Two streaks of light shot into the sky—Fang Han and Meng Shaobai no longer exchanged a single word. Talk was pointless now. Only a true clash of power would decide the victor.
Two proud prodigies.
Two forces destined to collide.
The one who won today would one day compete with Hua Tiandu for the sect master's throne—after hundreds of years, when Feng Baiyu finally retreated and became a Supreme Elder. Whoever ascended that seat would command the entire Feather Gate, rule dozens of mortal empires, and lead nearly a million cultivators. The prestige of a Daoist sovereign was unmatched.
And at this moment, no one could deny that both Fang Han and Meng Shaobai possessed the qualifications to challenge Hua Tiandu.
One had reached the Ninth Layer of Divine Abilities, manifested the Heaven and Earth Dharmic Form, and fused the life essence of an ancient Kunpeng—neither human nor demon, neither immortal nor fiend, existing between all realms with unmatched power.
The other had only reached the Sixth Layer, but his Life Talisman carried fifty-five great divine abilities, all derived from the terrifying Five Emperor Demonic Arts. He wielded two Dao-grade treasures, had slain multiple Golden Core masters, and even killed the Ghost Emperor—a legend whose name once shook the underworld.
This was a clash between dragons and tigers—far more captivating than Fang Han's battle with Wan Luo.
The Elder of Heavenly Execution sat within the Heavenly Execution Palace, watching. Two other ancient monsters, Ruyi and Jiang Rourou, stood outside the palace as well. Feather Gate rules were absolute: once two true disciples agreed to duel on the Heavenly Execution Platform, no one was allowed to interfere.
"Sure enough, Meng Shaobai has refined his Heaven and Earth Dharmic Form. And that Kunpeng spirit… he commands the wind itself. His power and speed are unparalleled. I only traded a Thunder-Bone Relic for Yellow Springs Holy Water to give you a better chance, Fang Han—but it seems your Five Emperor Arts really are astonishing. You refined the relic in ten days."
On Purple Lightning Peak, Fang Qingxue stood in white robes, her gaze following the two streaks of light flying toward the Heavenly Execution Platform.
Fang Han sensed her eyes. No wonder she was willing to trade such a treasure—she had been helping him.
I appreciate your intentions, he thought, descending onto the platform. But even without the Thunder-Bone Relic, I would still defeat Meng Shaobai.
Just as he landed, something caught his attention—not Meng Shaobai, but two overwhelming presences radiating from the Heavenly Execution Palace. Far more terrifying than Meng Shaobai.
Ruyi.
And Jiang Rourou.
Jiang Rourou noticed his glance and offered a gentle, encouraging smile.
Ruyi only snorted and let a thread of cold mockery stab into Fang Han's mind.
What's with this old man? I've never even met him and he's already sneering at me. Must be one of Hua Tiandu's supporters. Hmph. You might be in the Longevity Realm now, but if you stand in my way… I'll make sure you regret it. After I beat Meng Shaobai today, I'll need a plan for dealing with you too.
Fang Han's gaze darkened as schemes and counter-schemes exploded through his mind—hundreds in a single breath.
Of course, Ruyi sensed all of it.
This boy is actually plotting against me? Clever, yes—but utterly suicidal.
A Longevity master like him viewed all Divine Ability cultivators as ants. Even Fang Han's killing of the Ghost Emperor meant nothing in his eyes.
He dares harbor resentment? Amusing. Infuriating. I could crush hundreds of him with one slap.
But he could not act—Fang Han was under Feng Baiyu's protection.
"Fang Han, you still have time to stand there looking around?"
Meng Shaobai's cold voice cut through the air.
He stood in white robes, sword sheathed at his back. His Heaven and Earth Form had faded, but its presence lingered inside him—his body radiating a quiet, crushing pressure, as if the very air collapsed toward him.
Even a slight movement drew in all surrounding qi, twisting the flow of heaven and earth. With such control, he could disrupt any opponent's rhythm—no attack could land properly.
Even the Elder of Heavenly Execution was impressed. "A Kunpeng… truly extraordinary."
But his gaze shifted. What of Fang Han? That child never fights without absolute confidence.
Fang Han ignored every spectator. He moved lightly, completely unaffected by the collapsing qi fields around Meng Shaobai.
"Meng Shaobai, since you insist on losing today, I'll oblige you."
"Use your two Dao-grade weapons. I don't bother with such things," Meng Shaobai replied calmly. "Reliance on tools only weakens one's cultivation."
His confidence bordered on regal arrogance—a life-trait inherited from the Kunpeng itself, a beast that swallowed oceans and spat rain across ten thousand miles.
"I believe in using every tool under heaven," Fang Han answered. "Otherwise, how are we different from beasts? No more talking—show your true strength."
Clang!
Blood Skydome, the demon blade, appeared in Fang Han's hand. Scarlet light erupted, splitting into a thousand streams that sealed the sky—nowhere to dodge, nowhere to hide.
This was Thousand Demon Slash, a technique that tore apart airflow and disrupted qi fields—perfect for countering Meng Shaobai's wind-devouring ability.
"Too slow. Far too slow. In one move, you lose."
In the instant the blade moved, six phantom wings appeared behind Meng Shaobai. With one slight tremor, he vanished into the wind itself. The world slowed—grass, trees, even light seemed sluggish.
A sword appeared beside Fang Han.
Fast.
Too fast for words, too fast for thought—far beyond instantaneous. A single sword stroke executed in a millionth of a blink.
No one could dodge such a strike.
Puchi.
The sword pierced Fang Han's skull.
Boom.
His head exploded. His body dissolved into pure energy—just an illusion.
Floating in the illusion was a single object: a golden core containing twenty-seven divine abilities.
Meng Shaobai's sword tip touched the core.
A word flashed across it—"Explode."
Damn!
Meng Shaobai's pupils contracted. Even someone with his newfound power could not withstand a Golden Core detonating point-blank.
He recoiled instantly.
But the Golden Core did not explode.
A voice whispered next to his ear—close enough to chill his soul.
"I'm not wasting a Golden Core on you. Just scaring you."
Before the first syllable finished vibrating in his ear, his brow sensed a deadly pressure approaching.
A tearing force of countless stars collapsed around him.
An Astral-Piercing Arrow was already at his forehead.
Fang Han's scheme had succeeded.
His cunning was beyond monstrous.