Where Han Li’s spiritual sense reached, a yellow gale swept across the sky and earth, towering over a hundred zhang high. Wherever it passed, sand and stones flew, and rolling yellow dust surged like a monstrous dragon emerging—such immense killing intent that he couldn’t help but feel a shock in his heart!
However, his spiritual sense was exceptionally powerful, almost comparable to a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator. Unlike the others, whose spiritual senses could only extend a hundred li before being forced to stop and observe from afar, Han Li merely circulated the Great Development Art within him, concentrated his spiritual sense, and probed into the sandstorm. Yet, as soon as his spiritual sense entered the storm, it grew sluggish, only vaguely sensing a few dozen zhang ahead. Further probing yielded the same result—as if shrouded in dense fog.
“Indeed, this is the Wind Spirit Art of the Mulan people! The spell I once fought against was this very ‘Red Dust Myriad Zhang’ technique. Once unleashed, this art not only blocks our detection but also harnesses the yellow sand and gale to protect and trap enemies—a truly troublesome spell. However, I’ve never seen such a staggering display before. It’s as if the spell’s range has been expanded a hundred or even a thousandfold. Something’s off.” As the Marquis of Nanlong spoke, his expression darkened.
“The Mulan people?” The others paled slightly at the mention.
Wang Chan and Yan Ruyan turned deathly pale in an instant. However, given their low status and cultivation here, they naturally dared not interject.
“Brother Nanlong is right. Only the Mulan spellcasters could make the sandstorm this terrifying. Judging by its power, who knows how many spellcasters are hidden within? It’s even possible that some of them are of the same rank as us.” The white-robed elder spoke with equal gravity.
“How is this possible? Why would the Mulan people suddenly mobilize so many spellcasters?” the old woman asked, alarmed.
“Lady Tai, when was the last time we had a truce with the Mulan people?” Wang Tiangu suddenly asked with a strange expression.
“About a hundred years ago, I believe. Brother Wang, are you suggesting…?” The old woman’s face suddenly showed a glimmer of realization.
“A hundred years is more than enough for the Mulan people to recuperate and rebuild their strength.” Wang Tiangu remarked with a faint sneer.
“Brother Wang is right. It’s about time for another war. Who knows how many cultivators will perish this time. But what a coincidence that we’ve run into the Mulan vanguard.” The Marquis of Nanlong muttered, his face betraying helplessness.
The others also found the coincidence uncanny.
“Coincidences happen all the time—no need to be overly surprised. Right now, we have two options: either turn back and avoid clashing with the Mulan vanguard, postponing our treasure hunt for another time—after all, treasures don’t grow legs, so there’ll be other chances. But the Mulan offensive won’t cease for years, so we won’t have another opportunity soon. And who knows if we’ll ever gather like this again?” The white-robed elder spoke gravely.
“Enough. The second option is obviously to force our way through their wind formation. But the risk is too great. If there are a few powerful old ghosts of our rank hiding inside, success is unlikely. Can’t we find a way to bypass them?” The old woman shook her head in disagreement.
“Bypassing them may be too late. Once the Mulan launch their attack, this can’t be their only vanguard. Even if we detour, we’ll still encounter them. However, we can conceal ourselves and try slipping past the edges. As long as we don’t charge headlong into the storm’s core, we should be fine. Once past the vanguard, we’ll have ample time to avoid the main force and reach the sparsely guarded Mulan Grasslands, making our treasure hunt much easier.” The elder pondered before speaking solemnly.
After some deliberation, the others agreed, as none wished to abandon this opportunity for an uncertain future years later. Of course, this was only possible because the Marquis of Nanlong and his companions were all Nascent Soul cultivators. Otherwise, no matter how tempting the treasure, they’d have no choice but to retreat in defeat.
Before proceeding, however, they each released messenger talismans to the nearest Nine Nations Alliance outposts, warning them of the Mulan advance. This was their small duty as cultivators of the Heavenly South.
Then, the nine of them suppressed their auras and concealed their forms, stealthily skirting the storm’s fiercest center.
Fearing Wang Chan and Yan Ruyan’s insufficient cultivation, Wang Tiangu erected a massive barrier around them, gradually vanishing from Han Li’s sight.
Yet, Han Li’s lips curled into a cold smirk. With his spiritual sense, how could Wang Tiangu’s group truly evade his detection?
The hundred-li distance passed in an instant. The yellow storm loomed like a demon emerging from the horizon, pressing ominously from afar.
Before the sand arrived, towering wind columns roared forth. Fortunately, they had already veered off the storm’s path, leaving only a few stray wind columns to pass harmlessly by.
These columns ranged from dozens of zhang wide to mere several zhang, large enough to conceal multiple spellcasters.
From this close, Han Li’s concealed form allowed his spiritual sense to detect faint figures within the columns—spellcasters hidden within. Yet, none seemed aware of Han Li’s group, continuing their wind-borne advance.
Han Li and the others watched coldly, silently pressing forward.
Just as they were about to plunge into the ensuing sandstorm, the Marquis of Nanlong at the forefront suddenly tensed and warned via voice transmission, “Careful! Watch the side!”
Han Li turned and stiffened.
A colossal wind column, a hundred zhang thick and towering beyond sight, was barreling toward them horizontally. Such a massive column surely housed a formidable spellcaster—had they been discovered?
Han Li took a deep breath, his Emerald Swarm Sword stirring restlessly within him. Though he’d long heard of the Mulan spellcasters, he’d never encountered one. Meeting them under such circumstances was far from ideal.
The others also tensed, some already gripping their treasures, ready for battle.
Yet, the massive wind column brushed past them without pause, as if oblivious.
The Marquis of Nanlong exhaled in relief.
But in that brief moment, endless yellow sand engulfed them, plunging their surroundings into dim, oppressive gloom.
“Stay alert. This sandstorm is strange—spiritual sense can’t penetrate far. Don’t get separated.” The Marquis cautioned calmly.
Though dispelling the sand would be easy, it would expose them. Hoping the storm would pass soon, they drew closer and pressed on cautiously.
Yet, after only the time it took to eat a meal, Han Li surveyed the monotonous, dim surroundings and grew uneasy.
Abruptly, he halted mid-air, ceasing his flight.
The others stopped in surprise.
“Brother Han, why have we stopped?” the old woman frowned, displeased.
“Have none of you noticed something amiss?” Han Li replied impassively.
“What do you mean?” The dark-skinned man flashed to Han Li’s side, puzzled.
Wang Tiangu and the white-robed elder exchanged glances, their faces also showing doubt.
“Some of you must have sensed it too. We’ve flown so far in this storm without encountering a single spellcaster. It’s unlikely they’re all concentrated at the center. And the scenery hasn’t changed—what does that tell you?” Han Li’s expression darkened.
“Someone’s trapped us in a formation!” the dark-skinned man muttered grimly, his eyes scanning intently.
“Brother Han is right. I also felt something odd. We’ve been detected, and they’re targeting us. It seems a battle is unavoidable.” The Marquis of Nanlong nodded solemnly after a moment’s silence.
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