Chapter 1231: (Untitled)

But something completely unexpected happened to the monk!

Although the ten fiery threads did not pierce through the golden phantom, they suddenly flashed red simultaneously and transformed into thick red fire chains. With a swift, lightning-like coil, they tightly bound the golden phantom.

Seeing this, the monk was momentarily stunned but then reflexively flicked his finger toward the sky.

A white sword light shot from his fingertip, slashing fiercely at the fire chains.

With a crisp, melodious clang, red and white lights briefly intertwined before the sword light was deflected, leaving only a bean-sized nick on the thick fire chain, utterly failing to sever it.

At this, the silver-robed monk’s expression darkened.

Noticing the approaching three-colored firebird and the surging purple flames from the opposite side, he stomped his foot on the white lotus beneath him in desperation. Simultaneously, he let out a dragon-like roar and strained his arms outward.

The massive golden phantom, seemingly sensing the monk’s agitation, suddenly radiated blinding golden light. Its colossal body swelled by nearly half, reaching a staggering seventy to eighty feet in height, as if it intended to snap the fire chains instantly.

Yet, to the monk’s dismay, the fire chains expanded along with the golden phantom’s growth, showing no signs of strain.

The monk swiftly formed another hand seal, and the golden phantom abruptly shrank to half its size amidst a surge of spiritual light. The fire chains, however, followed suit, shrinking and thinning like stubborn parasites clinging to the phantom, impossible to shake off.

Now, the silver-robed monk’s face truly paled with alarm.

As the three-colored firebird closed in, he could no longer afford to focus on the phantom above. Hastily, he tossed the jade bottle into the air.

The silver bottle spun mid-air, its mouth aligning directly with the oncoming firebird. Amidst a dazzling silver glow, a chorus of Buddhist chants emanated from the bottle, followed by a torrent of seven-colored Buddha light that surged toward the three-colored firebird.

The firebird spat three-colored flames and spread its wings, attempting to break through the Buddha light and reach the monk’s head in one swift motion.

Yet, upon contact, the Buddha light swirled intensely, its seven-colored radiance enveloping the firebird and swiftly drawing it back into the bottle. The entire process was effortless, as if the bottle was the natural counter to the three-colored firebird.

Relieved, the silver-robed monk immediately pointed at the silver bottle again.

The treasure trembled and released another wave of Buddha light, this time targeting the rolling purple flames trailing the firebird. Clearly, he intended to capture the Violet Netherflame as well.

But just then, a calm voice from the opposite side uttered a single word: “Explode.”

The small silver bottle hovering before Han Li suddenly shook violently, its surface warping and distorting. Amidst frantic silver flashes, muffled thunderous roars echoed from within, growing louder by the second.

“Not good!”

The silver-robed monk scanned the bottle with his spiritual sense and, upon discovering something alarming, gasped in shock. Without hesitation, the high monk of the Thunderclap Sect vanished from the white lotus beneath him, leaving behind only a slowly rotating lotus flower and the immobilized golden phantom in the air.

Simultaneously, the silver bottle erupted with a deafening explosion, shattering completely.

A three-colored halo emerged in the void where the bottle had been!

As the three-colored runes swirled, the halo expanded several times its size, engulfing both the white lotus and the golden phantom.

Trapped by the fiery chains, the golden phantom could not evade. Though it resisted briefly within the three-colored flames, it soon dissolved like foam with a “puff,” vanishing without a trace. The white lotus fared even worse, vaporizing instantly upon contact with the flames.

Thirty yards away, a flash of white light revealed the silver-robed monk’s reappearance. However, the moment the golden phantom was destroyed, his face turned deathly pale. He spat out a mouthful of blood, and his golden skin dulled significantly, as if he had suffered severe vitality loss.

The golden phantom was evidently linked to his lifeblood, akin to a lifebound treasure!

Han Li, expressionless, manipulated his hand seals, redirecting the oncoming purple flames into a thirty-foot-long violet fire serpent. The serpent, clutching a white pearl in its maw, lunged at the fleeing monk.

Before it even reached him, a bone-chilling wind swept through, dropping the temperature to an extreme, as if the very space around them was freezing solid.

The silver-robed monk’s feet flashed white, conjuring another lotus identical to the previous one. Without moving his legs, he retreated thirty yards in a series of flashes, letting out a bitter laugh. “Enough! There’s no need to continue. Fellow Daoist Han, your powers are truly formidable. This old monk admits defeat.”

