After the earlier rebuke, a trace of the melancholy Han Li had felt since the passing of the Great Divination Sage seemed to dissipate slightly. Now that he was about to perform a technique to harvest heavenly lightning, he naturally didn’t want other cultivators around to interfere. Taking a deep breath, he patted his storage pouch, and several differently colored spell flags appeared in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the flags shot out in all directions, vanishing into the ground in a flash.
Han Li raised his head to glance at the flickering lightning in the sky, his lips twitching slightly. Immediately, spiritual light shimmered around him as he levitated into the air, rising over thirty zhang above the ground. With both hands forming seals, he made a peculiar hand gesture, and low incantations began to pour from his mouth.
Beneath him, multicolored lights flickered, followed by several muffled “pops.” Thick beams of light erupted from the ground, transforming into massive banners as wide as bowls, standing motionless on the earth.
Han Li’s chanting didn’t pause for a moment. The spell flags below released wisps of spiritual energy in response to his incantations, gradually forming a spirit-gathering formation over ten zhang in diameter. Within the glow, countless runes swirled across the formation, fully activating it.
The moment the formation appeared, the distant lightning in the sky, which had seemed untouchable, suddenly seemed to be drawn by an invisible force. The thunder grew increasingly urgent, and the bolts of lightning gradually moved closer to Han Li’s position.
Han Li narrowed his eyes, pausing his incantations momentarily. He flipped his palm, revealing a slender-necked jade bottle several inches tall—a specially crafted magic tool for harvesting heavenly lightning.
With a gentle toss, the bottle floated into the air. A green spell seal struck it, causing the bottle to flip several times before stabilizing, its mouth pointing upward.
Han Li then rubbed his hands together and raised them, releasing two thick golden arcs that struck the bottom of the bottle. With a thunderous boom, the arcs vanished into the bottle as if swallowed.
With a low shout, Han Li pointed at the sky. A golden arc shot from the bottle’s mouth, transforming into a spear of lightning several zhang long, flickering above the bottle and pointing straight at the dark clouds. At that very moment, a silver bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky, striking the golden spear. The spear trembled slightly, and the silver arc followed it down, vanishing into the bottle in an instant.
One after another, lightning bolts were drawn by the formation and effortlessly absorbed into the jade bottle by the Divine Devilbane Lightning.
After an hour, as the bottle absorbed another thick bolt, a roaring sound like a tidal wave began to emanate from within.
Hearing this, Han Li couldn’t help but smile. He reached out and made a grasping motion in the air. The golden lightning spear detached itself, and the bottle descended into his hand.
With a flick of his sleeve, he sent another similar bottle into the air, where the golden spear reinserted itself to continue collecting heavenly lightning.
Now with a moment to spare, Han Li examined the bottle in his hand. It trembled incessantly, emitting a low hum, while dazzling silver light flickered at its mouth, as if something might burst forth at any moment.
With a crisp “snap,” he slapped a golden talisman onto the bottle. The noise inside ceased instantly, and the silver light dimmed. Han Li sealed the bottle carefully and stored it in his pouch before turning his gaze back to the sky.
By late afternoon, he had collected four bottles of heavenly lightning, yet the storm showed no signs of abating. Instead, the sky grew increasingly murky, suggesting the rain would only intensify.
Han Li mused to himself that after harvesting one more bottle, he would stop—this much lightning would suffice for refining spirit materials into thunderfire.
Just then, his expression shifted as he suddenly turned his head toward the horizon. In the dim distance, a streak of white light appeared, swiftly approaching. His eyes flickered, and his expression grew solemn.
Below, the spirit-gathering formation radiated brilliant light, while Han Li hovered mid-air wreathed in azure light. Above him, silver lightning bolts converged one after another, creating a striking spectacle.
The owner of the white streak naturally noticed this scene. After a few flashes, the streak shot directly toward Han Li. Moments later, it halted about thirty zhang away, revealing a woman in palace attire.
She was petite, with delicate features and clear, gentle eyes, appearing youthful. Strangely, her robes seemed crafted from some rare material—shimmering silver and adorned with wisps of milky-white cold energy swirling around her, giving her an ethereal, almost celestial aura.
Han Li swept his spiritual sense over her and was slightly startled to find she was a mid-Nascent Soul cultivator like himself.
