Autumn Drizzle's murmured worries never reached Fang Han's ears. He had no idea that the single strand of hair wrapped around his fingertip was actually a Thread of Ten-Thousand Tribulations, nor that Linglong Immortal Venerable—a being whose power rivaled the Yellow Springs Emperor—had tied her final emotional tribulation to him.
And even if he wanted to hear it, he couldn't.
Here on Mount Sumeru, every disciple of Linglong Blessed Land could draw upon the Great Sumeru Celestial Light, effectively borrowing the power of the entire domain. It was precisely this ability that had allowed Autumn Drizzle to effortlessly spy on the private conversation between Dragon Daoist and Wood Daoist—and warn Fang Han.
As he shot upward toward the mountain peak, Fang Han kept glancing at the pale blue hair coiled like silk around his fingertip.
Ten-Thousand Tribulations Thread… Should I get rid of it?
He hesitated. The strand shimmered faintly, like moonlight caught in water, emanating a serene fragrance—clean, ethereal, almost dreamlike. Just looking at it reminded him of tranquil rivers and misty rain.
Dangerous, yes. But also… invaluable.
Linglong Immortal Venerable had personally said this thread would save his life at the moment of greatest peril. And beyond that, it symbolized something even more important: her favor. Throwing it away would be tantamount to rejecting every opportunity she had hinted at—her three supreme arts, the Zorma Ancient God Qi, the Great Universal Salvation Light, even the Great Sumeru Mountain King Fist.
No. He'd keep it.
First take the benefits. The debts… I'll deal with once I reach Longevity. A dead man can't enjoy profit—so live first, worry later.
Having made his decision, Fang Han's heart lightened.
He soared upward for nearly ten thousand meters before finally reaching the radiant summit of Mount Sumeru.
What greeted him was a magnificent sight—
A colossal canopy of divine light, inscribed with three glowing characters: Lightbringer Peak. Beneath the canopy stood a crystal throne, and coiled under that throne lay a titanic creature—
A Heavenly Dragon.
Not a flood dragon, not a wyrm, not a serpent pretending to be a dragon.
A true Heavenly Dragon—its eyes the size of water tanks, pupils painted like ancient ink-wash landscapes. Merely shifting its body exuded a suffocating dragon might. Heavenly Dragons were infamously proud; they'd rather die than submit to anyone.
Yet here one lay, bowed like a loyal hound, guarding the figure above.
That figure—shrouded in radiant halos—was Linglong Immortal Venerable.
No longer the youthful, androgynous prodigy he had previously seen. Now, she appeared only as a silhouette, a woman formed from pure light. The halos surrounding her pierced through countless layers of parallel space-time. To look directly was to glimpse an unfathomable distance—her true presence hidden across dimensions.
Even approaching her was impossible. Fang Han felt intuitively that the flow of time around her was entirely different, much like the strange temporal distortions inside the Taiyuan Immortal Estate.
One misstep, and a person might age tens of thousands of years. Or freeze in time forever.
She wasn't simply present. She was transcending space-time itself.
Fang Han couldn't help but hear the murmurs around him:
"Incredible… Linglong Immortal Venerable's aura already brushes the realm where immortals can collapse entire star systems with a flick of the finger…"
The speaker was none other than Wood Daoist—his bark-textured face expressionless, green light flickering in his eyes. Beside him stood Dragon Daoist, the other ancient titan Autumn Drizzle had warned Fang Han about.
Wood Daoist's gaze fell upon Fang Han like a starving predator spotting prey.
He's eyeing my World Tree… and my Qing Emperor Wood Emperor Scripture.
Fang Han sneered silently. Try it, old monster. See what happens.
Meanwhile, the two Daoists were already conversing with their divine sense.
"Impressive, isn't she?" Dragon Daoist whispered.
Wood Daoist responded coldly, "Forget her. I'm more interested in Fang Han. The essence on him… it calls to my original nature. If I obtain his Wood-element treasure and his Qing Emperor cultivation method, I can advance to the Undying Realm. Perhaps even beyond."
"And the risks?" Dragon Daoist asked.
"We aren't natives of the Xuanhuang World. If things get messy, we abandon our sects and flee into the deep outer realms. With our cultivation, no one can catch us."
Wood Daoist continued in a low growl:
"Once the birthday celebration ends and the boy leaves Linglong Blessed Land, we strike. Help me, and the entire core of Dragon-Wood Star is yours."
Dragon Daoist trembled. "…You mean that?"
"We've cultivated it for five thousand years," Wood Daoist replied, unblinking. "I wouldn't offer it lightly. Do you trust me or not?"
Dragon Daoist bared his teeth in satisfaction. "Then it's decided."
The conspiracy sealed itself in an instant.
Fang Han, of course, had already guessed everything. Plot all you want. As long as we're on Linglong's mountain, you won't dare touch me.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Three deafening thunderclaps shook the entire summit. Even the ancient giants fell silent. Fang Han looked across the golden plaza that sprawled across the mountain's peak.
Seats materialized in waves of divine light. Guests arrived one after another, guided by graceful female disciples of Linglong Blessed Land—each floating through the air like celestial maidens, bearing fruits and nectar.
"Senior Brother Fang, this way," a group of them called. "Your seat is ready. You'll present your birthday gift soon."
They approached him politely, eyes full of respect—almost reverence. Fang Han felt the subtle change. He was no longer merely a young prodigy.
He was becoming a figure the entire world had begun to orbit around.
"Thank you, junior sisters," he said with an easy smile. "Take these."
He flicked his fingers. A spray of treasure light burst outward—several dozen mid-grade magical artifacts floating in the air like sparkling jewels.
"These are nothing special, just toys. Pick ten each."
His voice wasn't quiet.
The plaza froze.
Even Longevity experts stared, dumbfounded.
Most visiting guests—whether Golden Core elites or half-step giants—offered mere spirit tools or pills to the disciples guiding them. Even ancient giants only gifted lower-grade artifacts.
But Fang Han?
He casually tossed out dozens of mid-grade treasures like candy.
Compared to him, even the Longevity giants suddenly looked… embarrassingly stingy.