The Counter-Ambush

“So it was Fifth Sister who tipped him off, and he either absconded ahead of time, or this is an ambush?” the middle-aged woman said, a note of worry creeping into her voice.

“No. If they had set a trap, they would have sprung it the moment we entered, when we were least prepared,” Han Li shook his head, dismissing the idea.

The others, hearing this, breathed a little easier, but they still instinctively scanned their surroundings. As expected, nothing stirred.

“Senior, what should we do now? Should we pull back and try another day?” Second Brother (the dark-faced old man) asked hesitantly.

“Let’s try for the Steward Wang first. If he’s absent too, we cancel today’s operation and withdraw immediately,” Han Li said coldly.

The Meng Mountain Brothers exchanged glances at this, then silently nodded their agreement.

Han Li shot out a few hand-seals, retracting the concealment barrier, and slipped toward the other side of the Wang estate. The others followed close behind.

Although Steward Wang’s residence was not a multi-story pavilion like the Young Prince’s, it was a private three-sided compound.

When Han Li and the others drew near, a faint light still flickered in one of the rooms, as if its occupant had not yet retired.

Han Li raised an eyebrow. It seemed this time he would not be coming away empty-handed.

Turning to the others, he made a hand-signal for them to hide and stay on guard. Then he activated the nameless energy-concealment technique he had just learned, instantly suppressing all spiritual power on his body until he felt like an ordinary mortal.

In the next moment, Han Li’s figure flickered a few times before he appeared at the base of the wall beneath the illuminated room, pressing his ear tightly against it.

Because Steward Wang had given Han Li a very strange sensation back then, he did not presumptuously extend his spiritual sense to eavesdrop, fearing he might be detected.

But he had only listened for a short time before his expression shifted. He shot backward, landing behind a large tree where he immediately concealed himself.

This sudden retreat startled the Meng Mountain Brothers, who were watching nearby. Then Han Li’s voice reached each of their ears:

“Be careful. The Young Prince is inside too. We’ll have to act according to circumstances.”

These words put the four on high alert. They held their breath in unison, watching the door warily, making sure not to make a sound.

Creak. The door opened.

A young man in a light green brocade robe stepped out. It was precisely the Young Prince of the Xin Estate.

He turned back to say a few soft words to someone inside, then walked a few steps into the courtyard. The door closed by itself behind him.

The lamplight on the paper window flickered a few times before going out completely. It seemed the person inside had decided to rest.

Han Li watched the Young Prince’s every move with an expressionless face. What puzzled him was that he still could not detect any trace of magical power on the man. Yet, the faint sense of danger he gave off was real. He must be one of the Black Fiend Sect’s disciples.

Perhaps because he was still within his own estate, the Young Prince was in no hurry to return to his room. Like an ordinary man, he stretched lazily, looked up at the bright moon, and suddenly let out a sigh.

Then he began pacing back and forth in the small yard, his face troubled, as if weighed down by a difficult problem.

It seemed he would not be leaving anytime soon. The Meng Mountain Brothers grew increasingly frustrated.

Striking now was out of the question. Steward Wang was right in the adjacent room. Even the slightest scuffle would wake him, making things far more complicated.

The best approach was still to wait for the Young Prince to return to his own quarters and take them down one by one.

Fortunately, they were all cultivators; a little patience was not a problem. Each of them hid perfectly, careful not to leave any trace of their presence.

After about the time it takes to eat a meal, the Young Prince finally stopped pacing and exited the courtyard.

The ambushers rejoiced inwardly.

But what happened next took them completely by surprise, instantly replacing their joy with fury.

The moment the Young Prince stepped out of the gate, he suddenly produced a set of clothes from somewhere—as if by a conjurer’s trick—and changed into them in a flash. In an instant, he became a blood-red masked man. It was the very same figure who had ordered them to kill Han Li.

Though the old man and his companions were boiling with rage, they knew the gravity of the situation and forced themselves to hold back. Only now did they truly believe Han Li’s words; they had not been chasing the wrong man.

In his transformed state, the Young Prince emanated a faint but unmistakable killing intent and a not-insubstantial aura of magical power, at the eleventh layer of Qi Condensation. Instead of heading back to his own residence, he tossed a long, blood-red magical tool into the air. His figure flickered, and he flew away on the artifact.

