Han Feng was a big fish in the small pond of the Emerald Empire, but in the Middle Realm, the "Laws" are heavier, the air is thicker with ancient, curdled blood, and even the common bandits use mechanized Aether-Brass that would make a Lower Realm Emperor weep.
The branding iron hissed as it neared Han Feng's chest. The heat wasn't just physical; it was a Spiritual Brand, designed to latch onto the soul and anchor it to the "Master's" will.
"Steady, boys," the leader of the Ash-Hunters cackled. "Don't crack the Mirror. The Sovereign of Ash likes his toys in one piece."
Han Feng's vision was a blur of crimson and grey. His Dantian felt like a cold fireplace, the Star-Silk energy having burnt out during the dimensional leap. He watched, powerless, as they dragged Lin Xiruo and Su Yue toward a heavy, black-iron cage mounted on the back of a six-legged mechanical walker.
Tsss—
The iron touched his skin. But instead of the scream the hunters expected, there was a sound like a drop of water hitting a frozen lake.
The Void-Filter Heart didn't need Qi to function; it was a fundamental shift in Han Feng's nature. The "Slave-Brand," filled with the greasy, low-tier soot of the Ash-Wastes, was instantly sucked into the Purification Mirror.
The brand didn't mark him. It fed him.
"What in the hells?" the hunter stammered, looking at his glowing iron. The red rune had turned a dull, lifeless grey. "The brand... it's dead."
"Just chain him!" the leader roared, a flicker of unease crossing his masked face. "Use the Soul-Suppressing Manacles. Even a Dao-Seeker can't breathe through those."
Heavy cuffs clapped shut around Han Feng's wrists. They were made of Void-Lead, a material so heavy it physically dragged his spirit downward, making it impossible to feel the surrounding Qi. He was thrown into the cage alongside his companions.
As the mechanical walker began its rhythmic, bone-jarring stride across the Sea of Ash, Han Feng sat in the corner of the cage. He looked at Lin Xiruo. Her silver eyes were open, but they were dull, her sword-intent suppressed by the toxic atmosphere of this new realm.
"The air here..." she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. "It's not just Tainted. It's... heavy. Like breathing liquid lead."
"This is the Middle Realm," Han Feng replied, his voice calm despite the iron collar around his neck. "The 'Taint' here has been refined for millions of years. It's not a cloud; it's a Law."
Han Feng closed his eyes. He didn't try to break the manacles. He knew from experience that brute force was for those who didn't understand the "Path."
He focused on the Void-Lead manacles. To anyone else, they were an unbreakable prison. To Han Feng, they were a High-Density Energy Source. Void-Lead was just highly compressed, "Dirty" Qi.
He activated the Mirror's hidden function: Internalized Sanitization.
He began to draw the "Weight" of the manacles into his own meridians. It felt like swallowing molten iron. His Stage 4 foundation groaned under the pressure. But then, the Void-Filter Heart kicked in.
Inside his soul, the "Lead" was stripped of its suppression-attribute. The "Dirt" was filtered out through his pores as fine, black dust, leaving behind a sliver of Pure Void-Essence.
[System Notification: Refining Foreign Prison-Artifact.]
[Energy Conversion: 0.1%... 0.5%...]
[Warning: User's body is reaching maximum pressure!]
Han Feng's skin began to glow with a faint, silver light. The hunters outside, riding their mechanical mounts, didn't notice. They were too busy arguing about the commission they would receive at the Auction House of the Damned.
After three days of travel through the Ash-Wastes—passing ruins of cities that made the Emerald Palace look like a dollhouse—the caravan reached Pit-Stop 13.
It was a city built inside the skull of a colossal, prehistoric beast. The "Auction House" was located in the creature's jaw, where the "teeth" had been carved into private viewing boxes.
"Move it, meat!" the guard barked, kicking the cage open.
Han Feng was dragged out. He looked up and saw hundreds of cultivators, all above Stage 6. Some were even at the Nascent Soul Realm, their auras creating ripples of heat in the air. This was a place where "Pure-Seeds" were sold to the highest bidder to be used as "Qi-Filters"—living tools to help the elite breathe.
"Next up!" the auctioneer screamed, his voice amplified by a brass vox-pillar. "A rare find! A youth from the Lower Realm with a Crystalline Foundation and a high-grade Pre-Fall Mirror! Starting bid: 50,000 Ash-Cores!"
The crowd erupted. Han Feng was pushed onto the stage, the Void-Lead manacles still glowing with a dull, suppressed light.
"60,000!"
"80,000!"
"A hundred thousand Ash-Cores and a Tier 4 Spirit-Concubine!"
Han Feng looked at the "Old Monsters" in the private boxes. He saw their greedy eyes, their corrupted auras, and their rot-filled souls.
"Lin Xiruo," Han Feng whispered, his voice carrying through the Soul-Link they shared. "When the manacles break, head for the back exit. Su Yue, grab the golden gourd from the leader's belt."
"Break?" Lin Xiruo's eyes widened. "They're Void-Lead, Han Feng! Even a Nascent Soul expert—"
"I told you," Han Feng said, a cold, sharp smile finally touching his lips. "I don't break things. I Refine them."
Han Feng inhaled.
The three days of constant, silent filtering had reached its peak. He had absorbed every ounce of "Weight" from the manacles. They were no longer Void-Lead; they were nothing but brittle, empty husks of ash.
CRACK.
The manacles shattered into a cloud of grey dust.
The Auction House went deathly silent. The Auctioneer's gavel stayed frozen in mid-air.
Han Feng stood tall, his Stage 4 aura suddenly erupting with the force of a Stage 7. The Purification Mirror on his chest didn't just glow; it emitted a pulse of white light that turned the "jaw" of the skull-city into a blinding sun.
"I'm not for sale," Han Feng said, his voice echoing through the brass resonators.
He reached out and grabbed the Azure Phoenix Wing from the display rack beside him. The blade, sensing its master, let out a roar of starlight.
"But I am hiring," Han Feng continued, looking at the stunned "Old Monsters." "I'm looking for souls to clean. And I think I'll start with this room."
From the highest private box, a figure stood up. He wasn't a man; he was a walking suit of Deep-Void Armor, and his presence alone caused the white light of the Mirror to flicker.
"The Sanitizer has arrived," the armored figure said, his voice a bass thrum that made the floorboards rot. "I am the Sovereign of Ash. And you, boy, are exactly what I need to open the Pre-Fall Treasury of the Seven Hells."
Suddenly, the exits of the Auction House slammed shut. Thousands of mechanized guards raised their rifles.
"You can clean the room, boy," the Sovereign sneered. "Or you can die in the dust. Choose wisely."