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

The Hehuan Sect's mountain gate stood majestically in the morning light, with the pale golden light of the protective array flowing endlessly overhead, like a giant golden dome enveloping the five towering peaks. Many disciples had already gathered on the stone steps in front of the gate; some were queuing to enter the sect, others were chatting in small groups, and several deacons from the External Affairs Hall stood on either side of the steps maintaining order.

As several streaks of light flew in from the sky, the disciples queuing to enter the mountain gate on the stone steps all looked up. Leading the way was a purplish-gold light, moving with incredible speed, like a shooting star streaking across the morning sky. It slowed slightly before the pale gold protective array, then passed through the automatically opening gate and landed steadily on the edge of the plaza inside the mountain gate. After the light dissipated, Li Hanshan's figure appeared, pure Yang energy flowing continuously around him, completely drawing back the purplish-gold trailing flame into the depths of his meridians.

The disciples who were still queuing to join the sect were stunned at first, and then some of them recognized the face—although it was younger and more angular than it had been a few years ago, there was no one else like it in the entire Hehuan Sect with those calm eyes and the pure yang aura that had been tempered.

"It's Senior Brother Li!"

"He's back? We haven't seen him leave the mountain for so many years..."

"Who are those people behind him? Judging from their clothes, they don't seem to be disciples of the Hehuan Sect."

"My God, so many female cultivators..."

The murmurs spread like dandelion seeds scattered by the wind among the crowd on both sides of the stone steps. The disciples queuing to enter the sect all stood on tiptoe, their gazes passing over Li Hanshan's figure and landing on the figures emerging from the light behind him. Leading the group was a woman in red, with a fiery figure and alluring face, a long-handled pipe between her fingers; behind her was a woman in white, her face as cold as frost, her aura carrying an aura of unapproachability; further back was another woman in white, her temperament gentle as water, her steps unhurried; then came a female cultivator in a light green dress, her face delicate and pretty, carrying a storage bag; finally, followed by a lazy female cultivator in red, arms crossed, a nonchalant smile playing on her lips. And at the very back of the crowd, a young woman in a bright green dress peeked out, as lively as a sparrow just released from its cage.

The women each possessed a distinct temperament, yet they shared a natural tacit understanding when standing together, like a meticulously crafted painting. Their gazes were all fixed on the purple-gold figure ahead, their steps following him at a leisurely pace, like tides drawn by moonlight.

The crowd gathered in the square grew larger and larger, from the initial dozens to over a hundred, with even more figures arriving from the various peaks and halls, forming a dense mass at the edge of the square inside the mountain gate. Some stood on tiptoe to peer inside, some whispered among themselves about the identities and origins of the female cultivators, while others simply watched in silence, their eyes filled with a complex mix of curiosity and scrutiny.

As Yan Qingsong flew in from the northern foothills, his gaze swept past the crowd of onlookers and landed directly on Li Hanshan. His pupils contracted slightly, and then he noticed the unfamiliar figures behind Li Hanshan—these female cultivators were mostly between the Golden Core and Nascent Soul stages, not particularly outstanding in the Hehuan Sect, but their presence alone was enough to make him frown. He landed atop a stone pillar, looking down at Li Hanshan and the figures behind him, his voice icy: "Junior Brother Li, you brought so many outsiders back to the sect. Did you report this to the External Affairs Hall? Cultivators from other sects need to register their identities and state their purpose when entering the sect; this has been a rule of the Hehuan Sect for hundreds of years."

Li Hanshan stopped. He turned around, his gaze passing through the crowd to land on the figure atop the stone pillar. Yan Qingsong stood on the pillar, his empty right sleeve fluttering gently in the morning breeze, his face still bearing that harsh and hostile expression. Li Hanshan looked at him and spoke in a voice neither loud nor soft: "They are not outsiders."

These words abruptly amplified the murmurs among the surrounding crowd. Yan Qingsong's gaze swept over the unfamiliar figures, a cold smile playing on his lips: "Not outsiders? Junior Brother Li, you say they're not outsiders, but they don't even have Hehuan Sect identity tokens. We can't break sect rules just because you say 'not outsiders.'"

