The surrounding space shifted rapidly, transforming in an instant into a brightly lit and stable environment.
As Han Yi regained his balance, the Chengying Sword leaped into his hand, held horizontally before him. Four Wind Demon Daggers materialized above his head, their points aimed outward in all directions.
The area was eerily silent, with no immediate signs of danger, yet Han Yi dared not lower his guard. The black token had suddenly and voraciously drained his mana, catching him completely off guard and leaving him vulnerable.
After three full breaths of heightened vigilance revealed no further threats, he cautiously sheathed the Wind Demon Daggers, but kept the Chengying Sword firmly in hand.
Regaining his composure, Han Yi realized he was standing before a grand mansion.
He glanced to either side and behind him, discovering he was on a small plaza in front of the mansion. After carefully surveying the area, Han Yi estimated the plaza to be roughly four to five hundred square meters in size.
The mansion itself, nestled at the plaza's edge, wasn't particularly large—roughly the size of his own courtyard. The plaza was built on the edge of a towering cliff, beyond which lay a bottomless abyss shrouded in swirling mist, appearing even more treacherous than Azure Dragon Cliff on Azure Dragon Peak.
Han Yi raised his head, peering through the sea of clouds into the far distance. Other Immortal Mountains loomed faintly amidst the swirling mists, each crowned with similar grand residences.
"What exactly is this black token?" he murmured. "And why did it bring me here?"
His expression remained grim. The black token had vanished without a trace, making it impossible to verify its purpose. "Since it brought me here, what does it expect me to do next?"
"Liu Heng managed to enter and return," Han Yi thought. "I should be able to do the same."
"But even though he was only here for a few days, it felt like years had passed for him. I must proceed with extreme caution."
Undeterred, Han Yi quickly grasped the key to his situation. His strength far surpassed Liu Heng's; by fulfilling a specific condition, he could reactivate the light gate and return to Daofu City.
He thoroughly surveyed his surroundings again, confirming there was no other exit. With no alternative, he approached the residence.
The modest estate was enclosed by a pair of tightly shut, ancient bronze doors.
Han Yi didn't immediately approach the doors. Instead, he directed his Chengying Sword to gently probe the walls on either side of the residence. Finding nothing amiss, he increased his force, yet still failed to produce any effect. Finally, he unleashed a full-powered strike, but even that left no trace.
The walls of this residence were so impenetrable that even the Chengying Sword, at its full power, couldn't leave a scratch.
Han Yi flicked a wisp of Spirit Light from his fingertip. His Spirit Void Finger landed on the wall with a distinct thud, yet left not a trace.
It seems there's no circumventing this, he thought. Breaking through the walls on either side of the manor is impossible.
Han Yi approached the bronze gate and tried the same method, but again, not a single mark remained.
After a moment's thought, he stepped forward, placed his palm against the gate, and pushed inward. It remained stubbornly motionless.
Then, he froze.
A majestic voice reverberated through his mind:
"Intruder, you must pass the Immortal Manor's trial."
"The trial: Defeat a Yellow Turban Immortal Cultivator."
"Attempts: Ten."
"Failure penalty: Lifespan reduced by 40 years."
"Success reward: Inheritance of Immortal Manor No. 10,009."
Han Yi recoiled in shock, cautiously retreating over a dozen meters.
As he did, a wisp of Spirit Light suddenly materialized on the bronze gate. The light fell to the ground and transformed into a burly cultivator clad in yellow battle robes.
Han Yi retreated further, reaching the edge of the plaza. Extremely vigilant, Magic Artifact in hand, he braced himself for battle.
To his surprise, the towering Yellow Turban Immortal Cultivator—easily over two meters tall and the tallest cultivator Han Yi had ever seen—stood motionless, like a puppet.
"A Yellow Turban Immortal Cultivator?" he murmured.
"Is this a Heavenly Crafting creation?" Han Yi approached cautiously, warily circling the Yellow Turban Immortal Cultivator. As he drew within ten meters, a flicker of Spirit Light suddenly ignited in the cultivator's previously lifeless eyes.
