When Han Li stared straight at her, the woman was momentarily taken aback before a trace of irritation flashed across her face. However, after scanning him with her spiritual sense, she was startled to find she couldn’t detect any fluctuations of spiritual energy from him. Unease crept into her heart, and she immediately turned her body away.
By then, Han Li had regained his composure, his expression returning to normal as he gazed at her thoughtfully. The blue-robed woman bore an uncanny resemblance to a figure he had long buried deep in his heart, one he had tried his best not to revisit. The shock of this resemblance left him momentarily hesitant.
Chen Qiaoqian—the woman who had once confessed her feelings to him—slowly surfaced in his mind, her image magnified countless times until it filled his thoughts entirely. This blue-robed woman looked almost identical to Chen Qiaoqian, who had long since perished in the human realm. Apart from her icy demeanor, the resemblance was striking, as if she had been reborn.
When Han Li had first heard of Chen Qiaoqian’s death, he had appeared outwardly calm, but inwardly, he had been filled with melancholy and an indescribable emotion. It might not have been love, but any normal man would harbor complex feelings toward a woman who had once adored him.
Yet Chen Qiaoqian could not possibly have been resurrected, nor could she have reincarnated into the Spirit Realm. No matter how similar this blue-robed woman was, she was merely a member of another race.
Han Li swiftly suppressed his turbulent emotions and, after a brief hesitation, proceeded with his original plan, walking toward the stone wall.
Though the blue-robed woman didn’t turn around, she seemed to possess some ability to sense what was happening behind her. Frowning, she moved away from her spot.
Han Li, unfazed, strode forward and took her place before the wall.
Even without turning, he could sense the woman glaring at him from behind before she briskly walked to another wall farther away. It seemed she had mistaken him for a lecherous man drawn to her beauty.
Amused, Han Li focused his attention on the silver inscriptions on the wall. As expected, they listed various rare treasures, but curiously, none had prices attached—only numbers ranging from one to thirteen.
Realizing something, Han Li glanced toward the distance, where thirteen jade pavilions surrounded a crimson tower, each marked with a golden number floating above it. The meaning of the numbers on the wall became clear.
Unhurried, he carefully examined the entire wall before moving to the next one. In no time, he had scanned most of the walls, his expression remaining impassive as if he hadn’t found anything of interest.
Suddenly, a thunderous roar erupted from the crimson tower, followed by an enraged shout: “What? You’re saying this is fake? Impossible! I nearly died retrieving this from a pack of Golden-Winged Giants!”
“Quit yelling. A fake is a fake. If it were real, I wouldn’t reject it. The appraisal is done—you may leave now,” a sharp voice retorted dismissively.
The first speaker, still furious, bellowed, “I spent years recovering from this ordeal, only to find out it’s a fake! If I ever see the bastard who gave me the tip, I’ll rip his head off!” His voice, amplified by spiritual energy, echoed clearly across the square, startling the crowd, most of whom were not locals.
Suddenly, red light flashed from the tower, and a massive figure shot out, landing heavily on the ground with a tremor. The crowd gasped—the figure was half-flesh, half-metal, with a grotesque, cone-shaped head covered in sparse green hair.
Han Li’s expression darkened when his spiritual sense failed to gauge the man’s cultivation level—this was another peak Body Integration cultivator like Qian Jizi.
While Han Li didn’t recognize the man, others did. A dozen figures rushed forward, bowing deeply. “Greetings, Elder Duan!” “Respects, Third Elder!”
The towering figures were all Stone Cocoon tribesmen, and the monstrous man was one of their high-ranking elders.
“Hmph. Hope you fare better than I did. I’m leaving—this fake has ruined my mood,” the elder grunted before striding away, the crowd parting in fear.
Coincidentally, his path took him past Han Li, who subtly stepped back to avoid him. But then, the elder abruptly stopped beside Han Li, sniffed the air, and turned to stare at him incredulously.
The bizarre scene drew puzzled looks from onlookers.
“Does the elder have business with this junior?” Han Li asked warily, forcing a smile.
“What’s your name? Which tribe are you from?” the elder demanded.
Han Li hesitated, unwilling to reveal his identity. “I—”
“Good, very good! I’m Duan Tianren of the Stone Cocoon Tribe. If you ever face trouble in Sky Cloud, drop my name,” the elder declared before his figure blurred momentarily.
Han Li’s expression soured—he had felt the elder’s hand tap his shoulder, sending a strange surge of spiritual energy through his arm before it dissipated.
“What does the elder mean by this?” Han Li asked coldly.
Only a handful in the crowd had noticed the tap. The elder smirked. “Nothing much. I sensed you practice an intriguing body-refinement technique. I’d like to exchange insights sometime.”
Han Li’s face stung under the elder’s gaze, and he inwardly panicked. His disguise, enhanced by the black veil and his newfound transformation technique, might not hold against such a powerful figure.
He doubted the elder’s claim of wanting to discuss techniques—what was the real purpose of that tap?
“Don’t overthink it, boy. I’ll be waiting at the ‘Fragrant Pavilion’ across the way. Don’t try to sneak off—my little mark will let me track you for hours,” the elder’s voice whispered in Han Li’s ear before he laughed and strode away.
Left behind, Han Li stood frozen, his mind racing. The surrounding crowd eyed him curiously.
Unable to focus, Han Li turned and headed for the exit, his thoughts in turmoil.
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