The mysterious voice came from the very center of the grand hall, echoing out from behind the massive stone gate buried deep within the shadows.
Fang Han had been inside the Taiyuan Immortal Mansion for more than a year now. Every day he searched for a way out, and every day he failed. But this hall—the pillars, the runes, the sealed portals—he knew them so well he could map them with his eyes closed.
At the far end of the hall stood three colossal stone gates, every surface covered in layers of talismanic sigils. Anyone could see these were entrances to truly important places. Fang Han had never dared force them. Each time he sent out the faintest thread of consciousness to probe them, he felt the same terrifying presence inside—like heaven itself, like the crushing weight of a mountain, like a sea ready to swallow him whole. A single misstep would trigger the bans within, killing him instantly.
Beside those three main gates were countless smaller ones—so many that the walls of the hall, along with the three great portals, totaled 1,296 doors.
Yan had once explained the number's meaning: the three main gates represented "One gives birth to Two, Two gives birth to Three, Three gives birth to all things." The thousands of lesser doors symbolized the "one primal number," representing the myriad beings of creation. Taiyuan Immortal Venerable had built this mansion with deep philosophical intent.
Fang Han had indeed gained insight from studying its architecture, though not enough to push him through the fourth layer of divine ability—the Yin–Yang Realm.
"Senior," Fang Han cupped his fists toward the stone gate that had spoken, "are you also trapped here inside the Taiyuan Immortal Mansion?"
Anyone who could transmit sound through the sealed gate had to possess staggering cultivation. Naturally, that person could hear him as well.
A moment of silence passed. Then a clear, unhurried reply:
"Correct. I am sealed inside this Xuanpin Gate. Of all structures within this immortal mansion, the three Xuanpin Gates are the most mysterious and most powerful. I sensed your presence the moment you entered, though I didn't expect you to carry something as extraordinary as a sapling of the World Tree. But your cultivation is far too weak. Having a Dao Artifact barely qualifies you to keep breathing."
"May I ask Senior's name?" Fang Han pressed respectfully. "So this junior may have the honor of knowing whom I speak with."
The realization that this being had been watching him for over a year was unsettling, but not surprising. Anyone capable of living inside a Xuanpin Gate was certainly a titan—at least someone of the Longevity Secret Realm, the ancient giants.
Yan murmured in Fang Han's mind:
"He doesn't even recognize the Yellow Springs Diagram… he must be older than it. And the Yellow Springs Emperor spent six thousand years refining that treasure. This guy predates it—that means he's ancient beyond belief."
"That's impossible," Fang Han whispered mentally back. "Time in this mansion moves differently—one year here is one day outside. Six thousand years outside would be a million years in here. Not even immortals live that long!"
"He might not be an immortal, but Longevity experts can warp their personal flow of time. And for all we know, only this grand hall has strange temporal distortion. Inside those Xuanpin Gates, time might flow normally." Yan speculated.
"My name wouldn't mean anything to you," the mysterious voice said. "You're from the Devil Dao, aren't you? Practicing the Green Emperor Wood Emperor Art? A fine technique. But with the World Tree's aura mixed into your Wood Emperor qi, its quality is a level higher."
Fang Han replied calmly, "I am indeed practicing the Wood Emperor Art, Senior, but I am not of the Devil Dao. I am a disciple of the Immortal Dao—of the Yuhuamen. Perhaps Senior has heard the name?"
"Yuhuamen… yes, I recall it. But the Taiyi Sect should still be the dominant force outside, yes?" the voice asked after a moment.
"It is. More so than ever." Fang Han proceeded to describe Taiyi Sect's attempt to manipulate heavenly tribulation through accumulated merit, and he laid out the general landscape of the Immortal, Devil, and Demon factions.
"Hmph. Using merit to control the heavens? They take themselves for the will of Heaven? Foolish beyond measure." The voice's cold snort sent a ripple of satisfaction through Fang Han's chest.
"Junior feels the same," Fang Han followed his tone seamlessly. "I was framed by Taiyi Sect and ended up in this Immortal Mansion because of them."
"A pity. A pity indeed…" the voice sighed.
