Having felled Gu Yunbie with a single palm strike, Gao Han himself suffered grave internal injuries. He struggled back to Lingyun Peak with sheer willpower, and the moment he shut his door, he could no longer hold back his wounds—spitting a jet of blood three feet across the room.
For all his scathing words toward Gu Yunbie on the Condensation Grounds, his opponent was still a Half-Step True Essence expert, wielding a portion of the power belonging to genuine True Essence masters. Having beaten Gu Yunbie into a comatose state, it was only natural that Gao Han would bear wounds of his own.
In truth, his injuries ran deeper than Gu Yunbie's. Gu Yunbie's meridians had been damaged by Gao Han's frigid qi, yet daily circulation of his own inner energy would mend them in time. Though Gao Han's frost qi was tyrannical, it was still relatively weak, and most of it had been blocked by Gu Yunbie's fists before seeping into his body.
Gao Han's condition was far different. The Ice Peak Roar he had unleashed was a technique he had only just conceived, unrefined and untested. Its power was so overwhelming that, had he not cultivated the Long River Sunset Art—a technique built for amassing immense inner qi—he would have collapsed from qi exhaustion long since.
After Gao Han's departure, the Condensation Grounds descended into uproar.
"Could Gao Han be a True Essence expert? I saw his final palm strike unleash inner force from afar to harm his foe!"
"Impossible. If Gu Yunbie was merely a Half-Step True Essence warrior, how could he have driven a genuine True Essence expert onto the back foot? Gao Han must be a Half-Step True Essence cultivator—a Fallen One!"
The speaker had seen nods of agreement from the crowd, and emboldened by their approval, he rambled on with reckless speculation.
The crowd's approving stares instantly turned to contempt, especially those who had nodded moments before; they longed to strike the man for his foolishness.
Gao Han had just dismantled Gu Yunbie's choice to remain a Fallen One as a path of weakness and cowardice. To claim Gao Han was a Fallen One was an insult to fools themselves. Wild speculations erupted, and word of Gao Han's defeat of Gu Yunbie—the outer sect's number one disciple—spread like wildfire, reaching even many inner sect disciples, who now knew his name well. Numerous female disciples admired him and yearned to stand by his side, stirring resentment among many male cultivators, who sharpened their blades and plotted to teach this upstart a lesson.
Yet no matter how many sought to confront Gao Han, he was nowhere to be found. After his battle with Gu Yunbie, he had vanished as if into thin air.
None knew that, following the duel, Gao Han had returned to his humble dwelling to briefly suppress his wounds before journeying by night to the riverside clearing. There, in the makeshift shelter he had built, he sat in meditation to mend his internal injuries. When hunger struck, he shook fish loose from the river with a burst of qi and roasted them over a fire; when thirst came, he drank the murky river water.
Why had he chosen not to recover in his own chamber?
First, his injuries were severe, and he wished for no interruptions. Second, he intended to cultivate the Phantom Stride, the lightness skill gifted to him by the Scripture Pavilion elder.
Time slipped by swiftly, and a month passed in the blink of an eye. Not only had Gao Han fully recovered from his wounds, but his cultivation had advanced to a new height. He had broken through to the mid-stage of the Ninth Layer of Qi Condensation, and his Long River Sunset Art had reached the eighth level. When he unleashed the Roaring Torrent, its power and grandeur surpassed anything he had wielded before. Moreover, through his successive battles, he had come to understand his weaknesses intimately. He refined the Cold Mountain Palm until its forms flowed seamlessly, nearly perfect; few foes could exploit its remaining flaws, even if they spotted them.
Gao Han now grasped the truth that extreme hardness breaks easily. He revised and refined the Ice Peak Roar, softening its overwhelming power to reduce backlash. Though its might had diminished somewhat, he could now unleash it five times in succession without harming himself, and even in its weakened form, it would defeat Gu Yunbie with ease. He regarded this as one of his ultimate killing techniques.
