I'll make you the furnace and the cauldron, so you can refine Yin and Yang and prove the Great

The wind in the valley stopped.

Li Hanshan stood in the shadows beside the valley wall, his pure Yang energy restrained to the extreme, even his heartbeat suppressed to its lowest frequency. The scales of his Hundred-Scale Armor clung tightly to his body, isolating his body temperature and spiritual energy fluctuations beneath the armor, like a stone embedded in a crevice for centuries. His gaze pierced through the gaps between the vines and rocks, landing on the two figures slowly stepping into the valley.

Chen Jie walked ahead, his gray-brown outfit gleaming with a dried, earthy hue under the warm light of the secret realm. The cyan tracking talisman in his hand glowed faintly, its surface writhing like a living creature, its tip always pointing towards the emerald pool deep within the valley. He stopped at the edge of the pool, his gaze sweeping over the few remaining ripples of spiritual energy on its surface, a cold smile playing on his lips.

"You ran fast, leaving right after gathering the herbs. But the traces are still there." He crouched down, his fingertips probing the water's surface. The ripples of spiritual energy scattered like a school of fish startled upon contact, then slowly gathered back. "The herbs here are of extremely high quality, but unfortunately—you can't take them with you."

Zhao Shoudao stood behind him, his gray robe fluttering gently in the breeze, his gaze sweeping across the valley more carefully than Chen Jie's. His eyes lingered for a moment on the vine-covered shadow on the side of the valley wall before moving away. But the angle at which his right hand hung down was slightly lower than before, spiritual energy silently accumulating in his palm, like an undrawn bowstring. Only those who truly understood him could see what that meant.

"Junior Brother Chen, he did come here. And," Zhao Shoudao's gaze returned to the shadow of the vines, his voice neither loud nor soft, "he hasn't left yet."

Chen Jie's back tensed slightly for a moment. He followed Zhao Shoudao's gaze and saw nothing unusual on the vine-covered rock wall. But his divine sense also caught a subtle anomaly at that moment—the edge of that shadow had a slightly thicker refractive index than the surrounding area, as if something had adhered to the surface of the rock wall with extremely high precision, creating a subtle deviation from the human eye's perspective.

"Well hidden." Chen Jie slowly straightened up, put the tracking talisman back into his sleeve, crossed his arms, and spoke with the calm ease of a cat playing with a mouse. "However, since Senior Brother Zhao said you're still here, then you must still be here. Junior Brother Li, come out. There's no point in hiding."

He crouched down slightly, then continued, "Otherwise, we'll search high and low, even if it means shattering the earth, to find you!"

The shadowy patch of vines covering the side of the valley wall remained silent for a few moments. Then, the vines swayed gently, and a figure slowly emerged. His light blue outfit was stained with moss from the cliff face, and the scales of his armor reflected a cold, eerie luster in the twilight. In his hand, he held a broken, jet-black sword, its ancient patterns shimmering faintly with spiritual energy. His steps were unhurried, each step landing with a steady rhythm on the valley's gravel.

Li Hanshan stopped about ten feet away from the two men, his gaze calmly sweeping over Chen Jie before settling on Zhao Shoudao. His voice was neither loud nor soft, as if he were asking about a trivial matter: "Fellow disciples killing each other, aren't you afraid the sect will hold you accountable if word gets out?"

Chen Jie smiled. The smile carried a suppressed, confident composure, as if he had anticipated the question. He took a leisurely half-step, explaining patiently, "In the Myriad Spirits Secret Realm, there has never been a rule of 'fraternal slaughter'. Of all the disciples who have entered the secret realm, at least ten or twenty percent have died inside. The sect's saying has always been—the secret realm is dangerous, teeming with demonic beasts; let fate decide."

He paused, and the coldness in his eyes finally surfaced without any attempt to conceal it: "Moreover, your performance has been far too dazzling. A peak Nascent Soul cultivator defeated a third-level Deity Transformation cultivator, you captured four flags in the secret realm, all the geniuses lost to you, and even the Ninth Elder has begun to take notice of you." He took a step forward, "If someone like you is allowed to continue growing, in a few decades, even I might not be able to suppress you."

Li Hanshan didn't reply. His gaze passed over Chen Jie and landed on the gray-robed figure. Zhao Shoudao remained standing at the edge of the pool, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, his eyes meeting Li Hanshan's without flinching or making a move. "And you?" Li Hanshan asked, his voice steady, "Are you here to kill me too?"

