Another fragment of the World Tree had appeared.
To others, it was nothing more than a useless lump of ancient wood—something that couldn't be refined, couldn't be activated, and held no obvious purpose. But to Fang Han, it was priceless. With the Azure Emperor Wood Monarch Art, he alone could refine it. This wasn't just a treasure—it was a sacred engine, a wellspring capable of generating endless resources day after day.
A fragment the size of a man? Even Fang Han couldn't fathom how much celestial essence his World Tree sapling would devour after merging with something that enormous… nor how many tens of thousands of Nascent Soul Pills it could produce every single day.
This was the greatest advantage of the Great Xuan Empire: as long as you had the pills, you could buy anything. Heaven-tier treasures, rare artifacts, spirit roots—no need to spend months roaming mountains or fighting beasts. Every sect, every demon clan, every wandering cultivator came here to trade, flooding the empire's markets with heaven-sent goods. With enough pills, even supreme artifacts like the Five Prisons King Cauldron could be bought.
Even the Barbarian Emperor—one of the Seven Great Demon Emperors—came to trade an Absolute Treasure for pills. If a Longevity giant still needed the Heavenly Dao Pavilion's marketplace, how could a mere Divine Ability cultivator not?
Fang Han had only intended to browse the auction casually—see a few treasures, maybe pick up something useful. He never imagined he would stumble upon another World Tree fragment, and one so large it defied belief.
"Forty thousand!"
He didn't hesitate. His voice cut through the bidding hall like a blade.
Now he needed to see exactly who dared compete with him. After all, even Longevity realm ancients rarely recognized fragments of the World Tree.
Inside the competing VIP room sat a middle-aged man in a white crane-embroidered cloak and starry crown. Sensing Fang Han's gaze, the man flicked his sleeve—mist billowed out, obscuring everything.
"Fifty thousand."
Before Fang Han could raise his hand again, another bidder spoke up—a gray-haired elder fondling a seven-inch miniature sword. His eyes gleamed as he scrutinized the "worthless" block of wood, brows twitching as if weighing its value.
Fang Han passed a jade bottle filled with crystalline Nascent Soul Pills to Lü Mei.
She stiffened in shock before composing herself.
"That man in the crane cloak comes from Crystal Grotto Heaven," she whispered quickly. "The old swordsman belongs to the Sun and Moon Sword Sect. Both are Heaven's Mandate experts."
"Sixty thousand!"
The blue-robed young man joined in.
"Seventy thousand."
The red-veiled woman calmly followed, her tone steady as stone.
Fang Han's chest tightened. His entire fortune barely reached over two million pills—impressive for an ordinary cultivator, but laughable before the real elites. That woman had tossed out 2.5 million for the Mountain Spirit Pearl without blinking.
"Eighty thousand!" he forced out.
"Ninety thousand."
The crane-cloak man continued.
"One hundred thousand!"
A new, unsettling voice joined the fray.
Fang Han turned—and his heart tightened.
A man with obsidian skin and a strange violet tint to his features stood there, draped in a massive robe, holding a pale white staff that looked disturbingly like bone. He stared at the fragment without blinking—shaking his head… then nodding… then shaking again.
A devil cultivator. And a strong one.
"Be careful," Yan warned. "That isn't just any devil. He's likely a Great Heavenly Demon King—someone who may have condensed a demonic golden core, perhaps even stronger."
"One hundred ten thousand!"
Fang Han's voice rose again.
The entire hall buzzed. Who would spend this much on a useless block of wood?
"One hundred twenty thousand," the demonic cultivator replied.
A sharp pain stabbed down Fang Han's spine. His options were dwindling.
Yan leaned close in his mind. "Don't worry—none of them can possibly know what this is. Not unless they're an Ancient Devil from the Primordial Era. Even the Nine Yin Demon God and Nine Yang Demon God wouldn't recognize it."
"One hundred thirty thousand!"
Fang Han shouted again.
"One hundred fifty thousand."
The red-veiled woman spoke without a hint of hesitation, her icy tone slicing through the hall. Her confidence rattled even Fang Han—she clearly expected to win.
He gritted his teeth.
"Two hundred thousand!"
He leapt by fifty thousand at once, a reckless move—but a necessary one. The Sun and Moon elder paused, then shook his head and withdrew. The blue-robed youth also stepped back.
But the crane-cloak man continued.
"Two hundred ten thousand."
The Great Demon King finally hesitated… and gave up.
Then—
"Two hundred fifty thousand."
The red-veiled woman again. Absolute calm. Absolute resolve.
She knew. She must have known this was his limit.
Fang Han's jaw clenched so hard it nearly cracked.
He raised his hand.
And slammed down his final number.
"Three. Hundred. Thousand!"
Even Thirteen Madame—the auctioneer—looked visibly startled. She knew his remaining funds shouldn't reach that high.
"Senior…!" Lü Mei whispered urgently. "You only had two hundred thirty thousand—"
"I have more," Fang Han growled. "A lot more. Nascent Soul Pills. And treasures. More than enough to reach three hundred thousand."
He wasn't bluffing. He still carried over ten thousand Nascent Soul Pills—worth more than a million Sun Yang Pills on their own.
This was a gamble worth everything.
For a moment, the hall froze.
The red-veiled woman tilted her head slightly. Her veil rippled—as if she were considering something. And then…
She remained silent.
Fang Han exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been suffocating on. Relief crashed through him like a wave.
No one here recognized the treasure. If even one person did, he wouldn't have stood a chance.
Even trading a Dao-tier artifact for this fragment would have been cheap.
Soon after, Thirteen Madame herself delivered the colossal "unnamed divine wood" to Fang Han's VIP room.
He handed over all his Sun Yang Pills, along with seven or eight gourdfuls of Nascent Soul Pills.
When the auction staff saw how many Nascent Soul Pills he casually pulled out, shock swept through them. Even a True Disciple of the Taiyi Sect couldn't carry so many.
Fang Han didn't care.
With a single gesture, he wrapped the massive fragment in a wave of mist and sent it into the Yellow Springs Diagram, letting the sacred waters wash away its filth and remnants of foreign will.
Once cleansed, his brow tingled.
Deep within his spiritual sea, his sapling—his budding World Tree—suddenly quivered.
It sensed a kindred presence.
Its roots lashed out like hungry dragons.
Crack… crack… crack…
The entire man-sized fragment dissolved into swirling, chaotic wood-essence, devoured in seconds. The moment the two merged—
BOOM—
The sapling erupted with newfound life.
A surge of celestial essence came screaming down from the upper realms, flooding Fang Han's body like a tidal wave—hundreds of times stronger than before.
He immediately diverted it into the Yellow Springs Diagram before it tore him apart.
The World Tree… had awakened.
And nothing would ever be the same.