The woman’s gaze lingered on Han Li before she smiled gracefully. “This humble one is Bai Yaoyi of North Cold Island. Might you also be here at Fellow Daoist Fu’s invitation?” Her voice was melodious and soft.
“North Cold Island? Are you a cultivator from the North Night’s Small Extreme Palace?” Han Li asked in surprise.
“This one is indeed an external affairs elder of the Small Extreme Palace. Our sect is rather remote, so I’m surprised you’ve heard of us. May I ask your esteemed name?” The woman smiled lightly.
“I am Han, merely a wandering cultivator from overseas. I was indeed invited by Fellow Daoist Fu. The name of the Small Extreme Palace has long been renowned to me,” Han Li replied calmly.
“An overseas cultivator! Do you know the Three Sages of the Outer Seas? Are you connected to them in any way?” Bai Yaoyi asked with a playful glint in her eyes.
“No, I rarely interact with other cultivators and usually seclude myself on my island,” Han Li answered without hesitation.
“I see. My apologies for the presumption. Since you’re harvesting heavenly lightning, would you like my assistance?”
“Thank you for your kindness, but I’ve nearly finished. This is the last bottle.”
“In that case, I’ll meditate atop the peak for now.” Seeing his refusal, Bai Yaoyi didn’t press further. Her streak of light circled before landing on another boulder at the summit.
Once settled, she flicked her hand, releasing an umbrella-shaped magic tool into the air. With a slight rotation, it emitted a vast white glow, shielding her from the wind and rain within a radius of several dozen zhang. She then sat cross-legged with practiced ease.
A cold glint flashed in her hand, revealing a palm-sized object—a piece of jade so translucent it seemed carved from ice, radiating a chilling light.
“Ice Jade!” Han Li recognized it instantly. The vial of Cold Essence he had once obtained was precisely extracted from such ten-thousand-year ice jade.
The palace-robed woman placed the jade on her palms and closed her eyes, entering deep meditation.
Her cultivation method was evidently ice-attribute or yin-cold in nature, hence her use of the jade’s frigid energy. This bore some resemblance to Han Li’s own use of Snow Soul Pills, though the jade’s efficacy paled in comparison to the pills.
Outwardly expressionless, Han Li grew wary of her. The Small Extreme Palace was willing to battle high-level demon beasts every few generations rather than surrender their Cold Essence, underscoring its importance. If she learned he possessed their treasure, trouble would be inevitable.
With these thoughts, Han Li averted his gaze, focusing on the bottle in the sky, his face impassive.
Soon, the fifth bottle was filled. Han Li retrieved his magic tools and descended slowly, landing at the center of the formation. A few spell seals later, the formation’s restrictions shifted, erecting a cyan barrier around him.
He sat cross-legged within the formation, mirroring Bai Yaoyi’s posture, though he refrained from refining any materials in her presence.
Thus, the mountaintop fell silent save for the thunder and rain.
The downpour lasted a full day and night before gradually ceasing. When the sun reappeared, the air grew humid, and miasma once again rose from the ground, shrouding the mountain range. Insects and ants reemerged from their nests.
Han Li calmly extended his spiritual sense, perceiving everything within dozens of li. Every struggle for survival among insects, every falling fruit—all entered his consciousness with perfect clarity. He remained as still as a meditating monk.
Occasionally, low-level cultivators stumbled upon the mountain. Upon sensing Han Li and Bai Yaoyi’s formidable auras, they fled in terror without a word.
And so, Han Li and the palace-robed woman remained seated for three days and nights.
On the fourth morning, another high-level cultivator arrived at the main peak—a towering, grotesquely ugly man with dark, gleaming skin. He rode a massive green turtle, arriving amid a sinister gust of wind.
At the sight of Han Li and Bai Yaoyi, the man laughed heartily and seated himself elsewhere on the peak without a word. Instead of meditating, he pulled out a golden book and began reading with exaggerated motions, a comical contrast to his brutish appearance.
Han Li and Bai Yaoyi appeared indifferent, but inwardly, Han Li frowned. This man was also a mid-Nascent Soul cultivator. It seemed Fellow Daoist Fu’s gathering was no ordinary matter—early-stage cultivators weren’t even qualified to attend.
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