Li Hanshan didn't answer immediately. He raised his hand, pure Yang energy flowing silently in his palm, and a token made of pure white jade appeared. Two ancient seal characters, "执掌" (meaning "in charge"), were engraved on its surface, and a thin, milky-white spiritual light flowed along its edge. He held the token slightly higher in the morning light, allowing all the disciples present to clearly see the markings and patterns on it. Then, his voice, amplified by spiritual energy, clearly resounded throughout the entire square: "This is a personal decree from the Sect Leader. From now on, they are members of the Sect Leader's lineage."

As he spoke, pure Yang energy was silently released, its oppressive aura spreading slowly across the plaza like a thin mist blown by the wind, resembling a low yet exceptionally solid copper wall. The deacons of the External Affairs Hall, who had been whispering amongst themselves, simultaneously fell silent upon feeling the oppressive force, instinctively taking a half-step back, their eyes filled with a primal sense of awe and submission. Yan Qingsong, standing atop the stone pillar, also shifted slightly when the oppressive aura touched his protective spiritual light. His pupils contracted for a moment, as if sensing something unexpected.

Yan Qingsong was naturally not intimidated by the pressure. He almost instinctively sneered, raising his right hand and condensing spiritual energy in his palm—he wanted to stop Li Hanshan in public, even if it was just to buy time, so that he and those unidentified figures would be embarrassed in front of everyone.

The spiritual energy condensed into a grayish-white palm print in his palm, carrying the unique and heavy aura of a seventh-level Nascent Soul cultivator, and slammed towards Li Hanshan. He wanted everyone to see that even when facing the sect leader's personal disciple, the members of the Elder Council dared to attack in public, and even injure Li Hanshan in front of everyone.

But the moment Li Hanshan sensed the approaching palm print, his pure yang energy silently condensed into a purple-gold palm print in his palm, precisely meeting the gray-white palm print head-on.

The moment the golden palm print and the grayish-white palm print collided in mid-air, everyone in the square held their breath. What they saw was—the instant the two palm prints collided, fine cracks appeared from the point of contact, and the cracks spread rapidly in all directions along the surface of the palm prints. Then, in less than a breath, the entire palm print shattered like broken glass.

Grayish-white fragments scattered everywhere, leaving countless fine streaks in the morning light, while the golden palm print, still powerful after shattering the original palm print, slammed towards Yan Qingsong.

"not good!"

Yan Qingsong's expression changed drastically. He hastily mobilized his spiritual power to deal with the situation, but to his dismay, the golden palm print shattered his protective spiritual light with a single strike. He was sent flying backward and crashed heavily into a stone pillar, causing the restrictions on the pillar to shatter.

"puff!"

Yan Qingsong coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"You, you actually broke through to the third level of the Nascent Soul stage!"

A storm raged within him! Only a little over a decade had passed since his journey to the Myriad Spirits Secret Realm, and Li Hanshan had already broken through to the third level of the Nascent Soul stage! That was bad enough, but Li Hanshan's current combat power was terrifying; in a direct confrontation, he had actually been sent flying!

It should be noted that more than ten years ago, although Li Hanshan had lost an arm, he relied on a Dao artifact.

Now it's a real confrontation.

Although Yan Qingsong believed that he had not used his full strength in that attack.

The square was deathly silent. The disciples who had been watching stared, mouths agape, at Yan Qingsong getting up from the ground, then at the figure in the center of the square who had withdrawn his hand and whose expression was as calm as ever. For a moment, no one made a sound.

Li Hanshan didn't glance at Yan Qingsong again. The Pure Yang Fire silently receded in his palm. He turned around, nodded slightly to the few figures waiting quietly behind him, and then strode towards the southern foothills, his steps as steady as ever. Hua Nongying followed behind him, her pipe held between her fingers without being lit, but a slight smile couldn't be suppressed on her lips.

After taking two steps, Liu Ruoxue glanced back at Yan Qingsong, her gaze so cold it was almost icy. Then she turned back and followed Li Hanshan. Yun Shuyue walked quietly, like a shadow moving with the moonlight. Jiang Nianwei took out a spirit pill from her storage bag and swallowed it, her expression remaining calm and composed. The Second Elder brought up the rear, his red robes fluttering in the morning breeze as he lazily hummed an unknown tune.

Regardless, those unfamiliar figures had already stepped into the Hehuan Sect's mountain gate and were walking step by step along the stone path bathed in the morning light, heading deeper into the southern foothills. In the distance, the outlines of five mountain peaks stood majestically in the morning light, and the light of the mountain-protecting array flowed endlessly above their heads, like an open golden palm gently gathering the new roots into its palm.