"Head to the Demon Battlefield at once! Capture the Sky Demons alive—I'll refine them into Biluo Grand Pills using the water method. These pills are far more nourishing than Blood Pills; they replenish vitality and strengthen the spirit. In all the heavens, only the Sacred Waters of the Yellow Springs can achieve this effect. Other sects simply roast captured Sky Demons in furnaces with fire, but fire is what Sky Demons fear most—it burns away their essence. Unless one's alchemy is truly supreme, it's impossible to turn demons into true elixirs."
Yan's voice carried a rare excitement.
"Water alchemy?" Fang Han asked, intrigued.
"Exactly. The Yellow Springs River itself is a vast alchemical cauldron. In ancient times, Emperor Huang Quan sealed that river with supreme power. Half the reason was to harness its waters for refining elixirs. In our Yellow Springs Sect, this method is called washing. The water has many names—'Forgetting Water,' 'Oblivion Broth'... you mortals might even call it the 'Soup of Forgetfulness.'"
"Alchemy through water instead of fire—fascinating," Fang Han mused. "Looks like I'll never have to worry about food again. Compared to most Yuhua Sect disciples, I'm practically blessed."
After reaching the tenth level of the Mortal Body Realm—the Realm of Divine Transformation—the body's demand for nourishment became monstrous. Ordinary food could no longer sustain it. Only elixirs condensed from pure spiritual essence could serve as sustenance.
Fortunately, in the depths of the underground world, Fang Han had slain over a hundred Nightshades. Yan had refined their blood using the Yellow Springs' Sacred Water into over fifty Blood Pills—enough to sustain him for two or three months.
The Blood Pills of the Yellow Springs Sect and Yuhua Sect's Essence Pills or Fasting Pills were both crystallized forms of pure spiritual energy. The difference lay in their origin: Blood Pills came from the essence of demonic creatures, while the others were refined from spirit herbs, elemental stones, and the vital airs of thunder and sky through long purification.
Yan's water-based alchemy made it simple—no fire, no furnace. The Yellow Springs itself was the perfect cauldron.
Two paths of alchemy—one of water, one of fire—each carried its own mysteries. Yet when it came to refining Sky Demons, water proved far superior.
"Fine then—let's go," Fang Han said decisively.
He left the Immortal's Rest Courtyard and strode toward the Sky Court, where disciples underwent the inner sect assessment—the gateway to the Demon Battlefield.
The Sky Court was nestled deep within Yuhua City, shrouded in a misty haze. The morning sunlight refracted through the fog, scattering into iridescent rainbows. Yet Fang Han's eyes held no interest for beauty—only purpose. Producing his jade assessment token, he stepped through the gates.
Around him, groups of outer disciples were also gathering, jade tokens in hand, faces taut with resolve. Every one of them was formidable, having earned the right to take the trial.
But to Fang Han, they all seemed… weak.
His strength, nearing ten horses, surged through his tendons and marrow, his very breath pulsing with raw vitality. Compared to him, these disciples were insects.
"I heard the Demon Battlefield isn't even in this world—is that true? Are we really going beyond the heavens?" one disciple whispered.
"It's true," another replied gravely. "I asked inner sect seniors. The Demon Battlefield lies outside our realm—a place of breathtaking beauty and unimaginable peril. Last year, ten thousand disciples entered. Three thousand died. Thousands more went mad or had to be rescued. Only two or three hundred passed."
"This year, maybe more will survive. Becoming an inner disciple means one Essence Pill and one Fasting Pill every five days—spiritual elixirs so potent, nobles would kill for a whiff."
"I once saw a prince treat an Essence Pill as an heirloom," another said. "They say even smelling it strengthens the body and clears the meridians. Inner disciples eat them like food—how could any emperor compare?"
Fang Han listened silently, studying the crowd. None could match his power. Though a few had deep, unfathomable auras, his instincts told him—they were no threat.
I wonder if Princess Hongyi got her qualification, he thought. With her Azure Sword, slaying a few Nightshades would've been easy. Once I become an inner disciple, I'll visit Crane Fairy—share a few pills with her. Who knows how far she might ascend?
Then—his eyes narrowed.
A group approached. At their head was a tall woman in a battle robe, her figure graceful yet commanding, a sword at her hip, boots striking the ground with confidence. Her beauty carried both sharpness and elegance. Beside her walked a man—handsome, vigorous, radiant with pride. Their manner was intimate, familiar.
Around them trailed several others—each exuding extraordinary self-assurance, even more so than the noble scions of the royal clans.
But Fang Han's gaze fixed only on the woman.
Fang Qingwei.
The second lady of the Fang family.
Her eyes flicked his way—and in an instant, recognition dawned.
"Fang Han! It's you?" she said sharply.
Though his frame was taller and his aura vastly changed, his face was unmistakable. She frowned, disbelief flickering across her features.
Fang Han met her gaze calmly, saying nothing.
"You—come here," she commanded, crooking a finger with the authority of one born to rule. "I heard you earned my elder sister's favor and became an outer disciple. I didn't expect you to make it this far—to the inner sect trial, no less. What gifts did my sister give you? You strut around Zidian Peak, assaulting overseers and behaving like a thug. My sister's a recluse, too pure to see your deceit. But I'm not so easily fooled. Kneel. I have words for you."
"Qingwei," the man beside her asked, brow furrowed. "Who is this?"
"A servant from my Fang household," she said carelessly.
Fang Han's voice was steady, like tempered steel. "Your sister—Senior Fang Qingxue—has already promised you to me. From this day forth, I am your betrothed. Remember that, Fang Qingwei."
Her eyes widened.
The man's aura flared, murderous intent bursting forth. "You dare—!"
But his words never finished.
With a thunderous crack, Fang Han's iron fist tore through the air like a cannonball—howling wind and roaring force fused into one devastating blow—aimed straight for the man's skull.