Inside the hall, which was only a few dozen zhang wide, red mists swirled continuously. More than a dozen fiery pillars stood upright around the hall, each adorned with lifelike carvings of crimson flood dragons. From the mouths of these dragons, streams of red mist spewed forth, converging without dispersing and enveloping a massive cauldron at the very center of the hall.
The cauldron stood six or seven zhang tall, its design ancient and unadorned. Compared to the furnaces Han Li had seen before, this was a true behemoth.
But what startled Han Li was that the cauldron had been tempered by the red mist until it glowed crimson all over, its original color long lost. The scorching heat radiating from its surface made him feel as if he were standing near a volcano, even from a distance of twenty or thirty zhang.
Since entering the hall, not only had his mouth and throat gone dry, but his skin also prickled with a burning sensation, as if being pricked by needles. He suspected that if not for the protective spiritual light automatically forming a faint blue barrier around him, he might have suffered a minor injury the moment he stepped inside.
Yet, instead of being angered by this situation, Han Li felt a surge of excitement.
After a quick glance at the fiery pillars, his gaze settled on the massive cauldron.
Though the cauldron remained motionless in the center of the hall, thunderous rumbles emanated from within. Based on Han Li’s experience in artifact refinement, this suggested that something was being forged inside.
At least I won’t leave empty-handed!
With this thought, Han Li exhaled lightly and deftly maneuvered past the jets of red mist, moving gracefully toward the cauldron.
When he was about six or seven zhang away, his steps slowed. Sensing the astonishing fire-attribute spiritual power concentrated on the cauldron’s surface, he began circling it cautiously.
Whatever was inside had been tempered for tens of thousands of years and had undoubtedly undergone unknown changes. Even if curiosity gnawed at him, he wouldn’t recklessly open it.
After seven or eight laps, Han Li stopped and began scanning the rest of the hall with a thoughtful expression.
For so many years, these fiery pillars and the cauldron had remained active, meaning there must be a formation nearby that had been continuously activated. His task was to locate and destroy the formation’s control node to temporarily halt the pillars before retrieving the treasure.
Since the formation was merely a control-type restriction with no concealment whatsoever, it took only moments before his pupils flashed blue, locking onto an inconspicuous corner of the hall. A faint smile curled his lips.
Ignoring the cauldron, he raised a hand, and a golden beam about a zhang long shot from his palm, striking a specific spot on the ground in that corner.
With a deafening boom, the corner exploded in a burst of golden light. The fiery pillars flickered, and the red mist spewing from the flood dragon carvings abruptly ceased.
Once the golden light faded, a zhang-wide crater appeared, surrounded by shattered remnants of a formation disk. A small golden sword, several inches long, hovered leisurely above the pit.
With a single strike, the flying sword had obliterated the formation disk buried there. The medium-sized formation spread beneath the entire hall, now deprived of control, immediately ceased functioning.
Han Li chuckled softly and beckoned from afar. The flying sword whistled back, circling once before vanishing into his sleeve.
Without the replenishment from the fiery pillars, the red mist covering the cauldron gradually dissipated.
But Han Li didn’t immediately turn his attention to the cauldron. Instead, he lowered his head, his eyes flashing blue as he stared at the ground, his expression shifting to one of surprise.
Without the formation’s concealment, he could now see that dozens of zhang below lay a sea of fiery red. The entire hall had been built atop an extraordinary fire pool—no wonder the pillars had been able to provide an endless supply of fiery mist.
Understanding dawned on Han Li. He withdrew his gaze and calmly directed his spiritual sight toward the cauldron, intending to peer inside and discern what was being forged.
Yet again, he was taken aback.
His vision was met with a fiery haze, even more intense than the underground fire pool. Before he could make out anything, the cauldron emitted a resonant hum, followed by a sizzling sound as a layer of crimson flames erupted, once again enveloping it.
Han Li’s mouth fell open slightly, his face a picture of astonishment. But after blinking and a brief moment of contemplation, his expression shifted to one of delight.
It turned out that after millennia of tempering, the cauldron had absorbed such an immense amount of fire-attribute spiritual power that it had evolved from an ordinary artifact into a rare fire-attribute treasure, gaining sentience in the process.
