As the golden sword was grasped by the gloved hand, its glow dimmed, but the blade itself grew even more chillingly sharp.
Han Li’s expression remained unchanged, but inwardly, he was genuinely surprised.
With the glove on, the knight before him could actually wield this so-called “spiritual tool.”
This completely overturned his long-held beliefs.
Though he had once heard from the avatar of the Tianlan Sacred Beast that exceptional mortals in the Spirit Realm could contend with cultivators, the idea that a “spiritual tool” like this could be used by ordinary mortals—akin to a magic artifact—was somewhat alarming.
If this were true, wouldn’t ordinary mortals also have the ability to kill low-level cultivators?
While Han Li was still processing this shock, the knight flicked the short sword in his hand and slashed at Han Li’s wrist once more.
This time, the movement carried far more weight.
Han Li frowned slightly and silently activated a cultivation technique.
Ironically, the *Mingwang Jue* (King of Brightness Art) and the *Jingang Jue* (Vajra Art) were actually the same technique—just practiced differently. The former relied on internal spiritual energy, while the latter forcibly absorbed external spiritual energy.
Han Li had originally cultivated using the *Mingwang Jue*, but now that he had no internal spiritual power, he could only rely on the *Jingang Jue* method. Moreover, his *Mingwang Jue* had not merely reached the third layer—thanks to the *Cuigu Jue* (Bone-Tempering Art) and the Dragon Scale Fruit, he had already advanced to the fourth layer.
If he didn’t deliberately suppress the power of the *Jingang Jue*, this golden sword wouldn’t be able to harm him in the slightest.
As the short sword made contact with Han Li’s wrist, the golden light hesitated for a moment before finally breaking the skin, drawing a trickle of blood.
The knight quickly grabbed Han Li’s other hand, dipped his finger in the blood, and began writing several strange runes on the blood oath contract.
The moment these blood runes took shape, they eerily vanished into the parchment.
At this point, the knight smiled at Han Li and said:
“All you need to do now is silently recite the terms of the contract in your mind and then mentally agree to them!”
Han Li’s brow twitched slightly, but he complied.
Suddenly, the blood oath contract erupted in a crimson glow, and the runes seemed to come alive, flying out of the parchment and disappearing into Han Li and the knight.
The contract itself then burst into green flames and burned to ashes.
“Haha, excellent! From today onward, Brother Han, you are one of us at the Tian Dong Trading Company. Xiao Qi, fetch a carriage. Brother Han is currently unable to ride a *Suānláng* beast.” The scar-faced knight beamed, his demeanor suddenly warm and friendly.
The young man from earlier acknowledged the order and immediately spurred his giant wolf toward the rear.
Meanwhile, the scar-faced man began chatting amiably with Han Li, introducing himself.
It was then that Han Li learned the man’s name was Zhang Kui, the captain of one of the Tian Dong Trading Company’s escort teams. They were currently transporting a batch of valuable goods through the Qing Luo Desert—a journey that would take over a month even at full speed.
As the two exchanged idle words, a massive dust cloud appeared in the distance, heralding the approach of a colossal figure, with Xiao Qi leading the way.
When it drew near, Han Li saw that it was a giant tortoise, standing nearly fifteen feet tall and over twenty feet long.
On its back was a wooden carriage, and at the front of the shell sat a thin, dark-robed elder, seemingly the driver.
The tortoise halted before the knights, and the carriage door swung open on its own. Out stepped a slender figure—a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, dressed in emerald green, with a round, sweet face.
“Uncle Zhang, is this the one?” the girl asked, glancing at Han Li with a smile.
“Miss Xiang’er! Brother Han has just joined our company, but he’s currently indisposed. Since the other carriages are full, I must trouble you and your sisters to accommodate him.” The scar-faced man spoke to the girl with unusual deference.
“Oh, if he’s part of our company now, he’s no outsider. It’s only right to help. Bring him up.” The girl smiled charmingly, her youthful features already hinting at a woman’s allure.
