As the dragon's roar subsided, the crocodile-like shadow surged skyward, then spiraled before descending. Bloodlight radiated from its back, gradually forming a vivid, lifelike image of a blood-jade crocodile, initially blurry but soon sharp and clear—only a few inches in size. At this moment, the bloodlight shimmered around Han Li's body, glowing from his cheeks to his arms, where clusters of blood-colored scales, each about the size of a thumb, emerged, gleaming with exceptional clarity. A sharp pain surged in his head, after which a slender, delicate crocodile horn, crimson as blood, pierced through. His palms also transformed, each fingertip sharpening into strong, resilient claws. Upon closer inspection, Han Li's transformed appearance bore a striking resemblance to the spirit-mage trapped within the magical array—though Han Li still retained his human features, his scales were vividly blood-red. In contrast, the spirit-mage had two grotesque, head-like forms, its scales purple. Han Li had activated the Spirit-Calling Seal, allowing his true energy to merge with the crocodile spirit's essence, instantly elevating his cultivation level to the peak of the Yuan Ying stage, just one step away from the Now, radiating a blend of azure and crimson spiritual light, he simultaneously grasped the hilt of the Blood Demon Sword with both hands, channeling his entire spiritual power into it. The Blood Demon Sword shuddered violently, then surged with blood-like brilliance stretching several zhang, emitting a sharp, blood-tinged aroma. At the same time, the crimson独角 on Han Li's forehead, fully activated by the power of the Dragon-Soul, glowed vividly red, radiating a piercing brilliance. Han Li had made up his mind: since he had ensnared the demon soul within the sword array, he would absolutely not allow the other ancient demon to escape, or else, should the two demons merge, the situation would become exceedingly troublesome. However, given the other demon's swift mobility, it would have already reached him before the sword array fully closed. The only viable course of action was to launch a preemptive assault and eliminate the demon soul right then and there. With only one demon remaining, he would surely be no match for the gathering group of cultivators. Although the use of the Blood Demon Sword came with significant drawbacks and would inevitably deplete his vital energy, he had already resolved in his heart: after fully destroying this demon, So that the one whose cultivation had significantly diminished wouldn't suffer any unforeseen mishap. Having single-handedly defeated a single monster, he surely wouldn't draw any complaints from the other cultivators. Yet now, the Blood Demon Sword seemed like an endless abyss, swiftly consuming half of Han Li's spiritual energy. The crimson blade shimmered and fluctuated, stretching to a width of six or seven zhang. The concentration of gathered spiritual energy was so strong that even Han Li himself was quietly astonished. The magical soul of the sword array fixed its gaze upon the blade, and gradually, a hint of fear began to appear on its face. "Do you intend to die? You're recklessly driving our holy artifact of the Sacred Realm to such extremes—do you wish to be transformed into a demon?" The soul finally could bear no longer, and with both heads raised, it thundered in protest. Han Li merely sneered, continuing to pour spiritual energy into the sword, paying it no heed. The soul was instantly furious. It knew now that Han Li had resolved to kill it. Its face immediately darkened with stormy clouds. Suddenly, a flash of blood surged, and with a single motion, he severed his own arm. The wound was smooth as a mirror, leaving not a single drop of blood behind—extremely strange! Yet, as the arm fell, it had already been caught in his other hand. He then exhaled, spitting out several mouthfuls of pure essence blood, while simultaneously uttering a low, ancient incantation. The severed arm immediately began to glow and shimmer, blood radiance pulsing through it. After a moment of twisting and writhing, it transformed into a long sword resembling the Blood Demon Sword. This sword was pale and covered in dark magical energy, which surged upward in fine threads as it was merely waved. The spirit sword then crossed before him, and as it did, he poured more of his inner magical energy into it. Instantly, black swordlight erupted and rapidly intensified. Han Li, witnessing this, was both surprised and deeply impressed by the demon's ruthlessness. Though he didn't know exactly what power this self-sacrificing transformation bestowed upon the sword, he clearly recognized its significance. He could not afford to overlook it in the slightest. With a slight shift in his mind, he immediately halted the infusion of spiritual power, sharply shaking his hands to hold the Blood Demon Sword, and delivered a fierce strike straight toward the spectral souls within the sword formation. He would not allow the enemy to fully unleash the sword's potential—launching an attack right away. A blade of blood, stretching over ten zhang in length, sliced silently forward, pressing down with an imposing, chilling presence. Even before the blade reached the formation, the spectral souls were overwhelmed by the surging waves of blood-like atmosphere. The space within the formation trembled and began to warp and distort, resonating with an unfamiliar, low hum echoing simultaneously from all directions. The spectral souls were stunned. This phenomenon clearly indicated that the sword had been fully activated—a level of performance that, according to their memory, should only be achievable by the holy artifacts of the Demon Realm, or by human cultivators of exceptional caliber. Could this be related to the transformation the opponent had just undergone? Though this demon had witnessed the ancient great war, he had no idea that later human cultivators had developed such an astonishing scroll technique—the "Spirit-Reducing Scroll." Naturally, he was utterly baffled. Yet now, with his life hanging in the balance, he could not afford to ponder this matter further. He only managed to hastily lift the bone sword, which had just been infused with a modest amount of spiritual power, and with a sharp motion, sent it