Chapter 1176: You Too Enter the Hall

Time trickled by, the distant sun sinking in the west. The mountaintop was bathed in slanting rays, as if adorned with golden Buddha light, radiating myriad beams.

Nearly a hundred people had already gathered on the summit square. Among them were over a dozen cultivators at the Great Luo stage, including sixteen chieftains of the sixteen great wild tribes. The remaining few were leaders of the most powerful tribes among the top hundred.

Apart from them, the others were the most gifted and pure-blooded youths of their respective tribes—only such individuals could endure the trials of the ancient mountain path and reach the summit.

Among them, the Huntun tribe had the largest number, with over a dozen members present, while the Banshan Ape tribe had the fewest, with only Yuan Shanbai.

The Huntun tribe was the main bloodline descendant of Rahu, one of the eight true spirit kings. Their tribe was vast, and their overall strength even surpassed that of the Yingma tribe, making them a formidable force in the wildlands.

Their current chieftain was a tall, sturdy middle-aged man clad in a gaudy embroidered purple robe, over which he wore a half-body black scale armor. His muscles bulged, exuding explosive power.

His features were extremely ugly, his face seemingly covered with a layer of armor, covered in protruding spikes. His wide mouth resembled a toad's, and beneath his chin grew a short purple beard, bristling like steel needles, giving him a resolute and fierce look.

His aura was immensely powerful, comparable to a late-stage Great Luo cultivator.

At that moment, his gaze swept across the square, a flicker of doubt flashing in his eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he walked to the center of the square and bowed respectfully to one person standing there.

That person, clad in a pure white robe, had handsome features and an extraordinary bearing—none other than the true spirit king Bai Ze.

"Your Majesty, all the wild tribes have gathered. There should be no more climbers on the Eight Wastelands Ancient Path. Why hasn't the Blood Sacrifice Assembly begun?" the Huntun chieftain asked.

"No hurry. We're waiting for one more person; they should be arriving soon," Bai Ze said, glancing at Xiao Bai, who had just woken up not long ago.

As his words fell, a suppressed low roar came from the northern edge of the square. A spider-like figure leaped from beneath the cliff and landed on the square.

The newcomer was none other than Han Li.

Having utilized the Heavenly Fiend Town Prison Art and true spirit bloodline, supplemented by time laws, he had finally reached the summit after three hours.

Xiao Bai spotted Han Li bathed in the golden light of the mountaintop and immediately ran toward him.

On the other side, Liu Le'er's face lit up with joy as she hurried to meet him.

A flash of light flickered around Han Li, and the bizarre three-headed, six-armed form vanished completely, restoring him to his original state.

But the strange image he had manifested earlier had already caught the eyes of others, and the peculiar aura emanating from his body had also been detected by the crowd.

The long-browed elder of the Moving Mountain Ape clan merely narrowed his eyes slightly, showing no great surprise, while the other clan leaders were somewhat unsettled.

“A human… How can a human ascend our sacred mountain?” A middle-aged man, about ten feet tall, with a purple face and short beard, resembling a qilin-leopard in appearance, and bearing black fleshy wings on his back, spoke first, his tone filled with anger.

He was the clan leader of the Flying Leopard clan, which was also a descendant lineage of Taowu, though not as pure as the Zouyu clan, having branched off from an elder of the Zouyu clan.

Although they were one of the Sixteen Great Desolate Clans, they were always considered a generation beneath the Zouyu clan.

“How does he possess true spirit auras, and more than one?” Another man, with an eagle’s head and a human body, holding a halberd, shouted loudly. The two wings on his back involuntarily spread slightly, crackling with silver electric threads.

This man was the clan leader of the Silver-Winged Thunder Roc clan, one of the Sixteen Great Desolate Clans.

Among the other clan leaders of the Sixteen Great Desolate Clans, half were also furious and alarmed, each eager to kill Han Li without delay.

Among the Qingyuan Ape clan, a stooped, pale-faced elder saw this and only sneered coldly to himself, saying nothing.

He was the chieftain of the Qingyuan Ape clan, one of the few among the sixteen great desolate clan chieftains who knew Han Li's identity in advance.

Qingdian and Qingchu stood behind him, also glaring at Han Li with resentment.

Baize, seeing the growing anger among the crowd, could not help but frown slightly.

"Honored chieftains, please calm down. This Daoist Han Li has been specially invited by the king to observe the ceremony." Liqima, standing behind him, immediately understood and stepped forward between the crowd and Han Li, announcing loudly.

Upon hearing this, the crowd instantly fell silent. Though their doubts remained unresolved, no one dared to question further.

"Rest assured, everyone. This Daoist Han is a friend of our desolate tribes. It was he who found the sole surviving bloodline of the Mo Yan Pi Xiu King among the eight ancient kings and escorted it all the way back," Liqima continued.

