“Thank you for your patience, Lord!” Han Li exchanged a few polite words before being ushered into the stone house by Marquis Nanlong.
Upon entering, Han Li was momentarily taken aback—the room was empty, devoid of anyone. However, with a sweep of his spiritual sense, he detected the fluctuations of a restriction.
At the same time, Marquis Nanlong noticed Han Li’s reaction and smiled faintly. “My little trick naturally couldn’t deceive you, Fellow Daoist Han. Please follow me!” With that, Marquis Nanlong casually formed a hand seal, and a golden radiance shot from his sleeve.
As the golden light faded, an inconspicuous patch of the floor shimmered with white light, dispelling the illusion to reveal a dark stone staircase. Without hesitation, Marquis Nanlong descended, and after a slight frown, Han Li followed suit.
The staircase was short, leading almost immediately to a small underground hall. The dim, flickering light of a few moonstones cast an uncertain glow, making the surroundings indistinct. Inside, seven or eight cultivators were present—six seated, while a man and a woman stood side by side, seemingly together.
The moment Marquis Nanlong and Han Li entered, all eyes turned toward them.
“It’s you!” The standing man, upon seeing Han Li’s face, paled and exclaimed in shock, as if recognizing him.
Han Li was momentarily stunned before his sharp gaze settled on the man—a Core Formation late-stage cultivator wearing a strikingly familiar silver mask. After a brief pause, a trace of mockery curled at the corner of Han Li’s lips.
This man was none other than the young master of the Ghost Spirit Sect, who had once hunted him to the brink of despair. The same silver mask, the same person beneath it—only now, the youthful arrogance in his eyes had been replaced by weariness and a hint of fear.
“I never expected to meet an old acquaintance here. What a surprise for Han.”
“How is this possible? You… you formed a Nascent Soul?” The Ghost Spirit Sect young master’s voice was hoarser than before, but the terror in his tone was unmistakable.
“What’s going on? Do you know this fellow Daoist?” A black-robed man seated before Wang Chan suddenly asked coldly.
“Second Uncle, this is the Huang Maple Valley cultivator surnamed Han that I once told you about. Back then, he—”
“Enough. Fellow Daoist Han is now a Nascent Soul cultivator. Why would he hold a grudge against a junior like you?” The middle-aged man in black robes, with refined features, showed a flicker of surprise before decisively cutting him off.
He then smiled warmly at Han Li and said amiably, “I am Wang Tiangu of the Ghost Spirit Sect. My nephew was ignorant and offended you in the past. However, I hope you can overlook it for my sake.” His tone suggested he knew something of the matter.
“Fellow Daoist Wang and I merely had a minor misunderstanding. Years have passed, and Han bears no grudge. You worry too much.” Han Li chuckled lightly, his expression calm, though inwardly he sneered. This Ghost Spirit Sect young master had nearly cost him his life multiple times and even forced him to flee the Heavenly South through a risky teleportation. Such grievances were not so easily forgotten. Were it not for the presence of multiple Nascent Soul cultivators—including the Ghost Spirit Sect’s leader—he would have struck without hesitation. For now, he needed to assess the others. Were there more from the Devil Dao? Revenge would be futile if he ended up surrounded and killed.
“Haha, so Fellow Daoist Han hails from Huang Maple Valley. I had assumed you were originally from Falling Cloud Sect. But since you’ve let bygones be bygones, that’s for the best. After all, I invited everyone here hoping for no unpleasant incidents.” Marquis Nanlong interjected smoothly.
Wang Tiangu smiled faintly. With his shrewdness, he didn’t take Han Li’s words at face value. “Your magnanimity is admirable, Fellow Daoist Han. Rest assured, I will discipline my nephew severely upon our return. However, it’s truly astonishing that you advanced from Foundation Establishment to Nascent Soul in under two centuries. With a few more centuries, reaching late-stage Nascent Soul might not be impossible. Those of us with lesser talents pale in comparison.”
The moment these words left his mouth, the expressions of everyone present—including Marquis Nanlong—shifted.
Han Li inwardly cursed. This Ghost Spirit Sect cultivator had just painted a target on his back under the guise of praise.
“Fellow Daoist, are you truly under three hundred years old?” After a moment of silence, a dark-skinned man in the corner asked curiously.
“Fellow Daoist Wang jests. I’ve only recently formed my Nascent Soul. How could I dare dream of late-stage Nascent Soul, a matter centuries away?” Han Li replied nonchalantly, his gaze sweeping across the room.
He now noticed that, aside from Wang Chan, the stunningly beautiful woman beside him was also at Core Formation late-stage, standing shoulder-to-shoulder behind Wang Tiangu. Her composed demeanor suggested she was no ordinary cultivator. Rumor had it that after defecting from the Yue Kingdom, the Yan family—once its foremost clan—had joined the Ghost Spirit Sect and married their Heaven Spiritual Root daughter, Yan Ruyan, to Wang Chan. Could this be her?
The other six were all Nascent Soul cultivators, including a clean-shaven elder in white robes who, like Marquis Nanlong, was at mid-stage Nascent Soul.
Han Li glanced at the elder, only to meet a gaze so piercingly cold it sent a shiver down his spine. Yet outwardly, he calmly averted his eyes.
The elder smirked faintly.
By now, Marquis Nanlong had regained his composure and gestured for Han Li to take a seat. Without ceremony, Han Li settled into an empty chair, then cast a mocking glance at Wang Chan, whose expression flickered uneasily.
With Wang Tiangu present, the Ghost Spirit Sect young master had regained his composure, though his eyes still held deep wariness. The fact that his former rival—once of equal cultivation—had soared to Nascent Soul left him seething with envy and resentment. Yan Ruyan, however, studied Han Li with clear, unreadable eyes.
Han Li snorted coldly and ignored them.
Marquis Nanlong, as the host, stood solemnly in the center. “Some of you belong to righteous sects, others to devilish factions, and some are lone wanderers. But one thing unites you all—your exceptionally powerful spiritual senses. That is why I’ve gathered you here. Some already know the gist of the matter, but most remain uninformed. Thus, I will explain in detail, after which you may decide whether to participate. Those who decline will not be pressured.”
Han Li perked up—the main topic had arrived.
“Heh! The others are one thing, but why are these two Ghost Spirit Sect juniors here? Don’t tell me their spiritual senses rival ours,” a cold-faced cultivator seated opposite the black-robed man suddenly interjected, glaring at Wang Tiangu as if harboring a grudge.
Han Li’s interest was piqued.
“Fellow Daoist You, you’ve misjudged. Though their cultivation is lacking, they possess a secret technique that merges their spiritual senses temporarily, making them no weaker than ours. Finding cultivators with spiritual senses as strong as ours is no easy task. Each of you either cultivated special techniques, was born with exceptional senses, or possesses artifacts to enhance them. Do you think I’d waste my time otherwise?” Marquis Nanlong replied confidently, as if prepared for the question.
“Very well, I retract my words,” the cold-faced cultivator said flatly.
The others voiced no objections, waiting for Marquis Nanlong to continue.
“The purpose of this gathering is to invite you all to accompany me to the Mulan Grasslands,” Marquis Nanlong announced slowly, scanning the room.
“The Mulan Grasslands?” Most of the seated cultivators stiffened in shock.
Han Li’s expression likewise darkened.
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