Han Li's face turned pale, as he stared blankly at Mo Doctor, who had raised the strange blade high above him. Under the sunlight, the blade gleamed brilliantly, emphasizing its exceptional sharpness. A growing sense of panic stirred within him, yet reason reminded him that the doctor had gone to considerable lengths to capture him alive—there was no way he would simply kill him without warning. The doctor was merely making threats. As the blade descended slowly, steadily aiming toward his body, Han Li remained silent, holding his composure with steady resolve. Only when the tip of the blade came within half an inch of his head, the tips of his hair already tinged with cold, did he slowly close his eyes, a faint regret beginning to surface in his mind. "Does the doctor really intend to kill him? If he had known this, he should have asked for mercy earlier—perhaps there would still have been a chance to survive. He was still so young; he truly didn't want to die like this." His parents, upon hearing of his death, would surely be saddened—would they regret having sent him to the Qi-Xuan Sect? As he stood at the brink of life and death, a myriad of thoughts surged through his mind, as though in that very instant he had lived through the full spectrum of human joys and sorrows, gaining profound insights into the nature of life and death. A sharp sound of the blade piercing flesh reached him. Han Li's body trembled slightly, yet then he was surprised—no pain at all had reached him. "What's going on?" he blinked in astonishment. As soon as he opened his eyes, he was stunned. To his surprise, the strange blade was now embedded in the shoulder of Doctor Mo himself, penetrating deeply into his body, leaving only the hilt exposed and trembling slightly. Perhaps due to its exceptional sharpness, not a single drop of blood had spilled, making the scene utterly strange. Han Li was still gazing in disbelief when Doctor Mo suddenly spoke with his usual composure, praising him warmly. "Ah, ah!" Young lad, you truly have some courage! You've had the blade pressed against your neck and still refused to beg for mercy—remarkable! Back in my days wandering the martial world, I've seen countless heroes and champions who claimed to be fearless before their peers. Yet, as soon as they fell into my hands and faced even a slight threat, they all turned into bears—bowing down, pleading for mercy, all but terrified of death. Han Li was left speechless, at a loss for words, unsure of how to respond. In fact, he had nearly embarrassed himself earlier. He had managed to hold his ground all along, and only at the very end did he harbor a lingering sense of hope—believing the other party wouldn't actually make a move against him. That was what allowed him to get through unscathed. Moreover, his face was simply too delicate; he was unwilling to shift his demeanor and bow low, pleading for mercy. Now, hearing the continuous praise from Doctor Mo, Han Li didn't feel the need to offer any special explanation, yet his heart brimmed with mixed emotions—whether to be pleased or to feel discouraged, he could not tell. Just as Han Li was lost in thought, the Doctor had swiftly inserted the remaining several strange blades into his body, fully covering him except for the handles, which bore the ghostly heads and remained exposed. When Han Li regained his composure, he was stunned to find seven sharp blades embedded in various parts of the Doctor's body—across his shoulders, legs, abdomen, and chest—giving the impression that he had been cut into pieces by a chaotic array of blades. Han Li found it both amusing and astonishing. He realized that the Doctor had deliberately inflicted such self-sacrificing wounds, likely employing a particularly powerful technique—one he now wondered whether was specifically aimed at himself. After completing the insertion of the blades, the Doctor said nothing further. Instead, he bent down and settled cross-legged opposite Han Li, then closed his eyes, entering a focused state and no longer paying attention to anything outside his immediate presence. Han Li felt a sudden inspiration, recognizing this as a rare opportunity for escape. As he attempted to move, even a slight shift in his body caused a sudden weight to settle on his shoulders, instantly immobilizing him once more. Han Li chuckled, wondering how he had once again forgotten this towering figure. With him standing right beside him, ever watchful and unyielding, how could Han Li possibly have found an opportunity to act? It seemed that Doctor Mo had already carefully planned this before entering meditation, completely unconcerned about any tricks Han Li might play. This giant, known as "Tie Nu," was no ordinary being—just as Doctor Mo's "mystic silver hands" were impervious to blades and arrows, so too was this man completely unharmed by any weapon, even at his most vulnerable points. Today, Han Li had finally been completely defeated by him. Suddenly, the Doctor Mu stopped his trembling and drawing breath, but from deep within his throat, a low, resonant roar erupted—a roar filled with primal animal strength. In that instant, the old man seemed no longer an elder, but a fierce beast bursting forth from the forest. Then, even more terrifying, something that had appeared on Doctor Mu’s face a year ago now reappeared. This spectral mist was now vastly different—thicker, darker than before—enveloping his face like a black mask, concealing his true features. The tendrils that occasionally shimmered from the mist underwent a complete transformation: the flowing black vapor on the tendrils was now smooth, lustrous, and rich in texture, as if solid and tangible, constantly stretching and contracting, dancing wildly across his face. Master Mo held both hands in a lotus position, forming an unusual gesture while gently pressing with his fingers, his lips moving slightly as if reciting something, though the voice was too soft for Han Li to catch clearly. As a result of this strange movement, the mist on Master Mo's face appeared stirred and agitated—much like cold water poured into a hot oil pot—beginning to boil and ripple, with more delicate tendrils extending out from it, waving and gesturing vigorously as though trying to obstruct Master Mo's further actions. When the black mist reached its densest, Master Mo opened his eyes, and though the thick mist obscured his face, Han Li could still see a brilliant radiance shining in his eyes.