After they arrived at Han Ye’s cave, the young craftsman immediately got to work forging another bow — this time using the "freely acquired" materials gifted by the merchant Wei Muyang. He hummed cheerfully as he worked, utterly unbothered by the absurd events earlier. His hands moved with unnatural precision, already melting the new Darkveil wood and reforging the compound components with Wind-forged cores.

  Elder Xian, who had been testing his new weapons in silence, walked over to Elder Ji. Without a word, he transmitted a thought through a Qi link.

  “So, Elder Ji? Has it gotten worse?” Elder Xian’s tone was unusually casual.

  Elder Ji gave him a cold stare — one that could slice a weak-willed cultivator in half.

  “Worse? That market is now a temple of lunacy. They're worshipping a statue of Han Ye! That pce is no longer a market, it’s a shrine.” Elder Ji’s Qi voice shook with restrained anger.

  Elder Xian blinked. “Worship? This morning there wasn’t even a statue...”

  He narrowed his eyes toward Han Ye. The boy was carefully aligning the sinew of the bowstring, his face calm, as if nothing had ever happened. Elder Xian scanned him with a thin thread of spiritual sense, searching for any anomalies. Aside from the residual distortion in the surrounding Qi — nothing. No spiritual bindings, no demonic auras, no curses.

  Nothing... yet.

  “After I finish enjoying this free weapon, I’ll report this to the Vice Master myself,” Elder Ji said grimly. “How did we let such a drastic change happen under our own noses, inside Sect territory?”

  “I’ll joi—” Elder Xian started to say, but Elder Ji cut him off sharply.

  “No. You’re staying here. You’re supposed to watch over him, remember?”

  ‘Why did I ever agree to babysit this cursed brat?’ Elder Xian groaned internally.

  “Hey, you know our Qi transmission is still active, right?” Elder Ji said aloud, smirking as he caught the tail end of Elder Xian’s thought.

  Elder Xian flinched and pretended to focus on inspecting his bde, while Han Ye in the background continued forging... and smiling.

  While Elder Ji and Elder Xian continued their Qi transmission, Han Ye, entirely unconcerned, began crafting a new bow — this one intended for Elder Ji. He did not speak or ask permission. He simply worked.

  First, he id out the materials on the smooth stone floor of the cave. One bar of Abyssal Iron, dark as a void and heavier than gold, sat beside five shafts of Whispering Wind Bamboo — each one humming faintly with residual energy from the storm they were cut in. A small vial containing a single drop of Bloodroot Essence, thick and pulsing like a living thing, y next to two neat bundles of Void Spider Silk, shimmering like ink in moonlight. Nearby was a glimmering shard of Crystalline Moonlight, sharp and pure, and finally — a still, frozen Beast Core from a Tier-6 Wind Serpent, crackling with elemental energy.

  He didn’t use any forge, no tools, no hammer. Han Ye simply extended his hands over the materials, and Qi surged from within him.

  Elder Xian noticed it first. “His hands again,” he muttered aloud. The skin on Han Ye’s palms began to liquefy and peel, as if the intense control of Qi was melting them from the inside out. Everyone but Elder Ji flinched.

  But Han Ye didn’t stop. He focused, molding the Abyssal Iron using only Qi into a slim, curving spine that would become the reinforcement for the bow. Next, he threaded the Void Spider Silk into long, almost transparent strings — each infused with flickers of lightning and wind. The Whispering Wind Bamboo was shaped one by one, carved using only pressure from his fingers, aligned perfectly against the spine.

  He added the Bloodroot Essence, not by coating but by infusing — it vanished into the frame like blood being absorbed by bone. The Moonlight Crystal he ground using nothing but rotating Qi fields, until it became dust fine enough to scatter along the limbs. The Beast Core, st of all, was embedded in the center of the grip, and as soon as it touched the bow — the entire weapon breathed.

  It pulsed with light.

  But Han Ye wasn’t finished. With the half-formed longbow floating mid-air, he summoned a basin filled with glowing liquid — not water. It shimmered with power, thick and heavy: Liquid Qi.

  Elder Ji’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that...?” he whispered, stunned.

  “Yes, Elder,” Lan Ji answered quietly, as if the moment demanded reverence. “That’s Liquid Qi. Not water. We were shocked too, earlier.”

  This time, the amount used was significantly rger than before. The longbow, nearly as tall as Han Ye himself, had to be fully immersed. Compound bows could be dismantled — this couldn’t. Han Ye gently lowered the weapon into the Qi basin, and the entire cave grew warmer.

  Elder Ji frowned. ‘That much Liquid Qi... it’s enough for a full breakthrough to the next sub-tier. Where did he even get this? How could Liquid Qi suddenly appear here?’

  Unable to hold back, he stepped forward. “Han Ye... where did you get that Liquid Qi? And... may I have some?”

  All heads turned. Elder Xian, Lan Ji, and Xun Lian stared at him like he’d lost his mind — or worse, his dignity. Han Ye wasn’t stable, not spiritually, not mentally. Pressuring him could break something delicate.

  Before they could speak, Han Ye lifted his left hand.

  A slow trickle of shining substance began to leak from between his fingers. The cave air grew denser — heavier — as everyone instantly recognized what it was: Liquid Qi. Not just any kind... but the purest they had ever seen. It glowed brighter than molten jade, humming softly like a sacred bell.

