“Who knows? Perhaps he had planned it all along and truly possessed the precise coordinates of a lost realm, or perhaps it was just an accident that he inadvertently fled into one. But back then, this traitor managed to escape the pursuit of our Nine Origin Sect so easily with the treasure. Clearly, someone was behind this. Otherwise, even with a hundred times the courage, he would never dare to betray our sect.” The dark-faced Taoist seemed to hint at something as he spoke.
“What’s there to guess? Most likely, the mastermind behind this is one of those who personally intervened to block your ancestor,” the woman sneered.
The dark-faced Taoist nodded, evidently sharing the same thought.
“Enough. Matters at your ancestor’s level are beyond our reach. What I’d rather know is, if there truly is a way to send someone to a lost realm, which disciple our sect would dispatch. Nephew Li, might you be interested?” The purple-robed woman suddenly chuckled as she asked.
“Elder Aunt jests! With my meager cultivation, how could I shoulder such a responsibility? However, those fellow disciples who are inexperienced in worldly affairs are also unlikely to be chosen. The traitor’s cultivation is extraordinary—he was once among the top of his peers in our sect. Now, though he seems to be struggling in the lower realm, we must remain wary of deception. Moreover, if he truly is suppressed there, it’s no good news. It suggests that realm harbors beings of immense power. Ordinary disciples sent down might lack the wit or strength to subdue its rulers and accomplish the mission.” The dark-faced Taoist waved his hands repeatedly.
“Oh? If that’s the case, then we’d have to select from those disciples who frequently venture outside. Nephew Zhu and Nephew Wu are among the finest—they’d likely be strong candidates.” The purple-robed woman spoke with a faint smile.
“Senior Brother Zhu and Junior Brother Wu—one steady and composed, the other resourceful and adaptable—are indeed excellent choices. But compared to another, they still fall short.” The dark-faced Taoist’s eyes flickered with a hint of strangeness.
“Another? You mean…” The purple-robed woman paused in surprise.
“Elder Aunt may not know yet, but Senior Brother Ma has broken through his seclusion,” the dark-faced Taoist said slowly.
“What? When did Ma Liang’s punishment end? How come I’ve heard nothing of this?” The purple-robed woman’s smile vanished instantly.
“I only learned of it a few days ago when I met a junior brother outside. Very few know of this yet. Given Senior Brother Ma’s cultivation and methods, it’s highly likely the elders will assign him this mission.” The dark-faced Taoist spoke gravely.
“Hmph, that’s not certain. Though Ma Liang is powerful, his temperament is too extreme. Back then, merely to refine a treasure, he once sacrificed hundreds of millions of lives in a lower realm, causing immense trouble for our sect. Were it not for your ancestor’s mercy—considering his exceptional talent and past contributions—his punishment wouldn’t have ended with just ten thousand years of seclusion. If he’s sent to a lost realm where no one can intervene, he might stir even greater calamity.” The purple-robed woman’s voice turned icy.
“Elder Aunt makes a fair point. But don’t forget how crucial that item in the traitor’s hands is to our sect and ancestor. For its recovery alone, the elders might still send him down.” The dark-faced Taoist chuckled darkly.
“Given those old fellows’ temperaments, it’s indeed possible. If Ma Liang descends, even if his cultivation is suppressed, his methods would make retrieving the item a near certainty. But this matter is beyond our involvement. You’re merely a minor steward disciple, and I’m just a nominal palace master. Still, whoever is sent down will likely require your ancestor’s personal approval. Who knows what changes might arise then? But if you do obtain precise news of the traitor’s whereabouts, don’t forget to inform me.” The purple-robed woman mused before speaking.
“Understood. This nephew will do his utmost,” the dark-faced Taoist replied respectfully.
“Is there anything else? If not, I’ll retire now.” The purple-robed woman asked indifferently.
“Nothing more today. This nephew takes his leave.” The dark-faced Taoist rose and bowed.
