Zhang Yang extended his hand, and the deep blue stone slowly drifted out of the golden furnace fire, settling in his palm. On the reverse side of this stone was a wide-open eye, so lifelike it seemed carved there, yet the contours around the eye formed three distinct rings, as if three eyes of varying sizes were perfectly superimposed—exactly matching the description of the Three-Eyed Pill in the booklet.

The Three-Eyed Pill differed from other elixirs; if the essential ingredient, the third eye of the Three-Eyed Beast, lost its potency, the resulting pill would become extremely soft. This meant the harder the finished Three-Eyed Pill, the higher its medicinal efficacy.

This exceedingly hard Three-Eyed Pill looked unremarkable, scarcely different from the small pebbles found by the roadside, which paradoxically indicated Zhang Yang’s extremely successful refining process this time. “The Three-Eyed Pill is refined.” After carefully examining the Three-Eyed Pill in his hand for a moment, Zhang Yang let out a soft breath and turned his gaze toward the Antler Illusion Grass plant.

Having successfully refined the Three-Eyed Pill, Zhang Yang intended to maintain the momentum and refine the Antler Pill tonight as well. Currently, it was doubtful that any pharmacy in Huaxia possessed medicinal treasures as complete as those housed in the Long family’s refining chamber.

Although the Antler Pill was also rare, it presented no problem for Zhang Yang. The Three-Eyed Pill demanded speed, requiring refinement in the shortest possible time; conversely, refining the Antler Pill necessitated simmering over a gentle fire, demanding the alchemist's intense concentration and significant time to master the nuances of the flame.

This was not an issue for Zhang Yang. The benefit of advancing to the fifth layer was that Zhang Yang no longer required sleep for rest; his body, tempered by the Ninth Layer Heavenly Tribulation, had undergone a fundamental qualitative change beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

Without the slightest pause, Zhang Yang stored the Three-Eyed Pill and immediately increased the furnace fire, turning his focus to refining the Antler Pill. According to the booklet, refining the Antler Pill required the alchemist to remain beside the refining furnace for three days and three nights, maintaining peak concentration to constantly adjust the flame.

However, with Zhang Yang's current strength, refining the Antler Pill would only take one night. The Old Man and Master Shi Ming had arrived outside the refining chamber, realizing Zhang Yang was now working on the notoriously time-consuming Antler Pill.

Both men frowned almost simultaneously, noticing that Zhang Yang made no attempt to conceal his process, allowing them to easily perceive the subtle manipulation of elemental energy during his refinement. Zhang Yang seemed to open another gateway for the two of them to utilize elemental energy.

As the Old Man and Master Shi Ming watched in astonishment, they realized Zhang Yang was doing this intentionally, aiding them in accessing a new dimension of energy control. For the Old Man, Zhang Pinglu, and Master Shi Ming guarding the door that night, every second was profoundly valuable.

This period offered them a rare opportunity to temper their cultivation and deepen their understanding of how to wield elemental energy. The Old Man, whose inner strength had recovered and whose cultivation had advanced further, experienced the deepest enlightenment and was the first to slip into a state of stillness.

Old Man Zhang Pinglu stood motionless, his entire body stiffening as a layer of pale white mist quickly condensed into frost, clinging tightly to him like silver parchment. Having entered this state of quiescence, the Old Man appeared from a distance as nothing more than a stone statue guarding the refining chamber door.

Master Shi Ming furrowed his brow, striving to perceive the shifts in elemental energy occurring both inside and outside the refining chamber. After a considerable duration, he succeeded in entering the same still state as Zhang Pinglu.

At this moment, Old Man Zhang Pinglu and Master Shi Ming stood sentinel outside the refining chamber like two imposing door gods. Seoul, South Korea—an old man slowly emerged from the airport.

“Ah, technology is becoming increasingly advanced these days. It’s been a long time since I’ve taken a plane… Still, it’s much more liberating to be rid of that rabble of young whelps from the Huang Long Shi clan…” He stretched languidly, murmuring to himself.

Young men and women passing by glanced at him specially, but after muttering something in Korean, they quickly hurried away. Though the old man couldn't understand, he knew they were likely mocking him as a country bumpkin.

He wasn't angered, merely smiling and shaking his head before turning his gaze in another direction. “The Park family.” The corners of the old man’s mouth lifted slightly, revealing a sudden, eerie smile.

In the blink of an eye, the old man who had just left the airport vanished into thin air, drawing no notice whatsoever. Simultaneously, at the foot of Changbai Mountain, another old man stood in a desolate, wild expanse, gazing up at the vast mountain range.

The surroundings were profoundly silent, devoid of even the sounds of birds or insects. Yet, defying common sense, he stood precisely in the center of this barren ground.

If a careful observer stood before him, they would immediately notice that this person was not standing on the ground, but rather upon the wild grasses beneath his feet; the sturdy blades of grass, usually upright, were not bent by his weight. The entire scene was profoundly unsettling; he appeared to be waiting for someone.

A bright moon hung high, with scattered starlight dotting the dark expanse of the night sky. It was already deep into the night, and gusts of desolate wind swept through the wilderness.

The thinly clad old man seemed utterly unaware, having maintained this standing posture for several hours without the slightest movement. Hoo-hoo… Far ahead, several SUVs slowly emerged from Changbai Mountain and stopped beside the monument marking the boundary of Changbai Mountain at its base.

