Han Li lay motionless on the ground, feeling the scorching heat of the earth. Without a doubt, according to the human realm's customary cycle of one day and one night, he had been lying here for three months. He said this because, now, he could see three brilliant suns and four hazy lunar shadows in the sky above him. Han Li knew well that, as night approached, these suns would gradually transform into moons, and when daylight returned, the moons would one by one become intensely bright and scorching, then gradually morph into seven new suns. Thus, in the sky, there would always be seven luminous celestial bodies—during the day, they would be intensely hot and overwhelming, and at night, they would grow cool and dim. And if his sense of perception was correct, both day and night here were remarkably long, likely more than three times as long as in the human realm. The temperature difference between day and night was astonishingly stark—had it not been for his unusually exceptional constitution, he would have surely perished long ago. This place was clearly not the human realm, yet whether it belonged to the spiritual realm remained uncertain in Han Li's mind. He wasn't entirely sure. On one hand, the ambient qi here wasn't particularly dense, resembling ordinary spiritual veins of the spiritual realm. On the other hand, the way he arrived here was quite unusual—entirely accidental—so much so that he wasn't certain if he had truly reached the spiritual realm. Recalling the events he had experienced at the spatial node, Han Li's complexion had grown noticeably pale, and he felt a deep sense of unease. After all, had it not been for the unexpected incident during the final stretch of his journey through the node, he would have had no confidence at all in successfully navigating the successive waves of spatial storms that occurred at the end. Indeed, his protective treasures had been destroyed in nearly ten out of every ten instances, and even such a precious spiritual artifact as the Eight-Spirit Ruler had been lost. Even if the Huá Líng Seal had taken effect, he likely would have been reduced to ashes in the spatial storm. Yet, his current condition is no better. Having just emerged from the spatial node and arrived here, the binding spells originally established between him and the Ice Phoenix have now activated with deadly force due to their separation. Had he not known enough secret techniques to swiftly apply another one and forcibly suppress these spells, he would have suffered a reversal of his inner qi and perished on the spot. Nevertheless, even with this intervention, the residual power of the spells continues to surge erratically within him, disrupting and damaging various meridians. Without the Wood-Spring Pearl exerting its immortality powers to continuously mend his body, his physical form would have been utterly shattered long ago. Currently, within his body, one force constantly damages while another continuously repairs—this process is profoundly painful. He is unable to summon any inner energy or move even a single limb, and the damaging force is still progressing faster than the restorative one. Thus, when time passed, the physical body would inevitably collapse. In a state of desperation, Han Li resorted to the method of virtualizing his Yuan婴, painfully expelling all his treasures and storing them in his storage bags, then dispersing his Yuan婴 itself and forcibly channeling the vast essence generated from the Yuan婴 into every part of his body to strengthen the healing process. However, the cost of this approach was that for over a hundred years, he would have no trace of spiritual power—neither able to absorb any spiritual energy nor to utilize his divine awareness. At this point, even higher-ranked cultivators, merely using their divine awareness to briefly scan his body, would perceive him as an ordinary mortal, easily failing to detect any abnormalities. This desperate measure proved highly effective. After more than three months, the residual force of the seal finally vanished, and his meridians regained most of their former strength. According to his estimation, within a month or so, he might be able to resume normal movement once again. He silently pondered, then strained to tilt his head slightly, and what met his gaze was an endless expanse of pale gray gravel, devoid of a single blade of grass. He found himself on a desolate plain resembling a desert, half of his body concealed beneath this strange sand, lying still and motionless. The sun, which had begun as three, then reduced to two, and finally to one, gradually dimmed the sky, taking on the hue of dusk. At this moment, Han Li did not close his eyes; instead, he widened them, with a subtle blue glow flickering within his pupils, fixing his gaze steadily upon the heavens. Not long after, several sharp cries echoed from the skies nearby, followed by one after another dark