Chapter 626: The Child

The group had just flown to the stone gate when the yellow-robed cultivator's token dispersed its light, and the passage vanished instantly.

"Follow closely," the man said coldly, glancing at the others.

Then his ten fingers danced rapidly as he formed intricate hand seals, before suddenly turning and raising both hands.

Two streaks of crimson and yellow light shot forth from his palms, striking directly onto the sealed stone gate.

Instantly, the originally closed green door glowed as its runes ignited one by one; amid a low hum, the gate slowly opened, revealing a long, rectangular passage within.

Without a word, the yellow-robed cultivator strode inside.

The others exchanged glances, then followed closely behind.

Han Li walked among the disciples, eyes straight ahead, but his spiritual sense scanned everything nearby.

The rectangular passage appeared to have been carved directly into the mountain's interior using a magic artifact—its walls were unnaturally smooth, and every few steps, deep, obscure talismanic inscriptions were carved into the surfaces.

Though he could not study them in detail just yet, he knew these markings were far from mere decoration.

The passage was not long; after walking about a hundred zhang, everyone suddenly saw light ahead and emerged into a tidy stone hall.

The hall was roughly fifty to sixty zhang wide and seven or eight zhang high—quite spacious.

In the center of the hall stood a square green stone platform, several feet across, its surface crisscrossed with ten vertical grooves—a massive go board—covered entirely with black and white stones, as if the game had reached its most critical point.

On either side of the board sat an old man and a child, holding black and white stones respectively. The elder was a long-faced man in brocade robes, around fifty years old. The child was only seven or eight, with red lips and white teeth, as if a jade spirit reborn.

"Master Lan! How could you be here?"

The white-robed cultivator, upon seeing the child, cried out in shock, then hurried forward to bow deeply.

"Master Lan?"

The gray-robed elder and the middle-aged cultivator from the Hundred Skill Courtyard froze at first upon seeing the unfamiliar child, but upon hearing the white-robed cultivator's address, their expressions changed drastically. Seeing the child's small braid, bare feet, and golden arm rings, they immediately recalled a legendary elder from legend.

"Disciples Du Hui and Yu Shan'an pay their respects to Master Lan!" Both bowed hastily, without hesitation.

"Rise. Don't you see I'm in the middle of a crucial move with my disciple Hu?" The child's voice was high and childish, his skin delicate, yet his tone was ancient and imperious.

"Yes, sir!" The three Core Formation cultivators, including the white-robed one, answered instantly, then stood quietly nearby, showing no sign of discontent.

The long-faced elder, who had been playing the game, offered the three a faint, bitter smile but said nothing.

The yellow-robed cultivator, since entering the hall, had stood respectfully behind the child, adopting the posture of a disciple.

The young cultivators who had followed in were stirred by the revelation that these three ancestral masters called the seven-year-old child "Master."

They knew full well what this title implied—each widened their eyes, staring fixedly at the child, their hearts pounding with shock.

The moment Han Li saw the child, his heart skipped a beat. This was a genuine Nascent Soul cultivator—how could he be here?

Yet he quickly regained his composure.

Though he was no match for a Nascent Soul cultivator, escaping from him would not be difficult. Moreover, he believed the child's presence here had nothing to do with him.

Thus, Han Li kept his expression calm, while internally pondering how this development might disrupt his plans.

After another quarter-hour, the long-faced elder finally pushed the board away and bowed respectfully.

"Master Lan's go skills are supreme. I am no match—I yield."

The child's face lit up slightly, but his dark eyes darted mischievously as he questioned:

"Disciple Hu, you didn't hold back, did you? I told you clearly—no mercy when playing with me."

"How would I dare deceive my elder? Your go skills have truly surpassed your former self," the long-faced elder replied, his face seeming to lengthen further as he hurried to explain.

"Hehe, I also feel my go has improved greatly. Clearly, all those practice games with the mortal world's top players weren't wasted," the child said, smiling more broadly.

"Enough. Collect the stones. We have matters to attend to." The child's smile vanished instantly, his tone shifting.

He twisted his small frame to face the waiting cultivators, blinked his large, sharply divided black-and-white eyes, swept his gaze over the Core Formation cultivators, and finally fixed it on the Confucian scholar.

"Disciple Bai, how many years have you been in the Ancient Sword Sect?"

"I joined over a hundred years ago," the white-robed cultivator replied, startled but honest.

"Over a hundred years! That must have been hard on you," the child said, a strange expression flickering across his face as he sighed.

"Master, what do you mean by that?" The green-robed scholar's face changed slightly, but he forced a smile.

"What do I mean? You, as the last disciple of the Righteous Dao's Hao Ran Pavilion, have lingered in our sect for so long. Our Ancient Sword Sect cannot accommodate such a great deity. Have you ever thought of returning to visit your master?"

Upon hearing this, the white-robed scholar's face turned instantly pale.

The gray-robed elder and the middle-aged cultivator shot him startled glances and instinctively stepped away several paces.

"Master Bai, is what Master Lan said true?" the middle-aged cultivator asked, incredulous.

The white-robed scholar's face alternated between red and white, but he said nothing in his defense.

"Since Master has already uncovered my origins, I suppose denying it would be useless. But I won't surrender!" After a moment of grim expression, the scholar finally spoke.

But the instant he uttered the word "surrender," a flash of white light erupted from his body—he shot backward like a crossbow bolt into the crowd of disciples, snatched one, and a pale, glowing hand instantly descended upon the head of one of them.

It was the black-clad youth Meng Di, who possessed the Nine Spirit Sword Body!

"What are you doing?" The gray-robed elder and the middle-aged cultivator roared in anger, their bodies flashing with light as they moved to intervene—but they were too late.

Meng Di, though startled, remained calm, raising his hand to unleash a chilling sword qi that slashed fiercely at the glowing hand.

But the gap in cultivation was too vast—the sword qi shattered upon contact, unable to harm the hand even slightly, and was swiftly crushed into fragments. As Meng Di was about to be seized, the white-robed scholar suddenly shuddered and collapsed to the ground.

The glowing hand dissolved into a shimmering light and vanished without a trace.

The black-clad youth stood frozen, bewildered.

"Hmph. You've cultivated the White Heaven Qi-Transforming Hand quite well. But you forgot—I didn't come here to play go." The child rubbed his small hands expressionlessly, murmuring.

Aside from Han Li, no one in the hall saw how the child moved or how he subdued the scholar.

Han Li narrowed his eyes, glancing from the fallen scholar to the child, a strange expression flickering across his face.

As the scholar launched his attack, Han Li's spiritual sense had detected a faint red thread flash from beneath the child's foot—upon entering the scholar's body, the man collapsed instantly.

At first, he thought it was some kind of hidden needle-like dark treasure, but a closer scan revealed the red thread carried a faint, chilling coldness—this was sword qi refined into a thread.

This shocked Han Li deeply.

He had heard before that supreme sword cultivators, upon reaching a certain level, could transform their sword qi into threads, capable of piercing through ten thousand methods.

Now, he witnessed it with his own eyes. To refine sword qi into such a form was truly inconceivable.

"Disciple Hu, lock him in the Dragon's Prison. Don't kill him yet—we old ones still have use for him," the child said, tilting his slender neck toward the long-faced elder who had just played with him.

The long-faced elder's heart tightened; he bowed and replied, "Yes." He stepped forward, lifted the scholar, and vanished through a side door of the hall.

Seeing this, Han Li turned his gaze to Du Dong.

The man's expression seemed normal, but upon closer observation, Han Li noticed his hanging hands clenched tightly into fists—clear signs of inner tension.

Han Li smiled faintly inwardly and paid him no further attention.

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