For the next few months, Han Tian Yi became a shadow moving between two worlds.
In secret, he sent the Yu Clan everything:
The number of Han Clan's elite forces. The rotation of their patrols. The blind spots in their formations. The weaknesses hidden inside their cultivation techniques. The terrain of the Han Clan's territory—where spiritual veins were thin, where defenses were weakest, where ambushes would be most effective.
Every detail that could shatter his clan, he handed over piece by piece.
And every time the exchange was made, the Yu Clan sent him a reward: one ancient scripture.
At first, they were fragmented, incomplete, and difficult to decipher. But with each trade, the texts grew older… deeper… more forbidden.
Han Tian Yi accepted them all with trembling hands and burning eyes.
Until the final exchange.
The last information he gave was the most damning of all—a method to assassinate his parents.
In return, the Yu Clan sent him a single item: an eerie scripture bound in dried human skin.
The surface was cold, yet faintly warm to the touch, as if it remembered its former owner. Strange symbols crawled across it like living scars. The moment Han Tian Yi held it, his heart thundered.
Then he laughed.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!!!"
The sound echoed through the empty chamber like the cry of a madman.
He knew—this was the key.
That very night, he packed only what he needed. Vast amounts of spirit currency, portable storage, concealed spatial rings—enough to sustain lifetimes among mortals.
By dawn, he went to see his parents.
"Father… Mother…" He lowered his head, voice heavy with false sorrow. "Looking back… I think I'm more suited to the mortal world."
They looked at him in surprise.
"I'm already twenty-six. Only eighty years left…" He forced a bitter smile. "I want to travel while I still can. See the world before I disappear into dust."
For a moment, the hall was silent. Then Han Fei Yu laughed warmly, patting his son on the back.
"Hohohoho! Of course, my son! If this is your wish, then go—live freely!"
He handed Han Tian Yi a small spatial pouch filled with gold coins used by mortals.
"Take this. Even if you bought the entire mortal world, it would still not be empty."
Han Tian Yi bowed deeply, hiding the glint of madness in his eyes.
Soon after, the clan elders opened a dimensional gate to the lower realm. A brilliant rift tore open the air, its edges shimmering with law and light.
Han Tian Yi stepped through. Behind him, his family. Before him, his future.
And in his sleeve, hidden close to his heart—the scripture made of human skin.
The suffocating pressure of the Immortal Realm vanished. The spiritual energy here was nearly nonexistent, almost laughable. Yet to Han Tian Yi, this thin, ordinary atmosphere felt calm.
He chose a remote area far from any city. There, he bought a humble estate—plain walls, a simple gate, a courtyard wide enough to grow vegetables. Enough to hide from the world.
To maintain appearances, he hired five servants and two bodyguards—peak experts among mortals, capable of killing hundreds with bare hands.
Then he purchased everything he needed—clothes, furniture, utensils, medicine cabinets. Only when every corner of the house felt complete did he lock the gate and retreat into his study.
Beneath the dim glow of a single lamp, he opened the eerie scripture. The pages were rough, cold, yet faintly warm as if alive. Strange symbols twisted like crawling shadows. Every line described forbidden methods—rituals to reverse fate, twist constitutions, turn curses into foundations.
It spoke of negative body constitutions, abandoned vessels, bodies despised even by the heavens.
Then he reached the last page.
His eyes froze.
Cursed Body Constitution.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Hm… so I need to refine ten heaven-defying talents to return my body to normal?"
A soft chuckle escaped.
"Hehe… alright. This is worth a try."
But his brows knit together.
"How am I supposed to refine others when I can't even cultivate myself?"
He clenched his fist, frustration flashing in his eyes.
"…How troublesome."
He soon made his way to the Black Market Pavilion—a hidden district where information was bought and sold like livestock. No morals. Only prices.
Inside a dim, smoke-filled room, he met an informant—an ugly, hunched old man with yellowed teeth and greedy eyes.
"I need a list."
Han Tian Yi said calmly.
"People who can refine anything without questions. Money is no issue."
The old man's eyes lit up.
"Hehehehe… young master, you've come to the right place~"
From beneath his counter, he slid out a parchment list.
Han Tian Yi skimmed it once.
"Can you contact them? Price doesn't matter. I only need ten successful refinements. Payment per success."
He deliberately dressed in expensive robes, jade ornaments, and a spatial pouch stitched with gold threads. Not arrogance—it was survival. If he came poorly dressed, he would be dead before leaving the street.
The old man's gaze lingered. Expensive… very expensive… must belong to a powerful clan. Best not to offend. Outwardly, he bowed and smiled.
"Of course, young master~ We'll contact them immediately. Please return in one week."
Han Tian Yi nodded. "How much?"
"Hehehe… one hundred gold coins, including manpower." The usual price was ten.
Han Tian Yi did not blink. He tossed a pouch onto the table. Five hundred gold coins.
"Get it done properly," he said coldly, "and I won't be stingy."
The old man stared in silence. Five hundred coins—enough to feed a mortal family for three generations. And the youth threw it like spare change.
"…He truly is a young master of a great clan." he muttered.
Han Tian Yi understood one thing perfectly: one does not need strength to survive—only the appearance of it. And money was the easiest disguise of power.
Outside, his bodyguards bowed and returned to the estate. Han Tian Yi, nothing more than a mortal, still had to hide. Even with protection, every street was a battlefield. So he waited.
Exactly one week later, he returned. The old man stood in the shadows, but beside him was someone entirely different—a demonic cultivator, blood and malice clinging like a cloak. Predatory eyes, subtle pressure unsettling mortals.
"This is a refinement master, young master~ Perfect for your needs, though expensive."
Han Tian Yi nodded.
"Money isn't a problem."
The cultivator bowed. "Then I will follow you, young master."
At the estate, he introduced himself.
"I am Shen Tong, young master~"
Han Tian Yi's expression remained neutral. He led Shen Tong inside the study.
"I will now tell you what I need you to refine." he said calmly. "Each pill must be human. Every success, immediate payment. Ten required."
He paused.
"For now, lacking ingredients, you will receive fifty gold coins per day as retainer. Choose any room, do not disturb me unnecessarily."
Han Tian Yi left Shen Tong in the care of the servants, stepping back into the shadows. Arrangement set.
A week earlier, he had commissioned a notorious assassination agency—every gifted mortal, delivered at ten thousand gold coins per person. Payment made without hesitation.
Two days later, the first delivery: a masked man carrying a seven-year-old child. Terrified, trembling.
"This is the young master of the Luo Clan," the man said. "He has one of the Blessed constitution."
Han Tian Yi examined him as a rare treasure. Then he nodded and handed over ten thousand gold coins.
"Bring another. Immediately."
The boy struggled.
"You demon! My father will kill you! You'll regret touching me!"
Han Tian Yi's expression remained calm. He tossed the child to Shen Tong.
"Refine him into a pill."
"P-pill? Me? You demon! I'll haunt you even as a vengeful spirit!"
Han Tian Yi did not answer.
This was necessary. If he failed, he would remain a mortal forever.
Shen Tong threw the child into the demonic cauldron. The screams were horrifying—flesh and bone burned alive, refined by demonic fire. Slowly, silence fell.
The refinement succeeded.
Shen Tong presented a dark pill, steaming. Han Tian Yi swallowed it immediately. His body trembled. A strange warmth coursed through him.
"Only nine left…"
A faint smile curved his lips. Even Shen Tong shivered.
This was not a mortal.
This was a monster being born.