Vitality surged, true essence churned.


    The Bone-Refining Peak martial artist shook off the numbness and pain in his hand, his eyes brimming with disbelief. His current position felt like a dream. What had just happened? A Bone-Refining Peak expert like him, knocked back head-on by a mid-tier Day-Wandering cultivator? How could a Day-Wandering soul have such combat power—especially one below his realm?


    No—wait. How long had this kid even been cultivating? How could he already be Day-Wandering?!


    “Day-Wandering?” Zuo Tianzheng’s expression tightened, his heart reeling with shock.


    “Han, I didn’t expect you to hide so deep. Your martial achievements alone are staggering, but your soul path outshines even that. Impressive—truly impressive. A genius like you? I’ve lived decades and barely seen a handful.”


    Zuo’s seasoned perspective made the scene before him a gut punch—almost too much to swallow. Impossible echoed in his mind, the rawest reaction.


    Dual cultivation of soul and martial arts wasn’t rare. Plenty across the realm had talent in both. He’d seen it before. But Han? How long had he been at it? From a mere mortal to a Bone-Refining prodigy in under six months—that alone was jaw-dropping. Now, his soul talent seemed to eclipse even his martial gifts. It was beyond comprehension.


    A person’s energy and time were finite. No matter how gifted, six months shouldn’t yield such heights in both paths. Relentless, sleepless training couldn’t explain it. This wasn’t just talent—time itself wouldn’t allow it. Talent mattered, but some feats demanded more than raw potential. Focus on one path, and the other suffered. If Han had trained since childhood—or even started at eighteen—Zuo could buy it. But six months? Even a reincarnated immortal might not pull that off.


    What resources or legacy did Black Cloud Town have to churn out a freak like this? There had to be a secret—a life-altering, heaven-defying secret—buried in this kid. If Zuo could seize it, even without the Sky-Mending Vine, he might mend his flaws and climb to heights he’d never dreamed of.


    Greed flared in Zuo Tianzheng’s chest, unstoppable.


    “Han, your talent’s astounding. I’ll give you a chance—let me plant a seal in your soul, and you can keep forging your legend as a peerless genius.”


    “Noisy.”


    Han waved dismissively, and the Grand Righteous Handprint slammed down, winds howling endlessly. An Lang, in sync, pulled Han’s body back, clearing the battlefield to shield it from the fallout.


    “The Grand Righteous Handprint? With that power, you’ve cultivated Righteous—” Zuo’s insight was sharp, but his words drowned in the roar.


    Clang!


    A long blade sang, crisp and piercing, rattling the soul. A slash of blade qi ripped out, paired with a low shout and a dragon’s roar. Dust billowed, the rainbow hand shattered, and Han’s eyes flickered—not with alarm, but delight.


    Zuo Tianzheng stood firm, blade in hand. Its edge gleamed with lethal intent—merely looking at it felt like sharpness itself lunged at you, capable of slicing through anything, yet sturdy enough to block any assault.


    “A Primordial Martial Weapon?” Han asked.


    “You’ve got some knowledge,” Zuo replied, his tone icy.


    As the Emperor’s envoy, once his savior, it wasn’t odd for Zuo to wield a Primordial Martial Weapon—gear typically reserved for Marrow-Washing martial artists. Before Suzhen Palace stirred things up, Zuo was likely the only Bone-Refining fighter in Black Cloud Town with such a blade.


    “No surprise from Yujing’s former genius. Lord Zuo’s strength lives up to the hype,” Han said, genuine respect in his voice.


    This envoy likely trained in secret arts—whether he had a peerless divine skill was unclear. But it meant Zuo wielded Marrow-Washing-level power, and not the weak kind. A prodigy who’d grown up with the Emperor, his techniques, skills, and gear were anything but ordinary.


    Han exhaled softly. Truth be told, this was within his expectations.


    Zuo’s brow furrowed. Han’s appraising tone grated on him. With a slight push off his feet, he vanished, charging Han. The other Bone-Refining fighter moved too. The Day-Wandering Peak cultivator snapped through hand seals, summoning wild winds that twisted into a roaring wind serpent, lunging at Han.


    A wind-based technique!


