Fang Han's heart clenched. Damn it—she's seen the Jiao Suppressing Yellow Springs Diagram! Life or death, it all depends on this moment.
He hadn't expected Fang Qingxue to be so decisive—one flick of her finger and his clothes were split open, leaving his upper body completely bare. The diagram he had worn as an undergarment was now fully exposed.
If she discovered it, the consequences would be catastrophic.
For an instant, a murderous urge flared in Fang Han's chest. The thought blazed—Strike first! Kill her! His fingers twitched toward his sword. But reason returned just as swiftly. Fang Qingxue wasn't some Asura brute; she was a cultivator in the fourth level of the Divine Ability Realm. The Asura he had slain was only equivalent to the first or second. Between her and that creature was the difference between sky and mud.
Even if he attacked now, he had no chance. Not even ten percent.
"Hmm?" Fang Qingxue's sharp eyes narrowed slightly, flashing with confusion. "There's nothing here?"
Her divine sense swept over him, and she saw only smooth, taut skin, honed muscle, and the radiant vitality of a body forged in relentless struggle. There was no trace of any artifact, no glimmer of the painting that should have been there.
"The Jiao Diagram… it's gone?" Fang Han blinked. He looked down, astonished—nothing. Not even a faint imprint.
Could it be Yan's doing? he realized suddenly. He said before—the Nine Apertures Golden Elixir I consumed was refined from the Yellow Springs Emperor's blood. The diagram was made from that same blood. If so… they could merge into one.
"Senior Sister," Fang Han said quickly, seizing the opening, "there's no treasure on me. When the altar changed, the Asura froze for just an instant—I struck its eye in that moment. It meant to capture me alive, and that gave me the chance."
"Move." Fang Qingxue didn't waste a breath on questions. Her hand flashed, seizing him by the wrist. Purple lightning exploded around them as she shot upward like a thunderbolt, cleaving through the smothering fog.
Fang Han felt his body go numb, paralyzed by the surge of her power. Through the haze, he saw the black mist roaring past as she tore a path open. But her face was pale, and every few breaths a fleck of blood slipped from her lips, blooming scarlet on her white robe like fallen peach blossoms in snow.
Then—
A sound rolled through the dark: a thousand monstrous voices chanting as one.
"Heavenly Demon Slaughters Gods—Seizes Moon, Plucks Stars…"
The chant solidified into sound spears, glimmering and lethal, piercing through the fog to strike at her lightning barrier. Each impact shattered another strand of violet energy.
Then a vast hand of darkness emerged from the mist—monstrous, clawed, grasping down from above like a fisherman drawing in a net.
Fang Qingxue's eyes flashed cold. "Heaven's Will Is a Blade—Cut All That Lives!"
Her palm sliced through the air. A blade of violet thunder erupted, thick as a tree trunk, cleaving upward toward the demonic hand.
The hand clenched, trying to crush the lightning—but then—
"Myriad Phenomena of Samsara!"
Fang Qingxue shut her eyes. For three long breaths, power gathered around her like a storm held in check. Then her eyes snapped open, blazing with divine light. The thunder blade detonated, scattering into countless whirling arcs of violet lightning. Within each blade shimmered visions—mountains and rivers, palaces and stars, beasts and immortals, storms and flame, life and death.
Everything.
All existence itself.
The hand screamed as it was torn apart, shredded by ten thousand cuts.
Light pierced the darkness.
"Go!"
Fang Qingxue seized Fang Han again and shot through the crack of brilliance, vanishing into open air.
Behind them, on the shattered altar, the Demon God's avatar slowly lowered his arm. With a wave of his sleeve, the black fog dispersed. The underground world settled into uneasy stillness once more.
"My Lord," said Tianlang Immortal Wang Molin, bowing beside him, "the Seven Fiend Gourd… shall we not pursue them?"
