Before long, even Mei Ning heard the sound of footsteps, sometimes light, sometimes heavy, as someone slowly approached. Her delicate face showed a hint of unease as she glanced at Han Li, only to find him standing motionless, his expression unchanged. Sensing her gaze, he turned his head and gave her a gentle smile.
Mei Ning’s face flushed involuntarily, and she quickly averted her eyes, though her heart settled somewhat.
The footsteps grew clearer, and even the faint sound of panting could be heard distinctly by both of them. To Han Li’s surprise, it didn’t sound like just one person—it seemed as if two were approaching, one after the other.
Han Li frowned slightly, a trace of killing intent flickering across his face.
The thick mist ahead suddenly parted, revealing a young man wearing a tall crown. His features were refined, and around his waist was a jade belt shimmering with faint white light.
However, the moment the man saw Han Li, his expression changed drastically, and he exclaimed, “It’s you?”
This was none other than Wen Tianren, the inheritor of the Six Paths. His face was now filled with shock.
“Indeed, it’s me. You can rest in peace now,” Han Li replied coldly. With a flick of his right hand, a streak of green light shot out—a small sword that flew straight toward Wen Tianren’s chest.
*Clang!*
The sword struck as if hitting iron armor, bouncing off effortlessly and clattering to the ground. Beneath the torn fabric, a faint green glow could be seen.
“An inner armor?”
Han Li was slightly surprised by the failed strike, but with a cold snort, he raised his other hand, sending another streak of green light—this time aimed at the exposed throat.
But Wen Tianren had already reacted. Furious and unwilling to wait for death, he twisted his body sharply, dodging the incoming attack. With a powerful push of his feet, he shot backward into the thick mist, his movements surprisingly agile.
Han Li’s second attack missed, but he merely watched Wen Tianren’s retreating figure with a cold gaze, his feet unmoving, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
Wen Tianren, glancing back in panic, sensed something amiss the moment he saw Han Li’s expression. He twisted midair, trying to change his trajectory—but it was too late. A sharp, icy wind rushed toward the back of his head, and in an instant, a small sword pierced through his neck from behind. The hilt was wrapped in a translucent sinew, now pulled taut.
Wen Tianren’s corpse, trailing a line of blood, crashed heavily to the ground. His eyes were wide open, as if unable to believe his own demise.
Han Li flicked his wrist, and the sinew wrapped around his fingers tightened, pulling the small sword back into his palm. His eyes then narrowed as he turned his gaze back toward the mist.
A slender figure emerged—a stunningly beautiful young woman dressed in white.
She smiled radiantly at Han Li and said in a captivating voice, “Brother Han! Who would have thought we’d meet again like this?”
“Lady Violet Spirit,” Han Li replied calmly, his sleeves flicking as the two small swords vanished from sight.
Back when he was trapped in the golden flames, he had overheard Wen Tianren and Violet Spirit’s conversation, instantly recognizing her despite her changed appearance. He had to admit that Violet Spirit, now revealing her true face, lived up to her reputation as the most beautiful woman in the Chaotic Star Seas. Even the enchanting Yuan Yao seemed slightly overshadowed by her.
At this moment, the elegant young woman glanced at the corpse on the ground and sighed softly. “Who would have thought that Young Master Wen, who always claimed to be the strongest among Core Formation cultivators, would die like this at your hands? If others were to hear of this, most would surely refuse to believe it.”
“He shouldn’t have appeared here at this moment. Since he did, I naturally couldn’t let him go,” Han Li said indifferently. He then stepped forward, unceremoniously snatching the storage pouch from the corpse’s waist while curiously eyeing the jade belt.
“That’s the Four Symbols Coiling Dragon Belt, embedded with four rare pearls—wind-repelling, fire-repelling, water-repelling, and dust-repelling—along with the ability to calm the spirit. It’s quite a treasure. He relied on it to climb this far without incident,” Violet Spirit explained with a faint smile.
