After thirty minutes, Han Tian Yi headed toward his residence, where Xiao’er was waiting.

  The warm scent of her hair and the faint rustle of her silk robes greeted him.

  “Xiao’er, my wife…” he called softly, his tone laced with quiet unease.

  “Hm? What’s wrong, husband?”

  Xiao’er immediately stood, worry flashing across her face, the soft thump of her heart audible even to herself.

  “Tell me…”

  Han Tian Yi lowered his gaze, his voice heavy. “I feel like… I’m caging you here in the Han Clan.”

  “That’s not true, husband!” Xiao’er blurted out without hesitation, the subtle tremor in her voice betraying her nerves.

  He let out a quiet sigh, the faint smell of incense in the room mingling with the tension.

  “Ha… I still feel that way. We should go out, leave the clan for a while and roam the higher realm together. I’ll show you our world myself. At least then, I can feel at ease.”

  His tone was gentle, yet resolute, one that left no room for refusal.

  Xiao’er sighed helplessly before smiling, the soft warmth of relief spreading through her chest.

  “Alright, alright…”

  For the past month, Han Tian Yi had treated her like a treasured jewel. He was gentle, attentive, and endlessly indulgent, buying her robes, elixirs, cultivation resources, manuals, even things she had never dared to ask for. To her, he was the image of a perfect husband, and she truly felt lucky.

  When she agreed, Han Tian Yi’s troubled expression vanished, replaced by a bright smile that carried the faint scent of jasmine.

  “Good, good! I’ll tell my parents right away that we’re going on our honeymoon.”

  “H-Honeymoon?!” Xiao’er’s face instantly flushed crimson, the subtle warmth of embarrassment rising to her cheeks.

  Han Tian Yi laughed lightly, the sound carrying softly through the room, clearly teasing her.

  After asking permission to open the clan’s secluded domain under the excuse of their “honeymoon,” Han Tian Yi’s request was approved almost immediately by his parents.

  Just a day later, the two of them had already departed.

  Han Tian Yi brought Xiao’er through bustling immortal markets and flourishing cities across the higher realm.

  Spirit ships drifted through the skies, their faint hum vibrating through the air, immortal beasts pulled carriages of light, and streets were filled with cultivators trading pills, talismans, and rare treasures.

  For three whole days, he made sure to appear with her in public, walking at her side, holding her hand, buying her gifts, and treating her with such tenderness that it drew countless envious gazes.

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  By the third day, everyone had seen it.

  They saw how deeply in love Han Tian Yi was, how shamelessly he doted on He Xiao’er, and how even the most beautiful fairy maidens could not earn a single glance from him.

  Whispers spread through the cities like wildfire.

  “He is truly head over heels for his wife…”

  “That He Xiao’er is so lucky, she married the heir of the Han Clan…”

  Jealous stares followed her wherever she went, yet Xiao’er only clutched his hand tighter, the warmth of his palm anchoring her heart, believing with all her soul that she was the most fortunate woman in the higher realm.

  After making sure everyone had seen them, he led He Xiao’er toward a remote, desolate peak far from any immortal city.

  Cold clouds drifted low around the mountain, the wind biting at her cheeks. The spiritual veins beneath the ground pulsed faintly, as if warning of what was about to happen.

  “Hm? Where are we going next, husband?” Xiao’er asked happily, her eyes bright with excitement.

  Before she could even turn around, her body stiffened. Her voice vanished.

  Her limbs refused to move. Only her eyes could still see.

  She watched in horror as the gentle man she loved calmly walked away from her and began arranging something on the ground.

  It was a formation, one that isolated heaven and earth, severing sound, sight, and spiritual sense from the outside world. The faint crackle of air magic hummed softly as it activated.

  Unlike spiritual arts, formations could function as long as they had a medium.

  Han Tian Yi leisurely placed four Heaven-tier divine artifacts at the cardinal points. Each one radiated terrifying pressure, anchoring the array so deeply into space itself that even a Saint realm expert would be unable to peer inside.

  With a soft hum, the formation activated.

  The world beyond vanished.

  Only silence remained.

  Han Tian Yi then produced a massive black cauldron, its surface engraved with twisted runes that glowed faintly under the spiritual light. The metal radiated heat that brushed against the cold wind.

