Fang Han's pulse quickened. The Seven Fiend Gourd is that powerful, and this man wants to just take it? He recognized Jinshi Tai, the True Disciple of Biyan Peak—a cultivator far above his level. Compared to him, even the Shura seemed insignificant. Against a master of the Divine Power Realm, Fang Han knew resistance was futile. One careless move and he'd be reduced to ash.
Yet hesitation meant death. Fang Han's instincts screamed for action.
He gripped the Seven Fiend Gourd, giving it a fierce shake. Instantly, thick gray smoke poured forth—Heavenly Wolf Smoke, one of the gourd's most fearsome defenses. The smoke surged outward, swirling into a massive sphere that enveloped both him and Fang Qingxue. Within its opaque walls, no weapon could pierce them, no blade could reach.
Defense first—there was no other option. He had to buy time until Fang Qingxue recovered from the Heavenly Demon Hand Seal.
Blood from his torn palm seeped into the gourd's surface, merging with its essence. The moment his blood touched it, the gourd responded—it was his now. Fang Qingxue had already erased the previous owner's mark, leaving it open for whoever first bound it by blood.
"Impudent brat!" Jinshi Tai's calm mask shattered into fury. "You dare defy me?"
The air around him sizzled. "You think a mere treasure can shield you from a True Disciple of the Divine Power Realm? Foolish!"
His hands blurred through a series of seals, and seven streaks of emerald flame erupted from his palms—the Sevenfold Greenfire Divine Lights. Each beam roared through the air like a living dragon, colliding with Fang Han's smoke sphere.
The desert trembled. The sky turned from gold to viridian, as if the sand itself were transmuted into molten jade.
Fang Han's vision swam. Each impact rang like a gong—clang, clang, clang! The shockwaves hammered through his bones, threatening to tear him apart. But miraculously, the Heavenly Wolf Smoke held strong, resisting the divine flames that even melted stone.
He drew a ragged breath and shouted through the smoke, "Jinshi Tai! Fang Shijie is your fellow disciple! Why do you raise your hand against her? Have you betrayed the Immortal Path and joined the demonic way? Stop now, and I'll forget what I've seen—but if you persist, I'll make sure the entire Yuhua Sect knows you've broken our sacred rules! True Disciples are forbidden from killing one another outside the Execution Platform. You defy the sect itself!"
His words echoed like thunder across the dunes.
Jinshi Tai burst into mocking laughter. "Hahahaha! A mere outer disciple dares lecture me on sect law? You're an insect beneath my feet! Rules mean nothing to power!"
He raised his arms, and the seven flames merged into one colossal hand of living green fire. "Let's see your toy protect you now. Spirit-Seizing Grip!"
The flaming hand crashed down, seizing the smoky sphere in its grasp. The heat was unbearable—air turned to fire, the sky melted into green haze. Fang Han's head spun; his body felt weightless, dragged upward by a force that could lift mountains. The heat invaded his mind, searing his thoughts, threatening to burn his soul to ash.
I'm losing it…
Then, a voice echoed from deep within his consciousness—calm, dark, familiar.
"Hold your mind. Guard your spirit. If you falter, he'll seize your blood mark and the gourd will be his."
It was Yan—the mysterious spirit bound to the Yellow Springs Diagram.
"Yan! Where were you? You vanished—"
"I was merely hiding," Yan replied, voice smooth and sinister. "Look at your skin."
Fang Han glanced down—and froze. Across his bare torso, the Yellow Springs Diagram had surfaced, not as a cloth or armor, but as a tattoo, alive and glowing faintly with underworld light. A dragon coiled around his ribs, a river of death winding across his chest. The image pulsed with quiet power.
"It's become part of me…" Fang Han breathed.
"Exactly," said Yan. "The Nine Aperture Golden Pill contained the Emperor's blood, as does the Diagram. They've fused. In time—should you reach the Longevity Realm—you'll merge it fully into your veins. Then your power may surpass even the sect master's. For now, it serves only to conceal itself."
Yan's presence cooled Fang Han's fevered mind. The green flames still burned outside, but inside, his spirit held steady.
"But what if Fang Qingxue sees you?" Fang Han asked.
"She won't. She's too busy purging the Heavenly Demon Hand Seal. For now, she's deaf to the world. Otherwise, she'd never have given you that gourd—such a treasure is worth more than her own life." Yan's tone dripped with hunger. "A pity it's a Yin-aligned artifact—I can't devour it."
Fang Han's eyes hardened. "Then I'll use it. The Seven Fiend Gourd contains a sword formation—the Seven Killing Array. If I put my seven spirit swords inside, I might strike back!"
"Don't," Yan warned sharply. "That gourd is ancient, unpredictable. Once you place swords within, you may never retrieve them. And if Fang Qingxue inspects it later, she'll notice. Best not expose yourself yet."
Fang Han hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But there must be another way."
"There is," Yan said, voice gleaming with malice. "The gourd holds more than smoke. Look deeper."
Fang Han extended his consciousness into the gourd—and gasped. Its interior unfolded like a labyrinth of shelves, forty-nine compartments in all. Some were empty, others teeming with strange movement. He focused—insects. Crawling, writhing, whispering.
Seven of the compartments brimmed with the heavy gray smoke he'd already unleashed. But below, at the very bottom, seven compartments were shaped like sword sheaths, empty and waiting. Beneath them, a shifting diagram depicted countless sword forms moving as though alive.
"So this is the Seven Killing Array…" he murmured.
Yet Yan's attention was elsewhere. "Look closer—those other chambers. The Seven Ancient Poisons. Gold-Eating Centipedes, Nine-Clawed Spiders, Enchantress Bees, Bloodpool Mosquitoes, Ironback Beetles, Six-Winged Silkworms, and Phantom Butterflies! Hahaha—magnificent! Each a relic of the Demon Age! Their venom can slay even a Divine Power master!"
"Ancient poisons?" Fang Han whispered. "I've never heard of them."
"Then unleash them," Yan urged. "Use your will to open the chambers. They'll do what flames cannot."
Fang Han hesitated. "Won't they burn in his fire?"
"Not these. His flames are crude; they won't kill such creatures."
"Good."
He focused his intent—and the gourd trembled violently in his hand.
Whrrr—!
With a piercing screech, golden-winged centipedes burst forth from the gourd, hundreds of them, glittering like molten metal. Their wings beat the air with a sound like blades drawn from scabbards.
They shot through the smoke in a blur of gold and lightning, streaking straight toward Jinshi Tai, the Divine Fire Master who had thought himself untouchable.