This was Fang Han's first true battle against a powerhouse since forming his Golden Core.
So he held nothing back.
His opening move was ruthless—violent enough to tear heaven and earth apart. Against someone like Yan Shuiyi, a reincarnated natural deity, restraint would only get him crushed.
After all, centuries ago she had shattered a great formation laid by ancient titans of the Longevity Realm.
The moment the Great Devouring Art erupted, Fang Han manifested a world-swallowing maw, a blood-red vortex stretching across the sky like a celestial beast eating the sun. It descended straight toward the Canghai Divine Pearl.
But the Canghai Divine Pearl was, after all, an upper-grade Dao artifact—the personal treasure of an ancient Water God. Sensing danger, it compressed into a fist-sized sphere, waves roaring and storms coiling from within, dissolving all the devouring pressure. Beneath the glowing pearl, a feminine silhouette emerged.
Yan Shuiyi appeared.
"I forged my Golden Core through ninety divine arts," Fang Han declared, stepping forward. "I sweep aside all rivals. You think you can match me?"
He advanced—one step, two steps, three—collapsing space itself, arriving before her in a heartbeat. His fist blasted out.
No words could capture its speed, nor the sheer brutality behind it. It carried nearly a hundred million units of force—enough to crush sky and shatter time.
His skin shimmered like polished crystal. Thunder flowed through him. Five-element essence roared in his veins. From deep within echoed the sound of celestial drums, divine conches, and the pulse of countless sealed powers—lightning, dragons, the God-Sealing Tablet, the Heaven-Shrouding Devil Hand. His punch could obliterate a mountain of steel.
His body had always been monstrous. With the Golden Core's baptism, he had transcended even that—his inner powers fused into a single overwhelming current. Short of immortality itself, there were very few artifacts left in the world capable of destroying his flesh.
And yet—
Bang!
The comet-strike of a punch, fierce enough to shoot down the sun, was caught.
Yan Shuiyi raised a hand—delicate, effortless—and parried it. Fang Han felt his force vanish into an endless tide, like punching a boundless ocean. Her body truly held within it an infinite sea.
"This technique was created by the ancient Water God," she said. "The Ancient Waves of the Boundless Sea. I hope it won't disappoint you."
She moved—no joy, no anger, no fluctuation—then unleashed a single palm.
Instantly, the heavens filled with the roar of primordial tides. Wave after wave—thousands upon thousands—crashed toward Fang Han.
Two titans collided.
Both were peerless monsters beneath the Longevity Realm. Both possessed nearly one hundred million units of power. The Astral Wind Layer around them howled and split, winds capable of shredding flying swords like paper—yet to these two, the storm was nothing.
Fang Han quickly realized just how terrifying this woman was. The world around him warped into a realm of water—her water—and none of it bent to the will of his Black Emperor Water-Dominion Fist.
This was a supreme technique—its speed unmatched, its control absolute, its force vast and unending. And she, a reincarnated Water God spirit, was ranked even above Hua Tiandu.
He dared not relax.
His Golden Core rose above his head, radiating light as dozens of divine arts unfolded in layered brilliance, protecting his body. His feet anchored on the Bridge of Forgetfulness. Behind him, the Abyssal Gate swung open, hellish force pouring forth as he clashed against her divine art head-on.
Ten punches.
A hundred punches.
Ten thousand.
A hundred thousand.
Fang Han unleashed everything—his body flickering like lightning, fists surging with the might of the Black Emperor Water-Dominion Fist. This was not the sharp, instant-kill brilliance of the White Emperor Golden Slash. This was an ocean of endless force—surging, rolling, slamming, unstoppable.
If water battled water, he would prove whose domain ruled the seas.
Explosions thundered. Immense water-spheres the size of fields rose across the sky, hundreds of them, bursting in shockwaves that would instantly pulp any ordinary Golden Core expert caught in their wake.
Twelve breaths.
In just twelve breaths, Fang Han and Yan Shuiyi exchanged 129,600 blows—an entire cosmic cycle of force.
Only someone like Fang Han, sustained by the World Tree's endless flow of celestial qi, could endure this. Anyone else—Ghost Emperor, Elder Sword-Madman—would have burned out instantly.
But Yan Shuiyi's stamina was just as terrifying. Fang Han glanced at the Canghai Divine Pearl above her head and understood—an upper-grade Dao artifact refined into a second nascent soul. Unfathomable. Just like the Yellow Springs Diagram.
Especially water-type arts—renowned for endless depth and longevity.
Hua Tiandu was known for his boundless energy. Yan Shuiyi, ranked above him, surpassed even that.
And Fang Han finally understood: anyone who reached the top ten on the Longevity Candidate List was a walking calamity.
And yet… so was he.
Yan Shuiyi and Fang Qingxue were both reincarnated natural deities, but their battle styles were worlds apart. Fang Qingxue—lightning incarnate—killed swiftly, decisively, without hesitation. Thunder Mother, merciless and absolute.
Yan Shuiyi, however—her power was endless, oceanic, layered, hiding deadly undercurrents beneath tranquil waves. Her mind was unshakeable, immune to temptation or manipulation.
Both were terrifying. Yan Shuiyi simply had far more years of cultivation behind her.
Fang Han compared the two in his heart—and none of his hundred schemes worked against Yan Shuiyi's iron-willed nature. She was immune to every trick. She insisted on fighting.
He could escape if he wanted—his strength was enough—but the humiliation…
He had just formed his Golden Core. He should have been sweeping aside the world's geniuses, establishing himself as the number-one Divine Ability cultivator.
And instead, the second-ranked powerhouse on the Longevity Candidate List had descended to beat him into retreat?
Unacceptable.
His decision crystallized—if she insisted on fighting, he would go all the way. With the World Tree behind him, he would risk everything to kill Yue Shuiyi—refine the Taixia Sect's greatest prodigy, Hua Tiandu's fiancée, into a magic treasure.
Boom!
Fist and palm collided again. Their bodies flickered across the sky, clashing through all 129,600 blows, matching force for force, flesh against flesh.
"No wonder you're a reincarnation of the ancient Water God," Fang Han muttered, sliding back, planting his feet once more on the Bridge of Forgetfulness. His blood churned violently; the five reservoirs of his law-power drained like floodgates burst open.
Ninety divine arts fueled his Golden Core, but the consumption was astronomical.
His normally dense, crystalline liquid-mana inside his five spiritual seas had thinned into vapor. The transparent, molten-crystal law-power was vanishing too quickly.
But then the World Tree shuddered.
From every leaf, torrents of celestial qi poured into his brow and flooded his spiritual seas, condensing vapor back into liquid, restoring the crystalline flow. His Golden Core spun brighter, faster.
In an instant, strength surged back through him.
"So much celestial qi… all of this could refine countless pills," Fang Han thought bitterly. "And now I'm burning through it like kindling."
Ever since abandoning the creation of Nascent Soul Pills, all the celestial qi he collected was stored solely for battle.
"Instant recovery," Yan Shuiyi murmured. "The treasure in your brow… that is the true supreme artifact. In that case, I want nothing else—not your Forget-Love Water, not your blood-sky demon blade, not your future access to the Yellow Springs Treasury."
She lifted her gaze, eyes clear as still water.
"Give me the treasure hidden in your brow—and I will agree to every condition you've ever asked of me."