"Somewhat impressive. It managed to withstand a single blow from my senior, though no matter how hard they struggle, it's merely a mantis attempting to block a cart axle." The black-robed young man observed the appearances of Han Li and Zhi-shui, his expression briefly startled, but then a cold smile spread across his lips. Raising his other hand, he pointed a finger at the two with a subtle gesture. "Whoosh! Whoosh!" Two black dots shot out from the tip of his finger, darting across a hundred paces in a single flash, and landed just at the reach of Han Li and the young Ling clan member. Han Li's eyes flashed blue, and he clearly saw the nature of the objects—small, round, dark, and luminous, resembling a grain of bean. Though unremarkable in appearance, Han Li dared not allow it to draw near. Without hesitation, he inhaled deeply and then forcefully exhaled, launching a wave of pale green swordlight that swept through and cleaved the black orb in two. At that very moment, the two splintered pill fragments burst open, instantly transforming into two surging streams of black flame. One roared fiercely, engulfing Han Li completely. The magical flames surged wildly around Han Li, then coalesced into a towering column of black fire that shot skyward. For a moment, Han Li appeared utterly unaware of his fate, as if life and death were uncertain. Yet the young mage in black robes clearly trusted his own magical flame. As soon as he saw Han Li being enveloped by the flames, he turned his gaze away, instantly shifting his full concentration to the other—'Zhishui'. Compared to Han Li, the elder mage of the demonic lineage found the young, ethereal being who had calmly absorbed the previous blow even more intriguing. On the other side, Zhishui remained expressionless. With a simple lift of his arm, he parted his fingers and directly reached out to intercept the black flames aimed at him. A deep thud! The black pill burst open instantly upon contact with the young adept's fingers, its contents spilling out as a wave of magical flame surged toward him. "Unfortunate!" The immortal maiden, witnessing this scene, grew deeply alarmed and gasped inwardly, then, without further hesitation, suddenly accelerated the mysterious object within her body. "Boom!" The object flashed with an astonishing surge of energy. At the same time, the maiden's body trembled, and she shot upward from the ground, golden spiritual patterns surging out from within her and spreading rapidly over every part of her form—exactly like those on Zhi-shui's body, flowing and shifting with an eerie grace. Meanwhile, the elder of the Long family and the others, whose upper bodies were still firmly pressed beneath the ground, found themselves unable to summon even a single ounce of magical power or secret technique to free themselves. Each time they tried to lift their shoulders or move, a sudden weight and numbness settled upon their shoulders, rendering them completely immobile—like colossal mountains, each weighing over a hundred thousand catties, pressing down upon them with unyielding force. Despite their full reserves of magical energy, they were thus completely immobilized, trapped in place. At the very moment the stillness of the thousand-year-old holy maiden became unusually intense, as if sensing something, the silver spiritual patterns on her body flashed several times. Suddenly, she opened her mouth, blew a strong gust of air against the surging waves of magical flame rushing toward her. A piercing cry, as though the entire sky had been torn apart, erupted from the young man's mouth, followed instantly by a surge of silvery sonic waves. Upon contact with this silvery wave, the advancing magical flame trembled slightly and then shattered into scattered points of dark light, extinguished. However, the consequence of this action caused the silver spiritual patterns on the young man's body to flash briefly before gradually dimming. Yet, despite this, he remained standing with his fists clenched, his expression still utterly still and expressionless. "Hm. It seems to be a false immortal automaton—no, rather weak, as though crafted later by someone. Its aura is far inferior to that of a genuine false immortal automaton." Upon observing this scene, the young man in black robes murmured a light "Hm," showing mild surprise, then chuckled softly, and with a subtle finger-tap, extended a single finger. By the sound of his voice, this Ling race cultivator known as "Zhishui" was nothing more than a puppet! A sharp, piercing sound erupted as a cluster of black light emitted a harsh cry from his fingertip. After swelling and contracting, it condensed into a slender, dark, silvery needle, which he then lightly flicked out. The black light vanished silently, fading instantly. A Ling race youth standing a hundred paces away saw his silver patterns suddenly flash wildly, detaching from his body and spinning rapidly—transforming at an astonishing speed into a weathered, silver shield, which now stood before him. Then, a thunderous boom! The shield trembled violently, and a burst of black light bloomed out, only to vanish again—revealing a dark hole now forming on its surface, roughly the size of a thumb. "Zhishui" remained motionless in place, yet a strange, intensely cold gray-white aura suddenly surged from his body. After briefly coalescing and shaping, it expanded into several gray-white tendrils, each as thick as a large bowl. These grotesque tentacles swayed wildly around, and within their movements, a low roar of fury and rage seemed to emanate—so powerful that merely hearing it sent a shiver of dread through the listeners. From the air, the young clad in black observed the scene, his eyes narrowing slightly, a quiet scorn evident on his face. "Zhǐshuǐ's" outburst, though impressive, was no more than a fleeting moment. Within mere breaths, the dozen jagged tentacles clinging to his body trembled and dissolved, and the silver shield before him vanished silently, as if it had never been there. "Gurgle!" The young spirit figure collapsed to the ground without any prior warning, a dark spot appearing between his brows and instantly expanding into a hole of the same size as the shield. The magical needle launched by the black-robed youth not only pierced the silver shield but also easily passed through Zhǐshuǐ's head, demonstrating a mastery of power so profound that even the assembled merged beings could scarcely imagine its depth. Yet more strange was