Chapter 57

A cold, chilling coolness slowly welled up from some hidden corner of his heart, soon spreading through Han Li’s entire body, jolting him awake from his unconscious state.

As soon as Han Li awoke, he felt his head heavy and throbbing faintly; every part of his body was limp and weak, as if recovering from a grave illness, and though he strained to open his eyes, his eyelids were too heavy to move an inch.

In a daze, Han Li recalled everything that had happened before he lost consciousness.

He shuddered, a chill running through him, and his mind cleared slightly; he immediately began checking his physical condition.

“Huh!” It seemed his body hadn’t been taken over—though he still couldn’t open his eyes, the strange discomfort all over his body clearly told him his body had returned to his control.

“Could Master Mo’s ritual have failed?”

Surprised by this unexpected turn of fortune, Han Li seized upon this as the only plausible explanation.

Suppressing his excitement, Han Li forced himself to remain patient, gradually regaining some strength, then with great effort pried open a narrow slit between his eyelids to see what lay outside.

The moment he opened his eyes, he saw a face covered in white hair, emaciated and withered beyond measure—the aged visage of Master Mo, yet now appearing even older than before, as if ten more years had aged him, a decrepit old man past all hope.

At this moment, his eyes were wide open, staring at Han Li in sheer terror.

Han Li was startled; every muscle in his body tensed instantly, the weakness forgotten, and his first thought was to strike first and gain the upper hand.

After his previous experience, Han Li would never again allow himself to be easily controlled by another.

But then Han Li noticed something strange: the man’s expression was frozen, motionless, with no sign of breathing or exhalation—as if he had been dead for a long time.

Han Li frowned slightly but dared not lower his guard; he fixed his full attention on the man’s face, searching for any sign of deception.

After a full half-hour of careful observation, Han Li had to admit the man was truly not alive.

After a moment’s hesitation, he cautiously approached, reached out, and grasped the man’s wrist; with his other hand, he placed it beneath the man’s nostrils and waited—no movement, no breath.

Only then did Han Li finally relax completely; a great weight lifted from his heart, the oppressive boulder that had weighed him down for so long finally gone.

Even now, Han Li found it hard to believe that his greatest enemy—the cunning, ruthless Master Mo—had died so silently, so inexplicably, so effortlessly.

He touched his forehead; the so-called “Spirit-Stabilizing Talisman” had vanished without a trace, nowhere to be found nearby, which puzzled him. Later, after learning the art of talismans, he recalled this incident and realized the yellow talisman must have been consumed by the depletion of its magical power, turning to ash—hence his inability to find it.

With his mind now at ease, Han Li turned his gaze beyond Master Mo’s corpse, searching for any clue to how he had met his end.

The oil lamps and candles around him still burned, indicating he hadn’t been unconscious long; yet the several pieces of green jade nearby had turned dull and gray, as if their quality had plummeted several levels, now utterly unremarkable.

His gaze shifted, and in the corner of the stone chamber, something furtive, desperately avoiding his line of sight, caught his eye.

The object was not unfamiliar to Han Li—it was the enemy he had fought in his dream, the one that had slipped from his grasp: the green light cluster that had devoured one-third of him.

Now, it was frantically burrowing into the wall corner, clearly terrified of Han Li, trying to hide.

Han Li was initially surprised, but then he paused, resting his chin on one hand, and sank into thought for a moment.

Moments later, Han Li rose to his feet and walked toward the light cluster.

Only when he was half a zhang away did he stop, then spoke slowly:

“I think we should get to know each other. You must be Yu Zitong.”

The green light cluster trembled, its glow flickering erratically; upon hearing Han Li name it, it dimmed for a long while before brightening again.

“You figured it out. You truly live up to being Master Mo Ren’s disciple—just as troublesome and difficult to deal with as he was.” The light cluster, as if resigned, spoke in a human voice—the tone unmistakably that of the young man.

It offered no denial, directly confirming Han Li’s guess.

“Then shouldn’t you give me some explanation? Tell me the full story.” Hearing that this was indeed one of the culprits behind his attack, Han Li showed no anger, speaking calmly and deliberately.

But Yu Zitong, seeing Han Li’s calm demeanor, suddenly felt a chill rise in his chest, as if disaster loomed.

Only recently, in the great spiritual sense battle, he had experienced this demon’s power firsthand—his primordial spirit had been partially devoured, his magic power largely lost. His remaining strength could barely sustain a few minor illusions, with zero offensive capability. Now facing the real man, utterly defenseless, his fear was indescribable.

“What do you want to know?”

He knew that Han Li had just escaped death and was emotionally unstable, extremely dangerous. Though Han Li appeared calm on the surface, beneath it he might be like a volcano about to erupt, seething with rage.

Now that he had been discovered, the best course was to cooperate, not provoke Han Li’s patience with words—he did not wish to perish so foolishly, at the whim of Han Li’s impulse.

“First, tell me who you really are. Then recount how you met Master Mo, and the full details of your original plan. I have all the time in the world—I’ll listen patiently.” Han Li spoke as if wearing a mask, his face expressionless, revealing no trace of emotion.

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