The air around Fang Qingxue dropped sharply, the warmth sucked away as if winter itself had descended. Frost seemed to form in the very air, not through the literal freezing power of Hua Tiandu's "Celestial Cold Yin," but through the sheer force of her will. It was a spiritual cold — one that pierced flesh and bone, sank into the marrow, and froze thought itself.
Under her gaze, Fang Han felt as if he stood naked in a frozen wasteland, a storm of icy wind stripping his spirit bare. The chill drilled into his skull, gnawing at his consciousness.
"Primordial Spirit Suppression…"
He recognized the attack at once. Quickly, he summoned the Origin Spirit Technique, a mental art of the Yuhua Sect designed to stabilize one's mind. In his sea of consciousness, an ancient divine gate flickered into existence — the Heavenly Gate of Thought.
At once, his blood surged upward like a blazing current, flooding into his brain. The illusion shattered. The world returned to clarity.
"Oh?" Fang Qingxue's eyes flickered with faint surprise. "You can drive blood essence into your mind to dispel my illusion? That's the Origin Spirit Technique — something only inner disciples learn. The Crane Fairy must have taught you. To dispel my mental art so quickly… your mind is nearly awakened. Just one step from the Spirit Channeling stage."
Her tone carried mild astonishment. To advance so swiftly — from the sixth to the eighth stage of physical cultivation in barely a month — was beyond extraordinary.
"I came to the Endless Desert," Fang Han said carefully, "to hunt bandit leaders and earn an inner disciple's recommendation."
He spoke calmly, but inside, he was calculating. The earlier "Senior Sister" he had dared to utter was a distraction — meant to steer her away from dangerous questions that might expose the Flood Dragon Diagram hidden within him. If Fang Qingxue suspected the artifact, he'd be dead within moments. Better to risk her anger for overstepping social rank than risk discovery.
"Go to Blue Moon City," Fang Qingxue said coldly, turning to Princess Hongyi. "Many outer disciples are stationed there."
"Yes, Senior Sister." Hongyi glanced back at Fang Han, her face pale with unease. Then she vanished in a streak of light across the dunes.
Silence fell. Fang Qingxue studied Fang Han for a long time, her violet eyes flickering with electric light. He could feel her gaze dissecting him, layer by layer. His heart pounded, his skin prickling. Even the Flood Dragon Diagram hidden in his clothes fell completely silent — its spirit concealing itself from her perception.
"That damn dragon boasted about defying heaven, and now it's hiding like a frightened worm," Fang Han thought bitterly.
Finally, Fang Qingxue spoke, her tone soft but edged.
"'Senior Sister,' is it?" she murmured. "You've shed your fear quickly. Once a household servant, now standing tall enough to call me that. Most with power still keep their hearts shackled. You, however… broke your chains. That's rare. Courage like that determines one's future. I'll remember you."
Fang Han's eyes widened. He hadn't expected praise. The same woman who could freeze a man's soul now spoke of potential and remembrance. In that moment, a flicker of mutual recognition — of grudging respect — sparked between them.
"Thank you, Senior Sister," Fang Han said, seizing the chance to redirect the conversation. "The man you fought earlier — was he the Wolf Spirit Adept, Wang Molin? I met him once near Mount Yuhua, with the Crane Fairy."
He recounted the story, omitting the part where the Flood Dragon Diagram absorbed the poisonous smoke. Instead, he claimed the miasma had dispersed on its own.
"Wang Molin, near Mount Yuhua?" Fang Qingxue frowned. "Strange. I wounded him today, but he escaped into the underground river — with help, I suspect."
She thought a moment, then said, "Your progress is remarkable. For one of our Fang family, it's disgraceful that you're still considered a servant. But your eighth stage isn't impressive enough yet. I want to see what drives your growth. You'll come with me. If you reach the Spirit Transformation realm while under my watch, I'll return and have my father acknowledge you as his adopted son. You'll be recognized as a true member of the Fang family."
Fang Han's pulse quickened. The offer was both an opportunity and a trap. Refuse, and she'd likely kill him. Accept, and he'd be under her constant scrutiny — every secret at risk.
"I obey, Senior Sister. But… where are we going?"
"To the Abyss Below," she said lightly. "There's someone I must kill. You'll come. I could use help clearing out lesser demons."
With that, twin bolts of purple lightning materialized beside her, twisting into two colossal Yin-Yang Thunder Serpents. She seated herself gracefully upon one.
"Sit on the other."
Fang Han did as told, surprised to find the serpent's head solid as stone, its energy cocooning him in a layer of warmth that defied the screaming desert winds.
"What kind of art is this, Senior Sister?" he asked, feigning curiosity.
"The Yin-Yang Thunder Serpents — manifestations of my divine power. They possess spirit of their own," she said. "You'll understand when you reach the Divine Ability Realm."
"Divine Ability Realm…" Fang Han whispered, tasting the words like distant thunder.
"If you reach it," Fang Qingxue added absently, "I'll marry Qingwei to you."
Before Fang Han could respond, she patted the serpent's head.
"Go."
Twin roars tore through the clouds as the lightning serpents surged skyward, cutting through the heavens. Fang Han looked down — the earth was gone, swallowed by cloud. The wind knifed around them as they ascended into a cold, blinding sea of white.
The serpents wove through the storm like twin dragons.
Inside Fang Han's mind, a voice stirred again — the Flood Dragon Spirit.
"That woman is dangerous," it warned. "Her power merges the demonic arts of the Inborn Demon Sect with the celestial magic of the Yuhua Gate — true harmony of yin and yang. If she watches you train, she'll see through every lie. Be careful."
"How?" Fang Han asked silently.
"I'll guide you when needed. For now, speak little. The lightning serpents are alive — they can hear."
"Then what do I call you?" Fang Han asked.
"Yan," the spirit replied. "Just one word."
And then it vanished again, the Flood Dragon Diagram merging once more with his flesh.
Moments later, Fang Qingxue's voice cut through the roar of the wind.
"We're here. The Abyss Entrance."
The serpents dove.
Below them yawned a vast chasm, splitting the desert like a wound in the earth. Darkness swallowed its depths, and the air stank of damp decay.
Without hesitation, they plunged in.
A storm of bats erupted upward — wings leathery and red-eyed. Each was the size of a fan, fangs like knives.
But as they neared the lightning serpents, the creatures shrieked and burned to ash mid-flight, their corpses raining down like black snow.
Then — silence.
They landed at last upon solid ground, within a vast subterranean plain — the Underworld Abyss.
"This is the deep earth," Fang Qingxue said. "Home to demons, night-fiends, and beasts. We go on foot from here — the light of lightning would only alert them."
"The Demon Shrine?" Fang Han asked.
"Yes. Wang Molin will retreat there to heal. It's also the war council of the abyssal armies. Destroy it, and the demonic legions will crumble."
As she spoke, the twin serpents dissolved into threads of purple light, seeping back into her body. She began walking forward, calm and regal as ever.
And Fang Han followed — into the black heart of the earth.