Immortality Cultivation

Fang Hao moved.

It wasn’t a probe, it wasn’t a skirmish; it was a true thunderous strike.

"Noisy."

He only uttered two words, and his figure had already vanished from where he stood. It wasn’t the kind of extreme speed that left afterimages, but something even more terrifying—as if he had always been meant to be in that position, with space shortening the distance beneath his feet.

Daoist Chong’s pupils shrank, and the insect banner in his hand instinctively swung forward. Black Qi surged, and countless poisonous insects pounced out like a dark cloud pressing down. This was his trump card, the "Ten Thousand Poison Insect Tide." Every poisonous insect had been fed with Yin Qi for decades, specifically designed to break through a Cultivator’s protective spiritual power. A Golden Core Cultivator would suffer rotting flesh and eroding bones if they touched even one.

But Fang Hao didn’t even look at that cloud of insects.

His left hand was still carrying that dark golden battle heaven axe, not even raised. He simply pressed his right hand forward casually.

There was no earth-shattering momentum, but centered on his palm, the air within three zhang suddenly twisted. Those poisonous insects that had pounced close, whether it was the iron-backed centipede with its hard carapace, the miasma moth capable of spraying corrosive venom, or the Gu as fine as dust and sand, all seemed to crash into an invisible millstone.

"Pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft—"

A burst of cracking sounds, dense enough to set one’s teeth on edge, rang out.

That dark cloud of insects, in an instant, all exploded into powder. They weren’t shattered by force, nor were they incinerated; they were directly crushed from their most minute structures by some kind of power, turning into puffs of grey-black dust that scattered with the wind.

The ferocity on Daoist Chong’s face froze, then turned into horror. This insect tide of his was something even a False Nascent Soul Cultivator would have to avoid; how could it be erased so nonchalantly?!

"Old Jin." Fang Hao’s voice rang out calmly, as if he had just brushed away a speck of dust.

As his words fell, the silver-white Puppet that had been standing still suddenly saw the silver light in its eyes surge.

"Whoosh—!"

Without charging up, without any warning, a beam of silver-white light, condensed to the extreme, shot out from its chest. The target wasn’t Daoist Chong, but the Bald Big Man who had just released a single-horned black python and was preparing to sneak an attack from the flank.

The Bald Big Man didn’t even have time to react.

He only saw a flash of silver light.

The next moment, the crimson centipede on his neck let out a short, sharp cry, and then, along with half of his neck, it vanished, vaporized in the silver light. The terror on the Bald Big Man’s face was frozen forever; the remaining half of his body swayed and then collapsed with a crash.

Instant kill.

A true instant kill. From the moment the silver light lit up in Old Jin’s eyes to the moment the Bald Big Man died, the entire process took less than a breath.

"Mommy!" The Dwarf was scared out of his wits. The dozens of emerald poison needles had only just been fired, and seeing this, he immediately turned and fled, his figure turning into a green light as he darted out of the valley.

But he hadn’t even rushed ten zhang.

Fang Hao’s left hand finally moved.

No, it didn’t even move. He simply released his grip on the axe.

The dark golden battle heaven axe did not fall to the ground but hovered in mid-air, its blade slightly adjusting direction to aim at the fleeing green light.

Then, it trembled slightly.

There was no sound of piercing through the air, no light or shadow. Yet the Dwarf who had reached the mouth of the valley suddenly went rigid, the green light dissipated, revealing his short stature. He lowered his head and looked at his chest—where, at some point, a thin golden thread had appeared.

"Im... pos..."

Before the word "sible" could be uttered, the golden thread suddenly expanded. The Dwarf was neatly split in two from the middle and fell to the left and right. The cut was as smooth as a mirror, and not even blood had time to gush out.

Two axe strikes.

Or rather, not a single axe strike was swung; he simply let go, and let the axe "take a look."

The Bald Big Man and the Dwarf, two Late Golden Core Stage Cultivators with fearsome reputations in the vicinity, died silently, without even the qualification to struggle.

In the valley, only Daoist Chong remained, along with his single-horned black python that had just pounced halfway, only to be slashed by Old Jin with its high-frequency blades, leaving two deep, bone-exposed wounds, and was now hissing in pain.

Silence.

Deathly silence.

The color drained completely from Daoist Chong’s face, and the hand holding the banner trembled slightly. He finally realized one thing—the other party wasn’t bluffing; the other party was truly, simply not taking them seriously at all.