Seeing the arrival of these vehicles, the old man finally moved. Suddenly, as agile as a leopard, the old man dropped low, his hands and feet propelling him forward, his entire body almost compressing into a straight line, vanishing from his spot in a flash of lightning and fire.

In the distance, a figure emerged from the lead SUV—this was Hua Feitian, the Great Perfection stage master of the Hua family of Changbai Mountain. The other side of the car door slowly opened, and Li Jianyi, the Great Perfection stage master of the Li family of Shushan, stepped out beside him.

The SUVs following behind were naturally filled with disciples of the Li family of Shushan. The news that Zhang Yang had been nominated as the Alliance Leader in the Long family plains had already reached Changbai Mountain, as had the news that Zhang Yang, representing the Zhang family, had forgiven the Li and Hua families.

Only then did Li Jianyi dare to leave Changbai Mountain and return to Shushan; these Li family disciples had come to escort him back. Hua Feitian’s complexion had returned to normal, no longer the sickly dark color it had been, suggesting the poison in his system had been completely eradicated.

“Brother Li, thank you for saving my life.” Bowing to Li Jianyi, Hua Feitian’s voice carried a hint of lingering awe, as if recalling the scene of their contest for the Ten Thousand Year Peach in the underground lair. At the same time, he felt a surge of relief; had Li Jianyi not intervened at the last moment, he likely would have succumbed to the potent poison of the Three-Eyed Beast before even making it back to Changbai Mountain.

If that had happened, perhaps the millennia-old Hua family would have vanished from the annals of Huaxia history, much like the Emei Sect. “Now that the Li and Hua families have allied, Brother Hua need not be so polite.

Should the Martial Saint still seek vengeance upon my Li family in the future, I shall rely on your protection then, Brother Hua.” Li Jianyi quickly returned the bow, and Hua Feitian chuckled confidently. “Naturally.

Even if Zhang Yang has successfully passed the Heavenly Tribulation and ascended to the fifth layer, he is, after all, only a newly ascended fifth-layer cultivator. With that Ancestor residing on our Changbai Mountain, he won't dare to act against us.” Li Jianyi nodded slowly.

The perpetual gloom that had shadowed him for days finally lifted slightly, allowing him a faint smile. After bidding farewell to Hua Feitian, he prepared to leave with his convoy, while Hua Feitian intended to return to Changbai Mountain.

“You two younglings, are you perhaps dreaming too ambitiously?” A profoundly ancient voice suddenly resonated from within the convoy, immediately followed by the faces of nearly all the Li family disciples in the SUVs turning deathly pale, before they simultaneously collapsed unconscious. Only Li Jianyi and Hua Feitian remained conscious at the scene.

“Who!” “Who is it!” Li Jianyi tensed every muscle, realizing he could not sense the proximity of the speaker. Hua Feitian was even more shocked; he instinctively assumed Zhang Yang had come seeking retribution.

But this was the base of Changbai Mountain, and their Ancestor was resting on the peak. Hua Feitian absolutely refused to believe Zhang Yang possessed the ability to arrive here without alerting that Ancestor.

“Could it be Zhang Yang?” Li Jianyi and Hua Feitian stood back-to-back, warily scanning their surroundings for the source of the voice. “A Great Perfection master from the esteemed Li family of Shushan, yet afraid to return to Shushan late at night—truly a pitiable sight.” At this moment, the old man who had been lying in wait in the wilderness outside Changbai Mountain slowly walked into view.

Upon seeing him, a jolt went through both Li Jianyi and Hua Feitian. This old man wore a traditional Zhou robe, topped with a large, tall black bucket hat, while his feet were shod in embroidered silk shoes—a standard attire of Hanbok.

“A Korean?” Li Jianyi and Hua Feitian gritted their teeth fiercely, staring in disbelief at the old man before them. The opponent’s strength clearly surpassed theirs by a vast margin, momentarily giving them the sensation of facing the Twelve-Crowned Golden Python of Changbai Mountain.

“A fifth-layer expert?” Hua Feitian nearly ground his teeth to dust, his eyes darting furtively toward his rear, desperately hoping for a reaction from the Changbai Mountain Ancestor. “As long as I do not attack, as long as I do not step onto Changbai Mountain territory, that giant python will not emerge.

We have no history of enmity, after all.” The old man saw straight through Hua Feitian’s thoughts, speaking softly with narrowed eyes. Though dressed in Korean attire, his speech was utterly fluid, as if he had resided in China for a very long time.

“Sir, are you Korean?” Li Jianyi asked, his body tense with extreme vigilance. The old man nodded and replied calmly, “Allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Park Cheon-eun, the sole patriarch of the Park clan of Korea.” Li Jianyi and Hua Feitian exchanged glances; they were not entirely unfamiliar with the Park clan. As Huaxia’s neighbor, Korea also possessed powerful Inner Strength clans—namely, the Park clan.

The status of the Park clan in Korea was akin to that of the Martial Saint Zhang family in Huaxia—an absolutely formidable power. “What exactly do you want!” Li Jianyi demanded, frowning, staring intently at Park Cheon-eun.

“Heh heh.” Park Cheon-eun’s lips curved upward as he spoke each word distinctly: “I have come to slay Zhang Yang.”