Regrettably, he still could not execute the eighth form of the Cold Mountain Palm—Majestic Qi. Yet Gao Han understood that, were it so easily mastered, the art would never have earned its status as a high-tier Mortal technique.
On the riverbank, Gao Han paced in a set pattern, pausing to shake his head after each attempt before starting anew. This continued until evening, when his protesting stomach finally forced him to stop.
"The Phantom Stride lives up to its reputation as a technique that stumped even that venerable elder. I have studied it for more than half a month and made no progress at all. Can this truly be a cultivation manual?" he muttered as he roasted fish he had stunned from the river, frustrated that he had not even mastered the first stage, Glimmering Shadow, after endless practice.
Suddenly, Gao Han jolted. What was wrong with him? How could he fall into such a flawed mindset, blaming the manual for his own lack of progress? Was he running from his own limits? No—he would master this technique, no matter the cost.
With his resolve rekindled, he finished his roasted fish and returned to his shelter, sitting in meditation to continue his arduous training and solidify his newly broken-through cultivation and arts.
At dawn the next day, Gao Han slowly opened his eyes and walked to the river to wash his face. The icy water stung his skin pleasantly, sharpening his senses. When he gazed into the water, he saw a disheveled stranger staring back—his hair tangled like a madman's, his clothes tattered and filthy. He smiled bitterly. No wonder men spoke of "martial madmen." After a month without grooming, he looked every bit the part.
After tidying his hair roughly, he studied his reflection in the water, which mimicked his every move. He reached out a finger to touch the surface.
A soft plop echoed as his finger met its reflection, which rippled and dissolved into nothingness. Gao Han felt as though he had grasped a fleeting truth, only for it to slip away. As he pondered, a bird darted across the water's surface, its reflection gliding in perfect unison with its real form.
In that instant, clarity struck him like a temple bell at dawn. Unconsciously, he began to move through the footwork he had memorized so thoroughly, his steps growing swifter by the second. Had anyone watched closely, they would have seen his figure blur until his shadow could barely be seen.
In that moment of connection with the water's reflection, Gao Han had touched upon the Intent of Shadow, barely scraping into the first stage of the Phantom Stride. The art held three grand realms.
The first stage: Glimmering Shadow—swift enough that one's shadow beneath their feet became indistinct.
The second stage: Shadow Like a Companion—unleashing this technique left a trail of afterimages in one's wake. A true master could manifest a solid residual shadow; greater mastery spawned more, increasingly lifelike phantoms.
The third stage: Myriad Shadow Transformation—at its pinnacle, countless illusions bearing the user's exact aura materialized, confounding all who beheld them.
Gao Han came to a halt and let out a long breath. The lightness skill was truly extraordinary; even its first stage required comprehension of Intent. Had he not stumbled upon the Intent of Shadow by chance, he might have cultivated to the Spirit Fusion Realm and still failed to master the first level.
Intent was notoriously difficult to grasp. Some cultivators reached the Spirit Fusion Realm without ever touching its edges. Conversely, those who comprehended Intent were nearly unrivaled among peers.
Calming his surging excitement, Gao Han thought to himself: I need a low-grade spiritual sword and a pair of low-grade battle gauntlets. Fighting with bare hands leaves me vulnerable, and I have long planned to acquire gauntlets.
He thought of his modest silver reserves and smiled bitterly. The two hundred thousand taels in banknotes might seem a fortune to ordinary warriors, but they could barely afford a single low-grade spiritual weapon. Besides, his sister Gao Yang had arrived at the Misty Sect penniless; he could not hoard wealth that ought to be hers.
Gao Han loosely covered his shelter and set off for Pingding Peak, where Wu Yan resided. The mountain was not tall, but it was vast enough to house all the handyman disciples.
"Pardon me, brother. Might you tell me where Wu Yan lives?" Gao Han asked a handyman disciple chopping wood at the foot of the peak.
