Chapter 1522: Departure

Two days passed in the blink of an eye!

At the summit of an unnamed colossal mountain within the gray-white mountain range, a massive formation spanning a hundred zhang in radius had been laid out.

At the edges of the formation stood eight towering platforms, each bearing a massive banner adorned with shimmering golden and silver runes.

At the center of the formation stood Han Li, motionless. Outside, a sparse group of people—the elderly surnamed Jiang, along with Yuan Yao and Yan Li—watched intently.

The old man, his robes fluttering in the wind, gazed solemnly at the misty sky. High above, a massive white scar, over a hundred zhang long, flickered faintly in and out of view.

“Fellow Daoist Han, while I can use the spatial rift of the Netherworld River and the power of this formation to send you outside, I cannot guarantee where you will end up. However, rest assured, you won’t be transported to another continent—most likely, you’ll remain near the Flying Spirit Clan’s territory,” the old man said after a long pause, lowering his head to address Han Li.

“Thank you for your guidance, Senior. This junior understands,” Han Li replied respectfully, though inwardly he felt a chill.

“Good. The time is almost right. I shall now cast the spell to send you out of the Netherworld River. Oh, and take this.” The old man flicked his hand, sending two objects flying toward Han Li.

Han Li swiftly caught them and examined them closely, his expression shifting to shock.

“The Reverse Star Plate! Senior actually possesses such an item?”

In his hands lay a white-glowing basin and a blue jade slip.

“Hmm, you recognize it? That’s quite rare. However, this isn’t the true Reverse Star Plate—just a replica. The materials to craft it are extremely hard to find. I originally made several, but most have been used. This is the last one. The jade slip contains instructions on how to use it to re-enter the Netherworld River. Study it later. Also, take back those Gold Devouring Beetles you used for scouting.” The old man’s face briefly showed surprise before he spoke indifferently, then flicked his sleeve again.

A green-glowing treasure flew out—a verdant wooden pagoda. With a spin, two golden flowers shot out from its base.

They were the Gold Devouring Beetles the old man had confiscated earlier.

Han Li’s face lit up with joy as he beckoned, and the two beetles swiftly returned to him.

“Fellow Daoist Han, to have nurtured mature Gold Devouring Beetles is truly a stroke of immense fortune. However, let me offer you some advice. While mature Gold Devouring Beetles are fearsome, they are swarm-type spirit insects. Only in large numbers can they unleash their true power. A mere handful can be easily countered by high-level cultivators using wood- or stone-type treasures, limiting their use to surprise attacks. You’d be better off focusing on your own cultivation rather than expending effort on these beetles. Of course, if you could raise thousands of mature Gold Devouring Beetles and control them effortlessly, you could roam freely across most of the Spirit Realm. Ordinary wood- or stone-type treasures wouldn’t be able to restrain so many mature beetles. But the sheer mental strain of controlling such a swarm would be unbearable even for a Great Ascension cultivator like me. Heh, if you could somehow cultivate the legendary Gold Devouring Beetle King, even a true immortal would flee at the sight of you!” The old man chuckled, his tone half-mocking, half-serious.

“Gold Devouring Beetle King?” Han Li was stunned—this was the first time he’d heard of such a thing.

“What, you didn’t know? Ah, well, only a few insect-related races like the Ephemera Clan are aware of it. No matter. It’s just an ancient legend—no one has ever actually cultivated one, so don’t dwell on it.” The old man waved dismissively, then suddenly formed a hand seal.

A thunderous boom echoed as the clear sky darkened, clouds swirling and winds howling.

Amid the gale, the old man began chanting an incantation, his voice soft yet piercingly clear.

A terrifying sight unfolded.

Without any visible action from the old man, the eight massive banners trembled, their surfaces rippling in the wind as the entire formation began to hum.

Multicolored spirit threads materialized around the formation, coalescing into streams of light that surged toward the banners.

As the banners shimmered with radiant light, an oppressive spiritual pressure emanated from them.