The silver-robed monk, after just one exchange with Han Li, had surrendered. His eyes lingered on the spot where the silver bottle had been destroyed, his face filled with regret.

That silver bottle had been a top-tier Buddhist treasure he had painstakingly acquired. Its destruction in a mere sparring match left him deeply frustrated, deterring him from further confrontation.

Moreover, though neither had exerted their full strength, Han Li’s abilities clearly surpassed his. With his vitality already damaged, the monk had no desire to prolong the fight.

Hearing this, Han Li’s eyes flickered before he smiled and beckoned from afar.

The violet fire serpent froze mid-air, then dissolved into purple flames, leaving only the white pearl hovering. Under Han Li’s spiritual guidance, the pearl and the fire chains, now reverted to their thread forms, shot back to him.

The two treasures flashed briefly before vanishing into Han Li’s body.

Han Li clasped his hands toward the monk and said calmly, “I concede,” before slowly descending.

At the hall’s entrance, he was met with awed gazes.

Though both were Great Cultivators, Han Li had effortlessly wounded Monk Yuanzhi, stunning everyone present, including Canku.

Even the youthful-looking Monk Yanzhu, upon meeting Han Li’s gaze, showed a trace of unease, losing his earlier composure.

“The battle between you two has truly broadened my horizons. I can only hope to reach such heights one day. Since Fellow Daoist Han has emerged victorious, this humble host will not go back on his word. I shall have someone fetch the secret technique for refining pocket dimensions,” Canku said with a smile, showing no sign of disappointment. Instead, he proactively offered the reward before Han Li could even mention it.

“Then I shall trouble Pavilion Master Canku,” Han Li replied lightly.

Canku waved off the formality, producing a token and handing it to a nearby Core Formation cultivator with brief instructions.

The cultivator bowed, clutching the token, and hurried off toward the ground below.

Aside from the Skyward Hall in mid-air, the pocket dimension boasted numerous exquisite pavilions and towers on the ground, with figures occasionally glimpsed within. However, these individuals seemed to have been instructed to stay hidden, as none dared to emerge during the battle between the two Great Cultivators.

The messenger soon disappeared into one of the buildings below.

Han Li withdrew his gaze just as the silver-robed monk, having regulated his breathing, descended from the sky. The monk produced a white medicine bottle from his sleeve, swallowed a fiery-red pill, and sighed.

“Venerable Yuanzhi, are you unharmed?” Han Li inquired politely.

“It’s nothing. With this pill, a few months of rest will suffice. However, Fellow Daoist Han, that feather fan of yours is no ordinary treasure, is it? My Arhat Golden Body can withstand even top-tier magic treasures without issue, yet it couldn’t endure a single strike from your fan. It must be either a genuine spirit treasure or a replica of one. With such a weapon, few in the human realm would dare face you head-on,” Monk Yuanzhi remarked with a smile, showing no resentment over his defeat. Instead, he seemed genuinely curious.

“Your insight is remarkable, Venerable. This treasure is indeed a replica of a spirit treasure,” Han Li admitted with a chuckle.

The silver-robed monk’s stern face softened into a smile, but before he could speak further, Canku interjected.

“Fellow Daoists, why not continue your discussion inside? Coincidentally, I’ve recently acquired a bottle of ancient spirit wine, ‘Dragon’s Whisper.’ It’s said that a single sip can rival a month of arduous cultivation for an ordinary cultivator. More importantly, its flavor is indescribably exquisite. Please, join me in savoring it,” the plump elder said warmly, rubbing his hands together like a hospitable country gentleman, devoid of any airs of a pavilion master.

“‘Dragon’s Whisper’? I’ve heard of this wine. Rumor has it that it’s brewed from rare fruits long extinct in our world, unmatched in aroma by any modern spirit wine. Heh, don’t be surprised, Fellow Daoist Han. Though I’m a monk, I’ve never been able to resist fine wine. In fact, Pavilion Master Canku lured me into becoming a guest elder with dozens of jars of ancient spirit wine. But rest assured, I’m no gluttonous monk—I still adhere to other precepts,” Monk Yuanzhi joked, his tone unexpectedly amiable.

Han Li’s heart stirred slightly, but he merely smiled without comment.

The group re-entered the grand hall…