"Today, the Yellow Springs Diagram of the Submerged Jiao saved my life. What kind of secret does this scroll hide? What level of artifact is it, exactly?"
Fang Han sat on his bed, turning the scroll over and over in his hands. The image was still the same as before—dim, obscure, a creature between dragon and serpent crouching within a murky river. A faint twilight glow hung over it, heavy with mystery. But beyond that aura, it looked like nothing more than an ordinary painting.
"Forget it. Once my cultivation deepens, I'll study this again." He sighed and was about to put it away when—
"Hm?"
Something had changed. The hazy current of the Yellow Springs within the scroll seemed to stir. Fang Han leaned closer, his breath catching as he realized what he was seeing: within the river swam a face of dark smoke—snarling, twisted—the very same demonic visage from the Heavenly Wolf Seven Fiend Smoke that had chased him and the Crane Fairy earlier that day.
It was sealed inside the scroll.
"Could it be that this diagram can absorb other artifacts?" He examined it from every angle but found no way to draw the smoky face back out.
"Even if I can't control it, as long as it can protect me, that's good enough." He tied the scroll around his torso with a cord, wearing it like a talisman against his skin, before finally letting himself rest.
When he awoke, the night was deep and still, the third watch of the night. On Purple Lightning Peak, no one kept watch, but since reaching the Divine Strength Realm, Fang Han's sense of time had grown precise.
He rose, washed, then stood at the cliff's edge and began a set of martial movements. Each step danced between air and abyss; each breath balanced life and death. He was training his courage. Practicing at the brink honed his mind and body to perfect tension—refined and steady.
After flying with the Crane Fairy, his fear of heights had faded; in fact, he now felt a spark of fierce bravery burning in his chest.
He was ready to push further.
Beyond the fifth realm of body cultivation—the Divine Strength Realm—was a barrier many never crossed. Most warriors spent their whole lives there, unable to advance. To step beyond required more than raw effort; it demanded comprehension—a sudden moment of inner awakening.
Those who broke through were either prodigies or blessed by fate.
Today, Fang Han felt that glimmer stirring.
He completed a full round of Seven Star Fist, then stood still, breathing softly, holding a breath in his mouth and moving it back and forth as though washing it—an ancient breathing technique known as "Cleansing Breath," taught by Bai Haichan himself.
Gurgling sounds filled his chest. Air moved through his lungs, through his blood, compressing the heart—his whole body trembling with each breath. His awareness deepened, his mind empty.
The impurities in his blood seemed to be washed away, leaving behind something pure and luminous—gold revealed after the storm.
At last, he exhaled a long, clear cry, crisp as a crane's call.
His bones and organs tightened, strengthened; his hearing sharpened until he could catch even the faintest rustle of wind.
He had entered the Breath Realm—the sixth level of body cultivation. Every sensation was heightened; his body and spirit worked as one.
He could even sense, deep within his heart, the Nine-Aperture Golden Core pulsing with restrained power. Testing a thought, he willed his heart to slow. Instantly, the core sank into stillness, hidden beyond detection.
Now, no one would know it was there.
"Who's there?"
He turned sharply. His senses were razor-sharp now—any motion stirred an instant response.
A figure in white floated before him like a moonlit spirit—Fang Qingxue, returning from her month of seclusion.
"To reach the sixth level, the Breath Realm… your talent is exceptional. Few among the Fang family have achieved this." Her voice was cool and distant. "What's your name?"
"You don't remember me, my lady? I'm Fang Han, the servant you assigned to tend the spirit beasts."
"Fang Han?" Her gaze flickered. "Ah, yes—the one who claimed to have eaten a horned viper's gall."
He had lied back then, but she hadn't cared enough to look into it. To someone like Fang Qingxue, anything below the Divine Ability Realm was little more than dust in the wind.
"That's me," Fang Han replied respectfully.
"Good. Someone who can reach this realm shouldn't be wasting their time tending beasts. You're of the Fang family—your strength deserves recognition." Her tone was light, yet decisive. "The Yuhua Sect still has an open spot for an outer disciple under my house's name. You'll take it."
"What?"
Fang Han's breath caught.
From slave to disciple—it was a leap across worlds.
He knew what it meant: the outer disciples of Yuhua Sect were all nobles, princes, or scions of great houses. To join their ranks was to gain power, respect, and access to the cultivation arts of the immortals.
With this, he could finally grow beyond the limits of mere flesh.
"The path ahead is long," Fang Qingxue continued. "But strength alone defines worth in this world. Remember that."
A flick of her finger summoned a crystalline snow talisman, upon which arcs of violet lightning shaped glowing words:
'Fang Han, Outer Disciple—Accepted.'
A simple command, yet heavy as fate itself.
By the time he looked up, she was gone again—retreated to her meditation chamber.
Fang Han called after her, but the mountain remained silent.
He exhaled slowly, tucking the talisman close to his heart. "To be an outer disciple… my life truly begins now."
Then, with a faint smile, he whispered to the night, "Lady Fang Qingxue has given me a new path. Bai Haichan once saved me too. I owe both a debt… but the road ahead will decide everything."
He looked up at the vast sky above Yuhua Mountain.
"Outer disciple," he murmured, "I wonder what kind of world awaits me."