In an instant, a burst of flames erupted from the cultivator's hand—a Fire Attribute Spell similar to the Spirit Void Finger, but far faster. It reached Han Yi in the blink of an eye.
Fortunately, Han Yi was prepared, having already activated his Fire Shield Technique.
Bang!
The Fire Shield shattered, but the flame's velocity was only halved; it continued hurtling toward Han Yi.
Han Yi's Chengying Sword flashed out, instantly extinguishing the flame.
Though the fire had dissipated, Han Yi's expression remained grave.
"So powerful?"
Simultaneously, he retreated beyond the ten-meter mark. The Yellow Turban Immortal Cultivator, who had unleashed the instantaneous Fire Attribute Spell, reverted to its motionless state.
"Confirmed. This is definitely a Heavenly Crafting creation."
Heavenly Crafting was one of the Hundred Arts of Immortal Cultivation, a divine skill that granted the power to seize the heavens and forge world-altering artifacts.
However, this skill was exceedingly difficult and perilous, for it challenged the Dao of Heaven itself, inviting divine retribution. As a result, few dared to pursue it. In the modern Cultivation World, no sect specialized in this art; only fragmented cultivation techniques survived in isolation.
Han Yi never expected to witness such a marvel of Heavenly Crafting.
The next moment, the majestic voice echoed in his mind once more:
"First trial failed. Remaining attempts: nine."
Han Yi shuddered in shock.
Ten chances, and I've already wasted one?
That means any engagement with the Yellow Turban Immortal Cultivator—unless I defeat him outright—will count as a failure and consume one of my attempts.
I only stepped within roughly ten meters of him earlier. So, crossing that threshold automatically activates the trial.
No, it's likely broader than that. Attacking from a distance would probably count too. The creators of this trial wouldn't overlook such an obvious loophole. I can't afford to waste another attempt on wishful thinking.
If I fail to defeat the Yellow Turban Immortal Cultivator within ten attempts, I'll fail the entire trial. The penalty for failure is a reduction of forty years from my Lifespan.
This realization sent a chill down Han Yi's spine. He suddenly recalled the circumstances of Liu Heng's death in the Luo Clan Spirit Field.
At the time, Liu Heng's face had been eerily aged, almost inhuman, a stark contrast to the man Han Yi had seen just days before.
Now, looking back, Han Yi understood: Liu Heng must have undergone the same trial, squandering all ten of his attempts. The penalty for failure—the stripping of one's lifespan—had driven him mad upon his return, making him an easy target for Han Yi's sword.
Having pieced together the truth, Han Yi took a deep breath and retreated steadily until he reached the edge of the plaza near the cliff.
I can't afford to take these trials lightly, he thought. Each attempt is precious and cannot be wasted.
Han Yi sat cross-legged, his back to the cliff, facing the ancient bronze gate and the motionless Yellow Turban Immortal Cultivator guarding its entrance. He closed his eyes and remained in that meditative posture for three full days before finally standing again.
Feeling his mana fully replenished, Han Yi's eyes gleamed with sharp resolve as he began to strategize inwardly.
"I must win, no matter the cost. I'll fight tooth and nail, even if it means risking everything. If I lose, forty years of my lifespan will be forfeited, effectively ending my Immortal Path."
The reduction in lifespan was about more than just living less time.
Han Yi was currently thirty-four years old. Failure would age him to seventy-four, and the vitality of a seventy-four-year-old body was vastly different from that of a thirty-four-year-old one. While a thirty-four-year-old might reach the Ninth Layer of Qi Refinement in nine years, a seventy-four-year-old body could take twenty-nine, thirty-nine, or even longer.
This was a line he wouldn't budge from, no matter the cost.
"Only nine attempts remain. Each chance is precious and must be seized. Every strike must be delivered with maximum force."
"Only then will I have pushed myself to the limit."
"Alright. This time, I'll give it my all."
Having steeled his resolve, Han Yi took a deep breath and strode forward. Before reaching the ten-meter mark, he pinched two fingers together. The Chengying Sword shot forth, trembling lightly as a faint crimson glow shimmered along its blade, and hurtled toward the Yellow Turban Immortal Cultivator.