Near a vine-covered small valley, a streak of white light was rapidly approaching from the distance. Within the white light, a graceful and gentle green-robed woman sat atop a snow-white spiritual bird.
In the blink of an eye, the spiritual bird arrived above the valley at lightning speed, then folded its wings and dove downward. Just as it seemed about to crash into the dense tangle of vines below, the woman raised her hand and cast a spell. Instantly, green light flickered below, and the vines abruptly vanished, revealing a shimmering green barrier. Without hesitation, the green-robed woman urged her mount forward, and with a flash of white light, they disappeared into the barrier.
Beneath the barrier lay a different world. Six green-robed cultivators sat solemnly within a pentagonal formation at the valley’s center. The formation was small, spanning only about twenty meters. Five of them sat at the five points of the formation, with spiritual light shimmering along its edges, while a long-bearded elder sat in the middle, eyes tightly shut.
Suddenly, the elder opened his eyes and looked upward. A white light descended slowly, and moments later, the green-robed woman stood before him, bowing respectfully.
“Disciple greets Uncle-Master. The miasma over the mountain range has completely dissipated, and many cultivators have already headed toward the Fallen Devil Valley,” the woman said with deference.
“Has the Ghost Spirit Sect set out yet?” the elder asked, stroking his beard slowly.
“Most of the Ghost Spirit Sect has not moved, but a few disciples have gone ahead,” the woman replied cautiously after a moment’s thought.
“Hmph! Since the old foxes of the Ghost Spirit Sect haven’t made their move yet, there’s no need for us to rush. As long as we keep an eye on their elders, nothing will go wrong. Nephew Han, continue monitoring their movements. Report any unusual activity immediately,” the elder instructed calmly.
“Yes, disciple will depart at once,” the green-robed woman replied without hesitation. She bowed once more to the elder, then gracefully mounted her spiritual bird and soared into the sky, soon vanishing beyond the barrier.
The elder watched her departure, his eyes gleaming with contemplation before his expression returned to normal. The five male and female cultivators around the formation remained motionless throughout, their faces expressionless as if carved from wood.
The long-bearded elder seemed accustomed to this, showing no surprise as he closed his eyes again.
Atop a towering peak, a gray-robed Daoist in his fifties or sixties stood firmly on a boulder, gazing toward the Fallen Devil Valley despite the fierce winds. Behind him stood two towering figures, one red and one green, each nearly seven meters tall. Upon closer inspection, their ghastly, fanged faces and lifeless expressions revealed them to be two demonic-looking puppet constructs.
The Daoist glanced back at the puppets, a trace of pride flashing across his face as he murmured, “With these two ancient puppets, comparable to Nascent Soul cultivators, this trip to the Fallen Devil Valley should be fruitful.” With that, he flicked two spells toward the puppets, causing them to shrink rapidly and vanish into his sleeves. Then, transforming into a streak of red light, he shot toward the valley.
Elsewhere in the sky, three streaks of light flew side by side—two elderly men and a woman, all heading toward the Fallen Devil Valley.
Had Han Li seen them, he would have been astonished, for two of the three were familiar to him. One was a sallow-faced elder in yellow robes—the Yellow Maple Valley’s Elder Linghu. Beside him stood a pale, cold-faced woman in white—the Great Elder of the Masked Moon Sect, Senior Sister to Nangong Wan.
The third elder, whom Han Li did not recognize, had deep-set eyes, a lion-like nose, and a striking appearance.
The trio flew in silence, their dazzling light streaking across the sky before vanishing into the distance.
Similar scenes unfolded frequently around the Ten Thousand Mountains, as many cultivators brimmed with confidence for their journey into the Fallen Devil Valley.
Meanwhile, Han Li had also arrived near the valley. Standing atop a small hill about ten miles from the entrance, he gazed thoughtfully toward it, silent and composed.
Even without using his spiritual sense, he knew that within a radius of dozens of miles, over a thousand cultivators had gathered, including many hidden Nascent Soul elders. While these elders might not match the prowess of the Three Great Cultivators, their secret techniques and unpredictable abilities made them formidable opponents. Han Li was not so arrogant as to believe he had nothing to fear from anyone except the Three Great Cultivators and the Mulan Divine Masters. A single misstep could cost him his life.
