"Wood Daoist, still thinking of running?" Fang Han said coldly. "Then my five hundred years of lifespan would have been wasted for nothing."
With half an immortal body, his head intact, Fang Han's form reassembled in an instant. Flesh, bone, and blood reconstituted into a complete body as if nothing had happened. During the process, he devoured a portion of Wood Daoist's scattered primordial energy, replenishing part of his depleted strength.
Seven mouthfuls of blood. Nearly five hundred years of lifespan burned away.
Yet in exchange, he had crippled a Grand Ancient powerhouse, reducing Wood Daoist—once a titan of the Longevity Realm—to barely thirty percent of his former strength.
That alone made it worth the price.
A terrifying will swept across the battlefield.
"The Yellow Springs Diagram!"
As soon as his body stabilized, Fang Han turned his gaze on Wood Daoist's severely damaged Dharma Form. His divine sense surged into the Yellow Springs Diagram, which abruptly expanded into a colossal canopy spanning dozens of miles. Endless Abyssal demonic qi erupted outward, clinging to Wood Daoist's Dharma Form and true soul.
The massive green tree—formed from condensed qi, bearing sixty-four branches and sixty-four divine abilities—instantly turned pitch black.
Wood Daoist's consciousness let out a frantic, furious howl.
The tree swelled violently, struggling to break free from the suppression of the Gate of Abi and escape into the void.
"Still trying to flee?" Fang Han laughed loudly. "Your body is gone, your vitality shattered, inner demons breeding unchecked—and you think I can't suppress you now? If that were true, I'd be laughed out of the cultivation world!"
He stepped forward, and his Golden Core shot out like a divine meteor, slamming directly into the Abyssal demonic qi where Wood Daoist's Dharma Form struggled.
Boom!
The Dharma Form trembled violently. The condensed energy within scattered once more, and the towering tree shrank to half its size.
"Fang Han!" Wood Daoist roared in despair. "Since you're this vicious, I'll drag you down with me!"
He knew it—once absorbed into the Yellow Springs Diagram, there would be no redemption. Eternal suppression. No rebirth. No escape.
With madness flooding his will, he attempted to self-detonate his Dharma Form.
But Yan sneered.
"If you'd cultivated an immortal body, even Abyssal demonic qi couldn't bind you—unless I summoned the Wheel of Reincarnation itself. But you? Your power is shattered. It's too late."
"The Bridge of Helplessness!"
A weathered stone bridge, ancient and scarred, stained with the blood of gods and demons, materialized beneath Wood Daoist. Just as his Dharma Form swelled toward self-destruction, the bridge rotated—and swallowed it whole.
The green-black tree vanished, dragged into the deepest layers of the Yellow Springs Diagram.
Suppressed. Sealed forever.
Yet the moment Wood Daoist was imprisoned, the Yellow Springs Diagram shook violently, as if the heavens and earth were overturning within it—ten times more intense than when it had subdued the Sun-Moon Essence Wheel. The diagram nearly tore through space itself.
Even in this crippled state, Wood Daoist continued to struggle ferociously from within.
A Grand Ancient was still a Grand Ancient.
Even at the first level of the Longevity Realm, the sheer terror of such a being made Fang Han's heart race.
Had Wood Daoist not been reduced to thirty percent strength.
Had his vitality not been restrained by the World Tree.
Had Fang Han lacked such treasures, such lifespan, such a half-immortal body…
The one dying here would have been Fang Han himself.
Yet, despite all odds, he had done it.
He had suppressed a Grand Ancient powerhouse.
In the cultivation world, Longevity Realm experts were myths—living legends—untouchable, exalted as emperors among mortals. Figures no one in the Divine Ability Realm could challenge. Even wielding mid-grade or high-grade Dao artifacts, survival was the best one could hope for.
And yet—
Fang Han shattered that myth.
Even now, he could hardly believe it himself.
"A Grand Ancient… actually suppressed…" Black Nether King stared, eyes nearly popping out of his skull. "A Divine Ability cultivator suppressing a Grand Ancient. This is unheard of. Absolutely unheard of. Following this master—my future is limitless!"