The formation itself brightened section by section, runes leaping forth one after another.

Standing at the very center, Han Li could keenly sense the terrifying power contained within these runes. If they were to explode simultaneously, even his reinforced body wouldn’t withstand the blast.

His expression darkened as he took a deep breath.

Outside the formation, Yuan Yao’s face also paled, her eyes flickering with concern as she watched Han Li.

At that moment, the old man suddenly let out a low shout.

The eight banners spun rapidly, each shooting forth a thick beam of light that vanished into the sky.

The white scar above brightened, becoming several times clearer.

The old man flicked his sleeve toward the sky.

A muffled boom echoed as a dazzling green light erupted, revealing a massive emerald sword several zhang long.

“Cleave!” the old man barked, pointing two fingers at the sword.

The green blade rose vertically before slashing toward the white scar.

The air trembled as if all the surrounding spiritual energy had been sucked into the strike.

The sword expanded infinitely in an instant, towering like a divine weapon that blotted out half the sky.

A piercing *riiiip* tore through the heavens as the blade split the white scar open, revealing a slender black rift.

The old man waved his hand, and the colossal sword dissipated.

Simultaneously, eight massive golden runes—each the size of a house—appeared around the black rift, rotating ceaselessly.

Han Li felt the air around him tighten as the runes beneath his feet floated up and enveloped him.

Before he could react, the runes transformed into multicolored light, swirling around him in a frenzy.

His surroundings blurred as dizziness overwhelmed him.

With a strange shriek, a five-colored pillar of light erupted from the formation’s center, vanishing into the black rift in a flash.

The formation’s glow dimmed, its operation ceasing.

At its center, Han Li was gone.

“Master, was Fellow Daoist Han truly sent away?” Yuan Yao could no longer hide her concern, turning to the old man.

“Don’t worry, Yao’er. The spell was a success—he should have returned to the Spirit Realm. If fate allows, you’ll see him again in a few centuries, or at most a millennium.” The old man chuckled knowingly, his tone teasing.

Yuan Yao’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t argue, her gaze drifting back to the sky.

The black rift was already sealing, reverting to a faint white scar before fading entirely.

“Junior Sister, let’s go back. As Senior Jiang said, if it’s meant to be, you’ll meet again. Though your current cultivation pales next to Fellow Daoist Han’s, with Master’s guidance, you’ll surely match him in a few centuries,” Yan Li said warmly, resting a hand on Yuan Yao’s shoulder.

“Heh, she’s right. That Han boy may be unusual, but with my help, reaching the Void Refinement stage is practically guaranteed for you, Yao’er. I’d even give you a fifty-fifty chance at the Body Integration stage,” the old man declared confidently.

“Master’s kindness is boundless. This disciple will devote herself fully to cultivation!” Yuan Yao, no ordinary woman, composed herself and bowed deeply in gratitude.

Meanwhile, as Han Li was being sent away, far beyond the gray-white mountains, Six Legs, the white-haired woman, the blood-robed man, and the Purple Blood Puppet were embroiled in a desperate battle against a sea of insects.

Surrounding them—on the ground and in the sky—were countless winged, hook-tailed centipede-like monstrosities, each three to four feet long and viciously aggressive.

Six Legs had transformed into a colossal black insect, firing endless black beams that annihilated swathes of the creatures.

The Purple Blood Puppet, enlarged a thousandfold under the blood-robed man’s control, crackled with golden lightning as its six eyes spewed crimson beams.

The white-haired woman, clad in black armor, wielded her hammer, engulfing the area in green flames to keep the insects at bay.

Though they held the upper hand, their expressions were grim.

No matter how many they killed, the swarm seemed endless.

A dozen miles away, a mantis-like human-faced insect hovered in midair, its cold eyes fixed on the battle.

Above it floated a massive semicircular object, hundreds of zhang wide, pulsing with silver light as it spewed forth an unending tide of insects toward the beleaguered group.