“The Four Symbols Belt… indeed useful for this place,” Han Li mused. After a brief hesitation, he bent down and took the belt as well.
He then proceeded to thoroughly search the corpse without hesitation, retrieving a jade-green inner armor and a few other treasures.
“Brother Han, this fellow cultivator is…?” Violet Spirit’s bright eyes shifted to Mei Ning, who stood behind Han Li, her gaze curious.
“This is Miss Mei, a fellow cultivator who was transported here with me,” Han Li replied calmly.
“So it’s Miss Mei!”
“Mei Ning greets Fellow Daoist Violet Spirit,” Mei Ning said, slightly flustered but still studying the stunning beauty before her.
She had naturally heard of Violet Spirit’s fame and was momentarily stunned by her breathtaking beauty. Seeing that Han Li seemed acquainted with her, she couldn’t help but wonder about their relationship.
Violet Spirit gave Mei Ning a friendly smile before turning back to Han Li with a hint of apology.
“You don’t blame me for not helping you deal with Young Master Wen back then, do you? I was actually…” She seemed about to explain.
“There’s no need, Lady Violet Spirit,” Han Li interrupted with a wave. “Though I don’t know why you were traveling with this inheritor of the Six Paths, I could tell you were reluctant. Moreover, when Wen Tianren ordered you to attack my companions in the valley, you didn’t act. I remember that.”
“Since Brother Han understands my predicament, I won’t say more. May I travel with you and Fellow Daoist Mei from now on?” Violet Spirit asked with a relieved smile.
“Of course. We’ve only traversed a small part of the mist, and the path ahead won’t be easy. Let’s set off now and not waste time,” Han Li agreed after a brief consideration.
“Thank you, Brother Han!” Violet Spirit beamed, her eyes sparkling like water, radiantly beautiful.
Soon, the three disappeared into the thick mist, leaving only Wen Tianren’s cold corpse behind.
At nearly the same time, in a stone cave within the Netherworld, a bizarre scene was unfolding.
A stunningly beautiful woman sat cross-legged on the ground, facing a slender ghostly figure shrouded in black mist, also seated in meditation. Though indistinct, the ghostly figure appeared to be a young woman as well.
“Junior Sister, are you truly resolved to cultivate the Yin-Yang Reincarnation Art with me? This isn’t a wise choice,” the ghostly figure spoke in an unfamiliar, ethereal voice.
“Senior Sister Yan, you know that my Golden Core shattered after performing the Soul Return Art, cutting off my path to further cultivation. I thought paying such a price would allow you to revive, but who knew we’d encounter this ghost mist, interrupting the ritual halfway. Now, though your spirit has solidified, regaining a body is impossible. But fortune and misfortune intertwine—this place is rich in Nether Qi, perfect for your ghostly cultivation. And the Yin-Yang Reincarnation Art is a rare technique for joint cultivation between the living and the dead. With such dense Nether Qi here, not only will you progress swiftly, but I might even rebuild my Core Formation stage. Perhaps even forming a Nascent Soul isn’t out of the question,” the beautiful woman—Yuan Yao—replied calmly.
“If that’s the case, I won’t dissuade you further. But I must warn you: this art binds the living and the dead. Though progress here will be swift due to the Nether Qi, once mastered, the backlash will be severe, and you’ll lose the chance to reincarnate. Think carefully. Even the Qingyang Sect, which has possessed this art for so long, never had anyone cultivate it,” the ghostly figure advised with a sigh.
“Senior Sister, no need to say more. My mind is made up—I won’t regret it,” Yuan Yao declared resolutely.
“Very well. If you fear no harm, neither do I. Let us cultivate the Yin-Yang Reincarnation Art together!” A long sigh echoed from the black mist as the ghostly figure, Yan Li, extended two shadowy hands.
Without hesitation, Yuan Yao pressed her palms against them, closed her eyes, and began her path of cultivation.
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