  His eyes were cold.

  “Blame the heavens for giving you a heaven-defying constitution, Xiao’er.”

  With a casual flick of his sleeve, Xiao’er’s immobilized body was thrown into the cauldron.

  The lid slammed shut with a heavy clang.

  Spiritual flames erupted beneath it, the air crackling with scorching energy.

  Inside, Xiao’er could not scream, could not beg, could not move, only tears streamed down her face as the fire devoured her flesh, bone, and soul, refining her essence bit by bit. The heat seared her senses.

  The cauldron trembled.

  A dense, crimson mist rose into the air as her Phoenix essence condensed, growing purer and purer until

  Two radiant pills dropped into Han Tian Yi’s palm.

  “Oh?” He glanced at them indifferently. “It seems she was pregnant. But which one contains her true essence?”

  Without hesitation, he swallowed both.

  Spiritual power surged violently through his meridians, the pulse of energy brushing against his nerves like fire. His regressed cultivation stabilized, and his aura rose once more.

  After a long moment, the spiritual pressure around him settled.

  “Hm… I’m finally back at the Foundation Establishment Stage.” he said coldly, his face utterly expressionless.

  Above the silent mountain peak, only the lingering heat of the flames remained, mingling faintly with the scent of charred spiritual residue.

  After finishing, he retrieved the cauldron and the four Heaven-tier divine artifacts.

  With careful precision, he used a divine artifact to disguise his appearance, masking even the faintest trace of his aura.

  Then he began purchasing information, rumors, reports, sightings, about demonic cultivators at the Nascent Soul Stage who were known to kidnap women.

  Once he pinpointed a target stationed nearby, he traveled there without hesitation. Using the same four Heaven-tier divine artifacts, he struck with lethal efficiency.

  The artifacts’ power rivaled the Spirit Severing Stage, a full step above Nascent Soul Stage.

  The demonic cultivator didn’t even have a chance to react. Within moments, he was obliterated, the faint echo of cracking bones and burning essence fading quickly.

  With the enemy defeated, Han Tian Yi arranged for a scapegoat, someone to take the blame for the incident.

  He returned to his base, his robes stained with blood, his face pale and ashen, eyes vacant, carrying the weight of grief and despair as if the entire world had collapsed around him.

  From afar, Han Fei Yu had been watching. The moment he sensed his son’s aura, he mounted his sword and flew toward him with lightning speed, worry etched across his immortal features.

  “What happened, Little Yi? Where is Xiao’er?” Han Fei Yu asked urgently, his voice trembling slightly as the wind whipped past them.

  Han Tian Yi did not respond, as if his soul had already left his body.

  Han Fei Yu placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, gently shaking him back to his senses.

  Tian Yi suddenly flinched. Tears poured from his eyes as his lips trembled. “F-Father… I… X-Xiao’er…”

  His voice broke. In the next instant, he screamed hoarsely and collapsed to his knees, clutching his head and tearing at his hair like a madman.

  “Those damn demonic cultivators… I, Han Tian Yi, will wipe you all out! How dare you… HOW DARE YOU!!! AAAARGHHH!!!”

  Anyone who witnessed this scene could feel his pain, the agony of a man whose entire world had been torn away in an instant.

  Seeing his son like this, Han Fei Yu did not ask anything further. He already understood.

  If Fairy Yu Xing were to die, he himself would be no different, perhaps even worse.

  His son’s “grief” was already enough to explain everything.

  After that day, Han Tian Yi shut himself inside his residence. For an entire month, he refused to see anyone, drowning himself in wine day and night.

  Everyone who saw him could only sigh, believing that the heir of the Han Clan had truly been shattered by the loss of his beloved.

  Then, one morning, he finally stepped out.

  His eyes burned with fury and resolve, as if possessed by a righteous will.

  He raised his head and roared, his voice echoing across the clan:

  “MARK MY WORDS! I WILL BECOME STRONGER THAN ANYONE AND ERADICATE EVERY DEMONIC CULTIVATOR IN THIS WORLD!!!”

  His shout was filled with blazing hatred and an overwhelming sense of “righteousness.”