Zhao Shoudao was silent for a moment. He shook his head, his face expressionless, and his voice neither loud nor soft: "I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to defeat you." He paused, "In that last battle, I didn't use my full strength. That sword came too fast; I wasn't even able to truly catch it before I was knocked off the stage. I'm not reconciled."

As he spoke, he slowly raised his right hand, palm facing upwards, and a long, grayish-yellow staff materialized in his hand. The patterns on the staff were as rough as the texture of rock strata, and the edges gleamed with a heavy, steady earthy-yellow luster. Holding the staff, his aura was no longer that of the restrained power he displayed on the arena last time, where he only wanted to force his opponent out of the ring. The grayish-yellow spiritual energy surrounding him was like ignited oil, rising and expanding at a slow but steady pace, pressing fine cracks into the pebbles at the edge of the pool.

"Not much difference." Li Hanshan held the broken sword horizontally in front of him, and pure Yang energy surged from his dantian into the sword. At this moment, the ancient patterns on the surface of the broken sword suddenly lit up with a dark blue light. "Whether you come to defeat me or come to kill me, the result is the same."

Zhao Shoudao remained silent. He moved. The grayish-yellow staff drew a near-perfect arc in the air, carrying the immense spiritual power unleashed by a third-level Nascent Soul cultivator, sweeping towards Li Hanshan's chest. Wherever the staff passed, the air was compressed into a visible white wave of energy, and the grass on the ground was whipped up by that wave, as if an invisible hand had overturned the entire layer of earth.

Li Hanshan did not retreat. His broken sword slashed horizontally, the eerie blue sword light clashing violently with the grayish-yellow staff's edge at the pool's edge. For a moment, the air in the entire valley seemed to compress, then exploded into a visible shockwave that spread in all directions. Waves several meters high surged from the pool's surface, the emerald green water being swept into the air by the shockwave, transforming into countless droplets. The rocks on both sides of the valley walls shattered and crumbled under the force of the shockwave, producing a dense roar as fragments of rock rained down, creating numerous deep craters on the mountainside.

Zhao Shoudao was knocked back half a step by the blow. He glanced down at the long staff in his hand—a shallow white mark appeared on its surface, the imprint left by the broken sword. Though not deep, it showed that the opponent's weapon could indeed pose a substantial threat to him. He raised an eyebrow slightly, then gripped the staff tightly again, and the second strike followed immediately.

This time, he held nothing back. The grayish-yellow staff shadows blurred into dozens of afterimages in the air, attacking Li Hanshan simultaneously from all angles, each carrying spiritual power capable of tearing through mountain rocks. The pool was churned violently by the staff's force; the emerald green water surged as if boiling, the swirling waves carrying fragments of rock that sprayed against the valley walls, creating even deeper craters in the already cracked surfaces. The stone walls at the valley's edge, originally covered in thick vines, crumbled under the continuous shockwaves, like fruit pits peeled from their skins, large slabs of rock falling away, expanding the valley's area by a full circle in just a few dozen breaths.

The Yinquan Sect Nascent Soul cultivator hiding behind the collapsed bushes had no intention of hiding any further. He was leaning against a rock that had been half-shaved off by the shockwave, his eyes fixed on the azure figure in the center of the valley who was directly clashing with the Nascent Soul Stage 3 cultivator. His mouth was slightly open, and his fingers, gripping the talisman at his waist, unconsciously tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"A Nascent Soul cultivator..." His voice was so low that only he could hear it, dry and filled with a crushing shock. "Peak Nascent Soul? Fighting against a third-level Deity Transformation cultivator without taking a single step back... If I had charged in directly just now, I'd probably be cleaved in two by now..."

He subconsciously shrank further behind the rocks, even unconsciously slowing his breathing.

The battle in the center of the valley continued. Zhao Shoudao unleashed over a dozen strikes, each heavier and faster than the last. Li Hanshan countered with his broken sword; the ghostly blue sword light and the grayish-yellow staff aura intertwined in the air, forming an impenetrable net of light. Each collision was like the tolling of a bronze bell, causing the air throughout the valley to vibrate and hum. The ground beneath their feet continuously cracked and collapsed during their exchange, rubble being swept high into the air by the residual energy, only to fall like a torrential rain, turning the once flat valley into a cratered battlefield.

