"No, stop! Your wind dragons have shrunk considerably!" Han Li's expression suddenly changed. He whipped his head around and bellowed at the black-clad beauty.
Truthfully, no reminder was needed—the woman had already sensed something amiss. But hearing Han Li's shout, her heart lurched. She formed a rapid hand seal, and the wind blades spiraling within the dragons' mouths came to a halt before both creatures howled out of the light sphere, circling once in midair before hovering motionlessly.
Sure enough, both wind dragons had shrunk to nearly half their original size.
The light sphere, which had been pounded into pellets by the wind blades, fused back together the instant the dragons withdrew.
By now, the colossal sphere had expanded to over thirty zhang in diameter, occupying nearly a third of the enclosed light barrier.
And from within the sphere, a cold laugh echoed as the Silver-Winged Yaksha materialized, the Evil Moon Illusory Mirror cradled in his palm, his face twisted in a sardonic grin.
Seeing this, Han Li sighed.
He had encountered this very situation before—back in the Scattered Star Seas, during his battle with the Young Master of the Six Paths. At the time, Wen Tianren had employed a special treasure that let him hide within a mass of purple clouds, warping the surrounding space just enough that Han Li's flying swords were completely useless against him. In the end, Han Li had relied on the overwhelming force of his Yin Devil Slash to shatter the barrier and sever one of the man's arms.
It seemed the Silver-Winged Yaksha was using a similar ability this time, though undoubtedly far more refined than what the Young Master of the Six Paths had possessed.
The Yin Devil Slash, however, had not been refined since—Han Li had been too preoccupied with his cultivation to condense it again. But employing an equally devastating technique should suffice to break through this defense.
What a pity his Green Bamboo Bee Cloud Swords could no longer form the Great Geng Sword Formation. Had they been able to, the Silver-Winged Yaksha—immobile while channeling his spell—would have been trapped within it and surely killed, no matter how strange that light sphere proved to be.
The moment the judgment formed in his mind, a plan crystallized.
Han Li drew a deep breath, slapped one hand against his storage pouch, and flipped his palm. A scarlet talisman materialized in his grasp, its flame-like runes flickering ceaselessly while a miniature red flood dragon drifted in and out of view across its surface. It was a Spirit Descent Talisman.
He had crafted this talisman while forging the Three Flame Fan, using the spiritual essence of an eighth-grade scarlet fire flood dragon he happened to have on hand. The process had delayed him so long he had nearly missed the appointed meeting with Old Man Fu and the others at the Valley of Poison Play.
Having learned from his first attempt, this talisman's quality was far superior to the previous one, and the boost to his magical power would be considerably greater.
Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed the talisman against his chest. The crimson slip flashed once and sank into his body, vanishing without a trace.
A phantom flood dragon coalesced behind him and merged into his form.
Encased in a swirl of red light, horns sprouted from Han Li's head, and crimson scales bloomed across portions of his skin. In the span of a few breaths, he had transformed into a half-human, half-flood dragon of eerie appearance. His magical power surged to the very peak of mid-stage Nascent Soul.
"Han Li!"
"What—!"
Both the black-clad beauty and the Silver-Winged Yaksha cried out in astonishment at the sight of Han Li's transformation. Neither had ever witnessed a Spirit Descent Talisman before.
The Silver-Winged Yaksha, in particular, sensed the explosive rise in Han Li's cultivation, and the mocking smirk vanished from his lips in an instant.
At that very moment, Han Li formed a complex seal with both hands. The dozens of golden flying swords circling outside the light sphere shot skyward in unison, wheeled through a sweeping arc, and emitted a resonant hum before each one split into six.
Nearly two hundred streaks of golden sword light burst into existence, then converged toward a single point.
In the blink of an eye, a blazing orb of golden radiance blazed in the sky, as dazzling and overwhelming as the midday sun.
The brilliance contracted, and from it emerged a titanic sword, over ten zhang long, gleaming resplendent gold. The terrifying aura radiating from the blade was so oppressive that even the Silver-Winged Yaksha below could not help but show a flicker of unease on his face.
The instant the giant sword took shape, Han Li pointed at the Snow Crystal Bead at his chest.
The bead shot toward the great sword in a streak of purple light with a sharp whistle.
Simultaneously, he sent a pulse of spiritual sense and a hand seal into the colossal blade.
A thunderclap shook the heavens!
Golden arcs, thick as a man's arm, erupted across the sword's surface. Innumerable bolts of lightning wrapped around the entire blade, wreathing it in crackling golden light as peals of thunder rolled without cease.
And just as Han Li called down the Evil-Expelling Divine Thunder, the Snow Crystal Bead reached the great sword's hilt.
A flash of purple—and the bead plunged into the weapon, disappearing from sight. Immediately, an eerie purple flame spread from the hilt along the blade, weaving together with the golden arcs of lightning so that the great sword flickered between gold and violet, resembling a divine artifact of the immortals themselves.
The Silver-Winged Yaksha's expression grew ever darker at the sight, his furred face turning noticeably pale.
By now, the enormous light sphere had swelled to occupy nearly half the space inside the light barrier, forcing both Han Li and the black-clad beauty to drift steadily backward. Yet as she stared at the titanic sword suspended in the sky, the woman's face held far more shock than the Yaksha's. Her mind raced through a thousand thoughts.
Under such a devastating attack, even a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator would not dare take the blow head-on.
"Break," Han Li uttered, his voice cold as ice.