"Dwelling ninety-six," the youth replied without turning, his tone irritable. "Over a hundred people have asked me that in the past month!"
Gao Han paid the man's impatience no mind; he saw only a bitter, small-minded soul whose poor temperament would limit his future achievements. What surprised him was that so many still sought out Wu Yan after the chaos on the Condensation Grounds.
Gao Han smiled faintly. "Interesting." He walked deeper into the peak. The wood-chopping youth finally looked up, glaring at Gao Han's back with contempt. "Another outer sect disciple asking for Gao Han. That fool must have gotten lucky! And Wu Yan, too!" Jealousy flared in his narrow, shifty eyes.
Before long, Gao Han found Wu Yan's dwelling. To his surprise, it was spacious and tidy, occupied by Wu Yan alone. From Wu Yan's account, he learned that most of the visitors had been female outer sect disciples, asking after Gao Han's whereabouts. Upon learning Wu Yan was his personal handyman, they showered him with smiles, pestering him with questions about Gao Han's favorite colors, foods, and even what kind of girls he preferred.
Gao Han laughed off the tales, then spoke of his desire to earn silver and asked if Wu Yan knew of any opportunities.
Wu Yan grinned. "Simple enough. The Qiling Mountains teem with demonic beasts. Their cores boost cultivation, their pelts forge armor, and their fangs and bones craft weapons. Trade them at the Yi Clan Emporium in Feng City—it's large and reputable. Smaller outposts would just rob and kill you for the goods."
Gao Han nodded slightly. "Do you know Elder Li Changtian?"
"Li Changtian? Lord of Drifting Peak? You know him?" Wu Yan stared at Gao Han as if he were a monster.
Gao Han nodded. "Indeed. The outer sect token I hold was given to me by Elder Li. What is this about him being peak master?"
From Wu Yan's explanation, Gao Han learned that the Misty Sect boasted five supreme peaks. The tallest, Misty Peak, housed the sect's main hall. Four other peaks surrounded it like loyal guardians.
The four peaks were Drifting Peak, ruled by Li Changtian; Drizzling Peak, ruled by Cao Rong; Swift Peak, ruled by Song Lingfeng; and Blossom Peak, ruled by Hua Wuying. Li Changtian was one of the four peak masters, a martial brother of the sect leader, Sun Qingyun.
"To think that unruly old man holds such status. Very well—I shall go to see him," Gao Han said calmly.
Wu Yan stood frozen for three minutes, speechless. Old man? Unruly old man? He tugged at his hair and wailed in agony. "Heavens! What have I heard?!"
After asking for directions, Gao Han arrived at Drifting Peak in a flustered state. The female outer sect disciples he encountered along the way were far too enthusiastic, so he turned to male disciples for guidance and snuck his way to the foot of the peak.
Drifting Peak towered into the clouds, its height dwarfing Lingeming Peak by an immeasurable margin.
Gao Han lifted his foot to step onto the mountain path, but before his foot touched the ground, a woman's icy voice cut through the air. "Take one more step, and I will not hesitate to hurl you off this mountain."
Gao Han halted and looked up. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful, dressed in a blue palace robe, her face as cold and unyielding as eternal ice. She stared at him with frigid disdain.
Gao Han could sense that her cultivation far surpassed the Qi Condensation realm—she was undoubtedly a True Essence expert.
Yet her threat to cast him out grated against his fierce pride. Even knowing she was a True Essence warrior, he spoke coldly and with unbowed dignity. "Senior Sister, I only wish to see Gao Yang of Drifting Peak. If you would announce me, I would be deeply grateful."
"Insolence. A mere Qi Condensation outer sect disciple dares to request an audience with Gao Yang, a personal disciple of the peak? You know not the meaning of death. Today, I shall abolish your cultivation," a calm voice echoed from nowhere.
Gao Han's eyes narrowed. He could not pinpoint the speaker's location, yet the ability to transmit his voice unseen marked him as no ordinary True Essence expert.
