Violet Heaven Palace.

“Greetings, Sect Leader!”

In the main hall, Ye Qingxuan sat upon the highest seat, her posture radiating a majestic, effortless elegance. Han Lie and Bai Ling entered side by side, bowing deeply with cupped hands.

Bai Ling immediately fell to her knees, tears of gratitude shimmering in her eyes. “Thank you, Sect Leader, for your divine intervention. Bai Ling will never forget this grace.”

She pressed her forehead to the floor. “From this day forth, my life belongs to you. Even if you demand my death, I will not hesitate.”

Ye Qingxuan raised her chin slightly, her expression indifferent. “I have settled your parents and clan in Qingzhou City. That is the territory of Han Lie’s father, Han Zhentian.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Your Su family will assist his father in governing the city. Do not disappoint me.”

“Yes, Sect Leader!” Bai Ling nodded heavily. Though the Su clan had lost its former glory, it had survived the wrath of the Sun Moon Sect. That was enough.

“You may withdraw,” Ye Qingxuan commanded.

“Bai Ling takes her leave.”

As the former Saintess retreated, the heavy doors of the palace closed, leaving only the two of them. Ye Qingxuan’s gaze finally shifted to Han Lie.

“I gave you resources, and you did not waste them,” she said, her voice cool but approving. “Taking down Zhao Batian… you have exceeded my expectations.”

“It is all thanks to the Sect Leader’s guidance,” Han Lie replied.

This was not mere flattery. Han Lie knew the reality of his situation. Without Ye Qingxuan’s massive infusion of resources, his Pure Yang Sacred Body would have been a curse rather than a blessing. He would have died from the lifespan limit long before reaching the Golden Core Stage.

The Yin Yang Demonic Art was the key. It was the bridge that allowed him to stand here today.

Ye Qingxuan’s lips curled into a faint, proud smile. “You have earned merit in this war. Therefore… take this.”

She flicked her wrist. A stream of light shot toward him.

Han Lie caught it. It was a brand-new, bound manuscript. The cover bore three ancient characters that seemed to pulse with a heavy, spiritual weight: [Yin Yang Scripture].

“The Yin Yang Scripture…” Han Lie murmured. Even though it was a copy, the aura it emitted was suffocating.

“Sect Leader is generous!” Han Lie feigned a move to kneel, but an invisible force gently held him upright.

“Save your knees,” Ye Qingxuan scoffed, her tone shifting to arrogant pragmatism. “I am letting you cultivate this because it benefits me. Listen well.”

She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “This scripture was penned by the Demonic Emperor, the same creator of the Yin Yang Demonic Art. Old Ghost Yin Mei is a fool; he does not know that these two are a matching set.”

Han Lie’s eyes widened.

“Without the Demonic Art, this scripture is merely a superior Mid-grade Divine Ability,” Ye Qingxuan explained. “But when fueled by the Yin Yang Demonic Art, its power elevates. It becomes a true High-grade Divine Ability.”

She laughed softly, a dangerous sound. “If the Old Ghost knew this, he would have fought to the death rather than let me take it.”

“As expected of the Sect Leader,” Han Lie praised, giving a thumbs up. “Brilliant.”

Internally, his mind was racing. His Soul Devouring Saber Art—a Low-grade Divine Ability—allowed him to jump two minor realms. If he mastered a High-grade Divine Ability…

He could potentially fight across three minor realms. Fighting a Nascent Soul monster while in the Golden Core stage was still a fantasy, but at least he wouldn’t be instantly crushed.

“There is more,” Ye Qingxuan added. “For us, the Yin Yang Scripture acts as a Body Integration technique. If you catch up to my cultivation, we can execute it together. That is its true, world-ending form.”

She paused, watching his reaction closely. “And remember, this is only the lower volume. Above this lies the Nine-Cycle Yin Yang Scripture.”

“The Nine-Cycle?” Han Lie asked.

