The scent of the Green-Azure Secret Realm was a paradox of life and rot. Giant ferns with serrated leaves brushed against Han Feng's waist, their surfaces coated in a sticky, violet resin that smelled of old copper. Above, the canopy was a tangled web of obsidian branches, through which the sickly violet light of the realm filtered down in jagged streaks.
Su Yue stared at the Sapphire Beast Bead in Han Feng's palm. To any other cultivator, this was a legendary treasure—a Rank 2 Essence Pearl completely devoid of the "Demonic Miasma" that usually led to qi deviation. To consume it was to bypass months of grueling meditation.
"You're just... giving it to me?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "This could buy a city in the Mortal Plane. It could even provoke a war between mid-tier sects."
Han Feng's expression didn't soften. "In this realm, a dead genius is worth less than a living beggar. If you aren't strong enough to guard my back, you're a liability. Eat it, or I'll refine it into dust right now."
Su Yue didn't hesitate a second time. She took the bead, its surface cool and smooth like a river stone, and swallowed it whole.
Immediately, her body stiffened. A hum, like a distant temple bell, resonated from her chest. Her skin, previously pale and strained by the realm's toxicity, began to glow with a soft, azure light. The jagged, chaotic energy she had been fighting to suppress was suddenly being washed away by a tide of pure, crystalline essence.
"Sit," Han Feng commanded. "I will shield you."
As Su Yue dropped into a meditative lotus position, Han Feng drew the Purification Mirror. He didn't hold it aloft this time; he placed it on the ground between them. The mirror pulsed, and the ten-meter "Safe Zone" expanded to fifteen. Within this circle, the air was sweet, the grass turned a vibrant, healthy green, and the very ground seemed to sigh in relief.
The Shadow in the Mist
While Su Yue was submerged in the deep trance of a breakthrough, Han Feng didn't relax. His senses, sharpened by his own Peak Body Tempering state, were vibrating. The mirror was cold against the earth—a warning.
He didn't look with his eyes; he looked with his skin. He felt the displacement of air, the subtle crunch of a dry leaf two hundred meters to the North-East.
Someone is coming. And they aren't here for herbs.
Han Feng shifted his weight, his hand resting on the hilt of his basic iron sword. He didn't have a flashy technique yet, but he had something better: Absolute Purity of Motion. Because his body was 100% refined, there was no "lag" between his mind's command and his muscle's reaction.
"Come out," Han Feng said, his voice flat, cutting through the silence of the forest. "The 'Cloud-Mist Stealth Art' is impressive, but you smell like the Elder's Pill Dispensary. It's a stench I've grown to loathe."
A low, cold chuckle drifted from behind a massive obsidian tree.
Three figures emerged. They wore the grey robes of Outer Disciple Enforcers, but their auras were far too powerful for mere guards. These were "Shadow Disciples"—men who had failed to reach the Inner Sect and instead became the secret blades of the Elders.
The leader, a man with a jagged scar running from his eye to his jaw, stepped forward. His name was Zhao Hu, a peak Qi Condensation Stage 1 cultivator.
"Han Feng," Zhao Hu said, his eyes scanning the clear air around the youth with visible greed. "Elder Li said you found a lucky chance. He didn't mention you found a god-tier domain treasure. To be able to cleanse the Green-Azure Miasma... do you have any idea how much the Great Sects would pay for your head?"
"I imagine a lot more than Elder Li is paying you to kill me," Han Feng replied.
"Smart brat," Zhao Hu sneered, unsheathing a heavy, serrated broadsword that hummed with a muddy, brown Qi. "But dead men don't bargain. Kill the boy. Capture the girl. The Elder wants her 'questioned' about what she saw."
The First Kill
The two lackeys lunged first. They moved in synchronization, their swords tracing arcs of pale light. They were fast—faster than anything Han Feng had ever faced. To a normal Stage 5 Body Tempered disciple, they would have been invisible.
But to Han Feng, they were moving through syrup.
One... two...
