Chapter 969

Half a day later, Han Li gathered the Tianji Mansion and launched a Dunguang toward the interior lands. Because he had no need to search for anything, after more than a fortnight, he returned to the mainland.

Han Li did not go to the Tianfu Sect again; instead, he immediately headed straight for the Southern Frontier.

Along the way, he paused frequently, refining part of the Three Flame Fan’s materials into spiritual ingredients using his Nascent Soul fire.

But unfortunately, he encountered no thunderstorms along the route, and thus could not collect any thunderfire energy—this left Han Li somewhat frustrated.

Still, he was not in a hurry. The Southern Frontier was thick with dense forests and humid, hot air; whenever it rained, lightning and thunder invariably followed. Thus, collecting thunderfire was merely a matter of time once he reached the Southern Frontier.

Four months later, after crossing several commanderies and prefectures, Han Li’s Dunguang appeared within the Southern Frontier Commandery.

The Southern Frontier was one of the few regions in the world not controlled by major sects; its resources were divided among a dozen mid-tier sects.

Though these sects constantly fought among themselves, whenever an outside force invaded the Southern Frontier, they immediately united to resist. Even the top ten sects of the orthodox and demonic realms had never managed to penetrate its borders—it had effectively become a state unto itself within Da Jin.

This situation arose largely because the Southern Frontier sects were extremely xenophobic and cultivated methods unique to their own lineage.

The cultivation techniques of these sects were mostly rare, venomous arts seldom seen in the cultivation world: they excelled not only in poison and insect control, but also in curses and dark sorcery, achieving mastery beyond compare. When fighting peers, a single misstep could lead to sudden, inexplicable death—truly impossible to guard against.

This was precisely why the major sects were reluctant to clash directly with the Southern Frontier sects. Otherwise, if several great sects joined forces and accepted heavy losses, they could certainly forcibly seize this commandery.

Chao Yun Prefecture lay in the western Southern Frontier; Shuang Xie Mountain was a remote range within it, shrouded year-round in miasma across hundreds of li. Only those with deep cultivation or those who had ingested special antidote pills could enter this mountain range.

This mountain range was quite renowned in the Southern Frontier: due to its toxic miasma, it harbored several valuable poisonous herbs and was especially rich in two venomous scorpions—the Iron Tail and the Red Thread—making them ideal spirit insects for low-level cultivators practicing insect-control techniques.

When Han Li arrived near the mountain, it was precisely the annual period of massive miasma eruption. Numerous cultivators had gathered around the range, for only during this time did the two types of venomous scorpions emerge en masse from their burrows to forage—making it the perfect opportunity to capture them.

Yet most of these cultivators were Qi Refining stage; occasionally a few Foundation Establishment cultivators mingled among them. Those above Core Formation had no interest in this mountain and rarely came here.

Han Li’s presence—already at Nascent Soul mid-stage—would have caused great commotion if discovered by other cultivators. Thus, he did not linger near the mountain at all, but flew directly into the miasma from high above.

Now, a cluster of green spiritual light enveloped him, easily repelling the pink miasma.

The miasma was extraordinarily dense, occasionally teeming with venomous insects—deadly to low-level cultivators, yet utterly beneath Han Li’s notice. After locking onto his target, he flew straight toward the mountain’s center.

Although the old man surnamed Fu had only mentioned Shuang Xie Mountain without specifying its exact location, heading first to its main peak would certainly not be wrong.

As he flew overhead, whenever he passed a few cultivators, Han Li ignored them entirely, sweeping past above them without pause.

With his speed, these low-level cultivators could not detect him at all.

But just as Han Li was flying while pondering the old man surnamed Fu’s motives for inviting him here—

Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed from afar to one side.

“It’s the Scorpion King! A mutated Iron Tail scorpion! Run, everyone!” A hoarse male voice cried out in terror, followed by several explosions and a strange insect cry—seemingly not far off.

Han Li’s expression shifted; he turned his head to glance in that direction, blue light flickering in his eyes.

Whistling sounds of air splitting rang out one after another; several human figures emerged from the miasma, sprinting toward Han Li like the wind—each step launching them several zhang forward, clearly using light-body techniques.

“Huh!” Han Li’s cold expression softened as his gaze fell upon one woman; he let out a soft exclamation and halted his Dunguang .

He swept his sleeve, and a vast expanse of green mist surged forth, sweeping away all miasma in its path. In an instant, a clear, open space of dozens of zhang in diameter appeared around him.

The figures, caught in this sudden transformation, halted abruptly, startled by the phenomenon.

