The Reincarnation and Rebirth Technique of the Yellow Springs Diagram could conceal every trace of one's aura— including the presence of the Azure Emperor Wood Sovereign Art and even the subtle resonances of the World Tree itself.
Daoist Mu was a wood-aligned demon. To him, wood-type divine arts and sacred wood relics were not merely detectable—they resonated at the level of origin itself. If Fang Han allowed that connection to persist, he would exhaust his mana long before reaching the Featherweight Sect. Eternal Giants possessed inexhaustible stamina; they could use their divine sense to open void passages and continuously draw immortal qi from the Immortal Realm—just like the World Tree.
In a contest of endurance, Fang Han stood no chance against two Eternal Giants working together.
This was the greatest weakness he faced when battling beings of that level: the advantage of the World Tree was nullified. In terms of long-term mana supply, he held no edge at all.
So he chose to retreat—temporarily.
By using the Reincarnation Technique to hide, time would work in his favor. The longer he endured, the more power he could accumulate, and the better his chances of escaping back to the Featherweight Sect. Otherwise, maintaining such extreme flight speed would drain him dry long before he arrived—and then things would truly turn catastrophic.
Though Fang Han had survived the Wind-and-Fire Tribulation and doubled the size of all five seas of consciousness, the three newly acquired supreme divine abilities were voracious consumers of mana. The Great Salvation Zen Light, in particular, was terrifyingly expensive to sustain.
Mana was refined from highly concentrated spirit and will.
Buddhist techniques cultivated the mind and spirit far more intensely than immortal arts—and thus consumed far more mana.
Once the Reincarnation Technique took effect, Fang Han transformed into the Death-Seizing Scholar, all traces of his true self erased. He aimed for a densely populated mortal region and plunged downward. In the blink of an eye, he appeared in the midst of a vast, bustling city—just another scholar amid the crowd.
The city was extraordinarily prosperous. Though it could not rival the Great Xuan Empire, it was comparable to Longyuan Province, where Fang Han had once lived. Towering buildings lined the streets. People of every walk of life passed by—beggars, merchants, scholars, martial artists, street vendors, performers, storytellers. Ornately decorated carriages rolled through the streets, carrying daughters of noble families, servants walking alongside as they headed to Daoist temples to burn incense and pray for safety.
The moment Fang Han stepped onto a main street, the thick breath of mortal life surged toward him. With a slight shift of perception, countless sounds flooded his senses, allowing him to instantly grasp where he was.
"Stinky tofu! Stinky tofu! Our ancestors cooked for the imperial palace—His Majesty the Founding Emperor loved a bite of our He Family stinky tofu back before he rose to power!"
"…And then Immortal Liu spat out a flying sword—white light blazing brighter than sun and moon—frightening the wicked dragon of Old Dragon Pool out of its wits!" a storyteller shouted from a teahouse.
"Brother Wang, what do you think will be on this year's imperial exam? Who's the chief examiner? If we don't tailor our essays to his tastes, even the finest prose will get us eliminated," a group of scholars chatted as they exited an academy.
"Ten years of bitter study—it all comes down to this exam. Once I pass, I'm heading straight to Spring Breeze Pavilion with two courtesans!"
"Exactly. Life's short. If we don't enjoy success while we can, we'll regret it when we're old and powerless."
"Why wait? Let's go now. My family just sent me a hundred taels of silver."
"Kind sir… please wake up… give us a bite to eat and earn some virtue."
A middle-aged woman knelt before Fang Han, a ragged child on her back. The child sucked on his fingers, his face smeared with dirt. "You'll surely become the top scholar this year."
Moved, Fang Han flicked his wrist and tossed out a chunk of silver.
The Yellow Springs Diagram contained vast stores of gold and silver—loot taken when he had emptied an entire treasure island after killing the Island Lord of Certain Death. Such wealth meant nothing to him now, but to mortals, a single ingot could sustain a family for years.
"Oh—may you prosper for generations, young master!"
The woman stared in disbelief at the heavy silver ingot in her hands, then began kowtowing repeatedly. By the time she looked up again, Fang Han was already gone.
"Life is fleeting," Fang Han reflected as he walked. "A few decades—whether emperor or general, pleasure fades in an instant, like a dream. And those who struggle merely to eat suffer even more. Compared to this… how free the immortal path is."
For the first time since beginning his cultivation, Fang Han truly stepped into mortal society, witnessing its endless joys and sorrows. A faint compassion stirred within him.
In his eyes, birth, aging, sickness, death—wealth and glory alike—were all forms of suffering.
Suddenly, he thought of Linglong Immortal Venerable's Great Vow Technique.
For a fleeting moment, he too wished to make a grand vow: to save all beings, deliver them from suffering, and lead them onto the immortal path.
But the thought died before it was born.
"My strength isn't enough," he told himself calmly. "I haven't even attained longevity. What right do I have to save others? Linglong Immortal Venerable can bear such a vow—I cannot."
He was still in danger.
Boom!
As he contemplated the mortal world, a vast and terrifying divine sense suddenly descended from the heavens above. Invisible yet overwhelming, it swept across a radius of a thousand miles, scanning every inch—especially every living being in the city.
"Not good. Daoist Long and Daoist Mu are here," Fang Han thought sharply. "Did the Reincarnation Technique fail?"
"No," Yan responded immediately. "If they'd found you, they'd strike directly. This is a search. They've lost your trail. But their divine sense is terrifying—once it scans, it analyzes everything. Eternal Giants could count every ant in this city if they wanted. You can't do that yet. So—act like a scholar. Perfectly."
"Act like a scholar…"
As Fang Han considered how to do that, a voice drifted over from the roadside.
"Fortune-telling! Destiny reading! Past and future revealed! Five hundred years before, five hundred years after!"
He turned and saw a shabby fortune-telling stall. A strip of white cloth fluttered lazily. Behind the table sat an elderly man, frail and lethargic, calling out weakly. No aura. No spiritual presence. Clearly just scraping by.
No one stopped.
"A fortune-teller?" Fang Han mused. "Mortals talk of fate—but fate is ever-changing. Even Linglong Immortal Venerable can't fully grasp the future. And this man claims to see a thousand years?"
Still, it suited his needs.
He stepped forward, tossed a large silver piece onto the table. The old man startled, staring at it in disbelief before lifting his cloudy eyes to Fang Han.
"What would you like to divine, young master?"
"Nothing in particular," Fang Han smiled. "Just helping your business. I'm here for the imperial exam. I don't really believe in fate—but before an exam, one gets nervous. Say something auspicious. If it sounds good, the silver's yours."
The old man studied him for a long moment, then spoke slowly.
"Young man… you're no scholar. And you're not here for the exam."
"Oh?" Fang Han sat down calmly. He knew many fortune-tellers relied on unsettling words to fish for reactions. "And why is that?"
"You've just passed through one tribulation—and another has already begun," the old man said, tapping the table. "You're hiding from calamity. Your life is heavy with trials… the result of karmic debts you accumulated long ago."
Fang Han's pupils tightened.
He scrutinized the old man closely. Black robe. Weathered face. Bony fingers. A lifetime of hardship etched into deep wrinkles.
An utterly ordinary mortal.
No spiritual fluctuation. No trace of cultivation.
"And what calamity would that be?" Fang Han scoffed lightly. "What karmic debts?"
The old man lifted his head toward the sky and sighed.
"Calamity is the heart-demon. The heart-demon is calamity. All things in this world… are shaped by the heart."