The damp, green-shadowed light of the deep southern wilderness pine forest swallowed Su Ming as he drifted silently beneath the ancient canopy. Skimming a few inches above the wet moss, he relied on refined control rather than a flying sword, keeping his presence entirely hidden from the surrounding woods. The air here was heavy and stagnant, thick with the scent of decaying leaves, wild spiritual herbs, and the sharp, copper tinge of beast-Qi.
The fortress wall was miles behind him now, the distant shouts of General Lu's soldiers completely muted by the massive, towering pines that blocked out the sky.
Su Ming extended his divine sense across the dense, primeval terrain. Normally, his Golden Core perception mapped every leaf, insect, and breathing creature within a three-mile radius with absolute clarity. Yet, as his sense pushed deeper into a mist-shrouded valley, it hit a strange stretch of interference.