“One of the Twenty-Four Peerless Divine Abilities,” she whispered the words with reverence.

Han Lie’s breathing stopped.

The Twenty-Four Peerless Divine Abilities. Legends said that possessing just one was enough to found an empire that could rule the Tianyuan Continent for ten thousand years.

“Do you want it?” she asked, amused by the greed in his eyes.

Han Lie nodded solemnly. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Keep dreaming,” Ye Qingxuan said, ruthlessly dousing his ambition. “Such things are not for ants like us. I have no information on its whereabouts, and neither does anyone else in this backwater region.”

Han Lie sighed, his shoulders dropping. “A needle in a cosmic ocean, then.”

He quickly regained his composure. “Sect Leader, I have a practical concern. The feud with the Sun Moon Sect is now blood-deep. I worry they will target my parents in Qingzhou.”

“You think I am blind?” Ye Qingxuan rolled her eyes. “Grand Elder Chi Lian has already stationed a Law Enforcement Elder at the City Lord’s Mansion.”

“Unless the Sun Moon Sect sends a Soul Formation ancestor—which they won’t—your city is safe.”

“Then I am relieved.” Han Lie bowed deeply. “This subordinate will take his leave.”

“Go. Master it, then return the manual.”

The Small Wooden Hut.

Han Lie returned to his sanctuary. After tossing a Spirit Stone to Xiao Zi, the cat-girl who was lazily sprawled on his tea table, he sat cross-legged on his mat.

He opened the Yin Yang Scripture.

This was not the orthodox Taoist concept of Yin and Yang. This was pure, unfiltered Demonic cultivation.

The manual was divided into Yin and Yang volumes. Han Lie skipped the Yin volume intended for women and focused on the Yang.

The essence of the technique was simple but brutal: condense a Yin Yang Avatar (Fa Tian Xiang Di).

It used spiritual power as a base, but its true fuel was Vitality and Yang Qi. The stronger the user’s Yang Qi, the more terrifying the Avatar.

Furthermore, it allowed for a desperate gamble. In a life-or-death crisis, the user could burn their lifespan and blood essence to overcharge the Avatar, stacking its power to horrific heights.

“A perfect trump card,” Han Lie muttered.

He closed his eyes and entered a deep meditative trance.

Time lost its meaning.

Just the first step—condensing the Avatar—took three full months.

This speed was monstrous. Without the Pure Yang Sacred Body, a genius talent would have needed twenty years to reach this threshold. Han Lie brute-forced it in ninety days.

Inside his consciousness, a sea of golden fire raged.

“Yin Yang Scripture: Avatar!”

Han Lie’s hands moved in a blur, forming a sequence of obscure, ancient seals.

Boom!

In his mental world, the Pure Yang spiritual power erupted, coalescing into a phantom that towered ten thousand zhang high. It was a titan of golden light, radiating an aura of absolute dominance.

Han Lie’s consciousness merged with the titan. He felt the power coursing through its massive limbs.

“Incredible!”

He sensed that a single palm strike in this state would dwarf the power of his [Unity] slash. And this was just the base form. There were still three derived combat techniques to master.

He didn’t stop. He dove back into the trance.

Another three months passed in the blink of an eye.

One afternoon, inside the wooden hut, Han Lie’s eyes snapped open. A golden light flashed within his pupils, sharp enough to cut the air.

He exhaled a long breath of turbid air, his face breaking into a wide, ecstatic grin.

“Haha! I, Daoist, have succeeded!”

“Meow!”

Xiao Zi, who had been napping, leaped three feet into the air, hissing at him. She stared at him with wide, accusatory eyes, suspecting her master had finally gone mad from isolation.

Han Lie laughed, grabbing the cat-girl and lifting her high into the air. He planted a series of rough, joyous kisses on her forehead.

“Haha! Little cat, this Daoist is in a great mood today!”

He tossed a bottle of pills onto the table. “Feast! Today, we celebrate!”