Seventy-two small sword phantoms shot out from his sleeve, flickering faintly before vanishing into the emerald bamboo. Han Li then formed a hand seal with one hand and uttered the word “Rise.”
An astonishing scene unfolded.
All the Golden Lightning Bamboo erupted with thunderous roars. The color of the bamboo, whether the trunks or leaves, instantly shifted from emerald green to withered yellow. After a slight tremor, it turned ashen white, as if lifeless. A gentle breeze swept by, and the Golden Lightning Bamboo crumbled into dust, vanishing without a trace.
In their place, seventy-two faintly glowing green flying swords, each about a foot long, hovered in the air a few feet above the ground, their cold gleam piercing.
With a wave of his hand, one of the swords shot toward him in a flash of green light, landing firmly in his grasp. Han Li examined the green flying sword for a moment before flicking its back lightly with his other hand. The sword trembled, emitting a dragon-like hum, its surface shimmering with green light. The blade quivered like a restless azure flood dragon.
Han Li’s brows arched slightly, his eyes flickering with thought. Suddenly, his grip on the sword flared with radiant spiritual light as he channeled a surge of formidable spiritual power into the blade. The sword erupted in a dazzling green glow, its once-clear form now blurring into obscurity.
Narrowing his eyes, Han Li extended a finger and tapped the sword lightly, as if touching smoke. His finger passed effortlessly through the blade, encountering no resistance—as though the sword had no physical form at all.
Delighted, Han Li formed another hand seal and directed his divine sense toward the array of swords before him. The seventy-two swords rose into the air, circled once, and then vanished into his body in a flash of green light. With another burst of radiance, Han Li transformed into a streak of green light and shot out of the medicinal garden, disappearing in a few blinks.
Shortly after, a green streak soared from the base of the mountain where Han Li’s cave resided, streaking away in the opposite direction of the Black Mist Sea.
Given the powerful divine senses of the three late-stage cultivators in the distance, Han Li knew stealth was futile. Instead, he made no effort to conceal himself, flying openly toward the horizon.
The distant rumble of battle and flashes of dazzling light at the sky’s edge suggested the two foreign beings were too preoccupied to pursue him. Seizing this opportunity, Han Li fled without hesitation.
Amid the distant battle, a horned youth transformed into a green-faced, fanged monster unleashed countless arcs of green lightning, repelling a skeletal bird. With a soft “Hmm,” he turned his head toward Han Li’s fleeing figure, his eyes glinting coldly.
“Brother Min, focus on the enemy. Let’s finish this beast first. A little more effort, and we can wound it,” boomed the massive merman wielding a trident, having also noticed Han Li’s departure.
“Don’t state the obvious,” the horned youth retorted with a cold snort. A thunderous crack erupted from his horn as a thick green arc shot forth, transforming into a massive lightning blade that slashed toward the skeletal bird. The bird screeched in defiance, raising a claw to summon a colossal, shadow-wreathed talon to meet the attack.
A deafening explosion followed, sending shockwaves rippling outward. The merman grinned savagely, swinging his trident to unleash a massive ice spear, a whirlwind, and a white lightning arc before charging forward himself.
The battle between the three intensified in an instant.
…
Han Li initially flew inland toward the Skywing Tribe’s territory, but after traversing over a hundred thousand miles, he abruptly changed course, looping back toward the depths of the ocean. This cautious maneuver ensured that even if the two foreign beings swiftly defeated the nine-headed skeletal bird, they would lose his trail.
Despite this, Han Li dared not pause for the first ten days, flying at full speed across the ocean. Only after covering an incalculable distance and confirming his safety did he finally relax, altering his course to parallel the coastline.
Generally, the deep ocean housed more formidable sea beasts and natural hazards than the mainland. Even with his Void Refinement cultivation, Han Li had no intention of venturing too far into uncharted waters. Yet, he also had no plans to remain within the Skywing Tribe’s domain—both due to his ties with them and an ominous premonition stirred by the arrival of the two foreign late-stage cultivators.
Thus, he resolved to follow the coastline until he exited the Skywing Tribe’s territory. The coastal regions were safer, free of the deep sea’s monstrous beasts and rarely frequented by the Skywing Tribe, who despised the ocean.
With his course set, Han Li raced eastward. At his current cultivation level, covering millions of miles in a day was effortless. As he flew, he retrieved one of the green flying swords, running his fingers along its surface in contemplation.
These newly refined Emerald Swarm Swords, now purely wood-attributed, were weightless and could shift between solid and ethereal forms with a mere infusion of spiritual power. Gripping the hilt, Han Li channeled energy and swung lightly.
A burst of green light erupted before him like a peacock’s fan, only to coalesce back into the sword with a flick of his wrist—so swiftly it defied belief. Han Li was ecstatic. The sword moved without resistance or weight, its sharpness and agility reaching an astonishing level. With such a weapon, he could strike from miles away in an instant.
Yet, his joy soon gave way to concern. If the sword was this light and singular in attribute, its durability might have suffered. To test this, he summoned another identical sword and crossed the two blades.
A green flash and a crisp *snap* later, both swords severed cleanly at the point of impact. Han Li’s expression darkened. The swords’ fragility exceeded his expectations.
But then came the realization—these were his lifebound treasures. If damaged, why was he unharmed? Suspicion gave way to revelation as he formed a sword seal. The four broken segments trembled before merging back into two intact swords.
“Spiritual Sword Phasing!” Han Li exclaimed, eyes alight with recognition. This was a legendary ability among human sword cultivators—one he had only heard of in rumors. Supposedly, swords with this power could dissolve into intangible forms, split infinitely, and reform without damage. While repeated phasing would still cause minor wear and drain the wielder’s energy, it rendered the swords nearly indestructible save against specific countermeasures.
Now he understood why the old man surnamed Jiang had scoffed at his mixed-attribute swords. Jiang’s own blades likely possessed this very ability—though unlike Han Li, who had achieved it in mere centuries through the Golden Lightning Bamboo and the small vial, Jiang must have spent untold years refining his.
With a deep breath, Han Li exhaled a stream of green mist, into which the swords shrank to inch-long sizes before being reabsorbed into his body. Further refinement of these swords would require his own spiritual nurturing, as external aids could no longer suffice.
In high spirits, Han Li continued his flight along the coast, simultaneously studying the Spring Dawn Sword Formation. Days turned into months as he journeyed.
One day, after bisecting a sea serpent that dared attack him, Han Li suddenly tensed, his gaze snapping toward the distant sky.
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