When rage consumes a person, it burns hot.


    The same holds true for demons.


    Wolf Xing put on quite the show of fury, but it didn’t matter. The Light Fox bloodline outclassed the Moon-Chasing Wolves, and in a one-on-one fight, he was no match for Hu Tutu.


    Unless, of course, he decided to gamble his life like Han had.


    But Wolf Xing couldn’t play that game—not when Han could always outlast him by double.


    Wolf Hong struggled back into the air, her eyes brimming with hatred. “Who are you? Did the Light Fox Clan hire you specifically to take us down? What did they offer you to fight this hard? We Moon-Chasing Wolves can give you more—better than they ever could!”


    Even Hu Tutu, wrestling with a berserk Wolf Xing, paused to ponder. Yeah, what did we even give this Young Master Zhou to push him this far? Wait—no, they hadn’t given him anything beyond a fair trade. So why had he gone all-in, burning his lifespan like that?


    “I told you from the start,” Han said evenly, “I just wanted to take a look inside Wolf Valley. If you’d let me in earlier, I might’ve been gone by now.”


    “Dream on!” Wolf Xing roared, transforming into his true Moon-Chasing Wolf form. Wolf Hong moved too—not toward Han, but straight for the valley.


    Whoosh!


    Before she could reach it, a wall of chilling flames sprang up in her path, boxing her in as the fire surged around her.


    “If I were you, I’d stay put,” Han warned, gliding toward the valley.


    Fighting the Moon-Chasing Wolves wasn’t his goal—entering the valley was, and always had been.


    Suddenly, intricate patterns flared across the valley’s rocks. A shimmering barrier rose, enveloping Wolf Valley—the clan’s grand array, the same one that had thwarted Han’s stealth earlier.


    Hu Tutu had explained it: with a few wolves left to guard the valley, the array effectively added another Sanctified Great Demon to their ranks—one specialized in defense. It paled in comparison to Tianyue City’s formations, but for the Moon-Chasing Wolves, it sufficed. In this region, Sanctified and Marrow-Washing cultivators were the ceiling.


    Arrays were complex, yet most Black Mountain demon clans wielded them—not out of innate talent, but because a powerful clan had pioneered and shared the knowledge long ago. Others simply copied it, tweaking it over time.


    “A clan-protecting array…” Han eyed the barrier with mild curiosity.


    How many years of his life would it take to crack this?


    A colossal, rainbow-hued handprint materialized in the sky, descending slowly. The air rippled, and the barrier warped under its weight. With twenty years of lifespan burned, the Grand Righteous Handprint’s power was jaw-dropping.


    Wolf Hong, watching from afar, felt her heart skip. This human was absurdly strong—facing him, she felt like the weaker one.


    The barrier bent but didn’t break. Han nodded approvingly. “Quite the sturdy turtle shell.”


    A pained yelp rang out. Han turned to see Wolf Hong force her way through the ghostly flames, staggering into the valley. The cost was steep—unquenchable fire clung to her, searing her with relentless agony.


    Hovering within the valley, she formed seals with her hands, streams of light shooting out to various points. The array shifted, its strength visibly surging.


    With a Sanctified Great Demon at its helm, the formation reached its peak—a supercharged turtle shell. Already akin to a defense-specialized Sanctified expert, it grew even tougher with Wolf Hong’s power.


    “You’re dying here today, human!” Her voice dripped with venom, her killing intent palpable.


    “Young Master Zhou, you shouldn’t have let Wolf Hong reach the valley,” Hu Tutu sighed.


    “With your lifespan burning, you can’t sustain this state long. She can stall you out with that array. And when it fades…” At your Day-Wandering Realm strength, you’d be a sitting duck.


    “No need to worry, Elder Hu,” Han said with a smile. “What makes you think I didn’t see this coming?”


    “…”


    Hu Tutu blinked, baffled. What’s that supposed to mean?


    You’re burning your life away—shouldn’t you be racing against time to wrap this up? What’s your plan when the clock runs out?


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Han answered with action.


    The massive handprint ignited with twin flames—Yin and Yang.


    Fire flared, fused, then… exploded.


    A blazing inferno erupted, shifting to stark black and white. It engulfed the valley like a fallen sun, transforming it into a sea of flames.


    Han kept it contained, shielding the surrounding forest, but the sheer force—capable of rending heaven and earth—stunned everyone.


    Hu Tutu and Wolf Xing’s clash halted abruptly, both demons forced back, retreating from the valley. The Day-Wandering foxes and wolves scattered, trembling in awe.


    A single stray spark, they felt, could reduce them to ash.


    Han watched the Yin-Yang flames rage, a calm confidence swelling within him. It was as if nothing in the world could stand in his way.


    Bring on the Tianmu Cult’s leader—he’d crush them too!


    A delusion, of course.


    His composure stemmed from near-endless lifespan reserves. In Black Mountain, no one could trap him. Waiting out his burned state? The Moon-Chasing Wolves would die of old age first.


    The flames subsided, splitting back into distinct Yin and Yang, retreating into Han’s body.


    The barrier over Wolf Valley was gone—shattered by the Yin-Yang clash.


    A formation manned by a Sanctified Great Demon and a handful of wolves, broken in one strike!


    Han nodded slightly. The Age Emperor had breached the Ancient Divine Palace’s array alone. He’d just smashed the Moon-Chasing Wolf Valley’s. Round it up, and he was basically on par.


    Such was the might of peerless techniques—and Han’s foundation, amplified by twenty burned years.


