Even though these eight Spirit Tribe cultivators at the Body Integration stage had extraordinary treasures to protect them, under the direct pressure of a Mahayana cultivator’s aura at such close range, they couldn’t help but stagger back several steps in unison, their faces revealing traces of fear.
“Senior, please calm your anger! We juniors had no such intention!” The white-horned elder, drenched in sweat, hastily shouted.
Yet Mo Jianli remained expressionless, as if he hadn’t heard, and with a flicker of his aura, it grew even more formidable than before.
This time, the eight Spirit Tribe cultivators could no longer resist the spiritual pressure with their own cultivation. Simultaneously, protective lights shimmered around them as eight different treasure projections emerged from their bodies, barely managing to withstand the terrifying spiritual pressure.
Han Li’s gaze sharpened as he took in the details of these eight treasures.
They consisted of three talismans, two command tokens, a small white cauldron, and a silver ruyi scepter.
Seeing this, Mo Jianli snorted. His protective spiritual light flickered slightly as he took a step forward, preparing to unleash his full spiritual pressure to thoroughly teach these Spirit Tribe juniors a lesson.
But at that moment, an eerie breeze suddenly swept down from the summit of Fuling Mountain, brushing past Mo Jianli.
Mo Jianli felt a warm, lingering presence before him, and the terrifying spiritual pressure he had released instantly dissipated into nothingness.
Then, a gentle elderly voice drifted out from the wind.
“Brother Mo, there’s no need for anger. Their earlier words were spoken without malice, and I shall apologize on their behalf. I am overjoyed to have the two of you grace us with your presence—how could I possibly refuse an audience? I await you both at the summit. Ling Mie, I’ve already scanned with my divine sense—Fellow Daoists Bloodflame and Blackflame have arrived at the foot of the mountain. Four of you should go down to welcome them. The other four shall escort Brother Mo to the Violet Qi Hall.”
“As you command!”
“By your decree!”
The eight Spirit Tribe cultivators bowed solemnly toward the mountain, then retracted their treasure projections. The bald man and three others shot down the mountain, while the remaining four, including the white-horned elder, bowed once more to Han Li and the others before assuming postures of welcome.
“Since Fellow Daoist Spirit King has spoken personally, I naturally cannot refuse to show some face. Let us meet first, and then discuss other matters.” After several shifts in expression, Mo Jianli finally refrained from stopping the bald man and his companions. With a flick of his sleeve, he flew grandly up the mountain.
Han Li smiled faintly and followed, his movements devoid of any trace of exertion.
The remaining four Spirit Tribe cultivators also began to follow, though the white-horned elder stole an odd glance at Han Li’s retreating figure.
Though Han Li had remained silent, as a powerful Saint Spirit of the Spirit Tribe, the elder was well aware of some news regarding this newly ascended Mahayana cultivator of the human race.
While the information came from external sources and was either outdated or vague, the fact that this human Mahayana had severely wounded a Yaksha Tribe Mahayana was undoubtedly true.
This naturally filled the Spirit Tribe elder with a mix of fear and curiosity toward Han Li.
After all, in the vast Spirit Realm, few could defeat other Mahayana veterans immediately after their own ascension.
Han Li, of course, remained oblivious to the elder’s thoughts and had no interest in them. He floated a few feet above the ground, leisurely surveying the surroundings as they ascended.
The upper half of Fuling Mountain was densely layered with formations and restrictions, far more so than the lower half. However, most of the self-triggering restrictions had been manually deactivated.
Otherwise, even as Mahayana cultivators, Han Li and Mo Jianli would never have been able to proceed so smoothly.
What seemed like a mere few thousand zhang of distance took the group the time of a full meal to traverse, as if the latter half of the mountain stretched for hundreds of thousands of zhang.
Mo Jianli’s expression grew somewhat peculiar, while Han Li, though outwardly composed, marveled inwardly.
It seemed this mountain held mysteries beyond its visible restrictions—something profound enough to deceive even his divine sense.
The white-horned elder and the others remained unperturbed, clearly accustomed to this phenomenon.
Despite the seemingly endless ascent, the group soon passed through a thin veil of white mist and arrived at the summit.
Han Li looked up to see a vast, open space atop Fuling Mountain, occupied solely by a towering three-story pavilion. No other structures were in sight.
Above the pavilion’s entrance hung a plaque inscribed with three bold, flowing characters in pale gold:
“Violet Qi Hall.”
The area outside the pavilion was equally deserted, devoid of any figures.
