"I give the golden core of a Taichi Sect disciple, and he brings the severed arm of a Taichi elder? He's challenging me on purpose?"
The moment the Demon Marshal presented Tang Jingshan's arm, Fang Han immediately sensed the provocation. So he's not satisfied? He really wants to go head-to-head with me?
Blood Dance Yang, ranked sixth on the Longevity Candidate List—cultivated to the tenth level, reshaped fate, mysterious arts beyond count—had been crushed by Fang Han in four strikes. That alone should have silenced every young genius here. Yet the Demon Marshal clearly wasn't deterred.
Unless… he had something hidden.
Fang Han's gaze narrowed. He definitely carries a dao artifact. But only a mid-grade one can withstand the strength of a hundred million stampeding warhorses. And Innate Demon Sect isn't some small demonic clan—they have resources.
If Innate Demon Emperor Ying Xiantian really calculated all this… he might have armed his son with something far more dangerous. Even a top-grade dao artifact isn't impossible.
A top-grade dao artifact was enough to take his full-force blow without shattering.
Fang Han's mind spun rapidly, evaluating possibilities. If he were at full power, none of this would matter. But the Wind-Fire Tribulation brewing inside him changed everything. Once it erupted, his entire body would be consumed by heavenly wind and blazing fire—he wouldn't even be able to stand, let alone fight.
The Wind-Fire Tribulation was the first great gate of the Divine Ability Realm, the most dangerous and also the most rewarding. Passing through it meant rebirth in flesh, soul, divine abilities, even the golden core itself.
And for someone like him—who cultivated ninety innate divine abilities, all fused into his golden core—the tribulation would be unimaginable. If he survived, his five seas of consciousness might double in size. His explosive attacks could go from ten strikes to twenty, even thirty.
At that point, even ancient Longevity giants might not be able to endure his assault.
But right now…
Right now, it's a disaster.
The tribulation had been forcibly suppressed by Linglong Immortal Venerable's Great Wish Technique, but Fang Han's cultivation continued to grow. One wrong move and the tribulation would erupt instantly.
As he weighed this, he watched the Demon Marshal retreat, followed by other young elites presenting their offerings.
Two figures drew the most attention.
The first was Jiao Fei of the Heaven-Piercing Sword Sect—ranked fifth on the Longevity Candidate List, even above Blood Dance Yang. His offerings filled an entire stage: pills, swords, manuals, talismans—millions upon millions in value.
But the true center of the storm was the next arrival.
Wan Lianshan, the number one true disciple of Myriad Return Immortal Island—ranked fourth, just under Hua Tiandu.
He walked with the dignity of a calm sea, blue robe flowing. Each step carried faint echoes of ocean waves. His water-based dao had clearly reached an extreme—almost equal to Yan Shuoyi's Ocean Pearl.
He presented his gift.
"The Nine Heavens Goddess Scroll, painted by ancient Human Emperor himself upon witnessing the descent of the Immortal Goddess who slew eighty-one God Kings."
The audience erupted.
This was no ordinary treasure. This was a relic of the ancient era, from one of the Three Human Emperors. A treasure so rare it rivaled dao artifacts—perhaps exceeded them.
Linglong Immortal Venerable was visibly pleased.
"In return, I shall bestow upon you the Nine Transformations of Heaven."
Her fingertip flicked, nine beams of divine radiance sinking into Wan Lianshan's body.
His flesh twisted, reshaped, reforged. Seals lit beneath his skin, merging into muscle and bone. From every pore, terrifying heavenly qi blasted outward. The pressure rolling off him made even veteran cultivators pale.
For a moment—even suppressed by his brewing tribulation—Fang Han felt that Wan Lianshan's body was nearly equal to his own level before he attained a half-undying physique.
Whispers spread through the hall:
"Linglong Immortal Venerable truly values him."
"Not exactly. Myriad Return Island spent a fortune—how could she not respond?"
"That scroll might hold the key to the Human Emperor's brush… the sharpest weapon ever forged."
When Wan Lianshan absorbed the final strand of the Nine Transformations, a white rainbow faintly erupted from the crown of his head—touching a vague, mysterious realm beyond mortal perception.
He was truly only half a step from the Longevity Realm.
After offering his respects, he turned toward Fang Han, smiling as though greeting an old friend.
"Fang Han, you defeated Blood Dance Yang with four palm strikes. Impressive. But the three supreme divine abilities offered today—I intend to fight for them."
His voice was polite. His intent was not.
Fang Han's smile was thin and cold.
"Oh? Then let's see how many of my strikes you can withstand."
What Fang Han hated most was anyone stepping on his prestige.
Especially in front of all these people.
"The Taichi Sect issued a Heavenly Dao Kill Order for my head. I must increase my strength—and the three divine abilities are mine. Anyone who stands in my way…"
He stepped forward, aura darkening.
"Don't blame me for ruining the so-called friendship between our sects."