Western Great Jin, the Heavenly Demon Sect's Main Hall.
The hall was empty and deathly still. The festive red silk hanging amid the lanterns now seemed especially glaring and ironic to Han Li. Zi Ling still trembled slightly in his arms, not from fear, but from the nearly overwhelming joy of regaining what she had lost, mingled with lingering terror. Her tears silently soaked his robes-and the heart that the long years had tempered until it was as hard as iron frozen for ten thousand years.
Han Li lowered his head and gazed at the familiar face in his arms. Those eyes, once lively and occasionally touched with slyness, now brimmed with tears; exhaustion and lingering fright clung stubbornly to her brows and the corners of her eyes. He reached out, gathering an exceedingly faint yet utterly pure wisp of true demon qi at his fingertips, and gently brushed her cheek, completely erasing the last trace of cold demonic qi that had invaded her sea of consciousness, along with the medicinal effects of the Spirit-Locking Pill.
"Han Li..." Only after several deep breaths did Zi Ling gradually regain her composure, though her voice remained low and hoarse, tinged with disbelief. "How... how did you find this place? And your... your cultivation has actually..."
Only then did she notice something unusual. Although the man named Han Li before her looked little different from the taciturn, resolute, and decisive figure in her memories, who could always unleash astonishing power in the depths of despair, there was something fundamentally different about him now. He stood quietly where he was, without the slightest fluctuation of his aura escaping, yet somehow gave her the impression that he had become one with this boundless world and every inch of the surrounding space. In particular, whenever a