The scar-faced man thanked her profusely before gesturing to two knights, who dismounted and lifted Han Li from the sand. One carried his upper body, the other his legs, and they hoisted him up a rope ladder onto the tortoise.
The girl darted inside the carriage ahead of them, and the two knights soon deposited Han Li at the door.
With a single glance, Han Li took in the entire carriage.
The space was vast, easily seating over a dozen people, but aside from the emerald-clad girl, there were three other young women inside, ranging from twelve to seventeen years old, all strikingly beautiful and clearly not ordinary folk.
The carriage contained only a table and fixed benches along the sides, leaving it mostly empty—likely why the scar-faced man had chosen it for Han Li.
Han Li was placed on a bench in one corner, cushioned by an unknown yellow fur that was surprisingly comfortable.
The two knights withdrew without so much as a lingering glance at the women inside.
Han Li found this odd but, having weathered countless storms in the mortal realm, showed no reaction. He simply smiled faintly at the girls before closing his eyes to rest.
Though he had no spiritual energy left and his meridians were still recovering—preventing any real cultivation—months in the desert, enduring scorching days and freezing nights, had left him mentally exhausted.
The four girls initially scrutinized Han Li with curiosity, whispering among themselves.
Though their voices were low, Han Li’s keen hearing caught every word.
“Xiang’er, what’s wrong with him that he can’t move at all?”
“Who knows? But Uncle Zhang said a cultivator from the convoy will come to check on him soon.”
“Tsk, Uncle Zhang values him that much? Those cultivators aren’t easy to summon.”
“I’m not sure, but Uncle Zhang said he has great potential—a rare talent. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent him to our carriage.”
“Talent? He looks pretty ordinary to me…”
Han Li pretended not to hear, lying motionless on the fur.
The tortoise turned and began moving again, its gait smooth despite its speed. Inside the carriage, Han Li felt only the slightest sway.
Soon, the tortoise halted abruptly.
Noise and chatter rose from outside—they had rejoined the convoy.
With a loud shout from the scar-faced man, the entire procession resumed its journey.
Though Han Li couldn’t see the convoy from inside the carriage, it was clearly sizable, numbering at least two or three hundred.
After a while, the girls grew bored of discussing Han Li and shifted to other topics, now speaking louder, unconcerned if he overheard.
“I heard this shipment is vital to An Yuan City’s safety. That’s why the city lord paid a fortune to hire our company to transport it from so far away. Otherwise, a backwater like An Yuan wouldn’t usually merit our attention.”
“But why did Madam go ahead to An Yuan without even taking us four? That’s strange.”
“Giggle—you three don’t know? Madam went personally not just because of the goods, but to welcome Fifth Young Master home.”
“Fifth Young Master? You mean Madam’s own son, sent away to train over a decade ago? I heard he has a spiritual root and was taken in by a cultivator. Why would he be in An Yuan?” Xiang’er gasped.
“I’m not sure. I only overheard Madam muttering about it.”
“I heard Fifth Young Master was doted on as a child because of his spiritual root. No wonder Madam rushed ahead.”
The girls chattered on, while Han Li lay still, his breathing steady as if asleep.
“Who’s there?” The eldest among them, a blue-robed girl who had spoken little, suddenly frowned and called out toward the door.
The other three tensed.
At that moment, a calm male voice came from outside:
“Miss Liu’er, this humble Daoist Nan Qizi, at Brother Zhang’s request, has come to see a certain Brother Han.”
“Oh, Daoist Nan Qizi! Forgive my rudeness. Please, come in!” The blue-robed girl relaxed slightly and glanced toward the corner—only to freeze.
Han Li’s eyes were open, his head tilted slightly as he met her gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips.
The emerald-clad Xiang’er opened the door, revealing a yellow-robed Daoist and a white-robed elder.
The Daoist appeared to be in his thirties, his face faintly glowing—a sign of considerable cultivation. The elder, however, was frail and wrinkled, his gray hair thinning.
“Eh? Elder Fu! What brings you here?” Xiang’er exclaimed in surprise at the sight of the white-robed elder.
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