Upon hearing the transmission, Han Li’s brows furrowed briefly before smoothing out again.
“Silvermoon, release the restrictions and let the two elders from Falling Cloud Sect enter first. Sooner or later, we must give them an explanation. However, once the restrictions are lifted, do not show yourself again. Although your fox form excels in concealment and illusions, the demonic aura on you cannot escape the detection of a Nascent Soul cultivator,” Han Li instructed calmly.
“Yes, Master,” Silvermoon replied respectfully, gliding gracefully out of the chamber.
Moments later, the two elders waiting outside the stone mountain suddenly saw the scenery below shift. What had appeared as ordinary rocks and cliffs now revealed vast swathes of azure mist, enveloping the entire hill. The mist seethed with baleful energy, and floating talismans indicated the presence of formidable restrictions.
The silver-haired elder and the middle-aged cultivator surnamed Lü exchanged a glance and couldn’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. The fact that someone had established a cave abode within Falling Cloud Sect and set up such powerful formations without their notice was a severe blow to their pride. At the very least, they would face mockery from their closest friends.
From within the mist, Han Li’s calm voice rang out, “I must apologize for borrowing your sect’s spiritual land for cultivation without prior notice. Please forgive my oversight. I will now lift the restrictions—please enter.” His words were courteous and diplomatic.
“Haha! Fellow Daoist, there’s no need for such formalities! That you chose our Falling Cloud Sect to form your Nascent Soul is an honor for us. How could we possibly be displeased? If anything, we regret not bringing gifts to celebrate your breakthrough,” the silver-haired elder laughed heartily, showing no trace of resentment.
“You flatter me. I am already deeply indebted for being allowed to form my Nascent Soul here,” Han Li replied evenly. As he spoke, the azure mist churned violently, parting to reveal a passage several zhang wide.
Without hesitation, the two elders flew through the passage, arriving swiftly before a stone gate. The gate stood open, and before it stood a young man in green robes—plain-faced, in his twenties, with a faint smile. It was Han Li, welcoming them in person.
“Fellow Daoists, please come in,” Han Li said with a smile, gesturing for them to enter.
“We intrude,” the silver-haired elder replied with a slight bow before following Han Li inside.
Behind them, the mist surged again, sealing the passage as if it had never existed.
Though the two elders sensed this, they remained unperturbed, confident in the safety of their own sect.
After traversing a short corridor, they entered a spacious hall.
“Please try this spiritual tea I brewed,” Han Li offered as they took their seats. With a flick of his divine sense, a massive ape puppet entered, carrying a tray with three freshly poured cups of tea. It placed them before the trio before silently withdrawing.
“Excellent tea! But I must admit, I’m surprised to see you skilled in puppet arts—it’s quite rare,” the silver-haired elder remarked after a sip, his gaze lingering on the direction the puppet had vanished.
“It’s nothing. I’ve only dabbled in puppetry, crafting a few for my own use. Hardly worthy of your attention,” Han Li replied dismissively.
“Too modest! That ape puppet may be a mere construct, but judging by its spiritual energy, it could hold its own against a Foundation Establishment cultivator,” the middle-aged Lü cultivator probed, equally intrigued.
“Indeed, its full-force strike rivals that of a mid-Foundation Establishment cultivator. However, its movements and attack patterns are too simplistic, and the materials required are costly—equivalent to a top-tier magic tool,” Han Li pointed out nonchalantly, listing its flaws.
“Even so, your puppet is remarkable. For low-level disciples, carrying one would provide ample protection. Though this art seems to originate from the Thousand Bamboo Sect of the Far West—could you be from there?” the silver-haired elder pressed, shifting the topic to Han Li’s origins.
At this, Han Li smiled faintly, his eyes narrowing slightly. He understood their intent but replied smoothly, “I learned puppetry from an anonymous manual. Whether it’s related to the Far West, I couldn’t say. But I am aware that Far West cultivators excel in this art. I’ve long considered visiting to exchange insights. As for my origins, I’m a true native of the South Sky, born in Yue Country. After the Devil Dao sects invaded, I was forced to flee.” His words were a mix of truth and fabrication.
“So you hail from Yue Country—that is unexpected. Given your youthful appearance, may I ask how long you’ve cultivated? Does your technique have a beautifying effect?” the Lü cultivator asked, exchanging a glance with the elder.
From the start, he had found Han Li’s youthful looks unusual. Most who reached the Nascent Soul stage were at least three to four hundred years old—like himself, who had broken through near four hundred.
“My cultivation method has no beautifying effects. However, I once fortuitously consumed an Everlasting Beauty Pill in my youth, freezing my appearance at that age. Counting the years, I’m now over two hundred.”
“Two hundred?!” The Lü cultivator’s expression shifted dramatically upon hearing this.
“Fellow Daoist, you truly formed your Nascent Soul in just two centuries?” the silver-haired elder asked slowly, his mind racing.
To his knowledge, fewer than twenty cultivators in the South Sky had achieved Nascent Soul in two hundred years. Each had been a prodigy, many becoming legendary figures—some even breaking through to late Nascent Soul before vanishing, rumored to have ascended.
If this young man before them was one such talent, his potential was staggering.
“Is there something unusual about forming a Nascent Soul at two hundred?” Han Li asked, detecting their reactions. Though aware his progress was faster than most, he didn’t grasp the full implications, lacking deeper knowledge of Nascent Soul matters.
“Nothing at all. We’re simply astonished. Fellow Daoist, your future is boundless!” the silver-haired elder sighed, envy flickering across his face.
Internally, he resolved to secure Han Li’s allegiance to Falling Cloud Sect at all costs.
The Lü cultivator, though conflicted, soon regained composure. After a silent exchange with the elder, both wore solemn expressions.
Han Li observed this calmly, showing no displeasure. Instead, he took the opportunity to sip his tea.
Finally, the silver-haired elder spoke again, “Since Fellow Daoist remains a rogue cultivator, may I ask—now that you’ve formed your Nascent Soul, where do you plan to go next?”
“Where to go? I haven’t decided yet. Yue Country is under Devil Dao control, and I’ve offended the Ghost Spirit Sect in the past, so returning is impossible. As for other places…” Han Li trailed off, deep in thought.
“If you wouldn’t disdain our humble sect, why not join Falling Cloud Sect? Though we’re weaker than Ancient Sword Sect and slightly inferior to Hundred Craft Academy, we embrace diverse cultivation methods without rigid traditions. If you join, you’ll stand as our equal—no distinctions made,” the elder proposed earnestly.
“Become an elder of your sect?” Han Li’s brows twitched imperceptibly, hesitation flickering across his face.
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