The Yuan-Stage cultivator, upon seeing the black fissure appear, grew paler with each burst—each time, the crack widened noticeably. After numerous bell chimes, the black fissure had expanded into a semicircular opening, filled with swirling black mist and gusts of cold wind, making it impossible to see clearly. "Gagga!" A most unusual, eerie laugh suddenly erupted from within. Han Li's pupils contracted, his body radiating a brilliant golden glow, and his Yuan-magnetic divine light surged slightly, shielding him thoroughly. He did not take the spiritual artifact lightly. At that moment, an odd phenomenon unfolded. Suddenly, black filaments began to rise around Han Li, swirling around his body, yet they made no move to attack. Han Li was momentarily stunned, still unsure of the nature of this spell, when the black filaments suddenly transformed and coalesced into a dark luminous array, precisely encircling and trapping him. "Unfortunate!" Han Li was startled, a flash of gray light rippling across his body and sweeping toward the spell array. Yet it was clearly too late. The black spell array glowed once, and Han Li spun wildly before suddenly vanishing—along with the massive cauldron and the golden lotus—right where he had stood. In the next instant, he stumbled, materializing suddenly in a strange, dark and misty space, where four towering black silhouettes loomed and mournful ghostly wails rose. He had been directly drawn into the black fissure. Upon seeing this, Han Li first paused in astonishment, then smiled—his expression grew even more composed, and instead of being alarmed, he laughed. At the same time, the elder man with a raised brow, whose Yuan婴 (immortal embryo) had been hovering, quickly renewed his efforts to ring the black bell. As the bell rang, the opening of the fissure gradually closed, finally condensing into a faint, slender black line about fifteen zhang long, hovering motionless in the air. Then the Yuan婴 flashed once and returned to his physical form. The elder man's true body opened his eyes, now smiling with a shade of grim amusement. That black fissure is a realm uniquely forged by the Qianhun Bell itself. Though named "Qianhun," it contains countless spectral spirits—though not quite ten thousand, there are surely eight thousand or more. All these spirits are specially gathered from the refined essences of particularly fierce and monstrous mythical beasts that the deceased had encountered in life, and then meticulously cultivated through secret rituals. Their ferocity remains no less than that of the beasts they once embodied. Among these, one primary spirit within the Bell was itself a celestial spiritual creature of mid-Stage of Transformation, fortunate enough to be specially cultivated into the Bell's central spirit by his master through a rare coincidence. With the aid of the other spectral spirits, this primary spirit's powers can be amplified significantly. Moreover, the realm possesses certain unique restrictions: any cultivator entering it—provided they are not of spectral body—will find their inner cultivation energy substantially limited. Thus, even a cultivator of late Transformation stage would likely face dire circumstances if trapped within. Outside the luminous screen, the golden-armored cultivator gazed upon the faint black line hovering in the sky, his eyes flickering several times, yet took no immediate action. The man with a drooping brow simply settled into a meditative posture in the void, silently waiting for the malevolent spirit within the realm of shadows to consume Han Li and thus conclude this conflict. A flash of inspiration, a streak of jade light burst forth from the opening, instantly morphing into a human figure hovering there. The man with a furrowed brow, a mid-stage Immortal cultivator, seemed to sense something, suddenly lifting his head to gaze in that direction. Yet, as soon as he did, the figure merely moved slightly and vanished from the spot—only moments later, a series of trailing silhouettes revealed the figure now mysteriously appearing behind the man. A roar erupted, shaking the man’s ears with a resonant hum, accompanied by a fierce gust of wind, and a golden fist surged toward him. "Ah!" The man with the furrowed brow gasped, his body staggering as if shattered like a mirror, instantly fragmenting into seven or eight shimmering phantom forms that scattered in all directions. "Hmph! You wish to escape!" The figure in question was none other than Han Li. Throughout his life, he had been known for his cold demeanor. The fist he summoned, though slightly blurred, similarly transformed into seven or eight identical fist-images. With a series of sharp "puff" sounds, each of these fist-images struck precisely at the back of the phantom forms. They all instantly shattered and vanished! Only a small silver shield appeared behind the man's true form, just in time to block a golden fist. "Thud!" The silver light shield barely stabilized the fist before instantly shattering. The golden fist then struck the man's back without hesitation. At the very moment of contact, a layer of green armor suddenly emerged on the man's body. A tremendous roar followed as golden and green light intertwined, and the fist struck hard against the armor. Under the surge of green light, the fist