Gazing at the mist below, a blue glint flashed in Han Li’s pupils as his vision instantly pierced through the gray haze, revealing the scene beneath with perfect clarity.
With a flick of his sleeve, a fierce gale surged forth, churning the mist until most of it was swept away.
The landscape below gradually became visible.
Indeed, there was a small pond, no more than a hundred zhang in size. About ten zhang away from the pond, dozens of sparse, unevenly sized trees stood, most of them differing from the surrounding decaying-leaf trees.
Among them were several trees with dark-green trunks, each bearing a fist-sized, pitch-black fruit at the top of their branches.
The surfaces of these fruits were extremely rough, covered with countless tiny cracks from which faint black mist seeped in and out.
Han Li narrowed his eyes, recalling the records from ancient texts—these were unmistakably Netherflame Fruits.
Not only Han Li, but the others also spotted the fruits, their faces lighting up with joy.
“Junior Sister Lei wasn’t mistaken. These are indeed Netherflame Fruits,” Bai Bi said delightedly.
“Let’s harvest the ripe ones. There should be enough for all of us,” Han Li remarked calmly after a deep glance, his demeanor unshaken.
“If the Chiyan Clan is planning to ambush us in the third layer, let them keep waiting!” Lei Lan joked, clearly in high spirits.
Qin Xiao was naturally overjoyed as well.
Just as the three were about to descend and collect the fruits, Han Li’s expression suddenly darkened. Without turning his head, he raised an arm and pressed toward a seemingly empty space behind him.
A loud *sizzle* echoed as a five-colored hand, over a zhang in size, materialized out of thin air and ruthlessly clawed downward.
An unbelievable sight unfolded—where the five-colored hand struck, a flash of blood-red light appeared, and a crimson hand emerged in response, clashing against it.
With a *boom*, the fingers of both hands collided, blood-red and five-colored flames intertwining before dissipating in an instant.
“Hmm?”
“Interesting!”
Two distinct murmurs sounded simultaneously.
The first came from Han Li, who had turned his head to witness the scene.
The second came from a swirling mass of blood-red mist, within which loomed a tall, shadowy figure.
“Who are you, sneaking around like a ghost?” Han Li demanded coldly, his gaze fixed on the mist.
“A mere Spirit General-level being can detect me? You’re certainly unusual,” the figure in the mist chuckled eerily, as if speaking to itself.
“Go collect the Netherflame Fruits. I’ll handle this one,” Han Li ordered sharply, waving a hand at the stunned trio of Lei Lan and the others.
“Yes!”
“Understood!”
“Be careful, Brother Han!”
Though unable to gauge the strength of the figure in the mist, Lei Lan and the others sensed Han Li’s gravity and hurriedly complied.
With a flash of light, they descended toward the Netherflame Fruits.
“Oh? Interested in those trees below? Heh, they may not be treasures, but they’re not so easily obtained,” the figure in the mist remarked strangely, glancing at Lei Lan and Bai Bi.
A chill ran down Han Li’s spine. He immediately tried to warn the trio, but it was too late.
A deafening roar erupted from the pond as massive waves surged, followed by several pink tentacles lashing out amidst a barrage of water arrows.
Bai Bi and the others, who had just landed by the pond, were startled.
With the Netherflame Fruits behind them, they couldn’t afford to dodge. Forced to stand their ground, they unleashed their techniques to block the attack.
One summoned thick silver arcs, another wove a net of golden threads, while Qin Xiao spat out a wave of green radiance.
The three techniques clashed with the tentacles and water arrows in a thunderous explosion, sending the trio stumbling back.
The tentacles, scorched and mangled by the onslaught, writhed in pain.
A furious bellow came from the pond as a monstrous, octopus-like creature emerged, its green eyes glaring at the shore while more tentacles shot up, each towering ten zhang high.
The beast’s massive head was covered in blue bristles, and every swing of its tentacles tore through the air with a piercing screech.
To Lei Lan’s dismay, the wounded tentacles healed instantly under a flash of blue light, restoring themselves completely.
The creature, treating the pond as its territory, let out a maddened roar and lashed out with waves of blue light, forcing the trio into a desperate battle.
Meanwhile, Han Li withdrew his sidelong glance, his face expressionless.
Though the beast was fierce, it wouldn’t last long against three Holy Sons. His real concern was the formidable foe before him.
“What’s your connection to the Blood Puppets from earlier?” Han Li asked abruptly.
“Heh, Blood Puppets? So the Blood Fiend has already sent men. You must’ve killed them. Good, very good! This trip was worth it after all,” the figure sneered, ignoring Han Li’s question.
Han Li frowned, his flying swords stirring restlessly within him.
But before he could act, a sharp, ear-piercing screech erupted from the mist, followed by a chilling gust before his face.
A hair-thin blood needle shot from the void mere inches from his brow.
At such close range, Han Li had no time to react.
With a flash of crimson, the needle struck his forehead—only to rebound with a metallic *clang*, as if hitting steel.
Han Li’s expression darkened as he snatched the needle mid-air.
The figure in the mist froze, its smirk vanishing.
“Your body can withstand my Blood River Nether Needle?” it uttered in disbelief.
Han Li remained silent, slowly opening his palm to reveal the writhing needle, trapped under a layer of five-colored flames.
His face was grim, his heart icy with lingering dread.
That ambush had nearly cost him his life. Had his physique not surpassed even demonic beasts, he’d have perished instantly.
The figure was equally shaken. Few beings possessed such resilience—was this man truly a Feilong, or a shapeshifted monster?
Its expression darkened.
At that moment, Han Li raised a hand, his eyes flashing as he let out a cold snort.
The figure’s mind exploded in agony, as if stabbed by a spike. Despite its formidable spirit, it staggered, nearly doubling over.
In that split second, a breeze brushed its back, followed by an unbearable chill at its waist.
Panicked, it tried to dodge, but its body lagged from the mental assault.
With a shout, crimson light erupted from its body, forming a bizarre scaled armor that shielded it just in time.
A golden streak pierced the armor but embedded only a few inches before halting—revealing a gleaming golden sword: Han Li’s Emerald Swarm Sword.
Han Li stood a few zhang away, astonished.
After unleashing his Mind Spike, he’d teleported behind the mist using his Wind Lightning Wings, striking with lightning speed—only for the enemy’s armor to block his blade.
What kind of armor was this, so indestructible?
“Seeking death!”
The figure, now recovered, roared in fury and spat a blood-red beam.
But Han Li had already vanished in a flash of green-white lightning, reappearing where he’d stood moments earlier, his face calm as if he’d never moved.
With a growl, the blood mist dispersed, revealing the figure’s true form—a crimson, flood dragon-headed humanoid!
“Blood Flood Dragon!”
Han Li’s pupils contracted.
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