“Seniors, the Spirit King awaits inside. We juniors shall not intrude,” the white-horned elder said with a light cough, bowing respectfully to Han Li and Mo Jianli.
“Very well. Wait outside, then.” Mo Jianli offered no further comment. After sweeping the pavilion with his divine sense, he strode confidently toward the entrance.
His earlier scan had revealed no traces of restrictions within the Violet Qi Hall—save for a faint, elusive presence, it was merely an ordinary pavilion.
Thus, he had no reservations.
Han Li smiled and followed.
Upon entering, they found themselves in a grand hall spanning forty to fifty zhang in width.
Lush potted trees, each several feet tall and adorned with fist-sized, multicolored flowers, stood at the four corners of the hall.
Before one of these trees stood a white-robed elder, his hands clasped behind his back, presenting only his silhouette to the entrance.
“Are you Fellow Daoist Spirit King?” Mo Jianli asked, his gaze sharpening with gravity.
“Since you two have come as guests, why not sit and converse?” the white-robed elder replied without turning, sidestepping the question.
“Since you insist, I shall oblige.” Mo Jianli studied the elder’s back for a moment before taking a seat with deliberate nonchalance.
Han Li’s brow arched slightly. In a blur, he appeared in another chair, his eyes fixed on the elder’s back with an inscrutable smile.
“Forgive me, Fellow Daoists. I am accustomed to solitude and can offer only a cup of tea as hospitality.” As soon as they were seated, the white-robed elder chuckled.
At his words, a side door creaked open, and several snow-white monkeys, no more than half a foot tall with crimson eyes, bounded in.
Some carried tea trays, others teapots or cups. With deft movements, they swiftly poured two cups of exceptionally fragrant spiritual tea for Han Li and Mo Jianli.
Han Li glanced at the tea, then grabbed his cup and drained it in one gulp.
Mo Jianli ignored the tea entirely, addressing the elder coolly:
“I presume you have some idea of our purpose here.”
“Though I have long admired Fellow Daoist Mo from afar, this is our first meeting. How could I know your intentions?” The white-robed elder chuckled before finally turning around.
His hair was white as crane feathers, his face youthful, his eyes sharp as lightning. A single purple-red maple leaf was embroidered on his sleeve, yet his demeanor was as calm as still water.
Mo Jianli and Han Li exchanged startled glances, reassessing the Spirit King.
“If you don’t know our purpose, then why have you summoned Bloodflame and Blackflame here?” Mo Jianli countered with a snort.
“Oh, my invitation to Fellow Daoists Bloodflame and Blackflame is no secret—it’s for a trade. Are you interested as well, Brother Mo?” The white-robed elder’s pupils contracted slightly, but his reply remained composed.
“Perfect. We, too, have come to propose a trade with Fellow Daoist Spirit King.” This time, it was Mo Jianli’s turn to narrow his eyes, though his tone was casual.
“Ah, but I fear I must disappoint you, Fellow Daoist Mo. I deal only with acquaintances and have no habit of trading with strangers. Please, return whence you came.” The white-robed elder laughed heartily, his refusal immediate and unequivocal.
Mo Jianli’s eyes narrowed. Suddenly, he flicked his wrist, sending a streak of silver light shooting toward the elder.
The white-robed elder didn’t flinch, but the silver light halted abruptly a zhang before him, suspended in midair.
It was a silver jade slip, its surface engraved with a pattern identical to the purple-red maple leaf on the elder’s sleeve.
The white-robed elder’s expression darkened. He raised a hand, and the jade slip flew into his grasp. After a brief inspection, he said slowly, “It seems Patriarch Stoneheart has passed. Did you kill him, or was it the Mother of Phantom Silkworms?”
“Not by the Mother’s own hand, but close enough.” Mo Jianli replied evenly.
“Very well. Regardless of how you obtained this token, I shall include you in this trade. But whether you succeed depends entirely on your own capabilities.” With a flash of silver light, the jade slip vanished from the elder’s hand as he spoke impassively.
“Naturally. We seek only an opportunity.” Mo Jianli’s eyes finally brightened, a faint smile appearing.
“Forgive my bluntness, Fellow Daoist Mo, but your chances of completing this trade are slim at best. Your companion here, however, stands a far better chance. You must be Han Li, the newly ascended Mahayana who has shaken multiple tribes. Truly, no ordinary Mahayana elder.” The white-robed elder’s lips curled with faint mockery, but his gaze, when it settled on Han Li, held a trace of solemnity.
“The Spirit King has heard of me? I am flattered. But you underestimate both Brother Mo and myself.” Han Li smiled lightly, his tone casual.
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