"Your celestial race can dream whatever grand ambitions you like—eight billion soldiers, eighty billion soldiers—I don't care. I'll take the benefits first."
Fang Han laughed coldly as the World Tree devoured the seven Divine Kings' power. "And the benefits are good. Divine Kings truly are Divine Kings."
Before his eyes, torrents of divine force surged into the Tree's leaves, condensing one golden fruit after another. These fruits resembled cultivators' Golden Cores, yet contained no supernatural arts—only pure, condensed power.
At the heart of each fruit lay a seed.
A tiny sprout-like kernel pulsing with fierce vitality—
a True God Seed, something only Divine Kings could refine. It was somewhat like a cultivator's Golden Core, but with the ability to draw energy from the Virtual God Realm, a pale imitation of the Immortal World's power.
As the Divine Kings' bodies shriveled, even these seeds gradually lost their ability to pull strength from beyond the void.
"Fang Han! May you die a wretched death! Our eighty-billion-strong army will flatten your Feather Gate! And Hate-Heaven Divine Emperor will avenge us!"
The Great Harmony King and Great Summer King were nothing but withered bones, reduced to a single screaming head—and still they roared threats with rabid hatred.
"Once we're dead, Hate-Heaven Divine Emperor will know instantly! He calculates the heavens themselves! Nothing escapes him!"
"Calculating the cosmos?" Fang Han snorted. "Even immortals can't divine every change in the universe. You expect me to believe your Divine Emperor surpasses immortals? Don't insult my intelligence. At worst, he's the commander of your invasion force. And even if he's stronger than me—so what? I can run. And I'm not alone. Feather Gate stands behind me."
The Great Summer King's head shook violently, melting inch by inch, yet still barking:
"You fool… Past events don't change, so they can be calculated! The future has infinite variations—that's why even immortals cannot predict it! But once you kill us, that act becomes the past. If the power is high enough, it can be divined!"
He howled louder as his skull dissolved.
"You killed us… the celestial race will know! And because you hold the World Tree—our natural nemesis—you are doomed! Our race will hunt you at all costs!"
Fang Han hesitated for only a heartbeat.
Then he hardened his resolve.
"At this point, retreat is meaningless."
His Golden Core surged.
One decisive strike.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Seven heads exploded.
From each one flew a hexagonal crystal pocket-dimension—each Divine King's personal storage space, glittering with treasures: Dao artifacts, pills, scriptures, treasures beyond counting.
A Divine King of the celestial race was the equivalent of a supreme Golden Core cultivator among humans—and nearly as wealthy as a sect on their own. Their treasures rivaled empires.
No wonder Fang Han felt like a starving ghost lunging at a feast.
Seven Divine Kings.
Seven treasure vaults.
And two top-tier Dao artifacts—the Sun and Moon Essence Wheels.
Plus seven golden supernatural fruits containing True God Seeds.
A mountain of wealth.
"Plenty of resources to raise my three-point-six million Sky Demons and hundreds of Demon Kings," Fang Han thought. "The Eightfold Pagoda will drink well today."
But treasures could wait.
First came the fruits.
"If I can integrate these seeds… my body will evolve again."
He pointed, and the seven fruits dissolved into pure energy, rushing into his seven apertures, spreading into his mind, flesh, meridians, every pore.
Celestial divine power normally could not be absorbed by human cultivators—but filtered through the World Tree, it became the purest form of essence.
The seven fruits melted into him, warm and potent.
His consciousness expanded—each of his five Spirit Seas widening another third. Immortal Qi poured into the vast new spaces like rain on thirsty earth.
His power skyrocketed: he could now unleash the force of one hundred million stampeding warhorses, ten times in a row, without exhausting himself.
But the Spirit Sea wasn't the most shocking change.
His body—
transformed.
All seven Divine Kings' life essence and True God Seeds poured into his flesh like molten lightning.
ROAR!
His frame swelled violently—muscles, tendons, bones, skin—tripling in size within a breath, becoming a grotesque, skinless titan dripping with raw blood.
Only his head remained unchanged.
Bloody mist erupted from his pores, forming crimson sigils and glowing rings around him.
"What tremendous power!"
His blood roared like a volcano. He forced his Golden Core's power to suppress the eruption—
BOOM!
Too late.
Half his body exploded.
Everything below his neck—arms, legs, organs, bones—detonated into a storm of blood.
Only his head remained, spinning in the air.
And Fang Han—
laughed.
Because in that instant, he understood.
The secrets of the celestial body.
A portion of the Divine Kings' immortality.
"Essence transforms… flesh recomposes… what is a god, if not one who cannot die?"
From his floating head radiated immense will.
The blood mist gathered.
Sigils intertwined.
Organs formed—lungs, heart, liver.
Bones linked.
Meridians stretched like celestial threads.
Skin wove itself into place.
A new body—stronger, more perfect—rose from the storm.
His head settled into place atop it.
He breathed once—
a gale erupted, shredding the air and shaking the Yellow Springs Diagram.
His lungs alone could tear down a hill.
"I… can reform my body after destruction."
Fang Han clenched a fist.
"So this is the Immortal Path's undying body… No—only half of one."
True immortality meant even one's head could shatter and still reform.
He wasn't there yet.
If his skull broke, his Spirit Sea would collapse—he would die.
But compared to other cultivators?
He was a monster.
A half-immortal.
A being reborn in blood.