  “This is my Liquid Qi, Elder,” Han Ye said, his voice calm, radiant — angelic. “Use it as you need. And if there is any left... give it to those who need it more.”

  As he spoke, a halo formed above his head — not a ring of light, but a Crown of Symbols. Billions of glowing symbols, shifting constantly, arranged themselves in a circle behind his skull. Letters they didn’t understand. Numbers that didn’t exist. Shapes that didn’t belong to this universe.

  For a moment, they all froze — transfixed.

  Then cp. The sharp sound of Elder Xian’s Qi-infused palms echoed like a thundercp through the cave, snapping everyone out of it.

  “Hey! Wake up!” he barked, eyes scanning the group. “You were this close to worshiping him.”

  He was right.

  Lan Ji and Xun Lian had nearly knelt, hands trembling as they hovered inches above the stone floor — a floor now covered in shifting blood-red symbols they didn’t remember drawing. Elder Ji was still frozen, eyes wide in awe, his lips slightly parted as if ready to chant something sacred.

  It took a moment for the horror to register.

  Not fear of Han Ye — but fear of themselves.

  Elder Xian broke the silence with a casual snap of his fingers."Enough of that. No need to be so afraid. Elder Ji, go on and collect the Liquid Qi pouring out of Han Ye’s hand. You were the one who asked for it, remember?"

  Elder Ji blinked a few times, his breath shaky, then slowly nodded. He reached for the bottle at his side—but before he could uncork it, Han Ye, with his usual unpredictability, tilted his head and smiled faintly.

  Instead of letting Elder Ji use a standard container, Han Ye created a new one right on the spot — condensing Qi, distorting space, and weaving threads of unknown energy in the air. The result: a sleek bck vessel engraved with moving runes that looked too advanced, too alien to belong in their realm. The bottle pulsed with power and could clearly hold up to three tons of Liquid Qi.

  Without a word, Han Ye floated the bottle toward Elder Ji. The elder caught it instinctively, almost reverently. Before he could even say thank you, Han Ye turned around and began preparing something — no, summoning something — again.

  Just like with the compound bow for Elder Xian, Han Ye sat down in a half-lotus position and sliced his own artery, letting his blood spill freely over the ground. His expression was eerily serene, his hands graceful and precise. The blood did not pool; it moved, danced, carving intricate runes and symbols across the cave floor with unnatural speed.

  He summoned beast corpses—some of which they hadn’t even seen him carry—ying them neatly around the circle of blood. Then, at the very center, he pced the longbow, still slick with glowing Liquid Qi. The entire ritual was as seamless as it was disturbing.

  And then… it happened again.

  The halo.

  The one they all assumed was an illusion.

  It returned.

  But this time — it bzed.

  The Crown of Symbols above Han Ye's head erupted in brightness. It was no longer faint. It flickered like a dying sun, burning letters and untranstable glyphs into their eyes. Some saw stars. Others saw falling cities. Elder Ji stumbled backward as a sudden nosebleed ran down his chin. Lan Ji clutched his chest, as though his heart had skipped a beat.

  Han Ye didn’t flinch.

  He was deep in the ritual, whispering to the symbols, commanding them. The cave trembled slightly with each word. Blood boiled where it touched the runes. The air grew thick — like a storm was forming inside the stone walls.

  Xun Lian muttered hoarsely, “That halo... it’s not an illusion, is it...?”

  Elder Xian didn’t respond.

  Because deep down — he knew.

  That thing above Han Ye’s head wasn’t some divine gift.

  It was a warning.

  The ritual finally reached its end.

  With a final surge of Qi and a deep pulse from the bloody array, the symbols scattered like ash in the wind, and the halo above Han Ye's head faded—vanishing as though it had never existed. But even after it disappeared, the silence it left behind was unnerving. The others blinked as if they had just awakened from a trance. Their hearts beat heavy in their chests. Something inside them whispered that they had just seen... something they were never meant to see.

  Han Ye stood up slowly, his expression bnk as his eyes gzed over for a moment. Without ceremony, he picked up the longbow, now humming softly with restrained power, and offered it toward Elder Ji.

  "Elder," Han Ye said calmly, though his voice was hoarse, "Here is your bow."

  Elder Ji stepped forward and reached out — but the moment his fingers touched the weapon, a sharp pulse ran through his arm. The bow—or rather, the entity inside it—reached into his bloodstream and began siphoning his blood essence. He froze in pce, gritting his teeth, unsure whether to pull back or let it continue.

  Before panic could set in, Elder Xian raised his voice sharply.

  "Name it, Elder Ji! Give it a name, now!"

  Elder Ji, trusting his peer’s wisdom, clenched his jaw and shouted the first name that surfaced in his mind, “Chang!”

  As if recognizing the decration, the longbow glowed faintly and the pull on his essence ceased immediately. The weapon trembled, reshaping itself into a sleek, bck archer's bangle that wrapped gently around Elder Ji’s wrist. It pulsed once—alive, but now obedient.

  Relief filled Elder Ji’s face. “It listens... now it listens.”

  The group let out the collective breath they didn't realize they’d been holding.

  Han Ye turned toward them as if he wanted to say something — maybe a warning, maybe a joke — but his knees buckled. His body tilted forward, and with no grace at all, he colpsed face-first into the stone floor, unconscious.

  “Han Ye—!” Lan Ji rushed forward.

  But Han Ye didn’t respond. His body was still warm, his breathing steady, but his mind… was somewhere else entirely.