"Sen... Senior..." Daoist Chong’s voice was dry as he squeezed out a smile uglier than crying, "A misunderstanding, this is all a misunderstanding! This Junior had eyes but failed to recognize Mount Tai and offended Senior. I am willing to offer up all my possessions, only begging Senior to spare..."

"Your insects," Fang Hao interrupted him, his gaze falling on that pitch-black insect banner, "are raised quite well."

Daoist Chong was stunned, then a glimmer of hope flashed in his eyes. He hurriedly said: "Yes, yes, yes! This Junior has painstakingly studied the insect Dao for three hundred years. There are several rare spirit insects in this banner. If Senior is interested, this Junior is willing to..."

"I meant," Fang Hao slowly raised his right hand, palm facing upward, "that having raised so many, burning them should be quite spectacular."

The fawning smile on Daoist Chong’s face froze.

The next moment, a crazy, vicious light erupted in his eyes!

"You want me dead?! Then don’t think about getting away easily!" Daoist Chong roared hoarsely, his face twisted in madness. He slammed the insect banner in his hand into the ground, his hands forming a strange seal, and mouthful after mouthful of essence blood sprayed onto the banner as if it were worthless!

"With my essence blood, I feed my Holy Insects! Ten Thousand Ghosts Devour the Soul, let us perish together!"

"Hiss—!!!"

The insect banner trembled violently. The ferocious centipede head pattern on the banner surface seemed to come alive, emitting a sharp scream that made one’s Divine Soul ache. Countless fine cracks spread across the surface of the banner, and a fierce, malevolent aura, ten times thicker and a hundred times colder than before, shot up into the sky!

"Crack, crack—"

The insect banner shattered.

It wasn’t damaged; it completely exploded. But in the erupting black Qi, what poured out wasn’t fragments, but... insects.

Endless, infinite insects.

These insects were completely different from before. They were pitch black, almost transparent, shaped like long, thin centipedes, but they had ghost faces, their mouthparts split to the back of their heads, and they had no eyes, only two faint green ghost fires burning in their heads. They had no physical form, as if they were a combination of Yin spirits and insect bodies. They made no sound when they flew, and wherever they passed, even light was swallowed, and the air was filled with a bone-chilling, deathly taste.

Ghost-Faced Yin Centipedes.

Daoist Chong’s ultimate trump card, using his own Origin essence blood and Lifespan as a guide, completely destroying his natal Magic Treasure, the "Hundred Insect Banner," to release the "Ghost Insects" that had been imprisoned and nurtured in the banner for hundreds of years. These Ghost Insects were no longer living creatures, existing between the virtual and the real, specifically devouring a Cultivator’s Divine Soul and spiritual power. Ordinary Magic Treasures and spiritual power had little effect on them. Once entangled, even a Nascent Soul Cultivator would lose a layer of skin!

Thousands of Ghost-Faced Yin Centipedes, like a torrent of evil ghosts crawling out from the Nine Netherworlds, flooded toward Fang Hao. They made no sound, but that cold, deathly intent that devoured everything had already caused the temperature of the entire valley to plummet, and black frost condensed on the surface of the rocks.

Old Jin instantly blocked in front of Fang Hao, its energy shield fully activated, high-frequency blades spinning rapidly, slashing at the incoming Ghost Insects. However, those virtualized Ghost Insects could actually penetrate the shield. Although they would emit shrill ghost screams and dissipate when struck by the high-frequency blades, there were simply too many of them, wave after wave, actually forcing Old Jin to retreat repeatedly. On the surface of its silver-white body, where the Ghost Insects had grazed, tiny traces of corrosion appeared.

Just then.

Fang Hao finally raised his right hand.

Not forming a seal, not casting a spell. He just very casually opened his five fingers toward the surging torrent of Ghost Insects.

In his palm, a wisp of dark golden flame quietly appeared.

The flame was very small, no bigger than a bean, its color dim and unremarkable, and one couldn’t even feel much temperature.

But the moment it appeared, time seemed to stand still.

All the Ghost-Faced Yin Centipedes pouncing toward Fang Hao, whether in mid-air or already about to touch Old Jin’s shield, all suddenly stalled. The two faint green ghost fires on the insect heads jumped wildly, conveying an indescribable... fear.

It was the instinctive, Soul-level trembling of low-level creatures facing their supreme natural enemy.

"Earthly Fiend Golden Flame." Fang Hao said softly, as if introducing something very ordinary, "It specifically counters Yin evil ghosts, burns Souls and scorches spirits. Once touched, it ignites, and it will not stop until death."

He flicked his finger.

The bean-sized dark golden flame floated out.

Slowly, very slowly, like a feather, it drifted toward the torrent of Ghost Insects.