In the cultivation world, there had been cases where artifacts ascended in rank after prolonged exposure to a specific type of spiritual energy, resulting in formidable treasures. However, such occurrences were usually the result of serendipity.
In the past, some sects had attempted to replicate this method to craft high-grade treasures, but they soon abandoned the endeavor. Not only did it require an exorbitant amount of time—often spanning millennia and the efforts of multiple generations—but the success rate was also pitifully low. Even when successful, the increase in the artifact’s power was often marginal, hardly justifying the resources and time invested.
This cauldron, however, was clearly not the result of ancient cultivators deliberately attempting to elevate its rank. More likely, the cultivators responsible for this hall had been refining something crucial when they were forced to abandon the mountain for unknown reasons. Left with no choice, they activated the hall’s formation to continue the refinement autonomously, perhaps hoping to return or send disciples to retrieve it later.
Such a scenario could only occur because the mountain had been sealed for countless millennia. After all, no ancient cultivator would idly temper an artifact for tens of thousands of years—long before the refinement was complete, the cultivators themselves would have perished from old age.
Han Li’s eyes flickered as he speculated about the past, his protective spiritual light intensifying to withstand the now-doubled scorching heat.
After a moment of contemplation, he suddenly patted his waist and flipped his hand, revealing a stack of blue formation flags.
His figure darted swiftly around the hall, planting the flags in various corners before returning to stand before the cauldron. After scrutinizing it for a few moments, he began chanting an incantation. A blue barrier materialized, enveloping both him and the cauldron, significantly reducing the oppressive heat.
Not stopping there, Han Li tossed a spirit beast pouch into the air. Dozens of half-chi-long, snow-white centipedes with wings emerged—the evolved Six-Winged Frost Centipedes.
After agilely circling above, they gathered over the cauldron, their claws poised menacingly.
Satisfied, Han Li rubbed his hands together, and a layer of purple flames ignited on one palm. Without hesitation, he reached out toward the cauldron.
A massive purple hand materialized above the cauldron and clamped down on its lid.
The cauldron trembled violently, its crimson flames surging twofold and coalescing into a fiery bird that spat flames at the purple hand.
A cacophony of explosions erupted upon contact. Amidst the clash of crimson and purple, the fiery bird momentarily held the purple hand at bay.
Han Li’s eyes flashed with surprise, but he wasted no time uttering a low command.
The hovering Six-Winged Frost Centipedes immediately opened their mouths, releasing torrents of icy white mist that engulfed both the fiery bird and the cauldron.
Simultaneously, Han Li pointed solemnly at the purple hand formed from his Violet Essence Flame.
Under his guidance, the hand expanded dramatically, its power amplified by the centipedes’ frost. With immense force, it crushed the fiery bird and seized the cauldron’s lid.
With a metallic clang, the lid was flung several zhang away—despite the cauldron’s sentience, lacking a master’s control left it vulnerable. The interior glowed with a deep red light.
Just as Han Li leaned in to inspect the contents, a harsh, grating screech echoed from within. A streak of crimson light shot out, aiming for the hall’s ceiling with astonishing speed, slipping past two of the frost centipedes before they could react.
With a thud, the crimson light struck the blue barrier, melting through it rapidly as if about to break free.
Though startled, Han Li couldn’t allow the object to escape. Without hesitation, his fingers flicked rapidly, releasing over a dozen azure sword beams that struck the crimson light in quick succession.
Each impact dimmed the crimson glow further. By the time the last beam hit, the light wavered precariously.
Sensing danger, the crimson light shuddered and attempted to change direction.
But in that instant, a purple hand materialized behind it, seizing the light in a flash and darting back toward Han Li.
Meanwhile, the cauldron, now lidless, seemed to lose its resistance. The thunderous rumbles within ceased, its flames dissipated, and the frost centipedes’ icy breath encased it in a massive, translucent block of ice.
Yet Han Li paid no heed to the cauldron, his attention wholly captured by the object now in his hand.
“This is… Solar Essence Flame?” he murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief.
“Of course not. This is the Lunar True Flame, one of the three great spiritual flames of the human world!” A melodious voice, long unheard, echoed softly in his mind.
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