The night air was cold—colder than usual—as though the mountain itself sensed someone was about to violate its silence.
Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, half-hiding the moon, and the entire Green Maple Valley seemed wrapped in a dim silver veil.
the distant cry of a spirit owl echoed, sharp and lonely.
Han Li moved carefully, each step light but swift.
A dark cloth mask covered his face, and his usual disciple robe had been replaced with a simple grey cloak—plain, forgettable, the kind worn by wandering rogue cultivators. His aura was suppressed to almost nothing. Unless someone stared directly into his face… no one would know he was from the sect.
His heart beat steadily—not fast, but with a kind of cold determination.
After nearly a few hours of silent travel, a faint flickering glow appeared beyond a boulder field.
Lights,,..
Not arranged like a village, nor lining streets—just scattered along uneven stone platforms where merchants sat cross-legged. Their wares lay spread over tattered rugs, old sacks, or directly on the cold rock surface.
No stalls.
No wooden tables.
No protection.
Everything here existed on raw stone—primitive, unfiltered, real.
Rough-looking cultivators wandered between sellers like wolves wearing human skin—scarred faces, dagger eyes, and spiritual waves rolling off them like looming beasts. The smell of dried herbs mixed with cold metal and faint blood.
Han Li's brow tightened under the mask.
So this is the black market,,,,,.....
A vendor nearby barked:
"Beast fangs! One bite eats through low-grade spiritual armor!"
Another grinned toothlessly:
"Ten spirit stones—body-temper scripture from the west! Works or your life back!"
Someone laughed sharply at that—clearly someone had already tried and failed.
Han Li ignored them all.
He didn't need garbage.
He needed survival.
Tonight wasn't for strolling.
Tonight was preparation for life and death.
Hidden between two ancient pines stood a structure that looked nothing like the grand sect pavilions. There were no banners, no guards, no glowing formations welcoming guests.
Instead — a simple wooden building, so old the beams seemed ready to crumble.
But the moment Han Li stepped closer, invisible spiritual pressure pressed against his chest — silent, suffocating, cold.
A warning:
"Enter only if you can afford to."
Han Li inhaled slowly, straightened his back, and walked in.
The interior was far larger than the exterior suggested — clearly a spatial formation. Shelves stretched into the shadows like rows of tombstones. Strange artifacts floated, sealed, hummed, or slept beneath layers of lock formations.
Some glowed softly like stars.
Others radiated a killing intent so sharp Han Li instinctively sidestepped without meaning to.
At the far end sat an old man at a stone counter. His hair was grey, tied lazily with a bronze pin, and his robe looked plain — almost like an outer disciple's.
But the spiritual fluctuations around him?
Deep. Silent. Unfathomable.
Han Li bowed.
"Junior greets senior."
The old man flicked a glance at him—one that seemed to peel apart his disguise talisman and sweep through his bones.
No curiosity.
No welcome.
Just acknowledgment.
"You're here to buy artifacts."
Not a question.
A statement.
"Yes," Han Li replied calmly. "I need both defensive artifact and offensive one."
The old man raised an eyebrow—not mocking, not impressed—just measuring.
"Many say that. Most can't pay."who knows whether you are really to buy or just bluffing..
Han Li didn't respond. Silence was safer.
The old man tapped a formation plate beside him.
A layer of fog swirled outward and three concealed jade cases floated forward. Each case opened slowly with a soft click, releasing faint ripples of ancient spiritual energy.
One by one, the treasures revealed themselves.
The first artifact floated closer: a dark green bracer carved with natural vein patterns. It looked like ancient tree bark turned to metal.
But it hummed with quiet power.
"Ironroot Bracer," the old man said.
"Mid-grade defensive artifact.
It adjusts based on the wearer's strength."
A faint spiritual projection appeared — showing its durability:
Blocks mid Foundation Establishment attacks easily.
if used by foundation establishment cultivator can withstand a few blows from early Core Formation,.
Cold. Practical. Deadly useful.
Han Li's heart tightened — this was perfect.
But he didn't show emotion.
The second item drifted closer — a bundle of near-invisible silver needles.
So thin the air seemed nervous to touch them.
A faint coldness pricked Han Li's skin even from a distance.
"Silent Moon Needles," the old man said.
"Ideal for assassination and self-defense breaking, it has a freezing power as soon as something comes in contact with it that will be crystalised and finally britlle....
He tapped one lightly with spiritual qi.
It vanished.
A heartbeat later—THUD.
