Just as the group reached the stone gate, the glow of the yellow-robed cultivator's token faded. "Stay close," he said, glancing at several of them before speaking coldly. Then, his fingers rapidly flickered, as he formed a complex hand seal with both hands. Suddenly turning, he raised both arms. Two sharp beams of crimson and golden light shot forth, striking directly at the gate, which was encrusted with numerous seals. Immediately, the once tightly closed jade-colored gate began to shimmer with its glyphs, each one glowing in turn, and under a deep, resonant hum, the gate slowly unfolded, revealing a long, rectangular passage within. Without hesitation, the yellow-robed cultivator stepped inside. The others exchanged glances and then followed suit. Han Li walked steadily among the disciples, maintaining a straight posture, though his awareness constantly scanned the surroundings. The passage appeared to have been carved directly into the mountain's core using a magical artifact—its walls were exceptionally smooth, and at every few steps, intricate, yet obscure, glyphs and incantations were inscribed upon the walls. Though he could not yet study them in detail, he knew these items were far from mere decorations. The corridor was not very long—only about a hundred paces—and as soon as they had walked that distance, they found themselves stepping into a neat stone hall. The hall was roughly fifty to sixty paces wide and seven to eight paces high, making it quite spacious. At the center of the hall stood a jade-colored stone platform about several feet in size, with ten vertical incisions carved across it, forming a complex network—clearly a large chessboard, with black and white chess pieces scattered across it, as though the game had reached its most critical moment. Sitting on either side of the board were an elder and a young boy, each holding a set of black and white pieces. The elder wore fine robes and had a long, dignified face, appearing to be in his fifties. The younger one was only about seven or eight years old, rosy-cheeked and pale, like a jade-born child. "Blue Senior! How is it that you're here?" The white-clad cultivator, upon seeing the child, suddenly gasped and hurried forward to pay his respects. "Blue Senior The gray-robed elder and the middle-aged cultivator from Baiyiqian Hall were momentarily startled upon seeing a young stranger here. But upon hearing the name of the white-clad cultivator, their expressions changed dramatically. When they glanced at the child—his short braid, bare feet, and golden rings on his hands—their minds instantly recalled a renowned elder figure from legend. "At your service, Master Lan!" The two were so taken aback that they immediately bowed without hesitation. "Rise. Didn't you just see me and my junior, Hu, descending into the crucial phase? Remain silent—wait until I finish this game before we speak of anything else." Though the child appeared delicate and youthful in appearance, his voice was mature and commanding, full of authority. "Understood!" The three other cultivators of the white clan, all at the Jie Dan stage, promptly responded, then stood respectfully nearby, neither expressing any dissent or hesitation. The middle-aged elder with a long, serious face, who was playing chess with the young disciple, offered the three of them a faint, wry smile but said nothing. As for the yellow-robed cultivator, since entering the stone hall, he had remained steadily behind the young disciple, maintaining the demeanor of a devoted junior disciple. The younger cultivators who had followed behind were instantly stirred upon hearing that these three senior masters were addressing the child, barely seven or eight years old, as their senior master. What this title meant, they could not possibly be unaware of—each one now stared at the child with wide eyes, their hearts agitated and full of wonder. Thus, Han Li maintained a composed expression on his face, yet silently pondered in his mind how the arrival of this guest might alter his plans. After the child and the elder with a long, broad face had continued playing for nearly a minute, the elder finally pushed the chessboard aside and respectfully said, "Master Lan's chess skills are truly outstanding—my disciples are no match for him; I must admit defeat." Upon hearing this, the child's face brightened with satisfaction, but then his dark eyes darted around thoughtfully, and he expressed doubt: "Hou nephew, did you not deliberately hold back? I've already made it clear to you—when playing against me, you must not spare a single move." "Never would I deceive Master," the elder quickly replied, his face seeming to grow even longer. "Indeed, Master's skill has greatly improved since before." "Ah, I agree—my own chess game has certainly grown stronger over time. It seems our exchanges with the elite chess masters from the mortal realm haven't