The heavy spatial boundary of the World-in-a-Jar parted with a silent ripple, releasing Fang Lin back into the material world. He stepped onto the damp, moss-covered earth of the deep forest bordering Rivercloud City county, inhaling the fresh, cool air of the pine woods.
It had been a total of two months in the outside world since he had first retreated into the hidden space to consult the Mansion Spirit. To Fang Lin, who had spent months under the intense time-dilation of the training chambers, the passage of time felt both elongated and compressed. His body had physically matured, his bones denser and his frame slightly taller, but the changes were subtle enough to be hidden.
The elderly Mansion Spirit had sent him out even though it knew something. The path of cultivation was paved with blood and sudden crises, and Fang Lin had to rely on his own senses to navigate the storms of the outside world.
Fang Lin stood beneath the thick canopy of ancient pines, his mind calm and his breathing steady. He was currently disguised. Using the Phantom Transformation technique, he had altered his appearance to that of a middle-aged, travel-worn merchant with a slightly rounded frame, a mustache, and a weather-beaten face. He wore simple, durable brown robes that bore no sect markings. Even his cultivation aura was suppressed to the early Qi Condensation stage, making him look like a minor merchant who had barely stepped onto the path of cultivation.
He did not immediately rush back to the Green Bamboo Sect. He had spent a long time in seclusion, and his supply of low-grade recovery pills and basic cultivation materials was running low. More importantly, he needed information. The rumors he had heard before entering the Mansion indicated that the major sects were searching for "Shen Mo," and he needed to know if the search had cooled down or intensified.
"Let us head into Rivercloud City first," Fang Lin murmured, his voice altered by the disguise to sound slightly deeper and raspy.
He walked out of the forest, heading toward the main dirt road that led to the north gate of Rivercloud City. As he walked, his Peak-Solid Soul remained active, scanning his surroundings in a quiet, non-intrusive sweep.
As he drew closer to the city walls, he noticed that the atmosphere was unusually tense. The dirt road, usually crowded with merchants, farmers, and traveling cultivators, was moving at a crawl. Near the heavy stone archway of the north gate, a massive wooden barricade had been erected, forcing everyone to form a single-file line.
Dozens of scouts wearing the merchant-style robes of the local Zhao Clan were standing along the road, their sharp eyes scanning every face in the crowd. But what caught Fang Lin's attention were the cultivators standing behind the barricade. They were not ordinary city guards. They wore the blue robes of the River Sword Sect, the red-embroidered robes of the Crimson Flame Hall, and the heavy grey armor of the Black Mountain Gate.
Elders from the three local Rivercloud sects were personally supervising the checkpoint, their divine senses sweeping over the crowd like invisible waves.
Fang Lin kept his expression calm and his posture slightly slouched, behaving exactly like a nervous mortal merchant who was worried about his goods being taxed. He merged into the line, slowly moving toward the gate.
At the front of the line, a middle-aged elder from the Black Mountain Gate stood next to a stone pedestal. The pedestal held a large, circular bone-reading jade plate. Next to him stood Zhao Zhen, the head of the Zhao Clan, who was whispering to a River Sword Sect elder.
"Make sure everyone passes their hand over the jade," the Black Mountain Gate elder commanded, his voice carrying a cold, arrogant weight. "Any youth showing a bone age under twenty must be detained for further questioning. Anyone using Qi concealment techniques must be arrested immediately."
Fang Lin watched as a young cultivator ahead of him placed his hand on the jade plate. The jade remained clear, and the guards waved him through.
Fang Lin stepped forward, keeping his head low. He raised his hand, preparing to place it on the jade. He was confident in his Phantom Transformation; the technique had been refined by his soul growth, allowing him to mask his physical bone age and fake his spirit aura.
But as he drew closer, the Black Mountain Gate elder's gaze locked onto him. The elder's divine sense, sharp and invasive, swept over Fang Lin's body.
Unlike ordinary cultivators, this elder was highly experienced in body-tempering methods, which was the specialty of the Black Mountain Gate. When his divine sense brushed against Fang Lin's chest and shoulders, his brow suddenly furrowed.
To the naked eye, Fang Lin looked like a middle-aged merchant with a soft, slightly overweight frame. But under the elder's divine sense, the physical structure beneath the disguise was revealed. The skeleton was incredibly dense, the marrow pulsing with a quiet, tempered force, and the joints possessed the elasticity and strength of a young tiger. It was the bone structure of a fourteen or fifteen-year-old youth who had tempered his body to an extraordinary level.
"Hold," the Black Mountain Gate elder barked, stepping forward. His hand flew toward Fang Lin's shoulder. "Show your true face!"