As he pondered, he occasionally glanced at the valley’s entrance. Had it not been for the gathering of cultivators, he would never have believed such an ordinary mountain pass was the entrance to the Fallen Devil Valley. Yet above it, gray clouds churned, and spiritual energy surged, displaying ominous signs that sent chills down one’s spine.
From the outside, the entrance appeared only about thirty meters wide. Han Li extended his spiritual sense into the valley but found it blocked by an inexplicable barrier after penetrating just over a hundred meters. He could not detect the rumored spatial rifts.
Though he could have forced his way deeper with his powerful spiritual sense, the dangers of the valley made him hesitate. Ultimately, he withdrew his senses cautiously and sat cross-legged on the hill, meditating.
Time passed slowly. Half a day later, Han Li sensed more and more cultivators gathering nearby, some with vaguely familiar auras—likely people he knew.
After a brief mental review, he identified them one by one, though his brow furrowed slightly.
Just then, an angry shout erupted nearby: “The Mulan people are here! Mulan spellcasters—they really intend to enter the valley for treasure!”
The announcement caused a stir among the gathered cultivators. Han Li’s heart tightened as he opened his eyes to see a strange flying vehicle approaching leisurely from the distance.
The vehicle was far larger than ordinary flying artifacts, shaped like a cone and over sixty meters long, its silver surface covered in dense inscriptions. Clearly, it was no ordinary item. Inside stood over a dozen Mulan spellcasters in their distinctive attire.
Han Li’s expression flickered with surprise. Though he had heard rumors of the Mulan people joining the fray, he had dismissed them as unlikely.
After all, despite the recent truce, the border war had left deep enmity between the Mulan and many sects. Without centuries of gradual reconciliation, such grudges would not fade easily.
Under these circumstances, the Mulan daring to venture deep into the heart of the South Sky and enter the Fallen Devil Valley was astonishing. Did they not fear vengeful cultivators ambushing them?
As Han Li puzzled over this, the massive flying vehicle reached the sky above the entrance, its occupants now clearly visible.
His gaze settled on the two leaders, and realization dawned. With these two in charge, ordinary cultivators would indeed think twice before seeking revenge. Yet why had the Three Great Cultivators of the South Sky allowed their presence? That remained unclear.
The two leading spellcasters—a scholarly man and a woman holding an ancient lamp—were none other than the Mulan Divine Masters, Zhong the Scholar and Yue the Lamp Keeper. With Zhong’s late Nascent Soul cultivation, ordinary cultivators would indeed hesitate to challenge them.
The flying vehicle landed on a small hill not far from Han Li, and the spellcasters disembarked. Yue the Lamp Keeper performed a hand seal, shrinking the vehicle and storing it away.
The others stared at the valley entrance in astonishment, mirroring Han Li’s own surprise.
As the gathered cultivators eyed the Mulan newcomers with hostility, another burst of light appeared on the distant horizon—over a hundred streaks of light speeding toward them.
“It’s the Ghost Spirit Sect!” someone immediately recognized and called out.
The attention shifted from the Mulan spellcasters to the sky. Han Li’s eyes narrowed coldly, his thoughts churning.
The approaching lights moved at a leisurely pace, eventually descending about a hundred meters from the valley entrance.
As the radiance faded, over a hundred black-robed Ghost Spirit Sect cultivators appeared. At the forefront stood three leaders, one of whom Han Li recognized instantly—Wang Tiangu of the Ghost Spirit Sect. His gaze swept the crowd, quickly spotting Wang Chan and Yan Ruyan.
Wang Chan appeared unharmed, his limbs intact, while Yan Ruyan looked somewhat haggard.
“Did the Yin Devil Slash not severely injure him? Or has he somehow regrown his limbs without visible signs?” Han Li’s mind raced with unconfirmed possibilities.
However, given Han Li’s current cultivation and reputation, Wang Chan no longer posed a threat. His attention shifted to the other two Nascent Soul elders.
The central figure was a stern-faced middle-aged man in a wide black robe, exuding authority. The elder on the right had pale features, white hair, and piercing hawk-like eyes, his body radiating intense killing intent.
Both were Nascent Soul cultivators, unfamiliar to Han Li, likely absent from the border war. The elder was at the mid-Nascent Soul stage, earning Han Li’s extra scrutiny.
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