The prairie stretched endlessly beneath the sky—rivers winding like jade-colored ribbons, glimmering under the sun. From above, the scenery was breathtaking: countless tribes, clans, and nomadic kingdoms thrived on this sea of grass. Ancient ruins and broken statues lay scattered across the land, silent witnesses to civilizations that once reached unimaginable heights. Their presence stirred a sense of age-old grandeur and awe.
But Fang Han had no mood to admire any of it.
Descending quietly from high altitude, he wrapped himself in a cocoon of earthy-yellow light and skimmed close to the ground. His aura blended perfectly with the land itself, becoming indistinguishable from the heavy breath of the earth. No one—human or beast—could sense him passing.
Shepherds fattening their cattle and sheep for the approaching winter felt only a faint gust of dusty wind brushing past them, stirring dead autumn grass into a gentle spiral. None of them noticed the figure streaking silently across the steppe.
Fang Han had merged perfectly with the Essence of Earth, becoming one with soil and stone.
He was shaking off the three assassins still hunting him.
Star-Annihilation, Moon-Piercer, and Zhu Xian—ranked second, third, and fourth among the Forty Dread Thieves of the Outer Seas. Three Golden Core killers pursuing one man. Even the slightest lapse in attention could mean death.
He was currently using the Earth Escape technique from the Huang Emperor's Earth Sovereign Dao, flying while simultaneously refining this ancient, supreme demonic art.
Among his Five Emperor Demon Arts, the Earth Sovereign Dao was the weakest—not because it lacked potential, but because he had too little earth-essence to feed it. Yet once completed, its power would surpass all the rest. Earth sat at the center of the Five Elements; from it, all other elements found balance.
As he fled, he siphoned pure earth-essence from the land. Waves of yellow qi flowed continuously into his two Sea of Consciousness cores.
Since opening his Second Sea of Consciousness, his cultivation speed had doubled.
It was like having two people cultivating inside one body. His absorption rate matched two Divine Ability cultivators at the Fifth Heaven of the "Heaven-and-Man Realm" working at full power.
A technique that normally required twenty years to complete could now be mastered in ten.
And the speed at which he refined Immortal Realm aura into usable mana had skyrocketed.
Before, after the World Tree absorbed immortal qi and provided what Fang Han needed to maintain his daily cultivation, it could still refine three hundred and thirty-six Infant-Forming Pills per day.
Now, it could barely refine one hundred and eighty.
Cultivators who practiced Panwu Titan Arts possessed unfathomable strength—but their consumption of pills was equally monstrous.
If not for the World Tree channeling such vast quantities of immortal qi, Fang Han would never be able to afford cultivating such a heaven-defying divine art.
"These assassins are infuriating. Three days and three nights, and they're still glued to me like shadows." Fang Han gritted his teeth. As he flew, he exhaled softly, releasing a shimmering globe of water-light—a perfect, silvery disc like a full moon. A water-mirror.
Tiny black specks appeared on its surface, drawing closer.
He scowled.
"The three Golden Core experts again. Reckless pests. I'll kill them eventually."
This was a minor technique derived from his progress in the Black Emperor's Water Sovereign Fist—the Thousand-Mile Water Mirror. It let him link to water vapor within a thousand-mile radius and detect disturbances without revealing his presence.
If he perfected the Water Sovereign Dao, the world's water itself would become his eyes and ears.
"Fang Han, those three have secret tracking arts on them. Shaking them off won't be easy. But once we cross this prairie, we'll reach the Grand Profound Empire, the greatest empire under heaven—territory of the Supreme One Sect. They won't dare act openly there. Hide for a bit longer and we can lose them."
Yan's voice drifted out from the Yellow Springs Diagram. Three days of rest had restored him slightly.
"The Grand Profound Empire, huh? I've heard tales—its markets dwarf the Wan'gui Sea Market a thousandfold. Some say people have even found fragments of ancient Dao-artifacts there…"
Curiosity sparked in Fang Han. As the strongest empire in the world, how would it compare to his old Great Li Dynasty?
"Indeed. It's a gathering place for countless factions. Even demonic cultivators come disguised to trade, exchanging rare treasures for pills. As long as they behave, the Supreme One Sect—though aware of them—won't drive them out. They simply tax them heavily. Each year, through these markets, the Supreme One Sect earns enough herbs, materials, and resources to feed a million disciples."
