The scene unfolded like a web of intrigue, with Mo's sharp, calculating eyes focusing on Fang Han's situation. As she spoke to the inner disciples about the complexity of power struggles within the sect, the implication was clear: entering the true disciple ranks was the only way to truly influence the inner workings of the Yuhua Sect. For now, those in the inner circle were still in the shadows of the real power struggle.
"Fang Qingxue's intentions with him… are becoming more intriguing," Mo remarked, her cold, calculating gaze fixed on the inner disciples. "This could involve a deeper conflict between the true disciples, one we cannot yet touch."
One of the disciples expressed frustration. "But my Lingwind Sword—are we really going to let him take it so easily?"
Mo's voice was firm, yet tinged with her usual calm authority. "The Lingwind Sword is too important, especially for our mission. We can't let him keep it, but I'll make sure we get it back. And as for Fang Han, there's more to him than meets the eye, especially with that demonic artifact he carries. If we can secure it, our chances of defeating the Red-Blooded Prince improve drastically."
Her inner circle nodded, aware of the dangerous game they were playing, and the potential rewards that awaited them. One disciple, smiling with ambition, added, "If we can take down the Red-Blooded Prince, you'll be able to obtain the coveted Yin-Yang Longevity Pill, which will allow you to break through your current bottleneck and enter the Divine Transformation Realm. Once that happens, becoming a true disciple will be within your grasp."
Mo nodded solemnly, clearly aware of the high stakes. "Yes, the Yin-Yang Longevity Pill would help perfect my mental cultivation, giving me the breakthrough I need. It would be a huge step forward."
But for now, she had another task. "I'll head to Biyan Peak," she announced. "There's a rift between Fang Qingxue of Purple Lightning Peak and Jin Shitai of Biyan Peak, two true disciples. I'll speak with them and try to secure a few sacred cranes for our journey to the Hanhai Desert. We need more than just ordinary spirit tools; we need the best to make it through this mission alive."
The inner disciples knew that only true disciples had the privilege of keeping spirit beasts, a symbol of their status and power. To cultivate spirit beasts was to have the strength of a sect leader. For now, the inner disciples would have to rely on the tools and resources they could manage—though they would still play their parts in the coming battle.
---
Meanwhile, far from the hubbub of the Yuhua Sect, Fang Han was deep in thought, far from his original position at Purple Lightning Peak. He had taken to the air with Crane Fairy once again, flying far from the sect to a remote, forgotten mountain range. Here, in this secluded spot, he could truly focus on the Flood Dragon's Abyss Diagram, the mysterious treasure that had been a constant source of both hope and dread.
This diagram, said to be connected to the Yellow Springs and the great Emperor of the Underworld, had proven to be far more than a simple artifact. It held secrets, mysteries, and powers that Fang Han could barely begin to comprehend. However, he knew it was too dangerous to leave behind, and too powerful to allow others to possess.
As he studied it, something in the diagram caught his attention: in the Yellow Springs River, alongside the "Heavenly Wolf's Seven Fiendish Smoke," there was a sword—no ordinary blade, but the Lingwind Sword that had once been in the possession of that inner disciple. The sword itself was encased in strange symbols and glyphs. What was most interesting was that these symbols formed a maze-like array—a great, unbroken loop that powered the sword's incredible strength.
Fang Han had learned a great deal from his Various Worlds studies about spirit weapons. He knew that this Lingwind Sword was more than just a powerful artifact—it was a weapon shaped by complex, flowing arrays of magic that allowed it to be controlled by blood sacrifice.
"But how do I get it out?" Fang Han mused. He knew he could not simply take it without more power or ritual. Even if he could extract the sword, it had already been bound to someone else's blood. Normally, a master of the Divine Transformation Realm would need to erase the previous owner's spiritual mark before he could claim it as his own.
Fang Han placed the Flood Dragon's Abyss Diagram before him, letting the weight of its ancient power sink into his being. He stared at it, trying to discern how to unravel its mysteries. His mind raced. Perhaps... perhaps I need to refine my spiritual power first.
With that thought, he began to focus on something he had learned earlier from Crane Fairy: the Origin Spirit Technique.
---
The Origin Spirit Technique was a mental cultivation method that honed one's connection to the body's qi and blood, slowly advancing one's spiritual understanding. Fang Han sat in the quiet of the remote mountain, hands pressed to the top of his head, focusing on his "Tianmen" (Heavenly Gate) point.
"Desire to live, cultivate the Tianmen..." The words of Crane Fairy echoed in his mind. As he meditated, he envisioned the space inside his mind as a deep, impenetrable darkness, a reflection of his current understanding. Slowly, he began to channel his qi—white, pure, and as light as Crane Fairy's feathers—into that dark mental space, clearing away the fog and lightening his mind.
The sense of his body began to fade as his blood and qi focused purely on the mind. The physical world seemed to fall away. His body, now light, felt empty, as though it had become a vessel for something else.
As his focus deepened, he began to see a faint glimmer—a stone door, worn and covered in fine, intricate patterns. It resembled the grooves and ridges of the human brain, its surface smooth yet somehow capable of immense power. This, Fang Han realized, was the door to spiritual power—the key to reaching the Divine Transformation Realm.
But as he reached for it, the black fog seemed to thicken, blocking his path. No matter how hard he tried, the darkness of the mental world pushed back. He could sense the barrier, but could not break through.
The effort exhausted him. His mind felt drained, his body weak as the technique drained his energy. "So... this is the cost..." Fang Han thought as he withdrew from his meditation, feeling the immense strain. His body ached, and his energy was spent.
After resting, however, something remarkable happened. His senses sharpened. His mind felt clearer, as if he could now perceive the contours of his own thoughts more distinctly, as if the true path to his spiritual awakening was just beyond his grasp.
Determined, Fang Han took a breath, feeling a surge of inspiration. He bit his finger and, with a swift motion, dripped blood onto the Flood Dragon's Abyss Diagram.
In an instant, something bizarre occurred: the diagram absorbed the blood greedily, the rivers within it began to stir, and the familiar sense of spiritual connection surged through him.
Fang Han's eyes widened as the Lingwind Sword materialized in his hands. A shock of connection ran through him, the sword now bound to him as if it had always been his.
"This... this can't be real!" he exclaimed in disbelief. The sword—now under his control—whirred with power, a testament to the strength of the connection he had just forged.
Fang Han could hardly contain his excitement. He swung the sword with a thought, and its wind-blades flew, slicing through a tree a thousand steps away with ease.
"It's mine," he whispered, filled with elation. I've done it. I've bonded with the Lingwind Sword.