On the small island, within the silver light barrier, Han Li tilted his head back and let a drop of spiritual liquid fall into his mouth. He then glanced at the small vial in his hand, his expression turning contemplative.
This was already the fifth drop of spiritual liquid he had consumed. The golden light outside the barrier showed no signs of weakening, but the outermost golden flames had diminished slightly compared to when they first appeared. It seemed that after such prolonged consumption, his opponent was beginning to falter. Given a little more time, it would be his moment to break free.
With this thought, Han Li’s hand flashed with white light as he calmly stored the vial into his storage pouch. At the same time, he raised his head to observe the dark clouds above, his brow furrowing slightly.
He had clearly seen the earlier green beam of light and the strange phenomenon in the sky. That beam had originated from the direction of the small valley, likely caused by Yuan Yao’s spellcasting. Though he didn’t know the exact situation there, the oppressive weight of the dark clouds suggested that the soul-summoning ritual had not yet been completed.
These thoughts flickered through Han Li’s mind before he quickly dismissed them. Until he escaped the golden light, he had no capacity to spare for other matters.
Exhaling softly, he felt the various treasures within his body stir with anticipation. At the same time, the silver wings that had vanished from his back earlier faintly reappeared.
Floating above the golden flames, Wen Tianren no longer wore the triumphant expression he had when trapping Han Li. Instead, his face was pale, tinged with a faint black aura. The golden horn on his forehead, compared to the previous day, had shrunk to only a third of its original length—now barely an inch long.
The heir of the Six Paths now wore a terrifyingly grim expression, his heart filled with shock, fury, and a trace of hidden fear.
No one understood the power of the Golden Light Divine Flames better than him, their wielder. Initially, he had boasted that his opponent could endure for an hour at most under the flames, but in truth, he had believed Han Li wouldn’t last even half that time. Though he would expend some of his own vitality, eliminating such a formidable adversary would be worth the cost.
Yet, after half an hour, Han Li remained motionless within the flames, which unsettled him.
An hour passed, and Han Li’s presence still hadn’t faded—Wen Tianren’s face twisted in alarm.
By the second hour, with Han Li’s barrier still intact, Wen Tianren realized the direness of his situation.
A creeping suspicion took hold—perhaps he was making a grave mistake. His opponent clearly had no fear of a prolonged battle of attrition. Either Han Li possessed something that could rapidly replenish his spiritual energy, or there was some other hidden trick at play. As far as Wen Tianren knew, the only substance capable of such rapid recovery was the exceedingly rare Ten-Thousand-Year Spiritual Liquid. Could Han Li truly possess it?
Wen Tianren soon deduced the truth.
But now, he was in too deep to retreat. First, most of his True Devil Avatars had been destroyed. Then, he had recklessly expended his essence to activate the Eight-Gate Golden Light Mirror, drastically weakening his own cultivation. If he released Han Li now for a direct confrontation, his chances of victory were slim.
Yet Wen Tianren also knew that the Ten-Thousand-Year Spiritual Liquid was an extraordinary treasure—no ordinary cultivator would carry much of it. Gritting his teeth, he resolved to continue draining his own vitality to sustain the golden flames, determined to exhaust Han Li’s supply before reducing him to ashes.
And so, the stalemate dragged on.
With each passing moment, the Six Paths heir’s expression darkened further. Now, the silver barrier within the flames remained as solid as ever, showing no signs of collapse, while Wen Tianren himself was nearing his limit.
Desperate, his mind raced for another solution. The appearance of the green beam earlier had sparked an idea.
“Zi Ling!” he suddenly commanded coldly, his voice devoid of its former gentleness, replaced by a menacing edge. “Go to the place he came from and capture his companion. That person must be in a critical phase of spellcasting and unable to resist.”
Hearing this, Zi Ling, who had remained motionless until now, stiffened slightly.
This battle had repeatedly challenged her expectations. She had assumed Han Li wouldn’t last long within the golden flames, yet now, after an entire night, he remained unharmed while Wen Tianren was trapped in a dilemma. The realization sent a chill down her spine.
When Wen Tianren’s words reached her ears, the brilliant young woman immediately grasped his intent.
The young master of the Anti-Star Alliance intended to use Han Li’s companion as leverage, forcing him into submission. If Han Li was willing to act as a guardian, their relationship must be deep. But this also revealed how desperate Wen Tianren had become—resorting to such underhanded tactics.
Zi Ling’s expression turned icy, and she made no move to obey.
Wen Tianren’s eyes flashed with cold fury. “What?” he hissed. “Do you think my weakened state means you can defy me? Or did you join our alliance half-heartedly, now considering betrayal? Don’t forget—our alliance dominates most of the Chaotic Star Sea. Where could a mere early-stage Core Formation cultivator like you possibly flee? Obey me now, and I’ll overlook this disobedience.” His tone was a mix of threat and persuasion.
Zi Ling’s expression shifted. She glanced at the golden flames, hesitating.
Before she could decide, however, streaks of light appeared in the distant sky. As they drew closer, both Zi Ling and Wen Tianren recognized the group of female cultivators escorting a beast-drawn carriage.
Wen Tianren’s heart surged with triumph, while Zi Ling inwardly sighed.
These Foundation Establishment women had been insignificant earlier, but now, their arrival was a stroke of luck for Wen Tianren.
Yet before Zi Ling’s bitter smile could fade, another dozen streaks of light shot toward them from the opposite direction, their colors and strengths varying wildly.
These newcomers arrived almost simultaneously with the female cultivators, their eyes widening in shock at the scene before them—particularly the beautiful women bowing to Wen Tianren. A murmur of confusion spread among them, but none dared speak.
Wen Tianren’s face twisted with malice. He sneered, about to speak, when suddenly his expression changed. His head snapped toward one side of the island, his face paling with disbelief.
The others, baffled, followed his gaze.
“What in the world is that?!” someone shrieked.
From the direction they had come, an endless black line surged across the sea at an impossible speed.
“Ghost Mist?!” another cultivator screamed in terror, immediately turning to flee.
The others soon realized the truth—this was no mere line. It was an endless expanse of ink-black mist, rolling toward them like a living tide.
Panic erupted. The cultivators scattered in all directions, abandoning all else in their haste to escape.
Wen Tianren and Zi Ling paled in horror.
Without hesitation, Zi Ling stomped her foot, transforming into a streak of red light as she shot into the distance.
Wen Tianren, his face tense, glanced at the golden flames below. A cold glint flashed in his eyes before he gritted his teeth and spat a mouthful of vital essence onto the flames, causing them to surge violently.
Only then did he envelop himself in golden light, transforming into a golden streak as he fled. The female cultivators followed closely behind.
But then, something inexplicable happened.
The cultivators who had flown ahead suddenly plummeted from the sky like shot birds, crashing onto the island.
The same fate befell Wen Tianren’s entourage—their flight unstable, their faces pale as they tumbled from the air.
In an instant, their flying treasures had lost all spiritual power.
Zi Ling and Wen Tianren managed only a few more moments of flight before, at the island’s edge, their own light vanished inexplicably, sending them plunging into the deep sea.
At the same time, the golden flames that had remained in place flickered several times before extinguishing completely, revealing the eight small mirrors at their core—and the silver barrier within.
The moment the barrier was exposed, it burst apart with a soft *puff*, dissolving into motes of light and revealing Han Li, his face a mask of shock.
He had witnessed the others’ fates, but before he could even begin to process what was happening, his own spiritual energy stagnated. Not a wisp of mana could be summoned. Like an ordinary mortal, he plummeted from the sky.
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