Half a day later, Han Li stowed away the Sky Mechanism Mansion and soared inland on a beam of light. With no distractions to slow him, he reached the mainland in just over half a month.
He did not return to the Heavenly Talisman Sect but instead headed straight for the Southern Border. Along the way, he paused intermittently to refine some of the materials for the Three Flames Fan into spiritual ingredients using his infant fire. Unfortunately, he encountered no thunderstorms, leaving him unable to gather the power of lightning and fire, which left him somewhat frustrated.
However, he was not overly anxious. The Southern Border was dense with forests and humid air, where rainstorms were often accompanied by thunder and lightning. Collecting lightning fire there was only a matter of time.
Four months later, after traversing several provinces, Han Li’s light beam finally appeared within the Southern Border Prefecture.
The Southern Border was one of the few regions in the world not dominated by major sects. Its resources were divided among a dozen mid-sized sects. While these sects often fought among themselves, they would unite instantly against any external threat. Even the top ten righteous and demonic sects had failed to extend their influence here, making the Southern Border almost like an independent state within the Great Jin.
This situation arose because the Southern Border sects were highly insular, practicing unique and often sinister cultivation methods. Their techniques, rarely seen elsewhere in the cultivation world, specialized in poison, insect control, and curses. Even cultivators of the same rank could fall victim to their insidious methods without warning, making them notoriously difficult to defend against.
This was the primary reason major sects avoided direct confrontation with the Southern Border sects. Otherwise, with several large sects joining forces, they could have forcibly taken control of the region, albeit at great cost.
The Chaoyun Prefecture lay in the western part of the Southern Border, home to the Twin Scorpion Mountains—a remote range perpetually shrouded in miasma. Without high cultivation or specialized antidote pills, entering these mountains was impossible.
The Twin Scorpion Mountains were famous in the Southern Border for their toxic environment, which nurtured several rare poisonous herbs and two types of venomous scorpions: the Iron-Tailed and Red-Lined Scorpions. These were prized by local low-level cultivators for insect-control techniques.
Han Li arrived during the annual miasma eruption, when the mountains swarmed with cultivators. This was the only time the scorpions emerged en masse from their burrows to hunt, making it the perfect opportunity to capture them.
Most of these cultivators were at the Qi Condensation stage, with a few Foundation Establishment cultivators mixed in. Core Formation cultivators and above had no interest in these mountains, so high-level cultivators rarely appeared here.
Had Han Li, a mid-Nascent Soul cultivator, been spotted, it would have caused quite a stir. Thus, he wasted no time near the mountains and flew straight into the miasma. A green spiritual light enveloped him, effortlessly repelling the pinkish fumes.
The miasma was thick and teeming with poisonous insects, deadly to low-level cultivators but trivial to Han Li. Orienting himself, he flew straight toward the heart of the mountains.
Though the old man surnamed Fu had only mentioned the Twin Scorpion Mountains without specifying a location, heading for the main peak was a safe bet.
Occasionally, he passed over a few cultivators, ignoring them entirely as he sped by. At his speed, they wouldn’t even notice him.
But as he flew, pondering the old man’s motives for inviting him, a shrill scream erupted from the distance.
“It’s the Scorpion King—a mutated Iron-Tailed Scorpion! Run!” a hoarse voice cried out in terror, followed by explosions and an eerie insect screech, not too far away.
Han Li’s expression shifted. He glanced toward the sound, blue light flickering in his eyes.
Whooshing sounds followed as several figures—men and women—emerged from the miasma, sprinting toward him with light-footed techniques, leaping several yards with each step.
“Hmm?” Han Li’s icy demeanor softened slightly when his gaze landed on one of the women. He halted his flight and flicked his sleeve, releasing a vast expanse of green light that swept away the miasma, clearing a space dozens of yards wide.
The fleeing cultivators stumbled into this sudden clearing, startled by the phenomenon. Before they could react, Han Li reached toward the miasma behind them. A giant green hand materialized, grabbing something dark and hauling it back to hover before him.
It was a massive black scorpion, its shell gleaming, its half-foot-long tail tipped with a venomous purple stinger—a mutated Iron-Tailed Scorpion, a second-tier demon beast now immobilized in the light hand.
The cultivators gaped at Han Li, stunned and unsure how to react.
“Fellow Daoist Wang, what brings you here after our parting in Jinjing? How is Miss Cao?” Han Li asked calmly, his glow fading as he addressed one of the women.
“You’re Fellow Daoist Han—no, Senior Han! Junior Sister Cao remains in Jinjing. I came here with fellow cultivators to gather herbs,” the yellow-robed woman stammered, recognizing Han Li from their encounter outside Jinjing. Back then, she had realized he was a high-level cultivator when he left on his sword, so now she addressed him with utmost respect.
The other cultivators, relieved she knew the powerful figure, bowed and thanked him. They assumed he was a Core Formation cultivator—Nascent Soul cultivators were beyond their comprehension.
“With your uncle as the Pillar-South General, why risk coming here for herbs?” Han Li asked, frowning at the scorpion after confirming Cao Mengrong was well.
“My family has some wealth, but my talent is mediocre. They wouldn’t invest much in me,” she replied bitterly.
“Your talent isn’t that poor. Foundation Establishment isn’t out of reach. Since fate has brought us together again, take this scorpion. I must be on my way.” With a flick of his finger, the light hand dissipated, and the scorpion dropped lifelessly at their feet.
“Senior, I—” she began, but Han Li vanished into the miasma before she could finish.
The other cultivators eyed the scorpion enviously but dared not act on any greedy impulses, watching as she secured it with talismans and stored it in a spirit beast pouch.
Just then, thunder rumbled overhead. The miasma churned as a gale scattered it, revealing dark storm clouds.
“Timely weather,” Han Li murmured, spotting a black peak ahead. He shot toward its summit as rain began to pour, washing the miasma down to just a few yards above the ground, unveiling distant mountains.
He landed atop the peak on a boulder, untouched by the rain under his spiritual light. Nearby, seven or eight local cultivators—two at Foundation Establishment, the rest at Qi Condensation—stared at him in shock.
Han Li scanned them, then unleashed a surge of spiritual pressure. “Get lost!” he commanded, sweeping them away with a gust of green light.
They scrambled, some shielding themselves, others fleeing on artifacts, but all were hurled dozens of yards away, tumbling in disarray. Realizing they faced a supreme expert, they fled without a word, the Foundation Establishment cultivators paling as they sensed his power.
Once they vanished, Han Li turned his gaze skyward, where lightning danced amid the thunderous clouds.
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