Fang Lin's reaction was instantaneous. The moment the elder's hand moved, his muscles tensed. He did not let the hand touch him. With a swift, fluid motion, he stepped back, evading the grab by a hair's breadth.
"What is the meaning of this, Exalted Elder?" Fang Lin asked, his voice trembling slightly to maintain his merchant persona, though his eyes remained cold and calculating.
"You are using a transformation art!" the Black Mountain Gate elder shouted, his Qi flaring. "Your bones are no older than fifteen, yet you wear the face of a middle-aged man. Your body strength is far beyond the Qi Condensation realm. Guards, seize him!"
Zhao Zhen's eyes widened as he pointed at Fang Lin. "It's him! The youth with suppressed cultivation! Sound the alarm!"
A sharp, piercing whistle echoed across the city gates. The Zhao Clan scouts scrambled backward, clearing the area, while the guards from the three Rivercloud sects drew their weapons, forming a tight circle around Fang Lin.
Fang Lin realized there was no point in maintaining the disguise any longer. His hand reached into his robe, grasping the hiltless grip of the Night Burial Sword.
"Since you want to die, I will grant your wish," Fang Lin whispered.
Boom!
The early Qi Condensation aura vanished, replaced by the heavy, cold pressure of the Late Spirit Foundation Realm. The sheer force of his Qi caused the dust on the road to rise in a circular wave, blowing back the nearest guards.
From the watchtowers and the inner gatehouse, four figures shot forward, landing around the barricade. They were the supervising elders from the three sects: two from the River Sword Sect, one from the Crimson Flame Hall, and another from the Black Mountain Gate. All of them were at the Early to Mid Core Formation Realm.
"So you are the one who slaughtered the disciples at Broken Ravine," a River Sword Sect elder sneered, his longsword humming with green Qi. "Just a measly Late Spirit Foundation Realm cultivator. You think you can escape from Rivercloud City?"
"We have waited more than two months for you," the Crimson Flame Hall elder said, his hands covered in red, smoldering fire. "Surrender yourself, and we will just take your for interrogation."
Fang Lin did not answer. He looked at the five Core Formation elders surrounding him. He knew he had to finish this fight instantly. If he delayed, more experts would arrive, and the major sects would lock down the entire county.
He made a conscious decision. He would not use his Frost arts. If he used the Frozen Heaven Sutra or the Ethereal Frost Art, the connection to his true identity would be too easily traced. He would rely purely on the darkness and soul methods that the world associated with the name "Shen Mo."
Fang Lin's body shifted.
Moonless Shadow Step!
His figure vanished from the spot. There was no sound, no ripple in the air, and no visual trace. It was the absolute concealment of Greater Mastery, fueled by the refined Qi of a Late Spirit Foundation foundation.
"Where did he go?" the Black Mountain Gate elder gasped, his eyes scanning the empty road.
Before the words could fully leave his mouth, Fang Lin appeared directly behind him. The hiltless Night Burial Sword was already in motion, drawing a silent, curved line of absolute darkness through the air.
Moon-Eating Shadow Blade!
The blade was fast, quiet, and deadly. The Black Mountain Gate elder's heavy grey armor, reinforced by his earth-attributed Qi, was sliced through like wet paper. The dark Qi of the sword swallowed the elder's defensive barrier, cutting him cleanly from shoulder to waist.
Blood sprayed across the dirt road as the two halves of the elder's body collapsed.
"Elder Wu!" the Crimson Flame Hall elder screamed in horror.
He thrust his hands forward, sending a massive wave of red flames toward the spot where Fang Lin stood. But Fang Lin was already gone.
With his Peak-Solid Soul scanning the battlefield, Fang Lin could see every attack before it was launched. He stepped through the gaps in the fire, his movements light and fluid. He appeared next to the Crimson Flame Hall elder, his sword thrusting forward in a straight, piercing line.
"Die....."
The elder tried to retreat, throwing up a shield of concentrated fire Qi. But Fang Lin's physical strength, tempered by the Nine Nether Phantom Body to the Perfection Netherskin stage, was overwhelming. The point of the Night Burial Sword pierced the fire shield, driving straight through the elder's chest and shattering his heart.
With a cold twist of the blade, Fang Lin withdrew the sword, leaving the elder to fall to the ground.
"Thud.."
Two down.
The remaining three elders—two from the River Sword Sect and one from the Black Mountain Gate—felt a cold dread seize their hearts. This was not a fight; it was a slaughter. They were Core Formation cultivators, the pillars of their respective secondary sects, yet they could not even touch the hem of this youth's robe. His speed was too fast, his movements too silent, and his strikes carried a heavy, dark intent that bypassed their defenses with ease.
