"They're shocked just because I killed an Asura," Fang Han thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "If I showed them the corpse of the Red Powder Prince, I wonder what kind of chaos that would cause?"
Every gaze in the hall was locked on him—some filled with disbelief, some with awe, others with naked astonishment. For the first time, Fang Han felt the subtle thrill of standing at the center of attention, of becoming the storm everyone turned to see.
But he knew better than to overplay his hand. Revealing the Red Powder Prince's body now would be suicidal. Maybe someday he could use it—but not today. A Yin-Yang Longevity Pill was tempting, but not worth more than his life.
So he remained calm and composed, laying the Asura Bone Spike on the jade table without a word. His face betrayed nothing—his stillness itself became a kind of power, giving him the air of someone with hidden depths.
"Indeed, that's the essence spike of an Asura," one elder said, holding it up to the light. "Its scales are pure essence. With proper refinement, it could be forged into a flying spiritual sword. A rare treasure indeed. Pity you didn't bring back the entire corpse."
The elders exchanged glances. Doubt lingered in their eyes, but the evidence was undeniable. They had no choice but to acknowledge his achievement and grant him qualification for the inner-sect examination.
"Whether you slew the Asura yourself or relied on others," one of them finally said, "offering this as proof is a merit in itself. Take this jade token. Rest for three days, then report to the Sky Courtyard to enter the Heavenly Demon Battlefield for your assessment. Pass it, and you'll be recognized as an inner disciple of Yuhua Sect. Additionally, the sect rewards anyone who kills an Asura with one Essence Core Pill and one Fasting Pill."
He handed Fang Han two small jade bottles and a gleaming token before gesturing for him to step aside.
Fang Han bowed. "Many thanks, Senior Sister Long, for leading the way."
"There's no need for thanks," Long Shijie said with a faint smile. "The inner-sect assessment isn't like the outer one. Tens of thousands earn the right to attempt it every year—but only a few hundred pass. Still, if you could kill an Asura, I doubt the test will stop you. Perhaps someday your name will appear on the Mountains and Rivers Ranking. When that day comes…" Her smile turned sharper. "We might even become rivals. I'll be watching you."
Fang Han returned her nod, keeping his composure. He now felt certain that this yellow-robed woman wasn't just any inner disciple—she was likely one of the sect's true elites, perhaps even ranked above Yuan Jiankong, the Silver Snake Swordsman, who held the last place on the Mountains and Rivers Ranking.
Back in his quarters in the Reclining Immortal Courtyard, peace settled over him. He now had three days before facing the Heavenly Demon Battlefield—three days to rest, reflect, and prepare.
The inner-sect assessment was said to be ten times harder, ten times deadlier than the outer one.
He sat quietly, recalling every battle he'd fought—against desert bandits, the Red Powder Prince, the blood wolves and bats of the underworld, the Asura itself. Each fight replayed in his mind like lessons written in blood. He analyzed his errors, his strengths, his instincts.
By nightfall, his spirit felt sharper than ever—focused, alert, alive. He took out The Myriad Worlds, a kind of encyclopedic manual that every Yuhua disciple studied. Though it contained no direct cultivation techniques, it was filled with knowledge about geography, sect rules, and the mechanics of every major test.
"The Heavenly Demon Battlefield," he read, "was opened by the Sect Master of Yuhua through divine means, connecting our realm to the skies beyond. Within it wander countless formless Heavenly Demons—dangerous beyond measure. Those of great wisdom, willpower, and enlightenment who overcome their temptations will ascend as true inner disciples…"
"So that's what it is," Fang Han murmured. "A battlefield of the mind. There are three types of demons—Human, Earthly, and Heavenly. I've met the first two… but never a Heavenly Demon. They're said to have no true form—just a current of thought, an illusion born of the void. Only the most powerful of them can condense into form—becoming Demon Kings… or even Demon Gods."
He pondered deeply.
Ordinary Heavenly Demons were nothing more than loose strands of thought, barely conscious. The stronger ones might take shape as phantoms. Only the rarest, most powerful among them could condense a true body—creatures on par with the Great Asuras of the earth. Demon Kings were the equivalent of masters at the Divine Ability stage. Demon Gods stood at the realm of longevity itself.
The Heavenly Demon Battlefield was designed to test the heart, not the body. Most demons encountered there would be formless, invading one's thoughts rather than one's flesh. To survive, a disciple needed absolute willpower—to confront illusions, resist possession, and cut down demons of the mind.
"Excellent!" Yan's voice suddenly echoed within Fang Han's mind. "Heavenly Demons are the finest ingredients for refining pills!"
Fang Han snorted. "I'd rather not get possessed just to harvest some alchemy material. Tens of thousands of outer disciples take this test, and only a few thousand ever make it to the inner sect. That's how difficult it is. And I'm sure we'll be monitored every step of the way—I can't risk using your power. I'll have to rely on myself."
Closing The Myriad Worlds, Fang Han began to plan his training.
He thought for a moment, then summoned several blood-red pellets into his palm—each the size of a walnut. Picking one up, he bit down and swallowed.
At once, heat surged through his body like molten iron, spreading through his veins, filling his limbs, rising to his head until his skull felt aflame.
"What incredible potency…" he muttered, his vision swimming pleasantly. His whole body tingled, as though he were floating on clouds.
"Of course," Yan said smugly. "That Blood Pill's power far exceeds the Essence Core you just received. Even in Yuhua Sect, an Essence Core is considered a treasure. But the sect's food and training will only push your body to the strength of six or seven horses. To reach the realm of divine ability, you'll need medicine—real alchemy! If you want the horse to run fast, you must feed it well. Universal truth."
"Now, get moving," Yan urged. "Before the medicine settles!"
Fang Han immediately began circulating the Origin Spirit Technique, moving through a series of strikes and stances.
His mind slipped into a trance-like state—neither drunk nor sober, free of fear and distraction, perfectly balanced. The ideal condition for cultivation.
Boom—boom—boom!
His blood surged like a tidal wave, his pulse roaring in his ears as he channeled all energy toward his brain.
An hour passed. Then two.
He trained relentlessly, resting only when exhaustion forced him to stop, then beginning again with renewed focus. Time ceased to matter.
Gradually, his awareness deepened, his understanding of his own mind sharpening with every breath.
Then—whoosh!
He stepped forward and struck with a palm. The resulting gust shook every window in the room, the air itself rippling with force.
A thunderous roar erupted from within his body. His blood and qi soared skyward, his face flushed red, and in that moment, he felt it—a hidden point deep within his brain.
The Divine Transformation Point!
A jolt of realization struck him. He had finally broken through to the final stage of body cultivation—the Divine Transformation Realm.
Within every cultivator's brain lay a mysterious center of control, the key to growth and transformation—known as the Divine Change Point. By mastering it, one could manipulate the body's form and essence, slowly altering height, strength, and even flesh itself toward perfection.
This was the true meaning of Divine Transformation.