Starcloud Baby stood frozen, mouth agape.
Even the artifact spirits of the Sun-Moon Essence Wheel were utterly convinced.
"Only Dragon Daoist remains," Fang Han muttered. "If I hadn't burned nearly five hundred years of life, I could've killed him too."
Despite his ferocity, exhaustion crept in. Seven consecutive uses of the Immortal-Slaying technique would have killed anyone else outright.
"What?! Wood Daoist didn't even manage to escape—he was suppressed?!" Dragon Daoist felt it instantly. Their long cultivation had linked their auras. The moment Wood Daoist fell, terror seized him.
He no longer cared about his physical body.
With a violent roar, he detonated both arms.
Aro Bloodburst Art.
Crack!
His arms transformed into two massive blood dragons that shot skyward, smashing into the Eightfold Pagoda and forcing it open.
Black Nether King, the artifact spirits, and the Reincarnation Saint King all roared in unison, unleashing their full power. The pagoda spun violently, wrapping the blood dragons in layers of divine light.
Seizing the opening, Dragon Daoist executed a blood-escape technique. His body blurred, traversing thousands of miles in a blink—vanishing into the horizon.
He escaped.
"If he'd attacked me head-on, I'd have been gravely wounded," Fang Han exhaled. "But he was spent too. Abandoning both arms just to flee—he didn't have the courage to fight me to the death."
Relief mixed with regret.
Dragon Daoist was dangerous—and now loose.
"I truly underestimated Grand Ancients," Fang Han thought grimly. "Without a direct counter, I can't face one recklessly again. And Ruyi Zi… he's no wandering cultivator. He'll have mid-grade Dao artifacts at least. A frontal clash would be suicide."
Still, the gains were enormous.
Once he refined Wood Daoist's essence and sealed those sixty-four innate divine abilities into the Eightfold Pagoda, he could potentially break into the ninth level—forming his own Dharma Form—and drastically enhance the pagoda's power.
His heart surged with exhilaration.
And within Wood Daoist's suppressed Dharma Form, Fang Han glimpsed something else—a storage treasure that hadn't exploded. No Dao artifacts or immortal pills, perhaps, but certainly a wealth of elixirs.
What he lacked most now was basic resources.
Millions of heavenly demons resided within the Eightfold Pagoda. If each had a flying sword, a defensive artifact…
The thought was intoxicating.
"If only I could run into a few more divine kings and slaughter them," Fang Han muttered ruefully. "I was unimaginably rich days ago—and now I'm broke again. Is wealth just not my fate?"
Crack.
The two blood dragons formed from Dragon Daoist's arms were finally shredded by the pagoda's radiance, reduced to pure blood essence. The heavenly demons absorbed it greedily. Some split. Others evolved—ascending into demon kings.
A blessing… and a curse.
A demon king consumed over a hundred times the resources of a normal demon.
Half a year's supply of Black God Pills had already been burned to suppress Dragon Daoist. With so many new demon kings, starvation loomed in mere months.
Unless Fang Han released them to slaughter mortals.
But these demons had already been converted. They no longer devoured flesh or souls—only prayed, generating faith power.
Even the World Tree's immortal qi barely sustained Fang Han himself, let alone millions of demons.
For the first time, he understood the burden of sect leaders.
Feeding disciples. Supplying pills. Forging artifacts.
Running a great sect was no easier than ruling an empire.
"Fang Han," Yan urged urgently, "we must find a place to refine Wood Daoist's Dharma Form. Otherwise, suppressing him will drain you constantly. If another enemy appears, he might break free—and then all of this will be for nothing."
"Refining a Grand Ancient's Dharma Form will take months," Fang Han replied calmly. "But I can start with his flesh essence first. That alone will nourish me immensely—and weaken him further."
Wood Daoist's body was shattered, but his blood essence still lingered around the Dharma Form, reinforcing it.
Fang Han made his decision.
First, refine the flesh essence.
Strengthen the Golden Core.
Advance toward the ninth level.
Only then would he truly stand on the threshold of legend.