Yan snorted softly.
"Of course. They talk about slaying demons, but no one touches their own golden goose. The entire empire circulates pills every day—endless wealth flowing straight into Supreme One's pockets. Even the Wan'gui Immortal Isle opened the sea market because they couldn't ignore the profits."
Fang Han's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Perhaps he could establish a small market atop Reincarnation Peak… later. For now, cultivation mattered more. In eight years, he would face Hua Tiandu. Time was running tight.
"Enough. To the Grand Profound Empire!"
A gust of wind whispered across the steppe, and Fang Han vanished—covering hundreds of miles in an instant.
Far behind him, streaks of light slashed across the sky.
"This bastard's flying faster—heading toward the Grand Profound Empire!" Star-Annihilation muttered. "That's Supreme One Sect territory. If we make a mess there, we'll be asking for trouble."
"This guy is bizarre," Moon-Piercer said. "Three days of constant pursuit and he hasn't slowed down. Our Golden Cores are burning through spirit crystals like water!"
A jade-like crystal in his hand dimmed and crumbled to powder.
Spirit crystals—refined carriers of pure mana—were the most valuable resources for replenishing power during battle.
But Fang Han wasn't using spirit crystals.
He was burning pure immortal qi.
The crate of spirit crystals he'd once seized underground had long been exhausted.
"This man has a Dao-artifact. Having piles of crystals wouldn't be surprising. Even without Young Master Ling's bounty, killing him for his treasures is worth the trouble. Once inside the Grand Profound Empire, we'll hide our identities and strike from the shadows."
Zhu Xian's expression remained cold and unreadable.
By noon, Fang Han felt a shift—an immense force pressing on the land far ahead, as though a colossal structure sat across the horizon.
He shot upward for a better view.
His breath caught.
At the edge of the world lay a line of shimmering white.
But as he flew closer, that line rose higher… and higher…
Until he saw them clearly—
Towering city walls, hundreds of meters tall, pure white, immaculate. Within them soared countless monumental buildings.
The city stretched endlessly—roads branching like veins, crowds swarming through the streets, streams threading between districts. Even the skies were filled with cultivators flying freely.
He tried to find the end of the city.
It was impossible.
The metropolis sprawled across several thousand miles.
Fang Han's jaw slackened.
He had never seen a city like this.
Dragon Abyss City—the proud ancient capital of the Great Li Dynasty—looked like a shabby countryside marketplace in comparison. Even the illustrious Fang Clan's Governor's Mansion could not compare to a moderately sized shop here.
And the palaces—those massive structures gleaming in the distance—radiated an authority that made the land itself rumble.
"The Grand Profound Empire truly deserves its title as the greatest empire under heaven. Anyone who sees this city would submit on sight."
Fang Han took a slow breath and used the Sea-Mirage Qi Art to disguise himself as a cold-faced man in black robes. Then he drifted down into the bustling city.
Flying was allowed here—another sign of its overwhelming power.
He landed on a wide avenue. Passersby stepped aside, casting admiring looks at him.
"A Divine Ability expert. Definitely. You can tell from the aura. Not someone using a flying tool."
"When will we ever reach that level? Without enough pills? Forget it. Unless we reach the tenth stage of body cultivation and get accepted into a martial hall under the Supreme One Sect… but who has that luck?"
"Better focus on earning some Profound-Yellow Coins first."
"Patrol soldiers—move aside!"
A sharp rhythm of marching echoed down the street. Fang Han turned to see a squad of a hundred soldiers—towering men in yellow armor, each carrying a long spear. The strength rolling off them was astonishing.
Every single one was at the Seventh Stage of Body Tempering—the "Mighty Warrior Realm."
In other nations, such men were masters, founders of their own martial halls.
Here?
They were foot soldiers.
Profound-Yellow Coins—the empire's currency—were forged from a rare metal. Even many cultivators used them in trade.
But among cultivators, the true hard currency remained pills, flying swords, and spirit robes.
Listening to the murmurs around him, Fang Han ignored them and wandered deeper into the city, searching for shops that sold rare herbs.
He was ready to see what the greatest empire in the world had to offer.