The instant Fang Han stepped into the Ninth Level of the Mortal Body — the Spirit-Linked Realm, he felt as though the world itself had turned translucent. Every nerve, every drop of blood, every thought sharpened to a crystalline point. His mind was clear as glass; his spirit blazed like fire.
He could see heaven and earth — not with his eyes, but with his mind.
It was as if a second heart had opened inside his skull, pulsing with unbreakable will. A crack had appeared in the invisible gate of divine power that lay dormant within him, hinting at what lay beyond mortal flesh.
The Spirit-Linked Realm was a boundary few crossed — where physical power reached its peak and consciousness began to ignite. Now, Fang Han's awareness stretched thousands of steps in every direction. The faintest breath, the twitch of a spider's leg, the slither of a centipede — all rippled through his mind like waves across still water. Nothing escaped him.
This was what it meant to commune with the spirit, to sense heaven's will and perceive even a falling leaf.
He could now look inward. His body unfolded before his inner eye: bones glimmering like crystal, veins glowing with coursing light. It was just as The Worlds Beyond described — the sign of one who had truly reached the Spirit-Linked Realm.
"Crane Fights the Serpent!"
He thrust his sword into the air — yet the strike met its mark. A Yasha leapt into his blade's path, and the point pierced straight through its eye into the brain.
In an instant, Fang Han's sword danced like a tempest — left, right, north, south — every strike perfectly timed, perfectly placed. The Yasha howled and lunged blindly, impaling themselves upon his flashing blade.
His movements blurred, his figure splitting into a thousand afterimages — a dragon twisting through clouds, a crane gliding across the void. Within moments, every Yasha lay dead, eyes shattered, their bodies crumpled in blood and smoke.
The final one roared and fell. Fang Han's sword snapped with a sharp crack. The blade had lodged too deep in its skull; when he pulled back, it split clean in two.
Even so, his power far surpassed that of most "Valiant" cultivators — bordering on the level of Divine Transformation. The Nine-Aperture Golden Core within him had reforged his body into a foundation of pure strength.
"You actually killed twelve Yasha... and broke through to the Spirit-Linked Realm mid-battle?"
A calm voice drifted from above. Fang Qingxue descended slowly from the darkness where she'd been watching unseen. Her eyes, cool as frost, studied him — though a glint of surprise flickered deep within.
She had already sensed Fang Han's exceptional potential. Since they had entered the underworld, he had learned and adapted at a pace that defied reason. His insight and perseverance had long outstripped any disciple of the Fang clan.
A rare talent, she thought. Perhaps one day, he could reach the Divine Mystery Realm.
And if that day came — if he could be bound to her cause — she would gain a formidable ally among the true disciples.
"Senior Sister," Fang Han said, wiping blood from his blade's broken edge, "I may have advanced, but my sword's destroyed. Without a weapon, the next pack of Yasha could finish me easily."
Fang Qingxue merely lifted a hand. The broken blade floated up before her, suspended midair. Lightning crackled from her fingers, a web of violet energy wrapping the fragments. With a hiss and a flash, the metal melted, merged, and reformed into a new blade — whole, gleaming, alive with lightning veins along its edge.
"I've reforged your sword," she said. "I've infused it with the divine power of my Purple Lightning Yin Thunder Saber. Strike your foe, and thunder will devour their flesh. Even a Winged Yasha will bleed beneath its edge."
Fang Han accepted it, feeling its weight and hum. Not a true spirit weapon, he noted silently — no inner formation, no self-moving essence. But sharper, stronger, deadlier than before.
Fang Qingxue turned and began walking again, her voice cool but steady:
"Keep leading the way. The closer we get to the Demon God's altar, the more Yasha we'll face. Remember — the Spirit-Linked Realm is only the beginning. Even the Tenth Level of Divine Transformation is nothing. Only when you step into the Divine Mystery Realm, breaking the limits of the mortal world, will you ascend in one stride.
If you reach that realm, I'll keep my promise — I'll let Qingwei marry you."
Fang Han almost smiled. Marry Qingwei? She's gentle enough, but it's you I'd rather— He stopped the thought cold.
What am I thinking? he chided himself, startled by the audacity. Four months ago, he was nothing but a servant.
But then, a deep, guttural voice coiled through his mind — the voice of Yan, the demonic dragon bound within him.
"Ha! Call that boldness? You'll be a Demon Emperor one day. But that woman — she's dangerous. Her destiny reaches beyond the Divine Mystery Realm. If you can make her yours, even as a concubine, it will serve you well."
"Silence," Fang Han replied inwardly. "My only focus is cultivation. I must reach the Divine Mystery Realm — everything else can wait. Whether I become an emperor or not doesn't matter. If I train with single-minded devotion, the day will come when clouds part and truth reveals itself. Following Fang Qingxue may be perilous… but it's also my greatest chance."
Yan's voice rumbled with approval. "Good. Keep that heart steady. But beware — I sense something ahead. The aura of a Demon God. Many strong ones. Be careful."
Fang Han's steps slowed. "The aura of a Demon God…" he murmured.
Then — light.
Countless red flares burst ahead, illuminating the abyss.
A massive altar loomed across the underground plain, bathed in blood-hued radiance. Before it — legions of Yasha, arrayed like an army.
And above them, circling the crimson sky — the Winged Yasha, gliding like predators over a sea of flame.