Chapter 1787: Cold Poison

Upon hearing this, Shilun was startled and instinctively flung the leather pouch behind him without hesitation.

With a muffled *thud*, the pouch burst open midair, releasing a swarm of blood-red venomous bees.

With a buzzing hum, the crimson bees instantly transformed into a blood-red cloud, surging toward a young man who had appeared behind Shilun without warning.

This young man was none other than Han Li, who had teleported there in an instant.

Seeing the blood-red cloud descending upon him, he merely smiled faintly.

The swarm was sizable—three to four hundred bees in total. The effort required to raise them to maturity must have been immense, and even a Core Formation cultivator would likely hesitate before such a threat.

But to Han Li, they were nothing.

Without moving a muscle, he simply opened his mouth.

A stream of five-colored cold flame spewed forth, its frigid energy instantly engulfing the entire swarm.

As the icy radiance swirled, the entire mass of bees froze into a massive block of ice, suspended motionless in the air.

Shilun, witnessing this, was both shocked and furious. With a flick of his hand, he produced an ancient green mirror.

A beam of azure light shot from the mirror, vanishing in a flash before reappearing right before Han Li, impossibly fast.

Han Li’s brow twitched slightly, but he made no move to evade. Instead, a layer of gray mist surged before him, forming a translucent barrier.

The azure beam struck the barrier and vanished without a trace, as if swallowed by the sea.

Shilun was utterly dumbfounded, his face a mask of disbelief.

Han Li, expressionless, raised an arm and lightly flicked a finger toward his opponent.

A green thread shot forth, disappearing without a sound.

The next moment, Shilun saw a flash of green light before his forehead turned cold—the thread had pierced clean through his skull. His body stiffened, bereft of all sensation.

The thread continued its deadly dance, swiftly coiling around Shilun’s body and slicing it into seven or eight pieces.

The mutilated corpse rained blood as it fell, and even the nascent soul hidden within was instantly obliterated.

“Ah!”

A nearby middle-aged man, who had just narrowly escaped death, gasped in shock at the sight.

The two black-robed cultivators engaged with Hai Dayou and Qilingzi also witnessed Shilun’s gruesome demise. Their faces paled, limbs turning cold as if they had seen a ghost.

When Han Li turned his icy gaze upon them, the two accomplices shuddered. Without hesitation, they abandoned their opponents—one summoning a flying saber that transformed into a streak of white light as he fled, the other slapping a black talisman onto himself, vanishing into a cloud of dark mist that rolled away in the opposite direction.

Hai Dayou and Qilingzi, unable to pursue—one lacking flight capability, the other too poor to afford a flying artifact—could only curse in frustration as their enemies escaped.

Just then, Han Li’s calm voice rang out:

“Thinking of fleeing now?”

With a crack of thunder, two golden lightning bolts shot from Han Li’s body, catching up to the fleeing figures in an instant.

Two *booms* later, the black-robed cultivators were reduced to ashes without even a cry.

Hai Dayou and Qilingzi stood frozen in shock.

After a long pause, the handsome youth muttered,

“Qilingzi, you’re a Foundation Establishment cultivator, and so is Brother Han. But the difference in power is staggering. The foes you struggled with, he wiped out with a wave of his hand. Are you just too weak, or is Brother Han too strong?”

Qilingzi, still reeling, snapped back, “Dayou, you’re a mid-tier body cultivator, supposedly on par with Foundation Establishment cultivators, yet you couldn’t defeat your opponent either! Besides, I’m so poor I only have this ‘Black Silkworm Wood Sword’—half my techniques are useless without proper tools!”

“Hmph, you’re not even fit to compare to a single finger of Brother Han. Good thing I didn’t let you trick me into joining Mist Sea Temple. Otherwise, I’d have suffered a great loss.” Hai Dayou smirked, his golden gloves vanishing as he produced a fan, waving it smugly.

Qilingzi flushed but had no retort, merely grumbling under his breath.

Hai Dayou, satisfied with his verbal victory, said no more.

Han Li descended slowly from the air.

“I am Bai Huaji. May I ask the names of you three fellow Daoists? Thank you for saving our lives—without you, my daughter and I would surely be dead.” The middle-aged man approached with his daughter, bowing deeply in gratitude.

Yet his gaze toward Han Li was tinged with awe.

After all, Han Li had effortlessly slain three cultivators of the same rank, seemingly without even exerting himself. His true strength might rival that of a Core Formation cultivator.

Hai Dayou and Qilingzi, unused to such deference from peers, reacted differently—one brushing it off as trivial, the other basking in the praise as he proudly introduced himself and Han Li.

Han Li glanced at them before shifting his gaze to the girl, Bai Guo’er, who peeked shyly from behind her father.

When their eyes met, she flinched and hid completely.

“Hmm, your daughter seems unwell,” Han Li remarked, a hint of surprise in his tone.

“What? Brother Han can sense the cold poison within her?” Bai Huaji exclaimed.

“Yes, the chill has seeped into her dantian and meridians. Without treatment, she won’t last more than three years. But this isn’t ordinary cold poison—curing it won’t be easy.” Han Li’s pupils flashed blue as he spoke, making Bai Huaji tremble.

“You—you mean this poison can be cured?” Bai Huaji stammered, hardly daring to believe his ears.

Han Li smiled faintly, about to reply, when his brow suddenly furrowed. He looked toward the horizon, as if sensing something.

The others followed his gaze but saw nothing.

“Brother Han, what—” Hai Dayou began, snapping his fan shut.

But then, a streak of white light appeared in the distance, streaking toward them like a shooting star.

“Ah! It’s Grandma!” The little girl clapped her hands in delight, while Bai Huaji’s face lit up with relief.

“A Core Formation cultivator? Could it be the ‘Moonlight Fairy’ they mentioned earlier?” Qilingzi whispered nervously to Han Li.

Han Li nodded, his expression unreadable.

Moments later, the white light arrived overhead, dissipating to reveal a graceful woman in white robes, her face initially anxious but softening upon seeing the girl and man below.

“Guo’er, are you unharmed?” she asked.

“Mother-in-law, Guo’er is fine. How did you find us? Did you know we were in danger?” Bai Huaji stepped forward, bowing respectfully.

“I heard from a friend in the market that you left with people resembling the Three Evils of South Mountain. Worried, I came immediately. Are these three the Evils?” Her gaze sharpened as it landed on Han Li’s group, a crushing spiritual pressure bearing down upon them.

Hai Dayou and Qilingzi staggered back, nearly collapsing under the force.

Han Li’s expression darkened. With a wave of his hand, an invisible force dispersed the pressure with a dull *thud*.

Startled, the woman reassessed them. “You’re not the Three Evils?”

“Mother-in-law, wait! These three are not the Evils—they saved us! And this Brother Han claims he can cure Guo’er’s cold poison!” Bai Huaji interjected urgently.

“What? They can cure her? Is this true?” The woman’s stern expression melted into astonishment and hope.

“I—I haven’t had the chance to ask in detail. Brother Han was about to explain when you arrived,” Bai Huaji admitted, glancing at Han Li.