"What does Senior find pitiable?" Fang Han asked carefully.
"That you will die here," the voice replied plainly. "You may be thrilled at gaining another's Golden Core, thinking you'll master twenty-eight divine abilities. But I watched the former owner—Firecloud Fairy—slowly exhaust her lifespan, year after year, until she died in despair. And you—who possesses the sapling of the World Tree, with limitless future potential—will rot here the same way. When your nine hundred years of life run out, the tide of pain, terror, and hopelessness will drown your spirit."
A wave of bleak despair rolled through his voice, chilling enough to freeze marrow.
"Here, nine hundred years is a blink."
"Is there truly no way out?" Fang Han asked, voice steady.
"If there was, I would've left long ago. Do you think you'd still be here?" the voice replied flatly. "Taiyuan Immortal Venerable was one of the brightest of the primordial era. The core of this Immortal Mansion is an Immortal Artifact. Even with my abilities, I cannot break out of the Xuanpin Gate. If I were in the hall, I could escape—but your cultivation is far too weak."
"An Immortal Artifact… then why hasn't the outside world fought to claim it?" Fang Han was stunned. A single Immortal Artifact was enough to plunge the world into madness.
"Oh, they came. Many came," the voice said. "They all died."
Fang Han exhaled slowly. "Then I will continue cultivating."
He sat down cross-legged and allowed the world to fall away.
"…Oh?" the voice murmured, surprised. "Even in despair, you remain calm."
Then it spoke again, tone shifting—almost amused.
"You've mastered the Wood Emperor qi, but your progress is too fast. You lack tempering, and thus your path to Yin–Yang is blocked. And your body—raised by pills—has little comprehension of true vitality. Since I have nothing better to do, I'll give you a push. Without my help, your comprehension of Yin–Yang would take at least three full cycles of sixty years. Consider it repayment—your body may hold the key to my freedom."
A sudden surge of mental power burst through the Xuanpin Gate—overwhelming, unstoppable.
Yan tried to react, but the force was so immense that even its ancient instincts couldn't move fast enough.
A razor-sharp thought pierced straight into Fang Han's mind.
It was a sword.
An ancient blade of pure Dao intent, sharp enough to split heaven and earth. It slashed across the sea of his consciousness with one clean stroke.
His inner world—his qi, his will, his Wood Emperor force—was split neatly into two.
No pain. Only clarity.
The voice echoed within him:
"Dividing Yin and Yang is no simple matter. One must cut through shackles with a will sharp as steel. You have the sharpness—but not the decisive strike. Let me ask you—if a blade is in your hand, why hesitate to strike?"
"If a blade is in my hand… why not strike?"
The question struck Fang Han like lightning. All confusion, all fog, burned away.
A sword of pure intent formed within his mind—and he slashed.
"The Dao of Yin and Yang—split into two!"
His Wood Emperor qi surged. Two colors spiraled around him—one a deep, vivid emerald, the other a soft yellow-green like the first sprouting bud.
One fierce and masculine.
One gentle and feminine.
Two aspects of the same Wood Emperor force—Yin and Yang.
The mysterious stranger had struck him like a stick to the back of the head—a brutal awakening. But Fang Han's own talent completed the transformation. Yin and Yang intertwined, birthing the faintest traces of spirit and wisdom.
Time flowed.
One month.
Three months.
Seven months.
A year.
More than a year again…
He remained unmoving, immersed in the mystery, the World Tree feeding him endless life force.
Finally, the two currents of Wood Emperor qi condensed into two figures—one male in deep blue robes with a nine-dragon crown, one female in pale bud-yellow robes with a phoenix coronet. Their faces were blurred, but their aura radiated absolute authority.
As they formed, Fang Han's power surged violently—like the time he had taken the Madness Lifespan-Burning Pill.
The sound of ten thousand warhorses roared in the air.
His previously fifty-thousand-horse power doubled to one hundred thousand.
He had stepped fully into the Yin–Yang Realm.
"Good," the voice murmured. "The spirit of the Green Emperor… the spirit of the Wood Emperor. Your Yin–Yang Dao is complete."