"I merely wish to see my sister Gao Yang, and you would cripple me? It seems the disciples of Drifting Peak hold themselves in far too high regard." Though he could not see the man, his arrogant tone, sentencing him to death on a whim, stoked Gao Han's fury.
The man did not reveal himself, pausing for a moment before laughing in contempt. "Gao Yang's brother? You are only at the Qi Condensation realm. How could you possibly be kin to a personal disciple such as her? You come here to deceive us. You court death!"
"Senior Brother Zheng Yunfeng, you would slay an innocent man before verifying his identity?" the cold-faced woman frowned, speaking with clear displeasure toward the unseen speaker.
"Younger Sister Jingyi, do you mean to say I am in the wrong? Do you dare question me?" The voice sharpened with anger.
A flicker of rage crossed the woman's icy features. "Address me by my full name. We are not close. I shall take him up the mountain to see if he truly is Sister Gao Yang's brother. If he is lying, he shall face Master's punishment."
She turned to lead Gao Han upward, but in an instant, a figure blurred into view—one moment halfway up the mountain, the next standing right before Gao Han.
The young man wore white robes, with chiseled sword-like brows, bright starry eyes, and skin pale as jade. A longsword hung on his back, painting the picture of a dashing young hero—yet his sinister, scheming expression shattered the illusion entirely.
"Jingyi…" Zheng Yunfeng began softly, but she cut him off at once. "I told you—we are not close. Use my full name."
Zheng Yunfeng's face twisted with suppressed rage before he exhaled slowly. "Younger Sister Lin Jingyi, why would you turn against me for a mere Qi Condensation outsider?"
The woman's hair stirred without wind. "What bond between us? Speak plainly—I know of none." A formidable aura erupted from her, pressing directly toward Zheng Yunfeng.
A surge of equally powerful force burst from Zheng Yunfeng, clashing with Lin Jingyi's aura. A violent gale exploded between them, bending the surrounding trees to their limits.
The wind soon subsided, and Gao Han stared in astonishment—not at their power, for he was certain that, given time, he would surpass them both. He was stunned that Lin Jingyi would turn on her senior brother over a mere disagreement. It seemed her earlier attitude toward him had been remarkably gentle.
Zheng Yunfeng's face turned ghastly, even green with rage. A flash of resentment and lust flickered in his eyes as he stared at Lin Jingyi. He hid it well, but Gao Han, who had endured the cruelty and warmth of the mortal world since childhood, spotted it instantly.
So Zheng Yunfeng covets Lin Jingyi, Gao Han thought. He glanced at her devastatingly beautiful face, enough to topple kingdoms. Even he could not help but glance twice; it was only natural that Zheng Yunfeng harbored such desires.
Zheng Yunfeng saw Gao Han daring to stare at the woman he considered his own, and blind rage surged through him. "You dare! Die!"
His arm moved like a shadow as he threw a punch at Gao Han from afar. A monstrous wave of force hurtled toward him. Gao Han, already on guard, channeled every ounce of his power and struck back with his killing technique—the Ice Peak Roar.
Block-like shards of frost formed before him, yet they shattered like paper against the overwhelming force. Realizing the danger, Gao Han instantly activated the Phantom Stride's first stage, Glimmering Shadow.
Boom! The spot where he had stood was blasted into a ten-foot-deep crater. Gao Han stared furiously at Zheng Yunfeng from the side. Seeing his strike had missed, Zheng Yunfeng threw another punch at him from a distance—swifter, sharper, and more ferocious than the first.
Lin Jingyi in the distance hastily struck out to deflect the force, but she had been stunned by Zheng Yunfeng's treachery and reacted a heartbeat too late.
Gao Han knew he could not dodge again—an invisible aura had locked him in place, rendering him immobile. He stared calmly at the arrogant Zheng Yunfeng. This grudge, I shall repay.
Gao Han's life hung in the balance.