After listening to Sect Leader Zhong Lingdao’s encouraging speech, two deacon disciples entered the hall, each holding a tray.
One tray held a golden-edged storage pouch, while the other was piled with a small heap of colorful mid-grade spirit stones. It seemed the time had come to fulfill the earlier promise—a form of pre-battle encouragement, Han Li thought with a hint of cynicism.
The mid-grade spirit stones were distributed according to each individual’s needs, allowing free selection. Han Li already possessed an earth-attribute and a fire-attribute spirit stone, so he picked a blue water-attribute spirit stone from the tray. No one contested his choice.
However, when it came to drawing magical instruments from the storage pouch, the expressions of the disciples turned serious.
This storage pouch was quite different from ordinary ones. With typical storage pouches, one only needed to extend their spiritual sense inside and channel spiritual power to retrieve items. But this pouch blocked the spiritual sense of cultivators and required no spiritual power input. One simply had to reach their hand inside to pull out a magical instrument shrunk dozens of times in size. However, what exactly one retrieved was uncertain—it all depended on the tactile sensation of the hand.
It seemed this storage pouch was specially refined for drawing magical instruments. Otherwise, its practicality paled in comparison to ordinary storage pouches—who would use such a thing?
Although all the items inside were top-grade magical instruments, defensive instruments were noticeably rarer than offensive ones. Even among top-grade instruments, whether offensive or defensive, there were significant disparities in quality and effectiveness.
Drawing a suitable magical instrument could increase one’s chances of survival in the Bloody Trial. This was especially important for those who lacked magical instruments, making them all the more attentive.
Han Li, however, paid little mind to this.
During his last visit to the market, he had swept clean all the treasures hoarded by the Myriad Treasures Pavilion, acquiring two top-tier magical instruments alone, not to mention later obtaining the Green Flood Dragon Banner and several other top-grade magical instruments.
Adding another top-grade magical instrument was hardly something to get excited about.
By the time it was Han Li’s turn, most had already drawn their instruments. As for what they obtained, everyone tacitly avoided discussing it, let alone showing their prizes to others.
Han Li reached his hand into the pouch, fumbling around blindly until his fingers closed around something peculiarly shaped. A thought crossed his mind, and without hesitation, he pulled it out, sneaking a quick glance. After a momentary pause, he swiftly stored it away.
Just then, the next person eagerly stepped forward. Seeing this, Han Li tactfully yielded his spot and returned to his original place.
No sooner had the drawing of magical instruments concluded than a new group entered the hall. Many were stewards Han Li had seen when he first joined the Yellow Maple Valley, including Uncle Wang and the despised Elder Ye.
Contrary to their usual demeanor, these individuals appeared reverent, clustering around a square-faced old man in the center. Not one dared to whisper or engage in idle chatter.
The old man appeared to be in his fifties or sixties, with graying hair but a vigorous spirit and a healthy, ruddy complexion. His tiger-like eyes exuded authority even without anger, clearly marking him as a person of stern character.
When his gaze swept over the disciples, Han Li felt as if his innards were laid bare, sending a chill of fear through him.
As soon as Sect Leader Zhong saw the old man enter, he hurried forward, addressing him repeatedly as “Uncle Li” with a tone bordering on flattery, leaving the disciples astounded.
The other stewards, however, showed no signs of disdain. On the contrary, they watched with envy and jealousy as the old man casually responded to Zhong Lingdao’s greetings, as though merely being able to speak to him and address him as “Uncle” was a rare honor.
Under the bewildered gazes of Han Li and other uninformed disciples, Sect Leader Zhong introduced the old man to the group. It turned out that this “Uncle Li” was one of the legendary Core Formation elders they had heard of but never seen—Patriarch Li.
This expedition to the forbidden land would be led by Patriarch Li, accompanied by five other stewards, including Uncle Wang.
Once the introductions were complete, Patriarch Li curtly declared, “Let’s go,” abruptly ending his first meeting with the junior disciples before leading the way out of the hall.
The disciples exchanged bewildered glances but, urged by the other stewards, hastily followed.
As they stepped out of the hall, the disciples gasped in unison.
Hovering in the air outside was a massive silver monster, over twenty zhang long. Its enormous form exuded an oppressive aura that made it hard to breathe. Patriarch Li stood atop the creature’s head, coldly watching them.
Han Li rubbed his eyes, his heart pounding as he took a closer look. It was a rare giant silver python, astonishingly large, with a sinister black horn on its head that made it even more terrifying.
“This is the power of a Core Formation cultivator—to tame and command such a spiritual beast so effortlessly. It’s unbelievable!” Han Li was in awe of the elder’s prowess.
The thought of one day possessing such immense power at the Core Formation stage sent Han Li’s blood racing with excitement.
Before meeting Patriarch Li, Han Li’s path to immortality had always felt vague and unclear.
But after this shocking experience, the elder’s profound and formidable power became a clear goal for him to pursue on his cultivation journey, solidifying his resolve to achieve immortality.
“All aboard! Stand steady! My Silver-Armored Horned Python flies much faster than your magical instruments. We’ll reach our destination in just two days!”
Patriarch Li ignored the chaotic scene below, calmly stroking the python’s giant horn before issuing his command.
And so, Han Li and the others stood trembling on the giant python, traveling day and night for two days until they finally arrived at the unnamed desolate mountain.
The elder had spoken truthfully—the creature’s speed was astonishingly fast, far beyond what the disciples could achieve with their magical instruments. Of course, this was also due to their lack of high-quality flight instruments.
Upon arrival, the disciples learned from the stewards that this was the designated meeting place agreed upon with the other immortal sects. Only when all seven major sects had gathered would they set out together to open the forbidden land. No single sect had the power to enter alone.
The agreed time was the following morning. However, since the forbidden land was within the borders of Jianzhou, the Yellow Maple Valley was considered half the host, so they typically arrived a day early to wait for the other sects.
For now, the disciples were free to move about, but tomorrow they would need to line up and wait together.
With the stewards’ permission, Han Li and the others scattered across the mountain, each making their final preparations for the impending battle.
Thus, over twenty disciples in yellow robes engaged in various activities: some sat cross-legged, conserving their energy; others took out their magical instruments, polishing them repeatedly; yet others stared blankly, clearly burdened with worry.
A few, however, remained calm and cheerful, chatting and laughing as if on a leisurely outing. Han Li took special note of these individuals.
Just then, footsteps approached from behind. Han Li frowned slightly. He had chosen this secluded corner to avoid attention—why would someone come here?
“Junior Brother Han, I presume? I am Xiang Zhili. I’d like to discuss tomorrow’s forbidden land expedition with you—it concerns your survival. May we have a word?”
A voice, aged yet slick with smoothness, reached Han Li’s ears, deepening his frown.
Even without seeing the speaker’s face, Han Li had already labeled him as sly and untrustworthy. This approach reeked of bluster, and he doubted anything good would come of it.
But Han Li understood: it was better to offend a gentleman than a villain. Though reluctant, he forced himself to turn around and face the two figures—one old, one young—who had approached him.
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