“Finally out, though it seems we’re still within the Ten-Thousand Moon Mountain Range.” Han Li, who had just stepped out of the light formation, glanced at the surrounding scenery and spoke calmly.
“Brother Han, when I controlled the teleportation spell, I did my utmost to send us as far as possible. Even if we’re still within the Ten-Thousand Moon Mountain Range, we should at least be at its edge.” Frost Li also surveyed their surroundings, unable to conceal the excitement on her face.
After being trapped for so many years, anyone would feel this exhilarated upon finally seeing the light of day again.
“At this point, even if others notice something amiss, they won’t be able to catch up. I’ll summon Zhu Guo’er and the others now. Fellow Daoist Frost Li, what are your plans from here? Will you return to your clan immediately?” Han Li nodded and then asked her with a serious expression.
“I’ve only just successfully advanced to the Mahayana stage and must consolidate my cultivation and refine the newly acquired treasures. So, I plan to find a secluded spot nearby to cultivate for a few years before returning to my clan.” Frost Li replied without hesitation, as if she had already considered this question.
“That’s a wise approach. However, since Xiao Ming and the others know you’ve inherited the legacy of the Heavenly Tripod True Monarch, word will likely spread quickly. Fellow Daoist Frost Li, you must remain cautious.” Han Li nodded in agreement but offered a gentle reminder.
“Brother Han, rest assured. As a Mahayana cultivator, even if I encounter formidable enemies, I should have the means to protect myself unless I’m trapped in a dire situation.” Frost Li smiled gracefully.
“It’s good to hear such confidence. I will be staying in the Blood Sky Continent for a while longer and may even visit the Thunder Continent. It might be a long time before we meet again. Take care, Fellow Daoist.” Han Li chuckled and cupped his hands in farewell. Frost Li hurriedly returned the gesture, exchanged a few more words of farewell, and then transformed into a crystalline streak, vanishing into the sky.
Once her figure disappeared beyond the horizon, Han Li raised a hand and summoned a faint silver talisman into his palm. With a flick of his fingers, the talisman ignited and dissipated into a wisp of green smoke.
Han Li then descended onto a nearby mountain peak, sitting cross-legged beneath a towering tree as he quietly awaited Zhu Guo’er and the others.
Half a day later, a triangular flying chariot streaked across the sky, carrying a man and a woman—Zhu Guo’er and Hua Shi the Elder. Han Li opened his eyes, stood up with a faint smile, and greeted them.
Not long after, news spread from the Blood Bone Sect about the battle in the Ten-Thousand Moon Mountain Range: the Blood Harmony Five Puppets had been annihilated, and the mysterious cultivator practicing the Blood God Art had been slain. However, the two Mahayana cultivators, Tian Que and Di Meng, had suffered severe injuries, and only a fraction of their disciples had survived. The renowned formation master, “Feng,” had perished in the battle.
Meanwhile, rumors circulated across the continent that a female Mahayana cultivator from another land had obtained the Heavenly Tripod True Monarch’s legacy, stirring the ambitions of many. Strangely, there was no mention of Han Li, as if he had never appeared in the Ten-Thousand Moon Mountain Range at all.
…
A year and a half later, above a deeply secluded valley in the Qi Cloud Mountain Range, two Mahayana cultivators from the Blood Sky Continent stared in shock and fury at a pale, slender young man standing opposite them.
Clad in black robes with narrow eyes, the young man exuded an eerie, ethereal aura. In one hand, he held a severed head with disheveled hair, while beneath his feet flowed an endless river of blood, stretching beyond sight.
The head bore the refined yet deathly pale face of a man, frozen in disbelief at the moment of his demise. The blood river, thirty to forty zhang wide, appeared thick and viscous yet emitted no foul odor—instead, it carried a faint sandalwood-like fragrance that invigorated the senses.
Near the black-robed youth’s feet floated several dismembered body parts, clearly belonging to the same victim. The youth stood unshaken, his bare calves submerged halfway in the river, his gaze mocking as he regarded the two pinnacle Mahayana cultivators of the Spirit Realm.
“What have you done to us? Our cultivation has dropped by nearly half! Otherwise, True Monarch Misty Rain would never have fallen so easily. Do you realize he was a core elder of the Merchant Alliance, one of the most powerful factions in the Spirit Realm? By killing him, you’ve made an enemy of the entire alliance. No matter how formidable you are, you’ll find no refuge in this realm!” The burly, purple-armored Mahayana cultivator roared, mustering his courage.
“The Merchant Alliance? If they seek death, I’ll gladly send them to join you in the River of Blood. As for your weakened state, blame the Blood Seal of Ten Thousand Souls—its aura hasn’t fully receded after the blood sacrifice. You’re simply too weak to resist its pressure,” the youth sneered.
“Nonsense! No treasure, not even a Profound Heavenly Treasure, could suppress us with mere aura!” the armored man retorted.
“Foolish ants. Profound Heavenly Treasures vary in power depending on their origin. Those from lesser realms like yours are nothing compared to those born in true great realms. The might of such treasures is beyond your comprehension,” the youth yawned, his disdain palpable.
“Your arrogance knows no bounds! I’ve never heard of any ‘great realms,’ nor that the Spirit Realm is ‘lesser.’ You must be an outsider. Do you truly believe you can slaughter countless lives for your blood sacrifices and face the entire realm alone?” the armored man demanded.
“Slaughtering the entire realm is impossible. But if all its Mahayana cultivators are as weak as you three, exterminating them one by one would be trivial,” the youth mused, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact.
The armored man’s face darkened further.
At that moment, the other Mahayana cultivator—an elder covered in serpentine patterns with slit-like pupils—suddenly transformed into a massive emerald serpent with four wings. With a single flap, it shot away like a green streak, vanishing a thousand zhang away in an instant.
“Fool. Under the Blood Seal’s dominion, no Mahayana can escape. Suppress!” The youth uttered a single word, and a colossal seal materialized above the fleeing serpent, descending with crushing force.
The serpent froze mid-air, helpless as the seal slammed down, obliterating both its body and the elder’s nascent soul in a burst of light. The seal absorbed the scattered energy, its form growing more distinct before vanishing.
Witnessing his peer’s instantaneous demise, the armored man’s resolve wavered. With his cultivation suppressed and facing such overwhelming power, hope seemed lost. Yet, he refused surrender.
Seizing a momentary lapse in the youth’s attention, the armored man roared, summoning a dragon-headed, horse-bodied Dharma Form behind him. The form unleashed a storm of azure thunderbolts while the man hurled a dozen self-detonating treasures toward the youth, each exploding like miniature suns.
Simultaneously, his body dissolved into bloody mist, revealing his nascent soul, which inhaled the mist and vanished into thin air.
Facing the onslaught of thunder and explosions, the black-robed youth smirked, extending a single hand forward—utterly unfazed.
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