spots appearing in the air—twenty or more—each spiraling before plunging downward in a swift descent. Though Han Li had not poured any magical energy into his eyes, merely narrowing them slightly, his extraordinary vision allowed him to clearly discern each of those dark shapes. To their surprise, they were all black, eagle-headed, bat-bodied creatures, each measuring four or five feet in height, with a pair of luminous, sharp claws growing from their underbellies. When their black, flesh-like wings spread out, they appeared terrifyingly fierce. Han stood motionless, yet his chest, which had been slightly drawn in, suddenly expanded, and a strong, white-washed gust of wind burst forth from his mouth, striking the heap of sand and gravel. A sharp rushing sound erupted as the wind tore through the air, transforming the sand and gravel into a dense shower of bright green glimmers that surged downward like a gentle rain, striking the lead group of monstrous birds with a series of dull "pffft" sounds. In a moment, the once expansive grayish sand plain was left with only Han Li standing alone... Han Li's expression remained calm, as though he had grown accustomed to such solitude, his eyes flickering as if pondering something deep within. After an indeterminate length of time, the final sun in the sky gradually dimmed and began to shift in form. This magnificent spectacle, Han Li had witnessed countless times on the ground, yet the sight of seven luminous crescent moons rising in the heavens still stirred a profound sense of awe within him. Suddenly, Han Li's expression changed, his face revealing a look of surprise and uncertainty—though he could only slightly tilt his head, making no other movement. A while later, a deep rumbling sound came from one direction, subtly interwoven with the clatter of hooves and vehicles in motion, as though a large number of people and horses had swiftly passed by. Han Li furrowed his brows, hesitating, uncertain whether he should take the initiative to draw the attention of these travelers. If he didn't speak up, and his body was half buried in the emerald sand, it would have been difficult for the others to notice him. But right away, the hesitation in Han Li's heart vanished entirely. A bright red fist, with a fiery red bird perched upon it, appeared mysteriously in the sky above him, hovering at a height of thirty to forty zhang above the ground, circling steadily and emitting a pleasant, clear melody. Though the sound wasn't loud, it was exceptionally melodious and could be heard clearly over several miles. Clearly, it was conveying messages to the carriages and groups passing by. Han Li took a deep breath. Given the current situation, even if he tried to reenact his previous method of projecting sand grains to summon the bird, he would surely be unable to do so—there was nothing he could do but wait patiently. Indeed, not long after, the ground beneath him began to tremble slightly, as though something was rushing toward him from the direction of the approaching carriages. A low roar echoed, and several knights riding strange beasts arrived near Han Li, halting at a distance and silently gazing at him, their eyes cold and impassive. Han Li tilted his head, taking in these "men" at a glance. Indeed, though their attire was somewhat unusual, they were unmistakably human. A slight relief eased his mind. The knights were all middle-aged men, aged between twenty and forty, dressed in varied styles—some clad in fully polished armor, others simply covered with a few glowing bone plates at key points, their setup quite simple. Yet regardless of their attire, each carried a heavy, staff-like weapon: the upper half thickened with several concentric rings, densely packed with sharp spikes, resembling a wolf's toothed mace. But what caught Han Li's attention most were the monstrous creatures beneath these people—each resembling a massive, green wolf, yet bearing a straight, dark, lustrous spike on its head. Thick plates of armor covered its waist and massive limbs, reaching up to two zhang in length, giving the creatures a particularly fierce and imposing appearance. As Han Li observed them, the knights on the creatures seemed to sense his hesitation. Their previously taut expressions softened slightly, though they still maintained a reserved distance and did not approach casually. Suddenly, a sturdy man in his forties, with a deep scar across his face, turned to speak to a young man standing beside him. The young man, with short hair, quickly fumbled in his cloak, producing a round, pale disc. Then, he guided his monstrous mount toward Han Li. The young man stopped again several zhang away from Han Li, chattering in a stream of incomprehensible words. Seeing Han Li show no reaction, he furrowed his brows, scrutinizing him repeatedly. Then, he raised his hand and gently shook the circular disc in Han Li's direction. (First update!)