The purple-robed woman merely nodded, seemingly having lost all interest in conversation.
The dark-faced Taoist turned and strode toward the door. The moment his feet crossed the threshold, a spatial ripple surged, and his figure vanished into thin air.
The next instant, he found himself back on the grassy field, surrounded by the same exotic trees and flowers. Behind him, the palace and the purple-robed woman were nowhere to be seen.
After a brief glance backward, the dark-faced Taoist strode resolutely along the path he had come.
A short while later, a dragon’s roar echoed before the grand gates of the Golden Han Palace as a blue ice flood dragon soared into the sky, disappearing behind the mountain peaks after a few flashes.
Meanwhile, in the mysterious hall, the purple-robed woman remained seated in silence. After a long while, she smirked and murmured, “A lost realm, Ma Liang… Heh, this might just work…”
Her voice faded into inaudibility as a swirl of radiant light enveloped her, and her figure blurred into nothingness.
…
In a forbidden zone of the Spirit Realm’s Fuling Mountain, a white-robed elder, Han Li, Mo Jianli, and other Mahayana cultivators stood before an enormous formation.
The formation spanned nearly an acre, adorned with intricate gold and silver patterns and embedded with hundreds of top-grade spirit stones at its corners.
Farther back, eight Spirit Tribe cultivators, including a bald man, stood respectfully.
Most of the group silently observed the formation, while the white-robed elder gazed skyward, holding a disk-shaped artifact in one hand and calculating with the other.
“The time is right. Departing now would be ideal,” the elder announced, ceasing his calculations.
“Good. We won’t stand on ceremony,” Mo Jianli said eagerly, stepping toward the formation.
Han Li followed with a faint smile.
The elder eyed them deeply and added, “The spatial coordinates have been set. Crush the Asura’s Heart when it’s time to return. But remember—don’t wait until its energy is entirely depleted. Without it, you may be trapped in the Miniature Asura Realm forever.”
“Thank you for the reminder, Elder Ling. I’ll be cautious,” Mo Jianli replied from within the formation.
Han Li nodded slightly in gratitude.
Xue Ran laughed heartily and strode forward with Hei Lin. Before entering, he turned to ask, “Elder Ling, we’ll fetch the Thread of Time for you. But once we return, you won’t suddenly renege, will you?”
“Brother Xue, rest assured. I need the Thread for a critical purpose. I wouldn’t break my word,” the elder replied calmly.
“Good enough.” Xue Ran smiled, stepping into the formation beside Han Li and Mo Jianli.
The elder raised his artifact, and a beam of white light shot into the formation.
With a deafening roar, the formation erupted in gold and silver radiance, countless runes surging from the spirit stones.
In a flash, Han Li and the others vanished.
The elder stared intently until they were gone, then sighed in relief. Turning to the eight Spirit Tribe cultivators, he ordered, “From now on, guard this formation in shifts. Report any anomalies immediately.”
“Yes, Spirit King!” they chorused.
The elder nodded, his sleeves billowing as he transformed into a streak of white light and shot into the sky.
The remaining eight divided tasks, with only the bald man and another staying behind. They sat cross-legged, releasing vast spiritual senses to envelop the formation, ensuring no disturbance would escape their notice.
Soon, their breathing steadied as they entered deep meditation.
…
Han Li shook his head, dispelling the lingering heaviness from the teleportation.
It had been ages since he’d experienced such discomfort—a testament to the rarity of cross-realm teleportation. Even his formidable strength couldn’t fully negate its effects.
Once fully alert, he surveyed his surroundings.
Tall, white-barked trees surrounded him, their trunks as thick as bowls. The ground was tangled with withered shrubs and yellowed grass, exuding desolation.
Mo Jianli and Xue Ran were nowhere in sight.
Han Li remained unfazed. They had anticipated this and made preparations.
He looked up at the sky—and his expression shifted slightly.
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