Upon hearing this, the others showed no signs of panic. It seemed everyone understood that the fact these spellcasters dared only to trap them with restrictions indicated there were few high-level spellcasters among them; otherwise, they would have swarmed in already. However, they couldn’t afford to be trapped for too long. If the reinforcements from the Mulan people arrived, the situation would become dire indeed!
With that, the old woman and the others began to glow in multicolored radiance, no longer concealing their abilities as they unleashed their powers to break through the surrounding restrictions. Han Li, too, casually flicked his fingers, releasing three streaks of green light that swelled wildly in the wind, transforming into three emerald rainbows that swept toward the nearby yellow sand.
Under their combined assault, a ripple-like fluctuation appeared, followed by a flash of yellow light. The restriction was torn apart as easily as thin paper, shattering under their attacks.
Seeing how effortlessly they had succeeded, the others were momentarily stunned. Han Li, however, remained expressionless as he transformed into a streak of light and shot through the gap. A hastily set-up restriction was never going to be powerful—it was only natural for it to break under their first strike. There was no reason to hesitate.
Noticing Han Li’s decisive action, the other old monsters quickly caught on and followed suit, escaping in quick succession.
Once outside, though the sandstorm still raged, the oppressive feeling from within the restriction was gone. Han Li relaxed slightly and scanned the surroundings with his spiritual sense, trying to determine their next move.
At that moment, however, Han Li’s expression shifted. His eyes narrowed as he stared fixedly at a patch of yellow sand, hovering motionless in the air. A faint blue glimmer flickered in his pupils, lending him an eerie aura, yet his face remained calm, betraying nothing of his thoughts.
“Fellow Daoist Han, what are you doing here?” Marquis Nanlong, who had caught up from behind, asked in surprise upon seeing Han Li’s motionless stance. He also swept the area with his spiritual sense but found nothing unusual. “Nothing,” Han Li replied, turning his head with a neutral expression. “I was just considering which direction we should take.”
“In this cursed sandstorm, even spiritual sense is unreliable. How could mere eyesight reveal anything? I happen to possess a treasure called the Star-Calming Plate, perfect for situations like this,” Marquis Nanlong said dismissively. He reached to his waist and produced a flat, round jade disk with a faint red hue.
Holding the treasure in one hand, Marquis Nanlong formed a seal with the other and began chanting an obscure incantation. A golden light shot from his palm, striking a flowing rune on the disk’s surface. The disk then emitted alternating golden and red radiance.
Intrigued, Han Li took a closer look. The disk displayed a pattern of golden stars, forming a strange design that seemed to mirror celestial phenomena—stars, the sun, and the moon—appearing extraordinarily mystical.
As Han Li studied it intently, the white-robed elder and the others gathered around with curiosity.
Ignoring them, Marquis Nanlong focused on the disk’s pattern. After a moment, he flipped his hand, and the treasure vanished. “Follow me,” he said curtly before transforming into a golden streak and flying off at an angle.
Without hesitation, the old woman, the cold-faced cultivator, and the others followed, clearly placing great trust in the judgment of this mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivator.
Wang Tiangu, meanwhile, enveloped Wang Chan and Yan Ruyan in black light once more and flew after them. As he passed Han Li, however, the Ghost Spirit Sect elder cast him a barely perceptible glance before brushing past him as if nothing had happened.
Han Li’s lips curled slightly in a faint, mocking smile as he glanced back. He vaguely saw Wang Chan within the black light, head bowed, not daring to look his way—appearing unusually meek. In contrast, the stunning beauty Yan Ruyan met his gaze calmly for a brief moment before turning away.
Left alone at the rear, Han Li chuckled lightly. A flash of cyan light later, he prepared to depart. But before leaving, he instinctively glanced once more in the direction he had been observing earlier. A peculiar expression flickered across his face before he let out a cold laugh and vanished into the sandstorm.
In an instant, Han Li’s figure disappeared without a trace, leaving the area eerily silent.
Yet, mere moments later, a blinding yellow light erupted from the spot Han Li had been staring at. A pitch-black hole appeared without warning, and from it crawled out a monstrous, jet-black insect.