upward. At once, both of the two heads roared in unison. A dark sword aura, slightly smaller than the blood-like glow, shot forth from the bone sword, emitting a sharp cry, and directly confronted the blood glow in the air. A moment later, the two sword auras collided. A thunderous roar, like a bolt of lightning in clear sky, erupted from the heavens. The two auras instantly intertwined and entwined. Waves of wind, swirling like hurricanes, burst out from the point of impact, blowing the silver-haired elder backward several steps before he could finally steady himself. As for Han Li, leveraging his profound cultivation level nearing the mid-Stage of Yuan Ying, he merely wavered slightly, stepped back half a step, and then remained still. Yet the spirit-mage remained utterly unmoved, merely gazing upward with a slight tension in his expression. A scene that both Han Li and the spirit-mage found astonishing unfolded. As the gust of wind passed, a dark, dull, fist-sized sphere suddenly emerged amidst the interweaving swordlight, then rapidly expanded, twisted, and elongated. In an instant, a long, dark, strip-like object—several meters in length and several feet in width—appeared above the sword formation. Han Li stood stunned, still trying to comprehend what was happening, when a broad spectrum of five-colored glimmers flashed briefly and then tilted off the elongated form. Due to the proximity and the speed of the glimmers, neither the spirit-mage nor Han Li, who stood at the edge of the formation, could react in time and were instantly enveloped by the radiance. They were then drawn upward with a powerful suction force, while the elder standing fifteen paces away managed to escape the envelopment. "It's a spatial rift!" Han Li realized instantly. Instantly startled, Han Li tried to force himself out of the glow. But as soon as he summoned his spiritual power, he suddenly paled—his entire inner energy vanished without a trace, leaving not a single strand of power available. Drenched in a cold sweat, Han Li watched helplessly as he was drawn into the spatial rift. In panic, he sent a desperate, urgent mental signal to the Qingzhu Fengyun Sword array below. The magical soul, likewise being pulled into the glow, seemed to face the same fate, his face filled with terror. Then, after flashing several times, a cluster of black magical flames suddenly materialized beside the spatial rift as if by teleportation, vanishing instantly to reveal a colossal figure resembling a divine mage—another ancient demon whose body had been transformed into that of a demon. Seeing his magical soul being drawn into the spatial rift, the demon was both astonished and furious, yet dared not step within the radiance of the ethereal glow. However, he just happened to witness the final few spears of green bamboo-honeyed swords launched by Han Li flying toward the rift. Without hesitation, he extended his hand and reached out toward the flying swords in the air. Instantly, a massive magical claw materialized above the swords and swept them toward the rift. Most of the swords emitted a clear, resonant sound and, with their extraordinary awareness, swiftly maneuvered and dodged, shooting straight into the rift. Only two golden swords, unable to evade in time, were caught and firmly grasped by the claw, completely immobilized. At that very moment, a purple fire ball roared forth from an unknown direction and, as if by chance, also entered the rift after soaring through the mountain range. The towering ancient demon was momentarily startled, just as he was about to make another move, when the rift in the sky suddenly trembled, swiftly contracting and sealing itself, vanishing within moments. At that instant, only the elves and the nearby silver-haired elder, wide-eyed and stunned, remained. The ancient demon stared in disbelief at the spot where the space rift had disappeared, his expression filled with astonishment. Then, his face contorted sharply, and he turned with a fierce, wrathful gaze toward the elder. The silver-haired elder was startled, quickly raised his hand and launched a yellow flying sword, shielding his entire body, then slowly retreated, muttering in growing concern. Yet, as his eyes instinctively scanned left and right, a look of surprise brightened on his face. "Huh! Isn't this Master Cheng? What on earth has happened here? What kind of creature is this?" A calm voice suddenly echoed from afar, and a group of clerics dressed in green robes appeared a hundred paces away. A green-robed elder at the forefront gazed upon the colossal ancient demon with two heads and six arms, his face expressing astonishment. This man was Dongmen Tu, the Grand Elder of Yuling Sect. The three figures behind him were the remaining three among the Five Elemental Infant Spirits. "Indeed, I share this very question!" At nearly the same moment, a沉沉 voice from another direction echoed. Then, a dozen beams of spiritual light shot forth, each of the figures clad in black robes—clearly disciples of the Gui Ling Sect. The one who spoke was Elder Zhong of Gui Ling Sect. Both groups had witnessed the final moment when the spatial rift vanished, each one deeply amazed. "This story is quite lengthy. Let us first deal with this demon. However, my esteemed friends, do take care—this demon is exceptionally formidable; even a slight lapse could prove fatal." The silver-haired elder smiled sadly, speaking with the strength of his concentrated spirit. Dongmen Tu and the elderly Zhong-family elder exchanged a look of puzzlement, then immediately fell silent, swiftly becoming highly alert and guiding the disciples behind them to gather closely, forming a protective circle around the towering monster. The two massive ghost heads of the magical soul slowly turned, surveying the human cultivators around. One face twitched slightly at the corner of the mouth, revealing a deep sense of hostility. The other, however, displayed a half-smiling expression, with a hint of contempt in its eyes. It said nothing, but with a gentle sweep of its four arms, four enormous, jet-black blades of light materialized in its hands. As it slightly shook them, sharp, piercing cries resonated from each blade. Upon seeing this familiar scene, the silver-haired elder immediately grew visibly concerned.