"Life really is getting dull."
After completing another full circulation of the Wood Emperor True Qi, Fang Han exhaled slowly. He could feel every impurity in his body refined away; his Daoist qi had become impossibly pure, brimming with a restless, budding vitality—like an early-spring larva trembling beneath the soil, waiting for the first thunderclap of spring to wake it into life.
He knew this sensation well. To truly ignite his qi and enter the Fourth Layer—the Realm of Yin-Yang, he needed a flash of enlightenment. One sudden, explosive insight. His own personal "first thunder."
He stretched lazily. "Yan, how long has it been?"
"We've been inside for one year and three months," Yan replied with a dry snicker. "You've done nothing but cultivate the entire time. Your mana is surging, but you still haven't broken into Yin-Yang. A shame, really. If we were still in Yuhua Sect, you could ask Jiaylan or one of the grand elders for guidance."
Fang Han shook his head and smiled. "The first cultivator in history had no elders to ask. He relied on his own insight. I can do the same. Wisdom isn't different from person to person—it's just buried under delusion. My heart is clean and steady now. It'll happen eventually."
Yan curled back into the depths of the Yellow Springs Diagram, content. So long as the holy waters never ran dry, the dragon-vein spirit would outlive empires.
Fang Han resumed his slow walk through the silent hall. Not far off, the demoness sat cross-legged in meditation, surrounded by gourds filled with Yuan Infant Pills, Life-Prolonging Golden Pills, Biluodan, and Six-Yang Holy Water. Enough resources to support years of uninterrupted cultivation.
Hearing his footsteps, she opened her eyes and stood.
"Don't mind me. Keep cultivating," Fang Han said with a wave. "How's your progress?"
"Master… my mana has reached its limit. I should be cultivating true qi next, but there's no natural energy here. No five-element essence, nothing to draw from." Her expression showed helplessness.
"In that case," Fang Han said after a moment, "you can cultivate my Wood Emperor Technique. I have the World Tree. Its wood essence alone is enough to help you form true qi—and even true gang qi—without difficulty."
A tiny sapling rose from his brow, glowing vibrantly—the World Tree, slightly larger than before. With a pulse of Wood Emperor True Qi, Fang Han's entire body shuddered.
"World Tree—Falling Leaves!"
The tree erupted with light. Leaves shook loose, and one leaf drifted gently downward.
The demoness caught it—and nearly collapsed. Her bones cracked under the weight. That single leaf weighed thousands of pounds.
"This leaf is extraordinary," Fang Han said. "If I hadn't refined the World Tree myself, it couldn't be taken at all. Even Blood Sky, your demon blade, couldn't cut it. The wood essence inside is ten times richer than the Heavenly Wood Divine Needle. Use it well—I'll teach you the Wood Emperor mantra."
A stream of esoteric symbols and incantations flowed into her mind.
"By the way… how long do your kind live?" Fang Han asked.
"Great Asuras live around five hundred years. I'm twenty-six."
"Twenty-six, and already in the Divine Ability Realm?" Fang Han raised an eyebrow. "You really are a genius."
"My bloodline descends from the Demon Emperor's kin. And my family is one of the great clans of the underworld. Resources were plentiful."
Fang Han nodded. "Then you've got four hundred years to reach the Heavenly Human Realm. With time being so precious here, long life is a real luxury…"
A faint melancholy stirred inside him. His qi swelled; the World Tree trembled. A wave of wood essence surged across the hall—
And something deep within the sealed stone gates responded.
A voice—a soft gasp—echoed out from behind the ancient doors.
Everyone froze.
They had been in this hall for more than a year. Dead silence, no signs of life. But now—
"The aura of the World Tree… Impossible. Impossible. That thing still exists in this world? And yet… this signature..."
BOOM.
A colossal mental presence burst from the sealed gates, flooding the hall like a tidal wave. Thought turned to pressure, pressure to storm—boundless, overwhelming.
Fang Han staggered. Yan recoiled sharply.
There was no intent to harm them. Yet the sheer weight of that willpower… it far surpassed Hua Tiandu.
"This… this is a master of the Longevity Realm…"