    Before the attacks landed, Han shot skyward. The Sky-Light Treasure Wheel unleashed beams of light, shielding his soul form. Then, a vague, lofty aura erupted from him, white flames flaring around his soul body.


    Under that ethereal pressure, the wind serpent wailed and crumbled—pathetic. Zuo and his ally, already at Han’s throat, were forced back, unable to advance, retreating step by step.


    To their senses, Han loomed impossibly vast, like a god gazing down. They felt small—despite outnumbering him and holding higher realms.


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    “Burning lifespan?” Zuo froze, then grinned, laughing wildly. “Han, you’re torching your own future! At your level, this boost means at least twenty years gone. You’re twenty-two—lose twenty, and what future’s left? Idiot!”


    Han’s face stayed calm as Zuo cackled.


    Twenty years? No. He’d used the supreme lifespan-burning technique from the Dragon Girl—Soaring Immortal. One use cost… fifty years.


    Against Wolf Hong, a mid-tier Sanctified demon, twenty years had let him toy with her. Now, at fifty, his soul felt ready to burst. He was strong—scarily so. An unripe genius? Not this month. He was a powerhouse now—a lifespan-fueled juggernaut.


    This fight? Fifty years to start. If that didn’t cut it, he’d pile on more. He was all in.


    Pathetic mortals can’t fathom a noble lifespan-burner like me. Lord Zuo, I respect you—don’t let me down!


    “My future’s TBD,” Han said coolly. “But yours? Done.”


    Shing!


    The Righteous Sword of Heaven and Earth slashed forth, clearing all obstacles. Sword qi streaked, leveling the area, scraping the ground shallow.


    A strong wielder made the weapon stronger.


    Zuo and his crew paled, sensing death. That strike was a killer. They teamed up against the sword, but it was futile—swept aside like dry leaves. The Bone-Refining fighter took a bone-deep gash, his soul cracking. Zuo’s robe tore, but an inner armor soaked most of the hit.


    Han’s eyes lit up. Nice gear.


    Zuo’s heart jolted. How could the gap be this wide? Three seasoned fighters, and one move screamed they were outmatched.


    “How many years did you burn? Han, are you insane?” Zuo couldn’t wrap his head around it. This desperation—win or not, Han might drop dead after.


    Was the grudge that deep?


    Burning too much lifespan wasn’t just a numbers game. Lose too much too fast, and the vitality drain could wreck the body beyond repair—death the only end. Normally, a technique like Soaring Immortal was a mutual kill. Fifty years was too steep—no second chances.


    Soaring Immortal? More like Ascend to the Grave!


    “Just a casual swing, and you blocked it,” Han said, unfazed. “Let’s see if you can surprise me next.”


    No techniques—just raw swordplay. The trio saw the chasm between them. This Han was a lunatic.


    “Fight!” The Bone-Refining fighter roared, his aura spiking wildly—grim, but climbing fast.


    “Oh?” Han’s eyes gleamed. Not lifespan-burning, but a desperate move with heavy fallout. Not his problem, though.


    “Now it’s getting fun,” he grinned. “Lord Zuo, beloved by Black Cloud Town—got any tricks like that up your sleeve?”


    Zuo’s face darkened, silent, but the other cultivator’s aura surged too. As royal guards from Yujing, such last-ditch moves were standard. To the royals, guards’ lives were expendable.


    Han nodded approvingly. “Good. Spirited.”


    The Righteous Sword whirred again, rainbow light swirling—grand, righteous, unstoppable.


    Boom!


    Zuo’s trio flew back again, composure shattered, panic setting in. Lunatic! Monster!


    “That’s your limit?” Han taunted, one hand behind his back, gazing down. “Even going all out, you two can’t touch Sanctification or Marrow-Washing power. Your skills? Trash.”


    Zuo glared, then sent a silent order to his men. They charged again—no retreat.


    “Emperor’s God-Slaughter!”


    A shout shook the skies. Invisible forces gathered, forming a crowned figure in yellow robes. Heaven dipped, earth shrank—sole supremacy. The phantom swung its blade, brilliance erupting, kingly dominance flooding the space.