The creature was terrifyingly large—six zhang in length and four zhang in width, with a flattened, oval body. Even more horrifying was its triangular head, adorned with over a dozen eerie yellow compound eyes, several slender antennae, and a pair of massive, razor-sharp fangs glinting with a chilling gleam. On its back were four transparent, delicate wings that fluttered lightly.
Standing atop this fearsome insect were three figures of varying heights. One was enveloped in blinding white light, making it impossible to look directly at him; another was shrouded in an eerie green mist, his form flickering in and out of visibility; the last crackled with pale blue arcs of electricity, resembling a thunder god descended to earth.
“Great Master, are we really letting them leave like this? That doesn’t seem wise,” the figure bathed in white light spoke up, his tone laced with concern as he watched the direction where the cultivators had vanished.
“Hmph! If we don’t let them go, do you think a mere illusion array could truly trap them? Don’t forget, most of them are old monsters at the Nascent Soul stage—peers of mine. Even the weakest among them are at the late Core Formation stage. With just our Yellow Sand Tribe alone, keeping them here is nothing but a delusion!” the figure in the green mist retorted coldly, clearly in a foul mood.
“But what about Master Mu from the Skywind Tribe? He personally sent word, urging us to do everything possible to trap this group of cultivators. The vanguard tribes are temporarily under his command, and he’s already gone to rally the other Great Masters. If we were to deploy our tribe’s sacred artifact, the Demon Dust Banner, even if we couldn’t severely injure these Nascent Soul cultivators, we could at least delay them for a while,” the white-lit figure pressed uneasily.
“Nonsense! The thirty-six Demon Dust Banners are not to be used lightly! Our Yellow Sand ancestors have decreed that unless our tribe faces annihilation, those sacred banners must never be invoked. Besides, given the abilities of these cultivators, even if we did manage to trap them briefly, what if they retaliated and damaged a few of the banners? Without our sacred artifact, how could we maintain our position among the alliance’s ten great tribes? We might even invite aggression from smaller tribes, risking our very survival!” the green-mist figure roared in anger, his reprimand scathing.
“My apologies, Great Master! I acted rashly,” the white-lit spellcaster stammered, sweating profusely as he bowed in apology.
“Given your recent promotion to master, I’ll let it pass this time—but don’t let it happen again! It’s not as if we didn’t act at all; it’s just that these cultivators were too powerful to contain. That Master Mu has quite the scheme, expecting our Yellow Sand Tribe to exhaust our resources trapping enemies so he can swoop in later and claim the glory and spoils. If that were truly necessary, why hasn’t the Skywind Tribe deployed their own sacred artifact to block the enemy? I suspect he’s harboring ill intentions, using this as an opportunity to weaken us!” the “Great Master” in the green mist sneered, his disdain for Master Mu palpable.
“Master Mu likely is scheming just that. Our two tribes have never been on good terms. But now that we’re merely allies, not subordinates, there’s no need to sacrifice our strength for his benefit. Besides, with the terrifying speed of the Skywind Tribe’s Wind-Riding Chariot, they might still catch up to these cultivators. Heh, who knows how that’ll turn out? As long as they can delay them until the main force arrives, victory will be assured,” the lightning-wreathed Mulan spellcaster analyzed coolly.
“Even if the Wind-Riding Chariot is fast, gathering enough people to give chase will take time. They likely won’t make it,” the green-mist Great Master disagreed.
“Whether they catch up or not, those cultivators are no longer our concern. What puzzles me is that young man who broke the array first—he seemed to detect us hiding in the Xumi Void. That’s strange. My Xumi Insect is one of the ancient legendary bugs. Though not combat-oriented, it possesses the innate ability to tear temporary spatial rifts, making it perfect for concealment. Even though it’s still a larva, limiting the duration and size of the rift, neither of the two mid-stage Nascent Soul cultivators noticed the void’s presence. Yet a mere early-stage Nascent Soul cultivator sensed it. That young man is no ordinary individual—either he cultivates some unique secret art or possesses an extraordinarily powerful detection treasure!” the Great Master mused aloud, his face still etched with lingering suspicion.
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