Han Li only glanced briefly. Yet as Han Li gradually moved farther down the corridor, the celestial music grew ever more resonant. The white cranes that had been dancing suddenly took flight, soaring to either side of the corridor and spreading their wings to call out in melodious cries. A moment later, amid the sound of celestial music, all the cranes suddenly twisted and transformed into young women dressed in colorful imperial robes. Each of these girls appeared only about sixteen or seventeen years old, yet all were exceptionally beautiful, full of youthful vitality. With delicate, supple waists, they swayed gently, smiling softly toward Han Li. Their eyes, filled with tender affection, seemed to convey that Han Li was the very lover they had long admired. At this moment, the music shifted, becoming more tender and flowing, evoking the warmth of love under moonlight and blossoms, stirring deep, hidden emotions within listeners. Han Li was touched by this, yet soon his expression remained unchanged—firm as stone—ignoring the gentle, heartfelt words of the women on either side. After walking several dozen paces, the voice that reached Han Li's ears suddenly changed, taking on a tone of sorrow and lament. The girls' expressions shifted instantly; they ceased their graceful movements and, one by one, turned solemn, their faces filled with deep melancholy, gazing at Han Li with heartfelt grief, as though he had once again become the heartless lover who had broken their spirits—so poignant that onlookers could not help but feel a deep pang of sympathy and affection. These extraordinary beauties each carried a rosy glow on their faces, their eyes blazing like flames, constantly performing flirtatious gestures and gradually shedding their light silk robes, revealing their fair, alluring bodies—plump, full-breasted, and exquisitely seductive, utterly captivating any man's heart. The soft, breathy sighs and murmurs emanating from their flushed lips were even more irresistible than the celestial music from beyond the heavens, occasionally stirring deep, hidden longings within the men. Han Li paused momentarily, but after a subtle flow of the Daxian Decision passed through his mind, he quickly regained his composure. Even if a genuine being had come specifically to enchant him with her fox-like charm, he would have remained indifferent—this rather crude illusion was certainly nothing to be noticed. The movements of the beautiful young women on either side of the corridor grew increasingly bold—some gently pressed against Han Li’s chest, glancing at him with flirtatious eyes; others swayed their slender waists, caressing him from head to toe; and some even embraced each other, engaging in mock courtship right before everyone’s eyes. Han Li found himself dazzled, marveling at the scene, yet thanks to the protection of the Daxian Decision, which stabilized his inner composure, he simply enjoyed the rare spectacle with calm appreciation. Ahead stood a flat, black hall, constructed entirely of black brick walls from the main gate to the outer walls. From the lofty, spacious entrance—over ten zhang high—the interior appeared utterly dark, devoid of any light, creating an overwhelmingly eerie atmosphere. As Han Li observed the black hall, the delicate sounds and the graceful, alluring women who had been standing outside suddenly vanished, leaving behind once again the vast, endless expanse of drifting white clouds, just as it had been when he first entered the corridor. Han Li showed no surprise; instead, he gazed solemnly at the black hall, his steps slowing naturally. Before he had even reached close to the hall, a strong, pervasive scent of blood rushed toward him. Han Li furrowed his brows, then looked again. It became clear that the hall was not entirely black—it bore a strange, deep crimson hue, as though the entire structure had been solidified into black by the pooled blood of countless warriors, exuding a powerful sense of malevolence. Han Li stood at the entrance of the hall, arms folded, his head bowed, deep in thought. Though he had not sought out anyone to learn the detailed layout of the Ji Miao Huang Jing, merely by observing this hall, he could already tell that it was designed to test people's negative emotions—fear, anxiety, and apprehension. This, in fact, made him far less composed than he had been moments earlier. After all, he was well aware of his own psychological vulnerabilities. He was not a fearless hero, nor a wise sage with a simple, unpretentious mind. At best, he was just an ordinary person with a touch of cleverness and subtle strategy. Should he encounter something unbearable, and if his emotions surged, his mind would surely be overwhelmed—then things would truly go awry. It seemed now that he would need to rely on the assistance of the Boru Zhu to pass this trial. With this thought in mind, Han Li gently stroked the round bead on his wrist, steadied himself, and then stepped into the hall. It seemed that some kind of restriction had been set here. Even with his eyes wide open,韩立 could see only a radius of three or four zhang. His consciousness could not detach to explore beyond. Yet this was not enough—surrounding silence was absolute, so complete that it began to unsettle him. Without thinking,韩立 licked his lips and raised his hand, intending to release a ball of fire. But as soon as the flame lit up, it suddenly went out with a soft pop.韩立 was startled, and with a touch of reluctance, extended his hand again, pulling out a piece of moonstone from his storage pouch. However, as soon as the stone emerged, a brief flash of white light followed by a swift dimming left it dull and lifeless, as though it had become an ordinary stone. Only then did he realize that this hall's restriction possessed a peculiar ability to absorb all forms of luminous light. With that realization, he gave up, and moved slowly forward. Yet before he had taken several steps forward, a faint, intermittent wail of sorrow suddenly rose in his ears, coming from afar in broken, intermittent waves—clearly that of a young woman. Han Li sneered, paying no attention to the sound, and continued walking in his usual direction. But the weeping grew and faded in and out, drifting constantly around him, growing more sorrowful and intense, as though she were determined to follow him. "Hmph!" Han Li grew restless at the sound, and let out a sharp exclamation, the force of which caused the ground nearby to tremble slightly. The weeping instantly ceased. Han Li was highly satisfied with this, quickening his pace by a third, eager to pass through the hall swiftly. Yet just as he had taken a few more paces, the sound of weeping rose once again—and with it, a pale figure materialized before him, not far from his side. The figure was half-kneeling on the ground, resembling a young widow in mourning attire! The mournful, heartfelt cries came directly from her lips. To his surprise, though the woman was kneeling quite some distance away, Han Li's face grew cold, and he stared steadily at her in silence, his steps not faltering as he moved straight toward her. He was well aware that in such circumstances, the more timid and hesitant one was, the more easily the illusions within the hall would captivate them. Retreat and evasion were not solutions—steadfast composure and calm presence were the best course of action. By the time he reached within seven or eight zhang of the white-clad young woman, he had already resolved to simply roar at her once again, no matter what, to drive her back. Yet suddenly, he felt that the woman's weeping sounded familiar—almost as though he had heard it before, long ago. Han Li stiffened, instantly alerting himself that this was merely a vision, and that he must not fall prey to her charm. As he gazed more closely, however, the woman's figure grew increasingly familiar, and a name began to rise in his mind, eager to emerge, yet he could not quite grasp who she resembled. Han Li’s steps did not slow, his brows slightly furrowed as he gazed coldly at the woman before him, silent and expressionless. “Brother Four!” a timid, delicate voice came from the young wife. Upon hearing this, Han Li’s mind flashed with a sudden surge—blood rushed to his head—and he found himself opening his mouth, asking, “Who are you? Are you…?” “Brother Four, you don’t recognize me anymore. I’m your little sister!” The young wife gently lifted her lowered head, revealing a refined, deeply moved countenance. The familiar features—her delicate nose, and her expressive, bright eyes—were exactly as Han Li had seen them when he had briefly glanced at his younger sister upon leaving home. Only now, dressed in the attire of a married woman, she carried an added grace and maturity.