The light barrier was shattered by Han Li’s single strike, causing the two seated figures below to open their eyes abruptly. Their gazes locked onto Han Li, both revealing expressions of shock.
At that moment, an indistinct green-and-yellow light barrier flickered above the two, though much smaller than the previous five-colored one, it was sufficient to envelop them. At the center of the barrier, a semi-transparent brocade kerchief rotated slowly—clearly the source of this protective barrier.
“It’s you!” The old woman’s wrinkled face twisted in disbelief.
The gray-robed monk’s expression darkened.
Han Li glanced at the kerchief and the newly formed barrier, a faint smirk curling his lips.
“It seems you’ve gone to great lengths, using a treasure to conceal your presence. Tsk, tsk! No wonder I was puzzled earlier—why my spiritual sight couldn’t penetrate such a simple illusionary restriction. So, you two were already scheming to reap the benefits. Admirable indeed!” Though his words were full of praise, his face remained cold, a trace of killing intent flickering between his brows.
Hearing this, the monk steadied himself and chanted a Buddhist invocation before speaking. “Brother Han, your powers are truly formidable—even Frost Li and the others failed to capture you. But where are they now? Have they left the cavern?”
As he spoke, his gaze swept across the underground chamber, finding no trace of Frost Li and the others. His heart clenched in disbelief—how could Han Li have possibly defeated all three alone?
Han Li narrowed his eyes, first shaking his head, then nodding, before letting out a long sigh without uttering a word.
This left the two below utterly baffled.
“Enough of your theatrics! If Frost Li has already left, we must escape as well. Otherwise, if he summons more cultivators from the Small Extreme Palace, we’ll be trapped like turtles in a jar!” the old woman snapped, her eyes flashing with impatience.
“No need to worry about them. I’ve already dealt with them—Frost Li barely escaped with his Spirit Infant. Would you like to see him one last time before I send you both to join him?” Han Li replied coldly.
“You defeated Frost Li? Impossible! And what do you mean by your last words?” The old woman’s face paled, then twisted in fury.
“Nothing complicated. I don’t care what your relationship is or what schemes you’ve concocted. But luring me into conflict with the Small Extreme Palace while harboring ill intentions—that’s enough for me. I despise being used. It’s time for you both to vanish from this world.” Han Li’s voice was icy as he closed his eyes, ignoring them further. His hands formed a seal, and incantations spilled from his lips.
The monk and the old woman tensed, sensing the sudden surge of spiritual energy around them. Their eyes darted around—only to see countless golden threads shimmering into existence dozens of feet away. The threads flickered unpredictably, silently converging toward them in an eerie, soundless advance.
“A sword formation!” the old woman gasped.
The monk suppressed his shock over Han Li’s supposed victory over Frost Li and shouted, “Brother Han, this is a misunderstanding! We mean you no harm. Outside the Void Spirit Hall, countless Small Extreme Palace cultivators await. If Frost Li doesn’t emerge, you’ll never escape easily. We should join forces against them! As for the Heaven-reaching Spirit Treasure, we can swear a blood oath never to reveal it!”
“Unnecessary. Dead men tell no tales,” Han Li sneered.
“Brother Mojiu, spare your words. Look behind him—with those things at his disposal, why would he spare us?” The old woman flipped her hand, summoning a yellow cane, her voice dripping with scorn.
The monk’s eyes widened as he noticed the humanoid puppet behind Han Li—and the five skeletal figures standing further back. His face darkened.
“What are those? And who is that other figure?”
“Those skeletons resemble the legendary Five Devils of Shared Will. As for the other… who knows? Likely, he used these to ambush Frost Li. If those are indeed the late Qian Laomo’s Five Devils, even together we stand no chance. Our only hope is to kill Han Li before he fully activates them. But first, we must break this sword formation!” the old woman transmitted urgently.
“Agreed. Though without Frost Li’s ice-attribute cultivation, our contingency plan may prove less effective,” the monk replied grimly.
“No choice. At least he’s not a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator. Even if we can’t kill him, we can cripple him. We underestimated him—reports claimed his power rivaled late-stage experts, but this is beyond expectation. We planned to let him weaken Frost Li first, but now…” the old woman seethed.
“Regret is pointless. Sacrificing our trump card for a Heaven-reaching Spirit Treasure and the Five Devils would still be a bargain,” the monk said coldly, his demeanor shifting from benevolent to sinister.
With a snort, the old woman hurled her cane into the air. It transformed into a yellow beast—neither horse nor demon, with jagged fangs—and spat a storm of yellow sword beams toward the encroaching golden threads.
The monk, meanwhile, summoned twin silver dharma wheels, which swelled to wagon-size before hurtling forward.
Han Li watched impassively as the yellow swords and silver wheels were shredded instantly, reduced to scrap metal.
The two gasped, exchanging horrified glances.
Undeterred, the old woman produced a blue brick-like ancient treasure, chanting as she hurled it. The brick expanded to the size of a pavilion before crashing down—only to be sliced into nothingness by the golden threads.
“Impossible! The Blue Gold Brick was forged from refined essence—how could it be destroyed so easily?” she shrieked.
The monk’s eyes narrowed. With a sharp command, he directed a mouse-like spirit beast, its belly swelling grotesquely before releasing a deafening gray soundwave.
Yet the golden threads merely trembled, transforming into massive sword beams that slashed through the sonic assault effortlessly before reverting to threads, continuing their inexorable advance.
The two cultivators’ faces drained of color—this sword formation was far deadlier than they had imagined.
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