Mo Dafu's expression was unreadable as he lightly opened his eyes. One hand gripped Han Li's wrist tightly, and all his focus seemed to be directed inward, sensing the flow and strength of Han Li's true qi. They stood in silence for what felt like a long while.
After what seemed like an eternity—one full cup of tea's worth of time—Mo Dafu finally exhaled a long, slow breath. It was as though he had expelled all the frustration and dissatisfaction building inside of him. His eyes snapped open, and a brilliant light shot from his once-clouded gaze, a gaze so sharp and fierce that it made Han Li feel as though he couldn't meet it head-on.
Mo Dafu's face darkened as a clear displeasure was etched across it. However, he didn't speak, nor did he scold Han Li. Instead, he made a vague dismissive gesture with his hand, signaling Han Li to follow him into the room.
Han Li obediently followed, keeping his curiosity about the mysterious figure behind Mo Dafu in check. He knew better than to ask questions now, especially not when the atmosphere had suddenly grown so tense.
Inside the room, Mo Dafu slumped wearily into a grand chair, leaning against the backrest. His sharp expression faded, and once again, he looked every bit the sickly, bedridden man Han Li had first met. The mysterious figure, tall and imposing, stood silently behind Mo Dafu, never moving an inch, resembling a shadow of silent vigilance.
Han Li understood that Mo Dafu was clearly upset, and he knew it would be wise not to say anything that might exacerbate his master's mood. He mimicked the silent figure, standing still in the middle of the room, lowering his gaze in submission. He knew better than to try and provoke the man who had once been so kind to him, and he waited quietly for Mo Dafu to speak.
Moments stretched into what seemed like hours, and Han Li's curiosity began to gnaw at him. Unable to remain still any longer, he looked up slightly, intending to sneak a glance at his master.
"What are you looking at? If you want to see something, then just look—why the secrecy?" Mo Dafu's cold, harsh voice pierced the silence.
Han Li froze, a nervous jolt running through him. He quickly raised his head, but his gaze flitted uneasily over Mo Dafu's face. To his shock, something was different—Mo Dafu's face now seemed disturbingly warped. The sickly yellow hue had deepened, and a faint black mist seemed to float around his features. The mist twisted like living tendrils, writhing and curling over his face in an unsettling display.
Even more chilling was Mo Dafu's expression. Gone was the usual cold indifference. Instead, a dark, vicious, and calculating expression had replaced it, one that bore a mocking and contemptuous smile, directed at Han Li. The atmosphere shifted, growing heavier by the second, as an undeniable sense of danger filled the room.
Han Li's instincts flared. He took a cautious step back, instinctively reaching for a small iron cylinder hidden within his sleeve. His body tensed, but he forced himself to remain composed, knowing this was no time to panic.
At that moment, Mo Dafu let out a low, derisive chuckle. "You dare to flaunt your little tricks in front of me?" His voice dripped with scorn, and in the blink of an eye, Mo Dafu shifted from his half-reclined position to standing, a grin curling at the edges of his mouth.
In an instant, Mo Dafu seemed to vanish, moving so swiftly that Han Li had no chance to react. The older man appeared at his side like a shadow, a dark laugh escaping his lips. Han Li's expression changed drastically, his heart sinking in recognition of the danger he was in. His arm moved to raise in defense, but his body went numb, completely immobilized. When he looked down, he saw Mo Dafu's finger lightly pressing against a pressure point on his chest, freezing him in place.
The speed of Mo Dafu's attack was so fast that Han Li hadn't sensed a thing. It was as though his movements defied logic.
"Mo Laoshi, what are you doing? If I've done something wrong, just tell me. Why must you lock my pressure points?" Han Li tried to maintain his composure, but the fear in his heart was growing stronger. His forced smile betrayed his nervousness.
Mo Dafu remained silent, his fingers lightly tapping his own back as if adjusting his posture. He let out a few faint coughs, looking the picture of frailty—a perfect image of a weak, aging man. But Han Li wasn't fooled. The swift motion from earlier, the unnatural speed, all of it betrayed Mo Dafu's true power.
"Mo Dafu, you're someone of great stature—why waste time with a disciple like me? Just release my pressure points and tell me what punishment you intend to impose," Han Li spoke again, trying to stay calm, but there was no hiding the apprehension in his voice.
Mo Dafu still didn't respond. Instead, he reached into Han Li's sleeve, retrieving the small iron cylinder Han Li had been clutching. He held it in his hand, inspecting it with a derisive smile and a mocking gaze.
Seeing this, Han Li's heart dropped. His attempt at flattering words, hoping to talk his way out of the situation, seemed utterly pointless now. Mo Dafu had made it clear that he wasn't interested in any explanation.
As the weight of the situation settled in, Han Li went silent, his face betraying no emotion, but his eyes coldly meeting Mo Dafu's. The room became eerily still, like the calm before a storm.
"Well! Well! Well!" Mo Dafu suddenly laughed, his voice harsh and full of menace. "You truly are worthy of being my chosen disciple. Despite everything, you still manage to keep your cool under pressure. I must say, I've invested a great deal in you." His words, though seemingly a compliment, carried an unsettling tone.
"Then what do you intend to do with me?" Han Li's patience had worn thin, and instead of responding to the praise, he confronted his master head-on.
Mo Dafu chuckled, his face growing even darker as the black mist around him thickened. "What am I going to do with you? That depends on how you handle things from here on out."
Han Li furrowed his brow, sensing that something was amiss. "What do you mean?"
Mo Dafu didn't answer directly. Instead, he repeated Han Li's question mockingly, his smile turning more sinister. "What will I do with you? Only time will tell, but I'm sure you're clever enough to figure it out."
Han Li didn't deny that he had already begun to suspect Mo Dafu's true intentions. He simply nodded, unsure of what to expect next. But the tension in the room told him that he was at a crossroads—and Mo Dafu wasn't about to let him walk away unscathed.