Chapter 1573: Hun Tian Bag and the Gourd

Han Li, concealed within the sword formation, felt his heart sink slightly at the sight before him.

The opponent truly lived up to his status as a Unity-level being. Even trapped within the sword formation, he could still command such vast amounts of heaven and earth spiritual energy, exerting immense pressure on the formation.

However, this was also due to the vast difference in their cultivation realms. Had they been of the same level, Han Li could have easily dispersed the gathered spiritual energy with his own realm power. After all, dispersing spiritual energy was far easier than summoning it.

This was precisely why cultivators above the Void Refinement stage rarely directly mobilized heaven and earth spiritual energy to attack their opponents. Even if someone attempted it, the effort required to gather such energy could easily be undone if the opponent, being of a similar realm, seized control of it—rendering the entire endeavor futile.

Occasionally, when spiritual energy was mobilized in battle, it was usually to supplement a powerful technique that exceeded the caster’s own mana reserves. In such cases, the caster either had allies assisting them or employed a specialized technique to lock the summoned spiritual energy in place, preventing others from stealing it.

Moreover, even when unleashing heaven and earth energy in an all-out attack, a cultivator who could normally command energy across hundreds of miles would often limit the range to just a few dozen miles to minimize casting time and ensure stable control.

At this moment, the old man surnamed Tu, seeing Han Li’s cultivation far inferior to his own, dared to recklessly summon such vast amounts of spiritual energy to assault the sword formation.

Faced with this tactic, Han Li naturally felt deeply frustrated.

However, back when Qing Yuanzi, at the Void Refinement stage, had managed to contend with Unity-level opponents, he had devised countermeasures against such brute-force spiritual energy attacks.

Taking a deep breath, Han Li’s fingers flickered rapidly as he unleashed a barrage of incantations into the sword formation, seemingly without regard for mana consumption.

Under the combined pressure of the internal fire pillars and the external spiritual energy, the green light barrier of the Spring Dawn Sword Formation flickered violently. The sword lights embedded in the spiritual energy at the formation’s periphery vanished in a flash.

Then, as the barrier expanded and contracted under the pressure, the lotus flowers adorning it suddenly unfurled their petals and began spinning wildly.

In an instant, glowing green whirlpools emerged across the barrier’s surface, voraciously devouring the thick spiritual energy. Within moments, the sword formation had absorbed ten to twenty percent of the gathered energy.

The previously wavering barrier instantly stabilized, growing denser and more resilient.

Inside the formation, the old man had been directing the fire pillars to rampage through the barrier. The sudden shift in the external spiritual energy did not escape his notice.

Shocked, he had never expected the sword formation to possess such a profound ability. If this continued, the very energy he had summoned would only strengthen the formation’s power.

Enraged, the old man let out a thunderous roar that sent tremors through the sword formation. The spiritual energy gathered outside dispersed in a gust of eerie wind, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Yet, with so much energy already absorbed, the green barrier now gleamed like jade, its defensive power vastly enhanced.

The old man’s own summoned energy had inadvertently bolstered his enemy’s strength—a blunder that would surely invite ridicule if word spread.

Furious, the old man let out three cold laughs.

Then, with a single palm strike to his own crown, a swirling mass of red, yellow, and white spiritual light erupted, coalescing into a towering, indistinct phantom.

Before Han Li could discern its features, the phantom merged with the old man’s body.

The old man threw back his head and howled. His once-refined features twisted into a monstrous visage—green-skinned, fanged, and towering over twenty feet tall. A crimson horn sprouted from his forehead, stretching half a foot long, while scarlet scales crawled across his skin.

In an instant, he had transformed into a demonic horror.

With a sinister grin, he flipped his hands.

In one palm appeared a small golden banner wreathed in fiery mist. In the other, a shimmering blue pouch.

Without hesitation, he hurled both into the air, chanting an arcane incantation Han Li could not comprehend.

The banner trembled, spewing streams of golden flame, while the pouch billowed, releasing a storm of blue sand.

The old man himself spat out a cloud of blood-red fire.

The three forces merged with the rampaging fire pillars inside the formation, intertwining into a tri-colored tempest of wind and fire. The resulting explosion of power shook the very heavens.

Recognizing the danger, Han Li frantically activated the sword formation’s transformations, unleashing a series of potent illusions. Yet, no matter what mirages he conjured, they were obliterated the moment the tri-colored tempest touched them.

The Spring Dawn Sword Formation seemed utterly outmatched.

Under the relentless assault, the green barrier flickered precariously once more.

Han Li inhaled sharply.

Half his dread stemmed from the tri-colored tempest—the other half from the blue pouch the old man had produced.

The artifact looked eerily familiar, resembling a legendary treasure listed on the Chaos Myriad Spirit Ranking: the “Chaos Pouch.” Though mid-ranked, it possessed several unique abilities that made it infamous.

Years ago, it had belonged to a mighty human cultivator, only to vanish after their untimely demise. Countless high-ranking cultivators had scoured the human and demon realms in search of it, to no avail.

How had it ended up in the hands of the Horned Race from the Thunder Continent?

Han Li’s mind raced.

According to legends, the Chaos Pouch’s power far exceeded what he was witnessing. Could this be a replica? Or had he mistaken it for a similar artifact?

There was no time to ponder.

As the sword formation teetered on collapse, Han Li’s eyes narrowed, a cold glint flashing within.

Rumors claimed Qing Yuanzi had used this formation to battle Unity-level foes—likely true, given his mastery of the later stages of the Azure Essence Sword Art, allowing him to unleash the formation’s full potential.

Though Han Li possessed a refined set of Emerald Swarm Swords, his cultivation techniques weren’t tailored for the formation, leaving several lethal maneuvers beyond his reach.

Thus, despite trapping the old man, the formation was now faltering.

Yet, after absorbing so much spiritual energy, one last desperate technique might still be viable.

A memory surfaced in Han Li’s mind.

This technique was devastating—but executing it would shatter the formation instantly, regardless of success.

Yet, with no other options, he had to try.

If it failed, he would have to rely on the Twelve Earthly Branches Transformations and engage in direct combat. Worse came to worst, he still had talismans and his Gold Devouring Beetles as trump cards.

Thus, even against a Unity-stage foe, Han Li remained composed.

With a low chant, an incredible sight unfolded within the formation.

The green barrier rippled, and a vine-like plant sprouted from its surface, its roots embedded in the barrier while its tendrils dangled below.

Initially mere inches long, it rapidly grew to several yards, twisting and coiling until it bore a small, emerald-green gourd.

The gourd, no larger than a palm, seemed utterly ordinary—until the lotus flowers in the barrier trembled, releasing countless tiny sword beams that vanished into it.

A sword sigil materialized on the gourd’s surface, faint at first but glowing vividly as multicolored light surged down the vine.

The old man, uneasy at the gourd’s bizarre appearance, instinctively lashed out. A tri-colored hand of wind and fire formed, lunging to crush it.

Had the gourd been ordinary, it would have been obliterated instantly.

But at that moment, Han Li’s voice echoed coldly:

“**Slash.**”

The gourd spun, inverted, and spat out a foot-long sword of light, shimmering with five-colored radiance and floating sigils.

The gourd and vine dissolved into motes of light.

The sword of light expanded to ten feet, then swept downward in a seemingly effortless slash.

Without a sound, the tri-colored hand split cleanly in two and exploded.

The giant sword then turned, its tip aimed squarely at the transformed old man.

The old man’s face paled.