been in vain." The child smiled more warmly. "Then, please collect the chess pieces." "We're going to attend to serious matters now," the young disciple said, his smile suddenly fading and his tone shifting. Then, with a subtle twist of his slender body, he faced the group of cultivators who had been waiting patiently. He blinked several times at his clear, bright eyes, scanning each of the Jin Dan stage cultivators, before his gaze settled on the scholar. "White nephew, how many years have you been with the Ancient Sword Sect?" he asked slowly. "I've been a disciple for over one hundred years," the scholar replied, slightly startled, though he remained honest and composed. "Over one hundred years! That truly tests your patience," the young disciple remarked, a brief expression of surprise flickering across his face before he sighed softly. "What do you mean, Master? You're the direct disciple of the Head of the Zhengdao Hao Ran Pavilion, yet you've been here for so long—how can the Ancient Sword Sect possibly accommodate such a revered figure? Have you ever thought of returning to see your master?" the young disciple said, his voice now cold and sharp. The white-clad scholar, upon hearing the child's words, suddenly turned pale. The gray-robed elder and the middle-aged cultivator from Baiqi Pavilion exchanged startled glances and unconsciously stepped back a few paces from the white-clad scholar. "White Brother, is what Blue Senior has said truly accurate?" the middle-aged cultivator asked, unable to believe his own words. The scholar's face alternated between red and pale, yet he offered no clarification. "Since my senior has already thoroughly investigated our lineage, it seems my denial now serves no purpose. Nevertheless, I shall not be taken prisoner without a fight!" After a moment of somber expression, the scholar finally spoke. Yet, as soon as the final character "captured" was uttered, a flash of white light surged from his body, and he shot backward like a bowstring, crashing into the group of disciples behind him. With a sudden grasp, a luminous white hand immediately swept forward, aiming directly at one of them. It was precisely the black-robed young man, Meng Di, who possessed the "Nine Spirit Sword Body." "What are you doing?" The gray-robed elder and the middle-aged cultivator roared in anger instantly, their bodies flashing with radiant light, clearly preparing to intervene—yet clearly too late. Meng Di remained calm under the shock, raising his hand and releasing a piercing sword aura, slashing fiercely at the elder's outstretched hand. However, the disparity in their cultivation levels proved insurmountable—the sword aura struck the glowing hand but failed to make a single impression, dissipating and fracturing within moments. As Meng Di seemed poised to be seized by the scholar, the white-clad cultivator suddenly stiffened, then collapsed to the ground. The glowing hand instantly transformed into a shimmering orb and vanished completely. The black-robed young man stood motionless, utterly at a loss. "Hmph! You've indeed mastered our 'Tai Bai Hua Qi Hand' technique. Yet you've forgotten—my senior wasn't truly here to play chess today." The child calmly rubbed his small hands, murmuring as he spoke. No one in the stone hall, except Han Li, noticed how the child had executed his move or how he had subdued the scholar. With a slightly narrowed gaze, Han Li observed the fallen scholar and then the young attendant, a faint expression of surprise flickering across his face. At the very moment the scholar suddenly launched his attack, Han Li, through his spiritual awareness, noticed a faint red thread flashing out from beneath the young attendant's feet. As this thread entered the scholar's body, the scholar immediately rolled over and collapsed. Initially, Han Li had thought it might be some kind of flying needle-style subtle artifact. However, upon closer inspection with his awareness, he was astonished to find that the red thread carried a subtle, almost imperceptible chill—clearly refined sword qi condensed into thread. This deeply moved Han Li. He had heard before of exceptionally skilled sword cultivators who, at a certain stage of their practice, could freely transform their sword qi into fine threads, capable of overcoming countless techniques with a single sword stroke. Now, he was finally able to witness it firsthand—such a refinement of sword qi into this form was truly astonishing. "Ru, keep him confined within the Dragon-Trap Cave for now. Do not kill him yet. We elder ones still have other purposes for him." The young boy tilted his slender neck slightly, turning his face to the tall, elderly man who had just been playing chess with him. The elder man was startled, and nodded in affirmation. A few steps later, he picked up a scholar and entered through a side door of the stone hall, vanishing without a trace.