The speaker was a withered man, his face lined with the cruelty of fifty years spent in the dark arts. Zheng Feng. A Peak Golden Core cultivator.

He wore the insignia of the Nether Sect, a notorious vassal of the Sun Moon Sect. They were scavengers, growing fat on the scraps left by their masters. To Han Lie, the situation was immediately clear.

The Nether Sect had brought no Nascent Soul elders. Their confidence stemmed entirely from the three Peak Golden Core experts standing in a phalanx behind Zheng Feng. This was the “capital” that allowed them to demand concessions from the Heavenly Void Sect.

Han Lie’s lip curled.

“I wondered what manner of beast was barking at me,” Han Lie said, his voice projecting clearly over the wind. “It turns out to be nothing more than a dog raised by the Sun Moon Sect.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his hand on the hilt of his saber. “If a reputable faction asked, this senior might consider negotiating. But you? Do dogs deserve a seat at the table?”

A collective gasp rippled through the gathered crowd.

The Heavenly Void Sect was infamous for its domineering nature, but witnessing it firsthand was another matter entirely. To insult a Peak Golden Core cultivator so publicly, leaving no room for retreat—it was madness. Or supreme confidence.

Zheng Feng’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. His eyelid twitched violently.

“Good. Very good,” Zheng Feng hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “This old man intended to give your sect some face. But since you refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit, don’t blame me for stripping the skin from your bones!”

He didn’t wait for a duel. He signaled, and the two other Nether Sect elders launched themselves into the air.

Three Peak Golden Core experts. Against one.

They felt no shame. The code of chivalry was for the righteous sects; the Nether Sect believed only in results. If they could swarm an enemy, why would they fight fair?

“Hahahaha!”

Han Lie threw his head back and laughed, a sound that shook the dust from the nearby peaks.

“Fools,” he sneered. “Did you think I was negotiating? Did you think you ants were worthy of my regard?”

He drew the Crimson Oath. The saber hummed, eager for blood.

“Hmph! You act as if you are a Nascent Soul Elder!” Zheng Feng roared, his hands forming rapid seals. “You are merely Golden Core, just like us! Stop pretending!”

“Kill him!”

The three elders moved in perfect synchronization, positioning themselves in an equilateral triangle around Han Lie. Their spiritual energy surged, connecting in a lattice of dark light.

“Brother Lie! I will help you!”

Bai Ling stepped forward, her face pale but determined. She knew she was outmatched, but she refused to be dead weight.

“Stand back,” Han Lie commanded. He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the enemies circling him. His tone was calm, imperious. “Do not interfere.”

“But—there are three of them!”

“Watch,” was all he said.

Han Lie stood motionless in the center of the trap.

“Nether Spirit-Extinguishing Array!” Zheng Feng screamed.

Hum!

Three pillars of black energy erupted from the elders, converging above Han Lie’s head. They twisted together, forming a prism of suffocating pressure. A beam of concentrated destruction aimed squarely at Han Lie’s heart.

Even Xiao Yuruo, watching from her vantage point, frowned. To use a sect-guarding formation against a single man? It was overkill. It was bullying.

Yet, Han Lie looked… bored.

“Han Lie!” Zheng Feng shouted, his voice amplified by the array. “This formation can exchange blows with a Nascent Soul monster! Today, killing you will be as easy as slaughtering a chicken!”

“Nether Spirit-Extinguishing Array—Annihilation!”

The beam fired. Space distorted around the black light, the sheer density of the energy causing the air to scream.

Han Lie watched the beam approach. His internal monologue was dry, almost pitying.

You think this rivals a Nascent Soul Elder?

Are you trying to kill me with laughter? Because if that is the challenge, I concede.

Boom!

The Crimson Oath ignited.

Pure Yang energy, hot enough to melt steel, flooded the blade. The Yin Yang Demonic Art cycled within Han Lie’s meridians like a turbocharged engine. To the ordinary Golden Core cultivator, this formation was a death sentence. To Han Lie, who had rebuilt his body and tempered his soul in the fires of tribulation, it was a parlor trick.

“Break.”

Han Lie didn’t dodge. He swung.

A crescent of blinding red light tore through the air. It didn’t just meet the black beam; it devoured it.

Crash!

The Nether Spirit-Extinguishing Array shattered like glass struck by a hammer. The backlash was instantaneous.

“What—?!” Zheng Feng’s eyes bulged.

Before the shards of spiritual energy could even fade, Han Lie vanished.

He was fast. Impossible fast.

He reappeared behind Zheng Feng. The air displacement alone sent the elder’s robes fluttering.

“You…” Zheng Feng started to turn, terror flooding his veins.

Schwing.

The Crimson Oath returned to its sheath with a sharp click.

A line of red appeared on Zheng Feng’s chest. Then, on the chests of the two elders behind him.

Blood sprayed in unison.

“Argh!”

The three experts of the Nether Sect fell from the sky like swathes of wheat, crashing into the rocky ground below. They weren’t dead—Han Lie had been precise—but they were broken. Their meridians were severed, their pride obliterated.

Silence descended on the Buried Immortal Mountain Range.

Han Lie stood alone in the sky, brushing a speck of imaginary dust from his shoulder. He looked down at the writhing figures of the Nether Sect elders with cold indifference.

“Next time,” Han Lie said, his voice low but audible to every frozen spectator, “send the master. The dogs are too weak.”