During the brief pause in the seventeenth strike, Zhao Shoudao abruptly withdrew his staff and retreated several feet. He gripped the gray-yellow staff with both hands, raising it vertically above his head. At that moment, his aura surged—a gray-yellow light rose from his dantian, like a volcano whose seal had been broken. In the center of that light, a phantom with a face identical to Zhao Shoudao's was slowly opening its eyes.

The primordial spirit of a Nascent Soul cultivator.

Zhao Shoudao's voice came from below the illusory figure, deeper than before, like a boulder sinking into deep water: "Li Hanshan, this time I will not leave you any room for maneuver. Below the Nascent Soul level, the defenses of a Nascent Soul cultivator are as fragile as paper. You either admit defeat, or—" He raised his hand, his long staff pointing in Li Hanshan's direction, "die."

The grayish-yellow phantom of the primordial spirit slowly raised its palm, facing down, and pressed down towards Li Hanshan. An immense pressure, far exceeding any previous attack, descended from the void, as if an entire mountain had been lifted onto his head. The ground beneath Li Hanshan's feet cracked and sank at a visible speed, crushing pebbles into powder. The water in the pool was forced outwards by the gravity, revealing the cracked rock layers at the bottom. His knees bent slightly, and the scales on his Hundred-Scale Armor emitted a dense buzzing sound, as if enduring a continuous impact exceeding its design limits.

Chen Jie stood on the outside of the battle circle, arms crossed, a confident smile finally appearing on his lips. He looked at the azure figure slowly bending under the pressure of the primordial spirit, his voice carrying a calm composure that had been suppressed: "Once Senior Brother Zhao's primordial spirit is unleashed, even a Nascent Soul cultivator can't move. Junior Brother Li, you do have some skill, but unfortunately—it ends here."

Behind the bushes outside the valley, the Nascent Soul cultivator of the Yin Spring Sect held his breath. He stared at the slowly descending, grayish-yellow phantom of the Primordial Spirit, his pupils contracting slightly. He murmured, "Primordial Spirit… they've even unleashed their Primordial Spirit… that Nascent Soul old man is doomed—"

He didn't finish his sentence. In the center of the valley, Li Hanshan's slightly hunched back suddenly stopped. Then, under the frozen gazes of Zhao Shoudao and Chen Jie, his back straightened again. A golden light silently rose from between his brows, like a sun unsealed, slowly unfolding above his head. Within that golden halo, a fist-sized golden primordial embryo floated in mid-air, its surface crisscrossed with dense patterns, like refined gold forged countless times. Each pattern contained pure soul power refined and tempered by repeated tempering of pure Yang energy. Within that primordial embryo, a faint figure was condensing. Although not yet fully formed, the heavy pressure belonging to the divine soul level acted like an invisible hammer, forcefully pushing back Zhao Shoudao's grayish-yellow primordial spirit power.

Zhao Shoudao's pupils contracted sharply, and even the long staff in his hand trembled slightly. For the first time, his voice carried a suppressed hint of surprise and doubt: "Yuan Tai... Chongyang Yuan Tai? You actually condensed a Yuan Tai at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage?!"

Chen Jie's smile froze completely. He stared at the golden primordial embryo floating above Li Hanshan's head, his gaze tracing the dense patterns on its surface inch by inch, as if confirming a fact that shouldn't exist. His lips moved, forcing out a word that was almost bitten into pieces: "How is this possible..."

Behind the bushes, Yin Quanzong, a Nascent Soul cultivator, stood frozen in place, his mouth agape in a speechless arc, his voice dry and strained as if forced from the depths of his throat: "Nascent Soul... How can a peak Nascent Soul cultivator possess a Nascent Soul... What is this thing...?"

Li Hanshan ignored the sounds. He stood beneath the golden halo, his broken sword held horizontally before him, the light of the Chongyang Yuan Tai enveloping him like flowing molten gold. He tilted his head slightly, pure Yang energy surging like a tide within his pure Yang meridians, his gaze piercing through the grayish-yellow light being pushed back by the Yuan Tai, landing on Zhao Shoudao's face. Then he spoke, his voice neither loud nor soft, yet clearly echoing through the valley.

"Now, the battle officially begins."