellow Springs Diagram, and Fang Han pocketed the Vermilion Bird Banner—its fire essence would one day be invaluable for cultivating the Fire Emperor qi.
He searched the hall again but found nothing further. Time had long turned all but the greatest treasures to dust.
Time—the greatest furnace—reduces all things to nothing.
Even immortals fade.
None in heaven or earth can escape decay.
Having searched fully, Fang Han finally sat, focusing his breath and letting the World Tree sip faint traces of Immortal qi from beyond reality.
Strength first. Everything else came after.
Before he settled fully, he suddenly said, "Yan—refine all the demons in the Five Prison King Cauldron into Great Biluo Pills."
"What?" Yan blinked.
"She has no Immortal qi to absorb," Fang Han said, pointing at the demoness. "If I cultivate here for decades, she'll starve. Even an Asura dies if unfed for years."
Yan gave her a long, amused look. "Hah… you've thought ahead."
The demoness bowed deeply. "My thanks, young master."
It was her formal acknowledgment of servitude.
A chorus of wails echoed as the Five Prison King Cauldron activated. The Yellow Springs Diagram surged into it, and moments later tens of thousands of Great Biluo Pills sprayed forth like a storm.
Anyone else witnessing this refinement method would have bitten through their tongue in shock.
With the cauldron quiet once more, Fang Han finally settled into true stillness.
He rotated his qi endlessly, merging it with the faint Immortal essence drawn by the World Tree, sharpening his Wood Emperor energy again and again.
He had reached the pinnacle of the Third Divine Ability Realm—Yuan Gang Realm. The next step was the Fourth—Yin-Yang Realm, where qi gained spirit and will, obeying the heart.
This realm required enlightenment, not pills.
So Fang Han cultivated.
And time slipped by.
Months passed.
His qi grew fuller, livelier, yet the final barrier eluded him—like a film of mist he couldn't pierce. Whenever frustration rose, he stopped, walked the palace, studying its carvings, its layout, its immortal aura.
He learned from the silence of bones, the grandeur of stone, the echoes of ancient immortals.
He watched time.
He contemplated death.
He studied creation.
Another year passed within the hall.
Yet outside—only a single day had gone by.
Fang Han still hadn't broken through, but his understanding of the Wood Emperor Art had deepened completely, every inch polished anew.