"So it's him..." someone in the crowd exclaimed in astonishment.

Evidently, some of Han Li's deeds had already spread among the true spirits of the desolate lands.

Han Li was not surprised by the crowd's reaction. His gaze swept across the square, and when his eyes fell upon the members of the Zouwu clan, his look paused slightly. It was him?

At the front of the Zouwu clan stood a tall, white-haired youth with a grim countenance, clad in a white brocade robe with gold trim, his hands clasped behind his back, smirking at him.

Han Li recognized him at once—this was the man who had tried to rob him of his Dao Pillar years ago, and the latter likewise recognized him.

The same thought occurred to both: what a small world…

When Han Li shifted his gaze to the Tianhu clan, he noticed a familiar figure among the crowd—none other than Hu San.

Hu San’s eyes met Han Li’s, and they nodded to each other. Before they could communicate telepathically, Han Li was called over by Liqima and led to the center of the square.

“Greetings, True Spirit King.” Han Li clasped his fists and bowed to Bai Ze.

The latter smiled and nodded, then glanced at the western sky, where the deep blue was dotted with many stars, twinkling faintly.

“Perfect timing. The ceremony can begin.” Bai Ze nodded and said to himself.

Upon hearing this, the clan leaders immediately organized their members, who gathered neatly in the square.

Bai Ze stepped before the crowd, swept his gaze over them, and spoke:

“Today’s Blood Sacrifice Assembly is a rare grand event in the history of our myriad wild clans. The reasons it has not been held for eons cannot be fully explained. Now that chaos is stirring across the Immortal Realm, it seems the great tribulation foreseen by Mo Yan Pixiu has arrived. Our wild clans are caught in the current, unable to resist the flood.”

Many in the crowd looked puzzled, but the clan leaders’ expressions shifted dramatically—clearly, few knew of the prophecy left by the True Spirit King Mo Yu.

Han Li naturally knew nothing of this, but having experienced the changes in the Immortal Realm over the years, he had sensed something, and thus understood Bai Ze’s words better than the younger members of the wild clans.

In the great currents of the world, only those who sense the wind before it rises, or even before it stirs, and prepare accordingly, can avoid being swept away when the storm breaks, and instead stand proudly at the crest.

Little Bai stood beside Han Li, not fully understanding the meaning, but knowing it was a prophecy from Mo Yan Pixiu, he listened with great attention.

“Today, with the blood sacrifice, we shall open the Wild Sanctum and the Shura Blood Gate. The eight thrones of the wild kings have been vacant too long; it is time to summon them back and restore the glory of the wilds.” Bai Ze continued, golden light flickering in his eyes.

“Eight kings return, restore glory!”

“Eight kings return, restore glory!”

…

With these few words, he ignited the passion of the wild clans, who began to shout loudly.

Han Li felt a flicker of doubt—could this Blood Sacrifice Assembly be some kind of ritual to summon the missing True Spirit Kings?

“Sixteen wild clans, where are the blood sacrifice candidates?” Bai Ze called out.

From the Yingma clan, Liqima stepped forward first, chest high, imposing, standing at the front of the line.

From the Tianhu clan, Liu Le’er also stepped lightly forward, coming before her people.

Next, from the Qingyuan clan, Qing Dian strode forward to the front. His broken fang, which Han Li had snapped earlier, had somehow been reattached, looking as good as new.

From the Zouwu clan, the grim white-haired youth stepped out, arms crossed, standing at the front.

From the Huntun clan, a giant man in black scale armor emerged, his face like a wild boar, with lips protruding and three pairs of gleaming white fangs curved like crescent moons, looking quite ferocious.

From the Yinchi Leipeng clan, a bare-chested youth with silver hair standing on end stepped forward. A golden lightning mark was on his brow, and two wings sprouted from his back, crackling with electric sparks.

From the Banshan Yuan clan, the little white ape also came forward, glancing toward Han Li.

Little Bai, standing beside Han Li, hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him.

Han Li smiled and nodded at him, and Little Bai left his side to stand before the line.

These eight clans were the direct bloodline descendants of the ancient eight wild kings; the other eight clans, such as the Tongtian Shu, Baizu Long, Huagu She, Tongbi Yuan, and so on, were collateral branches.

Each of them also sent one person to serve as an attendant in the sacrifice.

“All blood sacrifice candidates, follow me into the sanctum. The rest remain in the square and await the activation of the formation.” Bai Ze commanded.

“As the king commands.” The crowd shouted in unison.

With that, Bai Ze turned and walked toward a circular stone hall at the rear of the square. Liqima and the others followed behind, heading in the same direction.

“You, enter the hall as well.” Bai Ze suddenly stopped, turned to look at Han Li, and said.