“It seems words are futile. There’s no room for negotiation left, so we can only settle this with a life-and-death battle. But before that, let’s have a wager duel. Both sides will send people to set up barriers. Regardless of the outcome, once the duel ends, we’ll fight immediately.” The gaunt elder spoke bluntly, clearly aware that persuading the three great cultivators to back down at this point was nothing but wishful thinking.
“A wager duel is fine, but where are the prisoners you promised? If we don’t see them, heh…” The Joyous Old Demon glared at the elder and sneered.
Hearing this, the elder paused briefly before whispering a few words to those behind him. The ranks of the spell warriors stirred, and over a thousand unarmed cultivators, clad only in simple robes, were pushed forward.
These cultivators displayed mixed emotions—some flushed with anger, others glaring furiously at the spell warriors. A faint commotion arose among the opposing cultivator army as many recognized their captured comrades.
Seeing this, Venerable Zhiyang and the others exchanged glances before nodding slightly, their expressions easing.
“Well? You’ve seen them. Now can we proceed with the wager duel?” The short, stout Mulan Divine Master surnamed Bi grew impatient.
“Why the rush? Are you planning something underhanded in this duel?” Wei Wuyi unexpectedly interjected.
“If you’re too cowardly to duel, we’ll use these cultivators as sacrifices to rally our troops before the battle. What say you, you three?” The short man’s expression darkened as he issued a threat.
“You’re blackmailing us!” Wei Wuyi’s eyes flashed coldly as he spoke sharply.
“Blackmail is too strong a word. But if you refuse the duel, these prisoners are useless to us. Sacrificing them to boost morale isn’t out of the question.” The gaunt elder’s tone grew icy, though his expression remained unchanged.
“If you want us to duel, release the prisoners first. Then we’ll agree,” Venerable Zhiyang said slowly after a brief pause.
“Release them? Do you think we’d do something so foolish?” the short man retorted rudely.
“And we don’t trust you either. What if you break your word after the duel?” Wei Wuyi said coolly.
“Even so, we—” “Enough. No more pointless talk. Before the duel, we’ll release half the prisoners. The rest will depend on the outcome. Any objections? If not, feel free to leave, and we’ll start the battle now.” The elder cut off the short man, his eyes glinting fiercely.
“Fine, we agree. Release your prisoners, and we’ll begin setting up the barriers.” After a brief exchange with his companions, Venerable Zhiyang decisively accepted. This was the furthest the other side would concede. If negotiations broke down, they’d have no way to explain it to their forces.
With terms settled, the six returned to their respective sides to make arrangements.
Han Li had already left his original position, hiding among a group of cultivators to avoid drawing attention from high-ranking spell warriors before the duel began. Thanks to his formidable spiritual sense, he had clearly overheard the exchange between Venerable Zhiyang and the three Mulan Divine Masters. A faint smile curled his lips as some of the released prisoners, freed from their restraints, flew joyfully toward their allies.
However, Venerable Zhiyang had prepared for this. Before the freed cultivators could rejoin the army, hundreds of their comrades intercepted them, conducting thorough inspections to ensure no spies or hidden tricks were present before allowing them into the ranks.
“These Tiannan folks are overly cautious. Good thing we didn’t dose those cultivators with the Heart-Lost Pills, or we’d have been exposed,” the short Bi Divine Master muttered resentfully.
“Naturally. The three great cultivators of Tiannan aren’t fools. Petty tricks won’t work. Strike where it hurts, or you’ll only shoot yourself in the foot,” the scholarly Zhong Divine Master agreed.
The gaunt elder remained expressionless, stroking his sparse goatee as he stared motionlessly at the opposing army.
Under Han Li’s distant gaze, groups of cultivators and spell warriors flew out from their ranks, dividing into ten teams to set up barrier formations between the armies. These were experts in formations, and though the barriers they erected were formidable, they were straightforward enough that any tampering would be obvious.
Normally, such barriers took considerable time to construct, but with so many experts working simultaneously and using pre-prepared materials and tools, ten small white-glowing formations took shape in just fifteen minutes. Activating them together, the teams created ten white domes, each covering an area of seventy to eighty zhang.
After a final inspection, the formation masters withdrew, replaced by ten Core Formation cultivators and spell warriors—one pair per dome to oversee its operation. Among them was the white-robed Song Clan woman from the Falling Cloud Sect, who took her position at the second-to-last dome. Han Li wasn’t surprised by this.
Her presence meant he’d be assigned to that dome for the duel. After all, only disciples from one’s own sect could be trusted in such battles—outsiders might abandon their allies in danger or act half-heartedly. Han Li had personally requested her involvement, as he knew little about the other Falling Cloud Sect disciples.
With the formations ready, the duelists emerged. Ten black-robed figures, exuding dense yin energy and demonic aura, flew out from the spell warrior ranks.
“Demonic cultivators!” Han Li’s pupils contracted as he murmured. A green light flashed around him as he shot out from the cultivator ranks like a rainbow, joining nine other Nascent Soul elders—most familiar, a few strangers—including the Soul Shatterer, the Joyous Old Demon, and Madam Bai. Each took position before their designated dome.
Upon reaching his dome, Han Li nodded to the Song woman below before calmly studying his black-robed opponent.
“Strange. Their demonic aura is unusually violent. Did they take something like the Soul Return Pill?” Han Li mused inwardly, though his expression remained neutral. If that was all, he had nothing to fear.
His opponent was of average build, with cold green eyes that stared unblinkingly at him. Though his face was hidden, his cultivation was unmistakably at the peak of early Nascent Soul stage, not yet mid-stage.
Glancing at the other black-robed figures, Han Li noted their similar auras. His wariness spiked. Something was off—none of these demonic cultivators were mid-stage Nascent Soul. No matter. The moment they used demonic techniques, he’d obliterate them with his Divine Devilbane Lightning, rendering any tricks useless.
Killing intent surged in Han Li’s heart as he settled on his strategy.
Just then, the black-robed cultivator retrieved a storage pouch from his waist, eyeing Han Li emotionlessly. Smiling, Han Li produced his own pouch, filled with materials pooled by Tiannan’s four major factions—a treasure trove that even made his eyes gleam. The opponent tossed his pouch over, and Han Li reciprocated, exchanging them.
The opponent’s pouch contained fewer items but rarer ones, matching their earlier claims. Finding no issues, Han Li fastened it to his waist, as did his opponent.
Below, the Song woman and the spell warrior chanted incantations, weaving hand seals to activate the formation. The white dome flickered before vanishing.
Han Li and his opponent moved simultaneously, appearing inside the dome in an instant, surprising each other. The dome reappeared, sealing them off from the outside world. The other pairs entered their respective domes, and the watching armies fell silent, holding their breaths as they observed the ten blurred duels.
Inside, Han Li ignored the other battles, focusing solely on his opponent. His body remained still, but green light swirled around him, and his flying swords trembled eagerly within him, ready to strike.
Meanwhile, his most lethal weapon against demonic cultivators—the Divine Devilbane Lightning—had condensed into a fist-sized golden orb in his dantian, cradled playfully by his Nascent Soul, poised for a devastating strike.
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