    Twenty years was no small thing—a fifth of a Sanctified Marrow-Washing cultivator’s total lifespan. Discounting childhood, frail youth, and decrepit old age, a prime lifespan was roughly sixty years. Han had torched a third of that peak vigor.


    The valley lay bare before him.


    Over a dozen Moon-Chasing Wolf demons sprawled in their true forms, scattered and feeble. The array’s collapse had backlashed against its controllers.


    Lucky for them it existed—without it, they’d be more than just reeling.


    Wolf Hong, armless, lay in a crater, immobile but still vocal. “Impossible! How can a Day-Wandering cultivator be this strong?! How many years did you burn?!”


    Her body was mush, but her tongue stayed sharp.


    Han glanced at her, hands behind his back, gazing down at the demons. “Can I have some face now?”


    He’d come for one thing: respect.


    “Human!” Wolf Xing bellowed, but Hu Tutu blocked him before he could act.


    Wolf Xing didn’t move, though. Staring with bloodshot eyes, he shouted, “Take whatever you want from Wolf Valley! The Moon-Chasing Wolf Clan won’t stop you!”


    Translation: surrender.


    Here’s your face.


    One man had subdued an entire clan!


    Han smirked. Demons were trickier than beasts, but sometimes easier to handle. A battle with beasts would’ve drawn a swarm of ferocious monsters by now. Even if he crushed one, others would charge fearlessly, overwhelming him with numbers unless he made every last one taste near-death.


    With demons, strategy was tough, but raw power could force a quick yield. Wisdom was a strength—and a weakness.


    Ignoring Wolf Xing, Han unleashed his spiritual senses, scouring every inch of the valley.


    He spotted herbs aplenty, even a small mineral vein. A clear, sweet spring caught his eye—brimming with mystic energy, unobstructed by debris. Likely the Moon-Receiving Sacred Spring Hu Tutu had mentioned, vital to the clan. Paired with the Moon God Tree’s fruit, it baptized young wolves, forging their foundations and benefiting grown ones too.


    His senses probed the spring’s depths—no Sky-Mending Vine.


    Then he found the Moon God Tree.


    Han could only say the name was a stretch—it had zilch to do with any moon god. The Moon God mark on his brow didn’t even twitch, unlike the moon-in-water at Wangyue Peak near the Beast Arena.


    Lame.


    Still, the tree towered nearly level with the valley’s rim, its lush branches laden with moon-white leaves. A few tiny fruits hung there, far from ripe.


    He’d searched the rest of the valley—no Sky-Mending Vine.


    So, standing before the Moon God Tree, he doubled down, scanning with both spirit and eyes.


    This was his last shot. If it wasn’t here, either the Mountain God had miscalculated, or some beast had eaten it.


    High up, where branches tangled thickly and leaves blocked all view, his spiritual sweep turned up nothing. But his eyes caught a fleeting glimpse—something pure white?


    The tree’s leaves were moon-white—a subtle but distinct difference from stark white. Fully alert, Han didn’t miss it.


    Reaching in, he parted the knotted branches. His heart raced.


    There, in a small clearing kissed by faint light, a vine appeared.


    Its roots pierced the tree, coiled into a spiral rather than stretching out.


    Han gauged it instantly, and excitement surged. Three feet, three inches, and three fractions long; colorless and transparent with black edges; nine leaves—four green, four purple, one white—each etched with patterns of water, fire, wind, earth, and more.


    This matched the Sky-Mending Vine’s description from the Heavenly Saint Revival Elixir recipe!


    He’d found it!


    Now his spiritual senses could detect it, though they couldn’t before. Was the Moon God Tree shielding it? The thought flickered and faded.


    Donning jade gloves and wielding a golden knife—prepped in advance—he approached the vine’s base.


    Harvesting required gold to cut, roots and all, and jade to store it. No other materials could touch it, or its potency would fade.


    Fussy stuff.


    He carved a bowl-sized chunk from the tree—negligible damage for its size—and gently extracted the vine, placing it in a large white jade box.


    Stepping back, he fought the urge to whoop in triumph.


    Days of wilderness survival, dodging beasts, outsmarting them, and crushing a demon clan—all for this. The satisfaction was unreal.


    Aunt Mo, wait for me!


    His soul emerged, composure restored.


    Outside, the Light Foxes and Moon-Chasing Wolves had ceased fighting.


    Han scanned the scene and flew toward Hu Tutu. Mid-flight, his aura plummeted—like a deflating balloon, the wild edge gone.


    The lifespan burn had run its course.


    Every eye turned to him. Everyone knew the post-burn crash—weakness, vitality drained.


    Meeting their stares, Han grinned. “Still want to test me?”


    Wolf Xing’s bloodshot eyes flickered with emotion, but he held back, silent. With the array broken, he couldn’t take on the Light Fox Clan alone. Even if Han was spent, Hu Tutu remained.


    “Oh, one question,” Han added casually. “Does the Moon God Tree block spiritual senses?”


    “No,” Wolf Xing growled, reluctant.


    No? Then it wasn’t the tree—it was the vine itself. Hidden by cover, it evaded detection. Some quirk of its nature?


    In the prior six locations, he’d gone beyond spiritual scans, physically checking suspicious spots. That habit had paid off.


    Hu Tutu swooped in to support him. “Elder Hu, let’s go.”


    Man and foxes headed back to Fox Valley, leaving a fuming Wolf Xing and his silent pack.


    A mighty Moon-Chasing Wolf Clan, brought low by a Day-Wandering human!


    Even their sacred tree bore his mark—a scar that wouldn’t heal anytime soon.


    Humiliation!