Near a small valley thick with creeping vines, a sphere of white light streaked toward it from the distance.
Atop a spirit bird as white as snow, bathed in that radiance, sat a graceful and gentle-looking woman in green robes.
In the blink of an eye, the spirit bird arrived above the small valley with lightning speed. It folded its wings and dove downward. Just as it was about to plunge into the dense tangle of vines below, the woman raised her hand and launched a spell seal.
Immediately, a flash of green light rippled beneath her, and the vines vanished without a trace, replaced by a layer of shimmering green luminescence.
Without a moment's hesitation, the woman urged her spirit bird forward. The white light flickered, and the pair plunged into the barrier, vanishing from sight.
Beneath the barrier lay a different world entirely. Six cultivators in green robes sat cross-legged within a pentagonal formation at the very center of the small valley.
The formation was not large — only six or five zhang across. Five of them occupied its five corners, spiritual light flickering along its edges, while a white-bearded elder sat in the middle with his eyes shut.
Suddenly, the elder opened his eyes and raised his head to gaze skyward.
A sphere of white light descended gracefully. Moments later, the woman in green had arrived before the elder and bowed respectfully.
"Your disciple greets Granduncle. The miasma across the mountain range has now fully receded. Many cultivators have already set off toward the Devilfall Valley," the woman said, head lowered in deference.
"Has the Ghost Spirit Sect departed?" The white-bearded elder stroked his long beard and asked in an unhurried voice.
"The majority of the Ghost Spirit Sect has not yet moved out, but a few of their disciples have gone on ahead," the woman replied after a brief pause, choosing her words carefully.
"Hmph! Since the old monsters of the Ghost Spirit Sect haven't left yet, there's no need for us to rush. As long as we keep watch on the elders leading their expedition, nothing should go awry. Niece Han, continue monitoring their movements. Report back immediately at the first sign of anything unusual," the elder instructed, his expression betraying nothing.
"Understood. Your disciple departs at once." The woman in green accepted the order without hesitation.
She bowed to the elder once more, then gracefully mounted her spirit bird and soared into the air. Soon she passed through the barrier and disappeared.
The elder stared after her retreating figure, a shrewd gleam flickering in his eyes and a trace of contemplation crossing his face, before his expression returned to normal almost at once.
The five cultivators seated around the formation — men and women alike — had not moved a single muscle from the moment the woman in green appeared until the moment she departed. Their faces were blank, expressionless as wooden puppets.
The white-bearded elder seemed entirely accustomed to this and showed not a hint of surprise. He simply closed his eyes again.
…
At the same time, atop a towering peak a hundred li away, a Daoist in gray robes of fifty or sixty years stood rigidly upon a boulder, squinting against the fierce wind as he gazed in the direction of Devilfall Valley.
Behind him stood two towering figures — one red, one cyan — each a full two zhang in height.
But a closer look revealed that both figures had green faces and bared fangs, their expressions blank and lifeless. They were none other than mechanical puppets shaped like fierce ghosts.
At that moment, the Daoist turned to glance at the two puppets, a flicker of self-satisfaction crossing his face, and muttered under his breath: "With the help of these two ancient puppets — each on par with a Nascent Soul cultivator — my expedition into Devilfall Valley should yield considerable rewards."
With that, the Daoist flicked his sleeves and launched two spell seals into the air.
The two ghost puppets immediately shrank dramatically, streaking into his voluminous sleeves. Then the Daoist transformed into a beam of red light and shot through the sky, heading straight for Devilfall Valley.
…
In another stretch of open sky, three brilliant rainbows flew in parallel.
Within their radiance — two elders and one woman — all hurtled toward Devilfall Valley.
Had Han Li been there to see these three, he would have been struck with considerable surprise. Two of them were people he knew.
The first was a sallow-faced elder in yellow robes — Grand Elder Linghu of Yellow Maple Valley. Beside him stood a pale, cold-faced woman in white — the Grand Elder of the Concealed Moon Sect, Senior Sister of Nangong Wan.
The third elder, the only one Han Li would not have recognized, had high cheekbones, deeply set eyes, a lion's nose, and a wide mouth — a truly striking visage.
The three flew in silence, consumed only with the journey. Their combined radiance swept across the sky in a blinding glare, dwindling to three points of light before vanishing in an instant.
…
Similar scenes unfolded all throughout the vicinity of the Myriad Ridge Mountain Range. Countless cultivators set off with their hearts full of confidence for the expedition into Devilfall Valley.
And Han Li, at that very moment, had already arrived near Devilfall Valley himself.
From a low earthen mound more than ten li from the entrance, he gazed calmly toward the valley, lost in silent deliberation.
He did not need spiritual sense to know that within a radius of several dozen li, over a thousand cultivators had gathered in this area — and among them lurked more than a few Nascent Soul monsters. These old freaks might not match the three great cultivators in depth of cultivation, but when it came to bizarre and formidable secret arts, not a single one was to be trifled with. Han Li was not so arrogant as to believe that, beyond the three great cultivators and the Mulan Spirit Masters, there was nothing left to fear. A single moment of carelessness could cost him his life here.
As Han Li mulled these thoughts over, his gaze drifted again and again toward the entrance of Devilfall Valley.