Chapter 260: Secret Method and Fan Shen Body

After thinking for a moment, Wang Yu pulled out a black iron box from his storage pouch, carefully placed the strange stone inside, and stuck two talismans on the box for extra precaution.

He planned to find someone to identify it after returning outside, to see if they could determine the origin of the strange stone.

After this handling, Wang Yu finally focused again on his journey.

Several hours later, after flying over a hundred li, he faintly saw the endless forests surrounding the secret realm, and only then truly relaxed.

Wang Yu landed his flying boat on a cliff face, used his green-red long knife to carve out a cave just large enough for one person to lie in, sealed the entrance with rocks, and then collapsed into exhausted sleep.

This trip accompanying that Ximen senior sister had been full of twists and turns.

Even he felt utterly drained; he could not restore his full energy merely through meditation—he needed real sleep.

…

The next morning.

Kang Wuhen, under the guidance of the old monk, arrived at the highest level of the tower.

Yuan Tong, still under some kind of restriction, remained unconscious, held in the old monk's single hand.

Outside the entrance, before the massive bronze door, the short-haired man with half-naked torso still sat cross-eyed, eyes tightly shut—but on the green stone floor before him now lay a bloody, unrecognizable corpse.

Though the corpse had all limbs intact, it was unmistakably flattened far beyond normal, as if crushed countless times by heavy weights; its face pressed downward, obscured, but its occiput had caved inward, as if the skull had been utterly pulverized.

"Luo Hao"

Kang Wuhen stood at the entrance, studying the tattered clothing on the corpse for a long while, then recognized the owner from the two purple long swords buried beneath it, and exclaimed aloud.

"This man was indeed one who entered the temple with the Master that day, but his luck was poor—he somehow appeared here and was instantly slain by the Fan Shen body." The old monk spoke casually.

"So the corpse has just been left here? You didn't dispose of it?" Kang Wuhen asked, forcing down his shock after pulling his gaze away.

"With the Fan Shen body here, how could I dare approach? Even if I ignored it, over time, the Fan Shen would naturally toss the corpse to this entrance."

"After all, it has awakened some spirit, but the Master placed numerous restrictions upon it back then, preventing it from leaving this level." The old monk explained.

"I never expected—he's the chief true disciple of the Thousand Bamboo Sect, famed as peerless in weapon control, among the top in talent and strength among all Qi Condensation disciples in Great Ming Prefecture; even I once bowed to him in admiration, yet he died so easily here." Kang Wuhen nodded, then sighed with a trace of melancholy.

"A mere Qi Condensation novice, who hasn't even crossed the Foundation Establishment threshold—what use is talent if he can't match the Master's future?"

"Once the Master inherits the treasures in the vault, not only will he attain Golden Core, but even Nascent Soul formation may not be out of reach. At that time, not just Great Ming Prefecture, but all sects of Wu State will bow to the Master." The old monk smiled.

"You're right. I, who have regained part of my past-life memories, am no longer an ordinary disciple of the Four Symbols Sect. My goal is to become a Golden Core elder or even a Nascent Soul true cultivator. Right now, the most important thing is to subdue this Fan Shen body and reclaim the treasures." Kang Wuhen stared at the massive bronze door, his eyes burning as he murmured.

"The Master speaks truly. The specific method to subdue the Fan Shen body is already in your recovered memories—I won't intrude further. I'll wait here for your good news." The old monk spoke solemnly.

"Just wait."

Kang Wuhen said no more. He glanced at the short-haired Fan Shen before the bronze door, clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and prepared to walk forward.

At that moment, a thunderous boom suddenly echoed, as if from some distant place outside the tower.

The tower trembled slightly, as if struck by a powerful shockwave.

This sight made Kang Wuhen's expression change.

The old monk frowned, then flipped his hand—suddenly a blood-red array plate appeared in his grasp. After tapping it a few times with his fingers, he returned to his calm expression and said to Kang Wuhen:

"It seems the outside demonic cultivators have activated a third-rank power."

"But Master, rest assured—the array hasn't been breached. Though the Seven Stars Embracing the Moon Array is not as potent as in its prime, even a Golden Core cultivator couldn't break these seals in a moment."

"Good, then I'm at ease." Kang Wuhen's expression eased slightly, and he began walking toward the short-haired Fan Shen.

…

Outside the blood-red curtain, still violently trembling at the edge of the temple ruins.

High in the sky, a massive semi-transparent vortex, about an acre in size, was slowly shrinking.

At its center, a faint, enormous bone banner's shadow could be seen, slowly dissolving.

Directly beneath the vortex.

Dozens of demonic flying boats hovered in midair, launching a dense barrage of spells and artifacts at the blood-red curtain before them.

At the center of the blood-red curtain, a region now appeared, where countless blood-colored runes continuously shattered and reformed.

Amidst the rolling black mist atop the boats.

The third eye on the massive four-armed skeleton's forehead slowly closed, yet its gaze toward the blood-red curtain clearly showed a hint of disappointment.

Beside the black mist, a chubby youth stood, at his feet lay a giant wolf-shaped puppet, over two zhang long, shimmering with blue-green light.

The giant puppet was riddled with cracks of varying sizes, from which thin strands of bluish-white light continuously seeped; its lower limbs had completely exploded and shattered, now suspended only by a mass of white qi.

The chubby youth stared at the wolf-shaped puppet beside him, his face filled with anguish, muttering incessantly:

"Lost big, lost big—fixing this will probably drain half my family's fortune…"

…

The highest level of the tower.

One step, two steps, three steps…

As Kang Wuhen slowly approached, the short-haired Fan Shen, previously with eyes closed, suddenly opened them—two clusters of blue-green flames flickered within its eye sockets.

Kang Wuhen's body stiffened, halting in place—but he immediately recovered, muttering incantations as his hands rapidly formed seals.

"Puff."

A black aura surged from his body, transforming into countless gray-white runes of varying sizes—some as large as eggs, others no bigger than beans—shrouding his entire body.

The next instant, a completely different aura radiated from Kang Wuhen, growing stronger and more alien by the second.

The short-haired youth, who had been sitting, rose to his feet, eyes locked on Kang Wuhen.

The old monk nearby held his breath, staring without blinking.

Seeing the secret method truly worked, Kang Wuhen relaxed inwardly, continued chanting, and began flicking his fingers rapidly.

One after another, gray-white incantations stained with his current aura shot from his fingertips, dense as rain, sinking into the body of the short-haired Fan Shen before him.