plunged several inches into the armor, and the man with his brows raised screamed, launching himself into the air. Han Li, however, felt a sudden sense of alarm. He clearly sensed that the power of his fist was immense, yet the green armor slid off like a eel, absorbing most of the force, and only a fraction of the impact actually reached the armor. Otherwise, this single blow would have completely penetrated the armor, leaving the man with his brows raised severely injured and unable to move. At the very instant when Han Li was drawn into the spirit realm by the Thousand-Souls Bell, he finally sensed the other's murderous intent, and thus acted without hesitation or mercy. Though he was momentarily surprised that he hadn't yet achieved a decisive victory, he immediately shifted his stance, appearing like a ghostly figure above the man with a furrowed brow. With one hand extended into the air, a golden long sword of about a foot in length suddenly materialized in his grasp. He then shook it slightly, preparing to strike it down in a single, decisive motion. Although the golden sword aura was swift, it still barely struck empty air. Han Li's expression shifted slightly, and as he glanced around, he noticed a burst of yellow light suddenly erupting in the void twenty paces away. From within the glow, two figures materialized strangely—precisely the scar-faced golden-armored cultivator and the Wu-named man. The scar-faced cultivator remained expressionless, while the Wu-named man appeared pale, his chest armor stained with blood, his face filled with resentment as he stared at Han Li. It seemed that even though the Qingming armor had absorbed much of the force, the Wu-named man still coughed up blood, sustaining an internal injury. The visible handprints on his back armor were particularly clear. Han Li scanned the Wu-named man without any visible surprise, then, after his long sword vanished from his hand, bowed respectfully to the golden-armored cultivator. "Thank you, elder, for your timely intervention. Otherwise, I would have nearly failed to land my attack and injured Wu friend just now!" Han Li said seriously. Hearing Han Li's words, the man with the surname Wang felt his face flush with blood, nearly spitting out another mouthful of blood. Han Li hadn't merely been caught off guard—he had clearly intended to kill him, aiming to strike him down with a single sword stroke. The scar-faced cultivator listened intently, his expression briefly shifting with surprise, then settling into a half-smiling demeanor. He spoke calmly from the air: "It is entirely normal to hesitate during a struggle—it's nothing unusual. In this competition for the spiritual land, Wang Daojun has willingly yielded, so Han Daojun is the clear winner. This spiritual land shall now belong to Han Daojun. Do either of you have any objections?" Han Li smiled slightly, naturally choosing not to object, while the man with the surname Wang remained resolute, his face filled with reluctance. Though he tried to speak, he ultimately remained silent. Seeing that neither of them had further words, the scar-faced cultivator nodded and extended his hand toward Han Li, saying, "Please bring forth your Qingming Pendant." "Heard this, Han Li instantly flipped his hand, and the jade pendant of jade-green hue flashed into his grasp before being tossed to the other. The golden-armored cultivator extended his hand, catching the pendant mid-air, while at the same time pressing a pre-prepared jade stone—no larger than a thumbnail—onto the pendant. The stone instantly vanished into the pendant. "The spiritual landmark has been inscribed into your Qingming Pendant," he said. "Unless you voluntarily relinquish this spiritual land in the future, you will no longer be eligible to participate in the next hundred-year cycle of land competitions. You may now leave. The next round is about to begin." After returning the pendant to Han Li, the scar-faced cultivator waved his hand, signaling for the two to depart immediately. At that moment, the white light screens surrounding them had already split open, forming a passage. Han Li said nothing further, bowed slightly, and then transformed into a streak of emerald light, shooting straight through the opening. A few flashes, and he was gone, completely vanished. The senior cultivator with the surname Wang grew increasingly gloomy, remaining silent, and likewise transformed into a yellow stream of light before vanishing from the luminous screen. Yet, as soon as the light around him dimmed slightly, he reappeared, gazed coldly at the direction where Han Li had gone, and then suddenly stomped his foot, transforming into a bright yellow glow and shooting off in the opposite direction. Though he bore internal injuries, his speed was surprisingly swift—by the time a meal had passed, the lady had already materialized in a distant, unfamiliar sky, halting abruptly as the glow of his departure faded. "Indeed, your aura is disordered! Have you failed in your quest for the spiritual land, and sustained injuries as well?" A familiar voice coldly remarked, followed by a flash of emerald light in the surrounding space. Instantly, an emerald dragon, no more than a foot long, materialized, surveyed the man for a moment, and then narrowed his eyes with a sharp tone.