Mo Dao, slightly astonished at his left hand, turned his gaze to Han Li, spoke with disdain, "Interesting. It seems you haven't been idle these past years—your martial arts have indeed grown quite unusual. Yet, do you truly believe that with merely these basic, unrefined techniques, you can stand against me?" "I must admit, it's been a long time since I've personally engaged in combat. Perhaps it's time I put my hands to the work myself. Then, let you go first!" Han Li paid no heed to the verbal pressure from his opponent. He had already decided to strike first, to gain an early advantage. With his short sword in his left hand, he swept it across in front of him, drawing the opponent's attention. Simultaneously, a white paper package slid silently from the sleeve on his right and settled into the palm of his right hand. Then, with a gesture, he scattered a large amount of white powder from the package. In a moment, the powder bloomed into a thick, dense vapor that enveloped Han Li completely, blurring his form—faint and indistinct. The mist quickly spread throughout the entire room, turning it into a white expanse where even his fingers could no longer be seen. Han Li himself seemed to vanish into the fog. Master Mo sneered, then suddenly raised his right hand and delivered a palm strike into the mist. The white vapor before him surged as if stirred by a massive staff, immediately forming a clear, large opening. Seeing no trace of Han Li, Master Mo did not cease his actions. He launched a series of consecutive empty-hand strikes, sweeping left and right, until the mist within the room was completely dispersed—leaving only the normal room atmosphere, save for the absence of Han Li himself. Master Mo's expression remained unchanged, though his mind grew somewhat uneasy. Yet, confident in his skill, he cleared his throat a few times and slowly made his way toward the corner where Han Li had vanished, intending to examine the scene closely. As he approached a distance of one zhang from the corner, he halted, narrowing his eyes. He now sensed a faint, almost imperceptible aura of danger hovering nearby, specifically directed at him, poised to strike. "Not good!" Dr. Mo suddenly realized, now understanding that his opponent had concealed himself atop the eaves. He didn't even bother to look up. With a sharp exhale, he raised his hand and delivered a powerful, forceful palm strike, aiming to knock out the figure hiding above, who was already attempting to harm him. The booming sound of the palm strike followed, accompanied by several clear "ting-ting" sounds. Mo was puzzled, quickly lifting his head to examine the ceiling above. Yet, as he did so, he was momentarily stunned—there was nothing there but an empty space, no ghostly figure in sight. Only a black iron bell hung from the eave beam, swaying with the force of his palm wind, producing the steady "ting-ting" sound. Where was Han Li's slightest trace of presence? As Master Mo raised his head to gaze upward, a streak of cold light burst forth suddenly from beneath his feet, swiftly piercing his abdomen. Its speed was so rapid that it could truly be described as lightning-fast—only when the light was about to touch his garments did he finally become aware of it. Startled, Master Mo gasped, and in a moment of sudden inspiration, he instantly assumed the iron board position, folding his body like a sheet of paper with no spine, arching backward and just narrowly avoiding the sword's thrust. The short blade slid tightly along his belly, slicing a long, narrow gash through his robe, nearly opening him up completely. Even after deflecting the blade, Master Mo remained alert, as if his feet were fitted with springs—his body still motionless, yet his entire form automatically glided several zhang backward before he dared to lift his head and gaze in astonishment and anger toward the direction from which the sword light had surged. To his surprise, the ground near where he had just stood gradually rose and swelled, growing higher and higher until it finally formed a yellow human figure—Han Li, perfectly integrating the Soft Skeleton Technique, the Breath-Concealing Technique, and the Illusory Disappearance Art. He took a deep breath, his expression finally calmed. With a slightly dry voice, he said, "It seems I have indeed underestimated you, my dear apprentice! Your performance has been quite impressive—worthy of my serious attention." After uttering this statement of defiance, Doctor Mo slowly raised both hands and placed them before him, gazing at them with gentle intensity, as if watching a lover in deep affection, completely forgetting about Han Li. Han Li arched his eyebrows, gave a cold smile, gripped his short sword firmly in one hand, and took slow, steady steps forward, gradually approaching Doctor Mo.