Before they could react, Han Li reached out with one hand toward the space behind them; a green-glowing hand materialized in the miasma, swooping downward to snatch something black, then spun back and hovered before Han Li.

It was a giant scorpion, nearly a chi long, its carapace glossy black, its tail over half a chi in length, the claw tip faintly glowing purple—clearly exuding deadly venom.

It was the mutated Iron Tail scorpion that had been chasing the low-level cultivators.

This scorpion was a level-two beast, yet utterly immobilized under the grip of the light hand, only able to emit feeble, strange cries.

The cultivators stared, dumbfounded, at Han Li hovering in midair, utterly at a loss.

“After our parting in Jinjing, how did you come to be here, Friend Wang? How is Miss Cao?” Han Li’s glow faded, and he spoke calmly to one of the female cultivators.

“You’re Master Han! No—Master Han, senior!” The woman in yellow robes first froze, then her face lit up with surprise and joy. She was Wang, the senior sister of Cao Mengrong, whom Han Li had once met outside Jinjing.

After Han Li had departed using Sword Chant to summon his sword, this woman had known his true status as a high-level cultivator. Now that she recognized him, she dared not be casual as before; immediately, she adopted the posture of a junior disciple, her expression deeply respectful.

The other cultivators, seeing the woman surnamed Wang recognize the great cultivator in the air, relaxed and stepped forward to bow and thank him.

Yet all of them—including the woman surnamed Wang—mistook Han Li for a Core Formation cultivator. Nascent Soul cultivators were too distant for them to conceive of ever encountering.

“Your uncle is General Zhu Nan. Why risk coming here for a few spiritual herbs?” Han Li nodded upon hearing Cao Mengrong was unharmed, glanced at the giant scorpion, then frowned.

“Though my family is still wealthy and has accumulated some spirit stones, my talent is ordinary. My clan would never spend much on me,” the woman surnamed Wang replied with a bitter smile, her face pale.

“I see. Your talent isn’t truly poor—you still have a chance at Foundation Establishment. And your chance encounter with me here suggests some karmic connection. I’ll give you this venomous insect. I have matters to attend to; take care of yourselves.” Han Li said, casually pointing at the light hand.

Instantly, with a soft *pop*, the light hand dissolved into scattered green sparks, and the giant scorpion trembled, stiffly falling to the ground before the cultivators, motionless as a corpse.

“Senior, I—”

The woman, overjoyed, was about to thank him, but Han Li’s body flashed green and vanished into the miasma. Her words of gratitude died unspoken.

The other cultivators stared at the mutated giant scorpion on the ground, each with envy in their eyes.

Yet since it was a gift from a high-level cultivator, even those with ill intentions dared not attempt to seize it. They could only watch as the woman surnamed Wang stuck several talismans onto the insect before joyfully storing it in her spirit beast pouch.

At that moment, thunder cracked from above. The sky, previously shrouded in miasma, churned violently. A fierce wind swept in from nowhere, dispersing some of the red miasma, revealing dark, heavy clouds above—signs of an approaching storm.

“The rain comes at a good time,” Han Li murmured, having already spotted a black peak in the distance. He looked up.

Then he shot forward as a green rainbow toward the peak’s summit.

Thunder boomed, and torrential rain poured from the heavens. The miasma, battered by the downpour, rapidly shrank and sank, pooling only several zhang above the ground. Distant peaks emerged one by one through the rain.

Han Li’s glow dimmed as he landed on a massive boulder atop the peak. Protected by spiritual light, not a drop touched him. Yet not far from the boulder, seven or eight cultivators had gathered—two Foundation Establishment, the rest Qi Refining.

All wore their hair tied and wrapped in cloth, dressed as local cultivators. They stared in shock at Han Li’s sudden appearance, exchanging bewildered glances.

Han Li swept his gaze over them, then suddenly released a staggering surge of spiritual energy. He flicked his sleeve and spoke coldly:

“All of you—get out!”

A violent wind howled, and a vast wave of green mist rolled forth.

The cultivators panicked: some summoned shields, others hastily launched their artifacts into the air—but the mist swept over them all without exception, hurling them twenty or thirty zhang away, tumbling like rolling gourds, each one battered and terrified.

Instantly, they realized they had encountered a great cultivator. Without a word, they bolted down the mountain. The two Foundation Establishment cultivators, after secretly probing Han Li’s cultivation, turned ashen-faced and fled immediately on their artifacts, not daring to delay a moment.

Han Li watched them shrink into black dots until they vanished from the peak, then calmly retracted his gaze and looked upward.

Above, the sky was choked with dark clouds; silver lightning writhed wildly, thunder roaring incessantly!

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