"Form the array! Fall back!" the leading River Sword Sect elder shouted, his face pale as he swung his sword to create a barrier of wind Qi.
"You are too slow," Fang Lin's voice whispered in his ear.
The elder's eyes widened. He tried to swing his sword backward, but a sudden, heavy pressure struck his mind.
Soul Thrasher!
A sharp burst of soul force hammered into his spiritual sea, causing his thoughts to halt for a fraction of a second. That tiny gap was all Fang Lin needed. The Night Burial Sword flashed, severing the elder's throat in a clean, silent arc.
The second River Sword Sect elder tried to flee, leaping into the air to fly toward the city walls. But Fang Lin's foot tapped the ground, his body shooting upward like a dark arrow. He overtook the fleeing elder in an instant, his blade coming down in a vertical strike that split the man's defensive barrier and cut him down from the sky.
The last remaining elder, the Black Mountain Gate cultivator who had first scanned him, was trembling on the ground. He had tried to retreat, but the sheer speed of the massacre had paralyzed him with fear.
Fang Lin landed softly on the dirt road, his Night Burial Sword dripping with dark blood. He walked toward the elder, his gaze cold and indifferent.
"Please... spare—"
The elder's plea was cut short as Fang Lin's sword pierced his throat, ending his life instantly.
The entire battle had lasted less than ten breaths. Five Core Formation elders lay dead on the road, their blood pooling in the dirt.
The Zhao Clan scouts and the remaining low-level guards were frozen in place, their weapons trembling in their hands. Zhao Zhen, the head of the Zhao Clan, had collapsed onto his knees, his face white as paper, his crotch damp with fear.
Fang Lin did not bother to kill the mortals and low-level disciples. They posed no threat to him. He stepped over the corpses, his hand moving in a quick sweep to collect the storage bags of the five fallen elders.
He looked toward the south, where the road led back toward the Green Bamboo Sect.
His first instinct was to return to his sect. He knew that the secondary sects and the major sects were setting a massive trap for him, and the Green Bamboo Sect, with its protective array and the presence of Elder Luo Cheng and the Sect Master, was the only place in the region that could offer him safety. He could hide his "Shen Mo" identity, resume his role as "Fang Lin," and use the sect's political backing to shield himself.
With a burst of speed, Fang Lin transformed into a dark blur, racing down the southern road, leaving the chaotic gates of Rivercloud City behind.
As he ran, the news of the massacre began to spread with terrifying speed.
Zhao Zhen, trembling, finally found the strength to activate the communication talisman in his hand. "The suspect... Shen Mo... he appeared at the north gate! He killed five elders... Elder Wu, Elder Jiang, all dead! He is fleeing toward the south!"
The message was received by the coalition of secondary sects, who immediately sent out emergency transmissions to their headquarters.
Within minutes, the news bypassed the local county, reaching the messengers of the major sects stationed on the continent.
Deep in the central plains, inside a towering obsidian pagoda belonging to the Demon Suppression Temple, a powerful elder sat before a massive, glowing bronze basin filled with silver liquid.
"The target has appeared," the elder murmured, his eyes glittering with a cold, predatory light. "He has slaughtered the secondary sect elders at Rivercloud City and is fleeing towards the south, which is where the Green Bamboo sect is located. He must not reach it. If he enters their mountain array, the Green Bamboo Sect will use their status to protect him, and it will create unnecessary political friction."
He turned to a group of seven cultivators standing behind him. All of them wore the gold-trimmed white robes of the Temple's elite disciples. Four were at the Early Core Formation stage, two were at the Mid Core Formation stage, and the one standing at the front was a tall, cold-faced youth with a heavy bronze staff—a Legacy Disciple of the Temple, possessing Mid Core Formation cultivation but renowned for combat strength that could match a Late Core Formation elite.
"Use the legacy Karmic-Spatial Plate," the elder commanded, pointing to the silver basin. "The target's karmic coordinate has been locked by the blood of the Rivercloud elders. We can teleport you directly in front of his path. Intercept him, break his limbs, and bring him back alive."
The Legacy Disciple bowed, his hand tightening on his bronze staff. "We will execute the command without fail."
The seven cultivators stepped onto the massive array surrounding the silver basin. The array flared with a brilliant, golden light, the spatial runes humming as they prepared to pierce through the distance of the continent to intercept the fleeing youth.
The hunt was no longer a silent search. It had become a direct, deadly chase.
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