Amidst the gray light, the green-skinned alien felt his protective aura solidify, rendering him completely immobile.
At that moment, the enormous gray hand pressed down.
Darkness enveloped his vision as the air around him tightened, cutting off his breath. An overwhelming force bore down on his shoulders, and with a *thud*, the green-haired alien, unable to resist the crushing weight, collapsed to his knees, his muscles slack and bones weakened.
The gray hand hovered just half a foot above his head, pressing relentlessly against his protective aura, leaving him utterly paralyzed.
The green-haired alien’s face first turned deathly pale, then flushed crimson—whether from exertion or sheer humiliation, it was impossible to tell.
The entire third floor fell into stunned silence.
Both local cultivators and outsiders alike wore expressions of shock. Among them, Elder Yan’s surprise was tinged with a hint of delight.
In the distance, the Gui-named alien’s eyes flickered coldly as his gaze toward Han Li turned icy.
Xianxian, the Crystal Clan woman, cycled through a range of emotions. Though she had known Han Li’s abilities were formidable, witnessing him effortlessly suppress an opponent two ranks above him still left her deeply unsettled.
Yuezong, too, was stunned, staring at Han Li in speechless astonishment.
As for the palace-robed woman and the others, they were utterly dumbfounded.
Han Li ignored them all, his narrowed eyes fixed on the green-haired alien, whose bones creaked under the immense pressure.
Kneeling on the ground, the alien glared at Han Li with a mix of humiliation, fury, and venomous hatred. His protective aura flickered violently as he struggled to rise.
Han Li’s lips twitched, and he let out a cold snort.
His raised black hand suddenly twisted in midair. In response, the gray hand pressing down on the alien mirrored the motion, its fingers flexing. A pitch-black mountain, roughly ten feet tall, materialized out of nowhere and descended with crushing force.
A muffled *boom* echoed as the unassuming black mountain shattered the alien’s protective aura and flattened him against the floor. The mountain then expanded to thirty or forty feet in height, pinning the alien beneath it, leaving only half his head exposed.
The seemingly ordinary floor trembled violently before stabilizing, its surface and walls shimmering with white spiritual light. Strange runes surged from all directions before vanishing just as quickly.
The floor had been reinforced with an incredibly intricate formation—otherwise, the sheer force of the clash would have reduced the entire pavilion to rubble.
“Now, do I have a third option?” Han Li retracted his arm and asked coolly, staring at the alien trapped beneath the black mountain.
Under normal circumstances, defeating a peak Void Refinement cultivator would have required Han Li to expend considerable effort, perhaps even resorting to his trump cards.
But this alien, overconfident in his physical strength, had foolishly engaged Han Li in a direct clash within such a confined space. Against Han Li’s overwhelming power and the tyrannical might of the Vajra Devilish Arts, he stood no chance.
By the time the alien realized his mistake and attempted to flee or summon other treasures, it was already too late. Under the combined pressure of Han Li’s Magnetic Divine Light and crushing force, he could barely defend himself, let alone retaliate.
Watching his companion subdued so effortlessly, the Gui-named man in the distance suppressed a flash of bloodlust in his eyes. His brows furrowed as the bloody aura around him thickened. Slowly, he rose to his feet, as if preparing to approach Han Li.
The palace-robed woman and the others tensed, their earlier relief evaporating.
The fact that the Gui-named man remained unfazed after witnessing Han Li’s display suggested he had his own hidden strengths. Elder Yan studied him with narrowed eyes.
Han Li, however, merely glanced at the approaching figure, his expression unchanged.
As the Gui-named man advanced step by step, the atmosphere in the pavilion grew unbearably tense. The dozen or so neutral observers watched with bated breath, anticipating an explosive confrontation.
“Cease your actions,” a stern male voice suddenly rang out from the staircase leading to the fourth floor. “This is the Thundercloud Pavilion—fighting is strictly prohibited. If you wish to spar, take it to the designated arena in town. Otherwise, all involved will be barred from entering the Demon Mountains.”
Han Li’s expression shifted slightly, and the Gui-named man halted mid-step.
“It’s the newly appointed ‘Steward Min.’ Brother Han, you should stand down,” Elder Yan quickly advised.
Han Li arched a brow, glanced at the pinned alien, and chuckled before flicking a finger toward the black mountain.
With a *pop*, the mountain dissolved into gray mist, vanishing as if it had never existed.
The green-haired alien sprang to his feet, his face flushed with rage. With a furious roar, he opened his mouth, revealing a glint of yellow light—clearly preparing to attack Han Li.
Han Li smirked but made no move to defend himself.
“Enough!” the Gui-named man snapped coldly. “You’re no match for him. Return at once.”
“He only caught me off guard! I’ll—” the green-haired alien snarled, refusing to back down.
“Do you dare defy me?” the Gui-named man’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
The alien shuddered, his fury instantly replaced by fear. Muttering apologies, he shot Han Li a venomous glare before slinking back to his seat, his expression dark.
“Since you insist on protecting this ‘Brother Yue,’ so be it,” the Gui-named man said icily. “From your earlier words, it seems your group isn’t here for the Spirit Mushroom Immortal. In that case, we have no conflict. I’ve no desire to waste energy on pointless battles. But next time you stand in my way, the consequences will be far worse.”
With that, he turned and sat back down.
Han Li merely stroked his chin, smiling wordlessly.
The palace-robed woman exhaled in relief and was about to speak when Steward Min’s voice echoed from above:
“Aside from upper-race cultivators of the eighth or ninth rank, all applicants must pass a test to enter the Demon Mountains. Those seeking entry may now ascend—two at a time.”
His calm announcement sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd.
After a brief hesitation, two individuals—one at mid-Nascent Soul stage, the other at early-Void Refinement—hurried up the stairs, vanishing from sight. The others who hesitated wore expressions of regret.
After all, obtaining the Lightning-Rending Umbrella early could only be advantageous.
The remaining applicants had no choice but to wait. Some strained their ears, hoping to catch any clues from above, but the staircase remained eerily silent—whether due to formations or the nature of the test itself, no one could tell.
Half an hour later, the first applicant descended.
All eyes snapped toward him.
His robes were torn and stained with blood, as if he had just endured a brutal fight.
“Brother Zhu, how was the test? Did you get the umbrella?” a familiar outsider asked eagerly.
“I passed,” the man replied tersely. “But Steward Min forbade me from disclosing details—violators will have their umbrellas revoked. Regardless of the outcome, test-takers must leave immediately. I’ll take my leave now.”
With that, he hurried downstairs without another word.
The questioner could only sit back down, frustrated.
Shortly after, the second applicant descended, dejected but unharmed. Without a word, he too left.
The bizarre outcomes made the others hesitant. No one rushed forward, each waiting for someone else to test the waters first.
“Next two!” Steward Min’s voice called impatiently from above.
Han Li scanned the room. Seeing no volunteers, he smirked and stood, striding toward the stairs. After a few steps, light footsteps followed.
“No need to rush, Fellow Daoist,” Han Li said without turning. “You could wait a while longer.”
“Don’t worry, Senior,” a melodious voice replied. “I’ve made some preparations regarding the test.”
It was Xianxian, the Crystal Clan woman.
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