Daoist Chong widened his eyes, looking at that tiny flame, and a ridiculous doubt just rose in his heart—just this?

The next second, his doubt turned into boundless despair.

The dark golden flame touched a Ghost-Faced Yin Centipede.

There was no sound.

But that Ghost Insect, along with the two ghost fires on its head, turned into a wisp of blue smoke in an instant and vanished completely. It wasn’t burned; it was annihilated, as if it had never existed.

And this was just the beginning.

The flame did not go out; instead, it was like a water droplet falling into hot oil.

"Boom—!!!"

With that Ghost Insect as the Origin, the dark golden flame erupted suddenly!

It didn’t spread horizontally, but... bloomed.

Like a dark golden flame lotus, in the center of the valley, it bloomed fiercely!

The petals of the lotus were composed of dark golden flames that were pure to the extreme, blazing to the extreme, yet containing the majesty to destroy all Yin evil things. The moment it bloomed, the light was not dazzling, even somewhat restrained, but all the Ghost-Faced Yin Centipedes illuminated by this light froze in place, and then—

"Sss, sss, sss, sss—!!!"

A continuous, subtle sound of burning rang out.

That was the final wail of Yin spirits being scorched and purified by the supreme Yang and rigid flame.

The dark golden fire lotus rotated slowly. Each rotation expanded the range of the fire lotus by a fraction, and the color of the flame became more solid by a fraction. And those Ghost Insects, known for being hard to hurt by virtual or real attacks and specialized in devouring Divine Souls, were as fragile as snow under the sun in front of this flame.

They screamed, they struggled, they tried to escape.

But there was nowhere to escape.

The range covered by the fire lotus seemed to form an absolute Domain. Any Yin evil Qi, any ghostly thing, that stepped into this Domain had only one fate: purification.

A Ghost Insect struggled at the edge of the flame, half its body turning into blue smoke, the other half desperately crawling outward, but the flame was like gangrene attached to the bone, spreading along its body, eventually swallowing it completely.

A group of Ghost Insects gathered together, spraying Yin evil cold air in an attempt to resist, but when that cold air met the dark golden flame, it was like boiling soup poured on snow, instantly melting. The flame took advantage of the momentum and wrapped around the entire group of Ghost Insects. After a few breaths, only a small pile of ashes remained, and then even the ashes dissipated in the flame.

Spectacular.

Truly spectacular.

The black torrent formed by thousands of Ghost Insects, in front of that quietly rotating, constantly expanding dark golden fire lotus, retreated steadily, constantly being purified and evaporated. Black and dark gold, death and purification, staged a silent and cruel devouring in the valley.

The flame burned without temperature, even making one feel warm, but Daoist Chong only felt bone-chilling cold. He watched helplessly as his ultimate trump card, which he had spent three hundred years of effort to cultivate and staked his life to summon, dissipated rapidly like morning mist encountering a scorching sun.

No, it wasn’t dissipating; it was a complete erasure in terms of existence.

"No... no..." Daoist Chong collapsed to the ground, muttering to himself, his eyes filled with despair and confusion. All his reliance, all his means, in front of that seemingly casually flicked wisp of flame, became a joke.

Only a dozen breaths.

In the valley, the last bit of black disappeared.

The sky full of Ghost Insects was gone. Not even a trace of Yin Qi was left; the air became clear, even gaining a bit of warmth. That dark golden fire lotus, after purifying all the Ghost Insects, slowly retracted, turning back into a bean-sized flame, wobbling as it flew back to Fang Hao’s palm, submerged into it, and disappeared.

Fang Hao lowered his hand and looked at Daoist Chong, who was limp on the ground with a face as grey as death.

"Now," he walked to Daoist Chong, looking down from above, his tone as flat as if he were asking for directions, "it’s your turn. Do you want to be burned into nothingness by me, or end it yourself?"

Daoist Chong’s lips trembled as he looked into Fang Hao’s calm, waveless eyes and suddenly understood. From beginning to end, the other party had never considered them a threat. The so-called siege, the so-called trump cards, in the other party’s eyes, were probably... just a boring farce.

"No!" Daoist Chong let out a desperate roar, desperately trying to sacrifice his defensive Magic Treasure. But it was already too late. Fang Hao’s speed was too fast, his strike was too decisive, and that invisible, strange power capable of decomposing spiritual power had already invaded Daoist Chong’s entire body with that one finger.

Daoist Chong only felt an irresistible, seemingly all-dissolving power instantly break through the spiritual power shield he had hastily condensed and point at the center of his eyebrows.