Doctor Mo glanced at his left hand with a hint of surprise before turning his gaze to Han Li, speaking disdainfully, “Interesting. It seems you haven’t been idle this past year, managing to cultivate such an unusual skill. But do you really think these amateurish tricks make you a match for me?”
“It appears I haven’t fought in quite some time. Getting some hands-on practice might be good. I’ll let you make the first move.”
Han Li ignored the verbal taunts. He had already decided to strike first to seize the initiative.
He held the short sword in his left hand horizontally in front of him, drawing his opponent’s attention, while a white paper packet slipped silently from his right sleeve into his palm. With a flick of his wrist, a cloud of white powder burst from the packet, instantly transforming into thick white smoke that enveloped Han Li, blurring his figure until it was almost invisible. The smoke quickly spread throughout the room, turning everything into a hazy white fog where even a raised hand couldn’t be seen. Han Li had mysteriously vanished within the mist.
Doctor Mo frowned, somewhat taken aback by Han Li’s move, though inwardly he remained unimpressed. With his vast experience, he had plenty of ways to counter such lowly tricks. To avoid any potential tampering with the smoke, he held his breath. Given his profound skills, going without air for a while was no issue.
“Hmph, petty tricks! How dare you show off such nonsense in front of me!” Doctor Mo snorted coldly. His right hand suddenly struck out with an empty palm into the smoke, churning the white fog as if stirred by a giant rod, instantly creating a clear hole.
Not seeing Han Li, Doctor Mo didn’t stop. He struck out repeatedly with a dozen more empty palm strikes, driving the smoke completely out through the door. The room returned to normal, except for Han Li’s absence.
“Strange. This kid really has some tricks up his sleeve, vanishing right before my eyes,” Doctor Mo muttered in surprise, though he remained calm. He had been guarding near the door the entire time; even a stink bug couldn’t have slipped past him unnoticed.
He scanned the room carefully: the many bookshelves, a desk, and an armchair—everything was as usual, with nothing out of place. How could a living person like Han Li disappear in such a confined space?
Though his expression remained unchanged, Doctor Mo felt a hint of unease. Confident in his skills, he coughed a few times and shakily walked toward the corner where Han Li had vanished, intending to investigate closely.
When he was about three meters away from the corner, he stopped and narrowed his eyes. He could sense a faint, elusive killing intent lingering nearby, directed at him and ready to strike.
Doctor Mo’s eyes gleamed sharply as he scanned the area repeatedly but found nothing unusual. Growing impatient, he wondered, *If he’s not here, did he vanish into thin air?*
The phrase “vanished into thin air” sparked an idea, and he was about to ponder it further when he suddenly heard a “clang” from above.
“Not good!” Doctor Mo realized his opponent was hiding on the roof beam. Without looking up, he instinctively struck upward with a fierce empty palm, intending to knock down the hidden assailant aiming to harm him.
A rumbling sound followed the strike, accompanied by a few clear “clinking” noises.
Puzzled, Doctor Mo looked up and was stunned. There was nothing above—no sign of anyone—only a black iron bell hanging from the beam, swaying from the force of his palm strike. The clinking sound came from it. There was no trace of Han Li anywhere.
Just as Doctor Mo was looking up, a cold gleam shot out from under his feet with lightning speed, aiming straight for his abdomen. It moved so fast it could only be described as a flash. Only when the light nearly touched his clothes did Doctor Mo suddenly notice it.
Shocked, Doctor Mo quickly thought on his feet. He bent backward like an iron bridge, as if his spine had disappeared, folding himself in half and narrowly avoiding the sword. The blade grazed his belly, slicing a long slit in his clothes and nearly gutting him.
Even after dodging, Doctor Mo didn’t relax. As if springs were attached to his feet, he slid backward several meters without moving his body before straightening up. He looked toward the source of the sword light with a mix of fear and anger.
Near where he had been standing, the ground slowly bulged upward, gradually taking the shape of a yellow human figure. It was Han Li, who had combined his soft bone skill, breath suppression technique, and camouflage art.
Now clad in earthy yellow clothing that blended perfectly with the floor, Han Li held the short sword that had almost succeeded in his left hand. His eyes showed frustration—he clearly regretted missing that strike.
Meanwhile, Doctor Mo’s originally sallow face had turned somewhat pale. His heart was still pounding from the close call. Though no stranger to danger, he had rarely been so close to death in his life, especially not from someone he had always looked down upon like Han Li.
He took a deep breath, his expression finally calming down, though his voice was slightly hoarse. “It seems I’ve truly underestimated you, my dear disciple. That was quite a move, worthy of my serious attention.”
After this warning, Doctor Mo slowly raised his hands to eye level, gazing at them tenderly and wordlessly as if looking at a beloved lover, seemingly forgetting Han Li entirely.
Han Li raised an eyebrow and smirked coldly. Gripping his short sword, he took small, measured steps toward Doctor Mo.
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