that what surged forth from the stillness of the wound was not a fresh red fluid, but clumps of gray-white, damp, ethereal qi, thick and viscous—dense as liquid. "Interesting," murmured the young man in black robe, gazing at the scene with quiet contemplation, then turning his gaze to the thousand-years-old maiden and asking coldly, "The driving force is not the immortal crystal, but the demonic essence of a celestial demon. Such a haphazard amalgamation—no wonder this so-called pseudo-immortal is utterly overwhelmed. Did you place the demon's soul within when you sent her in?" At that very moment, as the stillness collapsed to the ground, the thousand-years-old maiden's face was filled with disbelief and terror. As she had just begun to utter the word "I," her golden patterns on her body blurred, and she too rolled over and fell. A dull thud! Her body curled tightly and crashed to the ground, her breath now erratic—alternating between strong and weak—her surface golden spiritual patterns flickering in and out, as if they were about to vanish entirely. "Half-crippled!" The young man in black robes was first taken aback, but soon brightened up, clapping his hands with a clear sense of understanding, as though he had finally grasped the situation. "Heh, heh," he chuckled, his spirits lifting. "A mere Consolidated Stage cultivator? To expect such a favorable opportunity to activate a pseudo-Immortal Puppet? Even if he sacrifices his own form, reducing himself to a half-worn state to control it, the very Immortal Patterns could reverse and claim his life! Nevertheless, considering that you've willingly offered this pseudo-Immortal Puppet to me, I shall personally escort you to your final journey." With that, he raised one hand and, with a graceful gesture toward the ground, lightly swept the space before the thousand-years-old noble maiden. A soft "pffft" sound echoed as ripples of spatial disturbance spread out, and a half-foot-long black dagger materialized, radiating an intense aura of spiritual pressure. It shimmered briefly before vanishing. Yet, at the very next moment, as a flash of black light passed through, the dagger reappeared—strangely, precisely where it had been. At that moment, the thousand-years-old holy maiden, who had shrunk into a ball on the ground, suddenly gave out a piercing, heart-wrenching cry—her body and inner spirit split cleanly in two, with no prior warning, while her protective aura and all her defensive artifacts remained completely unchanged and unresponsive. A sharp hiss! The two splintered bodies were unexpectedly engulfed by a surge of strange, roaring magical flames, instantly reduced to ashes and vanished within moments—leaving behind only a small, ancient mirror, about a few inches in diameter. The mirror was flat and circular, with a band of an unknown purple metal encircling its edge. On its back, intricate and finely engraved patterns were clearly visible. However, the surface of the mirror was hazy and blurry, appearing unusually dim, making it difficult to discern anything clearly. "Hmm, this seems familiar. I've seen something like this before! I didn't realize it was a truly sentient artifact—how else could it have withstood such a severe fragmentation. Well, just as I was thinking about it, my elder has recently planned to refine a magical array, and I'll use this very mirror as the stabilizing artifact for the array." Upon seeing the true form of the Celestial Maiden, the young clad-in-black figure was momentarily surprised, yet immediately burst into laughter, raising his hand once more in the air. With a sudden "whoosh," the previously lifeless "Still Water" and the hazy ancient mirror were launched into the space beside him, halting mid-air and hovering motionless. After surveying the two figures, still unmoving, the young man nodded with satisfaction. As his gaze swept over the elder of the Long family and others, still pinned to the ground by the colossal magical hand, a hint of cold resolve passed across his lips. Without further words, he lightly touched the strange black dagger. "Pffft," "Pffft"—the dagger flickered in and out twice. At once, two sharp cries rang out from the pond's edge, and the elderly scholar and the elder Hui were both severed in half, their bodies consumed by the magical flames. The remaining elders of the Long family and the young lady in the feathered robe turned pale, their faces drained of color. "A Heavenly Treasure of the Xuan Tian!" The old patriarch of the Long family roared with shock and fury. Aside from such a legendary artifact said to be of supreme value across the realm, no matter how great the other's powers, it would have been impossible for them to eliminate nearly half of their party in a single encounter. Though they had already known that the young man in the black robe was indeed a genuine Mozu Saint Patriarch, they had never imagined such ruthless action—having simply summoned the Heavenly Treasure without even asking a single question. As a result, the two who had previously held other intentions were now utterly stunned and furious, immediately activating their life-saving measures. With a mighty roar, the old patriarch of the Long family struck his celestial crown, and as golden light flashed, a radiant five-clawed true dragon burst forth from within. Initially no larger than an inch, the dragon instantly expanded to over ten zhang in height upon emerging from the patriarch's skull, its body swelling with the wind, and then surged upward, emitting a deep, resonant dragon's roar directly toward the young man in the black robe. Although the Maid of Feathers did not move an inch, she bit down firmly on her silver teeth and then exhaled a cluster of pure blood. As the blood spiraled and dispersed in the wind, it transformed into a mist that rushed toward her and settled upon her five-colored feather robe, where it gently seeped and absorbed. Immediately, a melodious phoenix call resonated within the robe, unfolding countless waves of radiant five-toned light stretching a thousand paces. These light waves quickly coalesced and solidified into an exquisitely crafted full-body armor, which firmly enveloped her entire form—down to her face, where a translucent five-colored mask emerged, revealing only her two bright, lively eyes. As for the white-clad figure, she remained motionless within the radiance, as if either concealing a secret plan or truly powerless against the magical grasp that held her in place.