Blood rain poured from the heavens.
But unlike the pitch-black rain summoned when the Ghost Emperor unleashed the Immortal Slayer Art, this rain shimmered with a faint golden hue. Each drop carried traces of dragon aura, flickers of lightning, and an unmistakable, lofty sanctity. It was the fusion of countless forces within Fang Han's body—Thunderbone Relics, Dragon God Pills, the life essences of the Seven Great God Kings, even seeds of true divinity.
The Ghost Emperor had walked a path of pure slaughter, drowning worlds in resentment. His blood was black by nature.
Fang Han had not.
His blood retained purity, divinity. When he unleashed the Immortal Slayer Art, it became purer—and far more terrifying.
The torrential blood rain fell… then ignited.
In an instant, Fang Han lost sixty years of lifespan.
An absurdly extravagant price.
But Fang Han was a "Nine-Thousand-Year Old."
He could afford it.
Buzz—!
Within the endless bloodstorm, Fang Han struck.
One punch shattered the protective qi around Wood Daoist and slammed directly into his true body, sending him flying as blood sprayed violently from his mouth. The only reason he wasn't annihilated outright was the robe he wore—a low-grade Dao Artifact known as the Sandalwood Vest, woven from his own ancient leaves over thousands of years.
As a rogue cultivator who had clawed his way into the Longevity Realm by sheer fortune, Wood Daoist possessed nothing extravagant. Owning even a low-grade Dao Artifact was already rare.
Mid-grade Dao Artifacts? He had never had the time—or luck—to forge one.
Green radiance burst from the Sandalwood Vest, absorbing the bulk of Fang Han's punch. Even so, cracks spread across the garment, its spiritual effectiveness severely damaged.
Under normal circumstances, Fang Han—having burned lifespan to empower the Immortal Slayer Art—could have shattered a low-grade Dao Artifact with a single blow. But Wood Daoist, as a true Longevity Realm giant, was able to unleash the artifact's full defensive potential.
The vest survived—but barely.
"Fang Han… you've cultivated such a vicious, forbidden art!"
For the first time, fear crept into Wood Daoist's voice.
Fear.
A Ten-Thousand-Year Giant of the Longevity Realm… afraid.
His strength had been ravaged by Heart Demons, his core essence suppressed by the World Tree, and now Fang Han was burning lifespan itself to kill him.
He finally felt it.
The shadow of true death.
Regret surged through him.
Why had he ever chosen to hunt Fang Han?
"How vicious?" Fang Han laughed wildly. "You're afraid—you're afraid! Then I'll show you more. I'll burn it all and make sure you remember me!"
That first strike hadn't killed Wood Daoist. Fang Han was genuinely surprised. This was the first time he had ever used a lifespan-burning art in real combat.
Not against Fan Qingying.
Not against Yan Shuiyi.
Not even during his own Wind-Fire Tribulation.
But now—he had used it.
And once wasn't enough.
Then he'd use it again.
Puff!
Puff!
Puff!
Puff!
Puff!
Five consecutive sprays of blood erupted from Fang Han's mouth. Each burst was larger than the last, each transforming instantly into blazing blood rain that fell and ignited.
Five times.
Five executions of the Immortal Slayer Art in a single breath.
Three hundred years of lifespan—gone.
The madness of it stunned everyone.
Wood Daoist.
Black Nether King.
Xingyun Baby.
Even the artifact spirits of the Sun-Moon Essence Wheels and the Reincarnation King were shaken to their cores.
Only Fang Han could endure this.
Only someone with a half-immortal body—and more than nine thousand years of life—could unleash such devastation without collapsing.
And for the chance to kill a Ten-Thousand-Year Giant?
He was willing to gamble everything.
If Wood Daoist had been at full strength, Fang Han could burn three thousand years of life and still fail.
That was the terror of a true Longevity Realm powerhouse.
"Not good! Break through—now!"
Dragon Daoist roared in alarm.
His Manifestation of Heaven and Earth swelled explosively, shaking the Eight-Tribes Pagoda violently. Black Nether King and Xingyun Baby both spat blood as the pressure surged.
Puff!
Fang Han spat blood again—but this time, not at Wood Daoist.
He sprayed it directly onto the Eight-Tribes Pagoda.
Another Immortal Slayer Art.
The blood rain was absorbed instantly. Millions of heavenly demons surged with power. Artifact spirits roared. The Sun-Moon Essence Wheels flared brilliantly—and Dragon Daoist was crushed back down.
Wood Daoist tried to flee.
Too late.
Yen unleashed the Gates of Abi and the Naihe Bridge, locking him in place for just a fraction of a breath.
That was enough.
Five waves of burning blood descended.
Fang Han stood within the flames like a reborn demon god. His body flickered, splitting into more than ten afterimages. Each strike carried the force of a hundred million galloping warhorses. His Golden Core detonated with divine abilities, overwhelming Wood Daoist from every direction.
This sky.
This land.
Everything was drowned in destruction—terror, madness, cruelty, absolute power.
"I'll take you with me!" Wood Daoist screamed.
Escape was impossible.
He didn't self-detonate his Manifestation—that would mean absolute annihilation. Instead, he gambled on survival: even if his body shattered and his Manifestation broke apart, as long as a sliver of essence escaped, he could reincarnate.
Anything was better than extinction.
Their final clash defied description.
Blood and qi twisted into chaos. Beams of light pierced through the Nine Heavens and vanished into the void of space. Mountains were ripped from the earth and pulverized midair.
Wood Daoist struck like a celestial dragon, every palm shaking the land, entire mountain ranges torn free.
Fang Han danced through the devastation with the Sumeru Step, stars pouring from the heavens through the Infinite Stellar Codex. The World Tree devoured immortal qi. The Five-Emperor Demonic Arts absorbed all five elements. Countless vengeful spirits were dragged into his body and refined.
The Great Devouring Art roared.
Their fists collided millions of times in barely a dozen breaths.
Then—
They separated.
Mountains exploded behind them. Ash and smoke swallowed hundreds of miles.
A heartbeat passed.
Wood Daoist's body exploded.
Blood and flesh burst outward—but did not fall. Instead, they spiraled in midair, forming a massive tree of pure azure qi at the center—sixty-four branches, each engraved with a different divine ability.
Sixty-four supernatural arts.
That was a true Ten-Thousand-Year Giant.
His Manifestation had survived.
His body had not.
Wood Daoist tried desperately to gather his shattered blood essence. If he could escape and possess another body later, he could reclaim a fraction of his cultivation.
At the same moment—
Fang Han's body exploded as well.
But his head remained intact.
The roots of the World Tree wrapped tightly around it, suppressing Wood Daoist's escaping essence.
If this had been Dragon Daoist—
Fang Han's head would have shattered too.
That was the calculation.
To kill a Longevity Realm giant, someone had to pay in blood.
Fang Han was prepared to die.
But as long as his head remained—
He would not be dragged into the abyss with him.