Han Feng didn't draw his sword. He stepped forward, entering the reach of the first assassin. He caught the man's wrist with his left hand.
"Refine," Han Feng whispered.
He didn't need to touch a beast. The mirror's power flowed through his arm. The moment he touched the assassin's wrist, he didn't pull the man's arm—he pulled the Qi directly out of the man's meridians.
The assassin let out a horrific, strangled scream. His arm withered instantly, the skin turning grey and brittle as the "Tainted Qi" he had spent years cultivating was forcefully extracted. The sudden vacuum in his energy channels caused his Dantian to implode.
Han Feng didn't stop. He used the dying man as a shield, spinning him into the second attacker. As the second assassin flinched, Han Feng's iron sword finally left its scabbard.
A single, horizontal line.
It wasn't a technique. It was just a strike. But because Han Feng's body was pure, the sword moved at the speed of sound.
Squelch.
The second assassin's head slid from his shoulders, his eyes still wide with confusion.
The Desperation of Zhao Hu
Zhao Hu froze. His two subordinates—men who could level a village—had been slaughtered in less than three breaths by a "trash" outer disciple.
"You... what kind of demonic art is that?" Zhao Hu roared, his fear turning into a reckless, explosive rage. "You're not purifying! You're a monster!"
He raised his broadsword high, the earth-attribute Qi gathering into a massive, three-meter-long phantom blade. "Mountain-Crushing Strike!"
The air groaned under the pressure. The ground beneath Zhao Hu cracked. He leaped into the air, bringing the massive weight of his cultivation down toward Han Feng's head.
Han Feng looked up. He didn't move to dodge. If he moved, the strike would hit the meditating Su Yue.
"Monster?" Han Feng whispered. "No. I'm just the only one who's clean."
He reached into his robe and grabbed the Purification Mirror directly. He held it up like a shield, the glass side facing the falling broadsword.
CLANG!
The collision sent a shockwave that leveled the ferns for thirty meters. Zhao Hu's broadsword, a high-quality spiritual tool, struck the surface of the rusted mirror.
For a second, there was a stalemate. Then, a tiny, hairline fracture appeared on the broadsword.
"Wait—no!" Zhao Hu screamed.
The mirror didn't break. Instead, it began to drink the broadsword. The earth-energy, the spiritual iron, and the very blood-bond Zhao Hu had with his weapon were sucked into the mirror's void.
CRUNCH.
The broadsword shattered into a thousand pieces of dull, non-magical scrap metal. The backlash hit Zhao Hu like a runaway carriage. He was thrown backward, his chest caving in as his own reflected energy shattered his ribs.
The Aftermath and the New Law
Zhao Hu lay in the dirt, gasping for air, his eyes glazed. "Please... I was just... following orders..."
Han Feng walked over to him, the mirror in his hand now glowing with a faint, earthy brown light from the absorbed broadsword.
"The problem with following orders," Han Feng said, standing over the dying man, "is that you forget how to think for yourself. If you had thought for yourself, you would have run the moment you saw me."
Han Feng didn't use his sword. He placed his foot on Zhao Hu's chest.
"Go tell the ancestors," Han Feng whispered, "that the Cloud-Mist Sect is about to be scrubbed."
Snap.
He turned back to Su Yue. She was still in her trance, but her aura had changed. The azure light was now a deep, resonant sapphire.
BOOM.
A pillar of energy erupted from her body, piercing the violet canopy.
Qi Condensation: Stage 2.
She opened her eyes, and for a moment, they were as clear and pure as the sky Han Feng dreamed of. She looked at the three corpses, then at Han Feng, who was calmly cleaning his sword with a piece of cloth.
"You killed them all," she said, her voice small.
"No," Han Feng said, looking at the horizon where more silhouettes were beginning to gather, drawn by the pillar of light. "I just finished the first lesson. Now, Senior Sister, are you ready for the second?"
"What's the second?"
Han Feng looked at the Purification Mirror, which was now vibrating with a new, dark hunger.
"In a world of filth," he said, "the only way to stay clean is to burn the trash."