A thick slab of spirit-infused iron at the far corner now had a hole cleanly drilled through it. And after few seconds it turned into ice.
Silent.
Precise.
Deadly.
Han Li nodded inwardly.
This was no flashy treasure—this was survival.
Finally, the third artifact emerged—sealed under three layers of talismanic barriers.
A blood-red dagger symbol pulsed faintly, as though alive.
Even sealed, its aura was feral—like a chained beast trying to bite through reality.
The old man's tone lowered faintly.
"Red Demon Dagger Talisman. One use."
A pause.
"Once activated, it summons a spectral dagger formed from a demonic killing array.
It will chase its target until one side dies."
On a projection:
Anything below core formation : instant death.
corformation , severe injury, high kill chance.
Even mid core formation : forced retreat or temporary incapacitation — depending on cultivation and defenses.
"But—"
The old man tapped the membrane.
"It requires five breaths to activate.
If you panic, hesitate, or miscalculate… you die."
Han Li lowered his gaze respectfully.
"Yes."
The old man closed his hand and all three artifacts hovered beside him.
But the price is bit too high,,
Han li replied no problem,, how much for all
"2000 spirit stones."
Han Li didn't argue. Instead, he quietly removed a jade box from his sleeve and placed it on the counter.
The old man opened it.
A faint herbal fragrance spilled out—pure, ancient, intoxicating.
A millennium spirit herb.
The elder finally paused.
Not shock.
But respect.
He closed the box gently—not as a trader, but as someone handling history.
"…Payment accepted."
The artifacts floated toward Han Li and settled into his spiritual pouch like loyal soldiers answering a commander.
Just as he reached the exit, the old man spoke again — not kindly, not coldly — just simply truth.
"Young man… artifacts won't save you."
Han Li stopped walking.
The old man continued, gaze still forward:
"Only your preparation, patience and your resolve will."
A brief silence.
Then Han Li bowed deeply.
"I will remember."
Then han left,,.
The moon hung high, a pale silver coin pinned against a velvet-black sky. Clouds drifted lazily across it, making the night alternate between soft illumination and suffocating darkness. The sect grounds, we're silent han li had already got back to sect,
the stillness only broken by the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an unseen spirit owl.
Han Li walked with careful steps, his face covered beneath a simple but well-crafted black cloth mask. His robe fluttered lightly with the night breeze.
He didn't rush.
Every step was measured, calm, unreadable — just like his mind.
But then…
A faint cry.
Sharp.
Desperate.
Half-swallowed by fear.
"Help… help me… someone…"
Han Li froze.
His brows tightened ever so slightly, and for a moment, his breathing went still — like he was blending into the night itself.
What is this is , this voice sounds familiar,,.
In this world, naive compassion was often rewarded with death.
Yet the voice… carried genuine fear, trembling and raw.
After three breaths of silence, Han Li reached into his sleeve and pulled out a thin talisman — a Concealment Aura Talisman. He crushed it gently between his fingers, releasing a faint ripple of energy that wrapped around him like mist.
His presence vanished — shallow and breathless, as if he were nothing more than a drifting shadow.
I shouldn't act recklessly what if it was a fight between foundation establishment or even core formation, I really can't effored.
Han li dare not to look by his speitual sence as it may be discovered by them,,
So then Silently, he moved toward the sound.
The path led deeper — into the older, wilder part of the sect forest. Towering ancient trees covered the moonlight with monstrous shadows. Their roots were thick enough to coil like serpents, and the air carried a scent of moss, damp earth, and danger.
The voice grew clearer.
Soft whimpering.
Sobs.
Then—
Laughter.
Cruel. Unrestrained. Sadistic.
Han Li lowered himself behind a moss-covered boulder, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the clearing ahead.
There — under an old spirit tree illuminated by the moon — stood a young girl. Her robes were torn at the sleeve, her body trembling uncontrollably. Something — or rather someone — held her in place.
Not by physical restraint…
But a binding spell.
She looked frozen, unable to move more than half an inch.
Standing before her was a boy — was about 20 years old and girls was also about 18 ,,,.
His expression twisted with arrogance and twisted amusement. His fingers brushed against the girl's cheek, tracing it slowly in a mocking, possessive way.
"Why are you crying?"
he asked, voice soaked in mock sympathy.
"Didn't you say you wanted to enter the sect with me ?"
What's more we are already engaged, what are you ashamed of, why are you resisting.
Han li said slowly isn't this,,... Guo ZHONG and his junior sister