The Wind Wolf Tribe's ring-shaped valley was terrifyingly silent.
Every Wind Wolf warrior and tribesperson stared fearfully toward the rubble. There, the stooped figure of an elderly traveling merchant, radiating the spiritual pressure of the late Foundation Establishment stage, slowly emerged from the shadows. His face was dark and deeply wrinkled-the appearance Han Li had assumed in disguise. Yet the high priest at the late Nascent Soul stage and the eight shamans at the late Core Formation stage had their gazes locked on him. Vast shamanic pressure surged from the high priest, bearing down on Han Li in layer upon layer like solid clouds of lead.
"A cultivator from the Central Plains?" The high priest's voice was aged and hoarse. He slammed his staff, inlaid with a Wind Wolf skull, against the ground. A visible ripple carrying cold, sinister Witch Power instantly spread outward, attempting to invade Han Li's divine soul. "As I recall, there were no late Foundation Establishment cultivators on today's list of travelers cleared to pass. Who sent you here to spy? Or are you... bait for those Holy Temple dogs?"
"I'm merely a traveling merchant. I heard the Wind Wolf Tribe was buying falling star iron, so I came to try my luck." Han Li imitated the old merchant's raspy voice, his body stooping slightly beneath that terrifying shamanic pressure as though he could scarcely bear the weight. Yet the eyes hidden amid his wrinkles remained as calm as an ancient well, even holding a trace of barely perceptible mockery. The Star Essence Soul-Refining Art had long since begun circulating on its own within him. Inside his dantian, his late-stage nascent soul sat with its eyes tightly shut, silver light flowing around it, silently dissolving the Witch Power ripples attacking his divine soul.
"Try your luck?"