Han Li's heart was racing, a cold sweat dripping down his face. He could hardly process what was happening. The young, handsome Mo Dafu—his face radiating an almost mesmerizing charm—spoke with a smooth, magnetic voice that sent shivers down his spine. "Han Li, you're truly adaptable, aren't you? But you must know, there's no chance for you to escape now."
Despite the unsettling circumstances, Han Li couldn't help but feel a strange recognition in Mo Dafu's words. It was a far cry from the cold, condescending tone of "little one" that had punctuated their earlier exchanges. The fact that Mo Dafu had used his name now, with a hint of respect, made Han Li feel like he had at least earned some acknowledgment. Yet, in the same breath, Mo Dafu had made it clear that he was far from offering mercy. Han Li felt a surge of frustration but also an odd sense of relief in knowing that his fate was about to be sealed, one way or another.
Mo Dafu, in his rejuvenated form, was undeniably handsome—radiating an aura of youth and power that Han Li couldn't ignore. His previously frail body had been replaced by a figure full of vitality, every movement filled with elegance and poise. Gone was the image of the old, haggard doctor, replaced by a man in the prime of his life. It was no wonder that this man had captivated the hearts of so many.
Still, Han Li had no time to marvel at his appearance. "What are you going to do with me?" he demanded, the urgency in his voice unmistakable.
Mo Dafu merely smiled, his expression almost indulgent as he stretched his limbs, flexing his newfound strength. He didn't answer Han Li directly, instead pulling something from his robes—a small silk package wrapped with delicate precision. The vibrant colors of the fabric glowed in the light, its sheen rich and inviting. Han Li's curiosity piqued, though he couldn't help but wonder whether this was just another strange tool to add to the collection of bizarre objects Mo Dafu had already used.
With swift movements, Mo Dafu unwrapped the silk, revealing a piece of aged yellow paper inside. Han Li's excitement faltered for a moment, his expectations momentarily dashed. However, as soon as he laid eyes on the paper, a sense of unease crept up on him.
The paper was small—about the size of his palm—and was covered with strange, silver-painted symbols. They were unlike any script Han Li had ever seen. As he gazed at them, a strange force seemed to pulse from the symbols, and to his shock, he felt his internal Qi stir, as if these symbols were waking something dormant inside him. His Longchun Gong, his cultivation, stirred as though it were responding to these marks.
His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind raced to understand. What is this?
Han Li tried to steady himself, focusing on the symbols, hoping to gain some insight into their meaning. The patterns were complex, looping and twisting in ways that suggested some kind of hidden logic, but he couldn't make sense of them in time.
As he stared, Mo Dafu moved in closer, noticing Han Li's intense gaze. For a brief moment, a flicker of something resembling pity crossed Mo Dafu's eyes, but it was gone in an instant, replaced with cold resolve.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against Han Li's ear as he whispered in a tone that sent chills down his spine, "Han Li, don't blame me. I have no other choice. You will soon be reincarnated, and this body will be mine."
Han Li's heart skipped a beat. What did he mean? His body tensed, a sense of dread crawling through him. No. This can't be happening. He's going to take my body!
He tried to move, struggling with all his might to free himself, but the giant figure of the "Iron Slave" was standing there, as immovable as a mountain. Han Li's every attempt to fight back was futile. He was trapped.
"Iron Slave, hold him down, don't let him move," Mo Dafu's voice was like ice, and with the command, Han Li's last attempts at resistance were completely thwarted. The giant's grip tightened, and Han Li was rendered utterly powerless.
Sweat now streamed down Han Li's face, his heart racing in terror. He clenched his teeth, his eyes wide with fear as he watched Mo Dafu move in with the yellow paper.
The paper seemed to shimmer, floating in the air without any apparent wind. As Mo Dafu began to chant under his breath, the silver symbols on the paper began to glow one by one, releasing a mysterious light. The glow filled the room, and Han Li could feel his very soul being drawn toward it, as though the symbols were calling to him.
Unable to move or speak, Han Li could only watch as the last of the silver symbols flared to life. Mo Dafu's voice rose in volume, and with a swift motion, he pressed the yellow paper directly against Han Li's forehead, the symbols searing into his mind.
At that moment, Han Li felt his body completely lose control. His limbs went stiff, and it was as though his consciousness had been severed from his body. He could see, hear, and understand everything around him, but his body would not respond. It was like he was trapped inside a corpse, unable to do anything but watch.
This isn't just a physical paralysis… Han Li realized in horror. This is something far worse!
"Don't worry," Mo Dafu said, almost as if speaking to himself. "Your body can still be of use for a short time… but soon it will be mine."
The last remnants of Han Li's will flickered out as the paper's power took full hold. The sensation of being an observer in his own body was suffocating. The terrible realization sank in—his very soul was in danger of being devoured, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Mo Dafu had effectively bound him, not just physically, but spiritually. Han Li was now a prisoner in his own flesh, and the man who had once seemed like a mere, if dangerous, healer was now something far more terrifying.
As Mo Dafu continued his chant, Han Li's world faded to black.