    Secret power boiled, fueling the figure. A supreme blade qi sliced across the world. The phantom dissolved into light, merging with the strike, boosting it further.


    Great Qi’s royal heavenly martial art—Emperor’s God-Slaughter Six Forms! Heavenly arts let low-realm users tap cosmic might, unleashing insane power—hence the name. It melded human strength with heaven’s, enabling cross-tier fights.


    Now, it wasn’t just you killing—it was heaven’s hand at work.


    The Bone-Refining fighter’s bones popped, blood soaking him instantly. A self-ruin move like Han’s Form and Spirit Extinction, paired with a reckless strike akin to Sword Without Self, pushed his power higher. Not as refined as Han’s version, though—if Han used it at that realm, he’d hit early Marrow-Washing with near-zero cost. This guy, stacking two suicide moves, barely brushed that level.


    Form and Spirit Extinction—worthy of Tree Bro’s last gift. Too bad it was martial-only.


    The Day-Wandering cultivator didn’t back off either, going all-in.


    Han chuckled, conjuring a sky-blocking palm. It shimmered in rainbow hues, wreathed in gray-blue-green flames. The palm crushed down, shattering the emperor’s blade, snuffing the blood-soaked strike, and flattening the desperate technique.


    Boom!


    The forest quaked. Miles away, beasts bolted, birds scattered—like a mini earthquake.


    “Aah!” An Lang shrieked, then cursed furiously. “You’re dead!”


    Han didn’t glance back, trusting her to handle it. Just a cheap shot at his body—nothing with An Lang, a near Day-Wandering ghost, and the Diamond Bracelet guarding it.


    As expected, earth spikes erupted near his body, laced with a hidden soul shard from the Day-Wandering cultivator—a sneaky earth-soul technique. A light barrier on Han’s body blocked it all, unharmed. An Lang, pissed, vaporized the shard. Even a Sanctified soul fragment couldn’t beat Yuan Yihan—let alone this weakling.


    As the dust settled, Han drifted down. Two bodies lay smashed into the earth—pasted by that palm, lifeless.


    Zuo Tianzheng was gone.


    Han smirked, eyeing the fleeing figure. “Lord Zuo, slick move—slipping away from that hit.”


    Near the corpses, a cracked puppet bore Zuo’s aura—a legendary death-substitute item, a step up from Lu Qingmo’s damage-soaking talisman. One-time use, though. Fitting for the Emperor’s golden boy.


    Too bad it was a one-shot.


    Light flared under Han’s feet, and he vanished, overtaking Zuo in a blink. Ground-pounders couldn’t outrun a flyer—especially not Han at this power level.


    “Han, you’d really wipe us out? I’m the Emperor’s envoy!” Zuo barked.


    “Lord Zuo, you’re a vet—spare me the clichés,” Han shot back. Especially because you’re the Emperor’s man, you’ve got to die here!


    Zuo flung out beads that exploded with decent punch—enough to nick a careless Marrow-Washing fighter. Useless against Han. He shrugged off the blasts, a handprint forming silently in the sky, pinning Zuo in place.


    A talisman flared, splitting Zuo into fleeing phantoms. Pointless. Another treasure followed.


    Han marveled. Compared to the Sanctified ambusher from before, Zuo’s stash was leagues richer. But it couldn’t change his fate.


    Wait.


    Han’s gut sank. Damn it—he’s burning through “my” loot!


    Smack!


    Zuo fell under the sky-blocking hand, no real hassle for Han. Still alive, though—befitting a royal-bred genius. Far tougher than his dead pals, just barely clinging on.


    Without lifespan tricks, Han wouldn’t have matched him.


    “Lord Zuo,” Han said calmly, “I gave you a chance too.”


    If Zuo had let him walk at the start, Han wouldn’t have struck. In this perfect kill zone, restraint would’ve slashed Zuo’s odds as the ambush mastermind in Han’s eyes. But Zuo grabbed what he thought was his moment, not Han’s olive branch.


    Zuo stared up, barely moving—every breakable bone already snapped. “Han, lifespan backlash will drag you down with me. Dying with a prodigy like you? I break even.”


    Han grinned. Wait for me to die? “Keep a seat warm in the underworld.”