Seeing this, a cold light flashed in Han Li’s eyes. He immediately transmitted his voice to the other four:

“Follow him. Capture him halfway, no matter where he’s going.”

Hearing Han Li’s order, the eager Meng Mountain Brothers leaped onto their artifacts and gave chase without a second thought.

As for Han Li, he lingered behind to keep watch on Steward Wang, deliberately waiting a bit longer.

Seeing no unusual activity from the room, he hesitated for a moment, then, still uneasy, summoned the Divine Wind Boat and followed.

Han Li’s Divine Wind Boat was far faster than the magic tools of the Meng Mountain Brothers. In just a few moments, following the spiritual energy markers they had left behind, he caught up with them in the sky above a dilapidated temple outside the Yue capital.

The four of them were hovering in midair, looking somewhat disheveled and flustered, spinning in circles with no idea what to do. When they saw Han Li, their faces lit up with relief.

“What’s the matter?” Han Li frowned, his tone low.

“We chased him here and were about to make a move when the little bastard suddenly ducked into this broken temple—as if he’d sensed us. The temple is warded by a formation. We tried to force our way in, suffered a bit of a setback, and immediately pulled back, afraid there might be more traps inside,” the dark-faced old man explained, seeing Han Li’s displeasure.

“A formation?” Han Li’s head throbbed at the news.

He was no expert in formations either. But he kept his expression calm as he said:

“Let me have a look first.”

With that, he activated his Celestial Eye Technique and examined the temple below.

As expected, there was an unusual fluctuation of spiritual energy all around the ruined temple. But after seeing it clearly, Han Li let out a long sigh of relief.

It was just a very simple Boulder Fall Formation, one of the most basic earth-attribute formations. While it might cause trouble for rogue cultivators or Qi Condensation practitioners, for Han Li—though he didn’t know the exact way to dismantle it—a small formation of this level could be broken by brute force alone.

Without another word, Han Li reached into his storage pouch and cast his hands outward. In an instant, four towering beast-shaped puppets appeared before him.

The sight made the dark-faced old man and his companions, who had already experienced the bite of Han Li’s puppetry, involuntarily take a few steps back.

Ignoring their alarm, Han Li directed the puppet beasts to open their mouths simultaneously. Several thick beams of light, as wide as a bowl, shot straight toward the ruined temple.

Just as the beams were about to strike, a thin, translucent light barrier flickered into existence above the temple. It was a pale yellow, semi-circular shield that enveloped the entire shrine.

The beams slammed into the barrier.

The yellow shield quivered like ripples on water, straining to withstand the onslaught.

Without hesitation, Han Li flicked his wrist. A pair of “Black Dragon Harpoons” shot out, swelling to the size of a full zhang each, and hurtled downward to join the assault on the barrier.

A crisp cracking sound followed. The barrier could not withstand the continuous assault. It shattered. The Boulder Fall Formation dissipated into nothing.

Seeing this, the Meng Mountain Brothers drew in a sharp breath.

They understood what it meant to break a formation through sheer brute force. It meant Han Li’s attack power had to be several times stronger than the barrier’s own strength. Otherwise, ordinary attacks would be deflected by the formation’s clever structural principles. Having just suffered a setback at this same formation themselves, they now realized they had overestimated the Boulder Fall Formation.

“Get down there. Do not let him escape,” Han Li said, his face as cold as frost.

By now, the four mountain brothers were completely cowed. They immediately responded and dove downward.

But just then, a mocking laugh sounded from behind Han Li and the others.

“Looking for me? This temple is just a temporary outpost for our sect. There’s no one in there anymore.”

The voice startled the already diving Meng Mountain Brothers so much they nearly fell off their artifacts. They whipped around, and their faces instantly turned pale.

There, a few dozen zhang behind them, stood the Young Prince they’d been chasing, alongside another thin, gaunt figure dressed the same way. Around them were a dozen or more black-clad masked men, unmistakably the same kind of peripherally controlled Black Fiend Sect disciples as the Meng Mountain Brothers had once been.

But the most eye-catching of all was a powerfully built, bald, browsless man standing behind the Young Prince.

He wore the same blood-red robes but had not covered his face. His eyes were fixed on them, brimming with murderous intent and a savage bloodlust.

This man was a Foundation Establishment cultivator—just like Han Li.

Seeing this, the four mountain brothers felt the chill of certain death settle over them.