The Demon God's incarnation gave a low, almost amused hum. "Myriad Phenomena of Samsara—what a remarkable technique. A spell of the Xiantian Demon Sect, mastered to such a degree… she truly is a rare talent. No wonder that brat Ying Tianqing defied even his father, the Xiantian Demon Emperor, for her sake—went alone into the Outer Demonic Void to train, risking his very soul. Hmph."
He lifted a hand, fingers trailing shadow. "She's taken my Heavenly Demon Palm Seal head-on. Whether she can survive depends on her fate. As for me… it's beneath my station to hunt a mere junior."
His gaze turned distant. "Besides, my true body still suppresses the Nine Yin Sky Demon. This avatar holds only a fragment of my strength. Let her run."
"Congratulations, Lord Demon God!" chirped a soft, teasing voice. A girl stepped forward—delicate and pale, her eyes bright as gems. Behind her swayed a long, snowy tail. "To seal the Nine Yin Sky Demon itself—such power! Once you refine it, the path to immortality will open even wider."
The Demon God smiled faintly and reached out to stroke her head. "The path is endless, Ling Xi. Ten realms of the body, ten of divine ability, ten of longevity—and beyond even those lies the Gate of Eternal Life. We've far yet to climb."
His form dissolved into mist.
"After them!" hissed Wang Molin. "Even if she lives, she's crippled by the Heavenly Demon Palm Seal. Her power will bleed away with every breath!" His body flared into a streak of green-black light, darting toward the sky.
——
Above, the sun burned mercilessly over the desert. Heat shimmered from the dunes like molten glass.
A flash of violet lightning split the horizon and landed on a high ridge—two figures emerging from it. Fang Han and Fang Qingxue.
"Have we escaped?" Fang Han gasped, blinking against the blinding sun. "Where are we?"
"Somewhere on the surface," Fang Qingxue said, her voice faint but steady. "I've been struck by the Heavenly Demon Palm Seal. My power's unraveling. Just now, tearing through his illusion took everything I had. But it was worth it… Now I've seen for myself how terrifying a Longevity Realm master truly is. Among the Feathered Gate disciples, perhaps I'm the only one who's faced such power directly…"
She coughed, blood staining her lips, yet a faint smile touched them.
"Senior Sister, are you all right?" Fang Han asked urgently.
"I'll recover. My Purple Lightning Yin Thunder Blade can cleanse demonic energy, but I'll need time." Her gaze swept over him. "You, however—you killed an Asura. Luck or not, that's no small feat. You've surprised me again. Guard me while I heal."
She tossed him the Seven Fiend Gourd. Fang Han caught it—and nearly dropped it. "Heavy!" he grunted. The small gourd weighed like a block of iron, dozens of pounds at least.
"The gourd's blood essence has been erased," Fang Qingxue said. "Offer a drop of your blood and claim it. It's a supreme treasure. That fool Wang Molin only used it for his Heavenly Wolf Smoke and insect tricks—wasteful. The true power of the gourd lies within the Seven Slaughter Sword Formation. Place seven spirit-grade flying swords inside, and it will form a killing array—capable of slaying gods and ghosts alike. But spirit swords are rare, and the demonic sects are poor craftsmen. Thus the array has lain dormant."
She drew a slow breath and closed her eyes. Threads of violet lightning wove around her, cocooning her in a sphere of crackling light. Two serpents of pure thunder coiled protectively outside, their earlier dragon-like forms now shed, returning to their true shape.
"Seven Slaughter Sword Formation…" Fang Han murmured. "Don't I already have seven flying swords—Ling Wind, Silver Serpent, Crimson Desire, and four others?"
As the thought formed, a streak of emerald flame slashed across the distant sky, trailing a brilliant tail.
A figure descended from it, robes billowing in the heat.
Jin Shitai, true disciple of Green Flame Peak.
"Fang Qingxue," he called, his voice echoing coldly across the dunes. "At last, I've found you." His gaze dropped to Fang Han—and the gourd in his hands. His expression darkened.
"The Seven Fiend Gourd! You! Hand it over!"