Han Zukong stood still beneath the shade of a massive ancient tree.

The forest around him trembled from the growing storm of spiritual energy. Leaves shook, roots pulsed, and the air grew heavy with tension.

Wei Ji, far away in his hidden spot, held his hand over his chest, his breathing steady, his mind sinking deep into the thread that connected him to Han Zukong's soul seed.

Through that invisible bond, he could feel every pulse of Han Zukong's heartbeat, every movement of his limbs, every flicker of intent that passed through his body.

Across the clearing, the demonic cultivator appeared, his expression wild. His eyes glowed faint green, his hair tangled like thorned vines. A faint hum came from the spiritual plants wrapped around his arms.

They writhed and coiled like snakes ready to strike.

"Give me your cultivation manual of plants!!" the man shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. "Little mortal Junior! You think you can hide behind trees and tricks forever? You ruined my sect, took my apprentices, and you think you can just vanish?!"

Han Zukong didn't reply. Wei Ji made sure he stayed silent. His control over Han Zukong's movements was smooth, almost perfect now. He raised the sword — a plain, unmarked blade — and took one quiet step forward.

The man's eyes narrowed. "No fancy words this time? Good. Then we'll speak through blood!"

He slammed his hand to the ground. The roots beneath his feet split open, and dark-green vines shot outward, tearing through the soil. Each vine sprouted a mouth filled with sharp thorns that clicked like teeth.

Han Zukong's sword gleamed faintly as it cut through the first wave. No light, no special aura, just clean motion. His wrist turned, blade flashing once, twice, three times. Each strike was simple, precise, cutting through the vines as if slicing paper.

The man laughed, voice sharp and manic. "You're not using your plants? Then what's the point of being a spiritual plant cultivator? Are you mocking me, Junior?! You think your sword can compare to my roots?"

He raised his arm, and a whip made of living vines lashed forward. Han Zukong stepped sideways, letting it pass, and countered with a horizontal slash that cut the vine clean in half. The whip flopped to the ground, still writhing like a wounded serpent.

Wei Ji's hand trembled slightly as he guided the next move. The connection between him and Han Zukong burned like hot iron, but he didn't stop. "Stay low," he muttered softly. "Don't rush him. He's loud because he's hiding fear."

The man screamed again. "Stop dodging! Stop hiding behind silence, you coward!"

He reached into his spirit bag and threw a handful of seeds into the air. Each seed burst open with a hiss, releasing dozens of small plants that grew instantly, forming spiked flowers that rotated toward Han Zukong.

"Bloom!"

The flowers exploded. Green petals scattered like blades. Han Zukong's feet moved almost on their own, every step guided by Wei Ji's precision. He dodged to the left, deflected one blast with the flat of his sword, rolled under another burst, and came up behind a tree.

Vines crashed into the tree, shattering bark.

From afar, Wei Ji's eyes stayed closed, his mind calm despite the chaos. He could hear the roar of plants, the screams, the breaking of wood. He could also hear the demonic cultivator's heartbeat pounding like a drum.

"Come out!" the man bellowed. "Don't think you can use Plant Escape forever! Every tree here listens to me!"

He stomped his foot, sending a wave of energy through the roots of the forest. The entire ground pulsed. Han Zukong stumbled slightly but caught his balance.

"Now!" Wei Ji whispered.

Han Zukong lunged forward. His sword gleamed as he slashed upward, cutting through a wall of vines that blocked the path. He emerged from the explosion of green light, his figure moving like wind, and struck at the man's shoulder.

Clang!

The man blocked with a root shield, laughing wildly. "That's all? You're still holding back, aren't you? Use your plants! Show me that technique that defied all that I know of spiritual plant cultivation!"

Han Zukong stayed silent. He took another step forward. His sword lowered slightly, as if he was preparing to call his plants. The man grinned, excited.

"Yes, yes, that's it! Call them! Let's see who the better cultivator is!"

Han Zukong's spiritual energy flickered. The ground around him trembled. Tiny sprouts began to rise through the cracks in the dirt, glowing faintly. Wei Ji watched from afar and smiled faintly.

"It's only a threat," he murmured. "Just enough to shake him."

The sprouts shimmered, as if about to awaken, and the man's grin faltered. His vines pulled back slightly, hesitating for the first time.

Han Zukong moved in that instant. His sword thrust forward, piercing through the shield, cutting past the vines, and stabbing straight into the man's chest.

The blade sank deep, hitting the heart.

The man's eyes widened. His body stiffened, mouth open in shock. For a heartbeat, silence filled the clearing.

Wei Ji exhaled softly. "It's done."

But then the man smiled.

His lips stretched into a wide, bloody grin. "You think… this is enough?"

He grabbed the blade with both hands, pulling Han Zukong closer. Blood poured from his chest, but his eyes blazed brighter than ever. "Do you think I cultivated for a few decades to die from one stab?"

Han Zukong pulled back, but the man didn't let go. He slammed his palm against his own wound, green light bursting outward. The roots beneath them began to twist violently, feeding on his blood.

"I fused my heart with the forest," he shouted. "As long as these plants live and near me, so will I!"

The ground split open. Thick vines shot up, forming humanoid figures — plant monsters with glowing cores in their chests. Their heads resembled giant flowers, petals edged with teeth.

"Let's see how long you last, Junior!" the man screamed, his laughter echoing through the trees.

Han Zukong spun away, cutting through two monsters as they lunged. Their bodies fell apart in clouds of pollen, filling the air with a choking fog. He coughed, covering his mouth, then turned sharply and cut down another.

Wei Ji's hand moved fast, forming seal after seal. His breath came heavy now. "Don't stop. Keep moving. He's trying to drown you in chaos. Don't let him control the rhythm."

The forest was shaking now. Every plant, every leaf, was alive and moving. The demonic cultivator's body pulsed with unnatural life, his chest still bleeding but glowing like molten emerald.

"You can't kill me!" he screamed. "This is my domain!"

He thrust his arm forward, and the ground erupted. Thorned vines shot from every direction. Han Zukong slashed through one, dodged another, but one wrapped around his leg. He cut it, rolled forward, and sliced through another monster's head.

The air was filled with green light, screams, and the sounds of blades cutting through flesh and vine. Wei Ji's focus sharpened to a knife's edge. Every movement was deliberate, every strike perfectly timed.

Still, the man laughed through the pain. "See? You can't end me! My plants are endless! You'll bleed before I fall!"

Han Zukong's eyes narrowed. His breathing slowed.

Wei Ji whispered, "Then we finish it in one strike."

Han Zukong dropped his stance slightly. He didn't move for a second. The monsters surrounded him, ready to close in. The man took a step forward, blood dripping from his chest, his grin wide and wild.

"You're trembling, Junior! Finally scared?" he taunted.

Han Zukong didn't answer.

The demonic cultivator raised his hands high, spiritual energy swirling. "Let's end this! Die buried under my roots!"

He sent another wave of spiritual plants surging forward, each one bursting with killing intent. The ground trembled as hundreds of vine monsters rushed in.

Then — a faint shimmer above.

Two massive blades formed out of pure light hung suspended in the air behind Han Zukong. They fell silently, cutting through the forest wind.

The man's laughter stopped mid-breath. His eyes lifted.

And before he could react, the twin swords struck from above, slamming down toward his head.

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