A sharp shout suddenly rang out. Even as those dense fumes only hinted at their presence, the cry had already reached everyone’s ears.

Almost instinctively, all the disciples of the Lingxiao Palace recoiled as if springs had been attached beneath their feet.

They were all accomplished masters of the Houtian realm; even the lowest among them possessed internal energy at the Eighth Layer. Furthermore, disciples selected for a martial arts exchange from the Northwest would naturally not include any pretenders.

Even if Zhang Zhongjin hadn't shouted, they would have chosen to retreat immediately upon seeing the yellow smoke.

Only those standing respectfully behind, such as Li Dongrong and the others, remained rooted to the spot with expressions of shock. Although most of them had practiced a bit of internal energy and were considered decent hands, such "good hands" could never compare to the elites from Lingxiao Palace.

Under this sudden contingency, they were all stunned and didn't know what to do.

In a flash of movement, He Yiming was before them. His hands moved like lightning; with a grab and a toss, he instantly flung dozens of people far away.

Each of these individuals weighed around a hundred or two hundred pounds, but to He Yiming at this moment, holding them was no different than holding straw.

In just the span of a breath, all these dozens of people were soaring into the sky, waving their arms and shouting loudly mid-air.

But when they fell back to earth after flying over a hundred meters, they realized they had landed squarely on their feet. Moreover, there seemed to be a magical force beneath their soles, soft and yielding, offering no resistance.

Dozens landed; aside from those whose legs gave out from sheer panic and collapsed, fully half of them managed to land steadily, and not a single person had sustained the slightest injury.

When they regained their senses, the way they looked at He Yiming was as if gazing upon a god.

After flinging those people away, He Yiming’s figure too moved like lightning, shooting away from the area enveloped by the yellow smoke.

Although he had condensed the Three Flowers and possessed immunity to the vast majority of poisons, even the world's most potent toxins were unlikely to kill him through mere fumes.

Still, he cautiously avoided the yellow smoke. After all, he was still flesh and blood, and he wasn't foolish enough to test it personally.

The moment the yellow smoke began to leak, Jin Zhanyi’s reaction was equally swift. Instead of advancing, he retreated, but his target was far beyond He Yiming’s expectation.

His figure streaked past the carriage, then he moved to the other side, grabbing the large black horse standing nearby. With an effortless leap as if the horse weighed nothing, he instantly appeared a hundred meters away.

Zhang Zhongjin’s movements were equally quick; he had already distanced himself from the yellow smoke before it could fully spread.

Given their status, neither of them would risk their lives in such a manner.

However, after stabilizing himself, Jin Zhanyi immediately let go of the black horse. With a hop of his toe, a stone shot through the air, flying toward the carriage like a meteor chasing the moon.

His skill with hidden weapons was remarkably unconventional; even wearing shoes, the control over his toes had reached a degree of sublime perfection.

A sound seemed to echo from within the yellow smoke. He Yiming’s ear twitched, and he caught a faint trace.

In his perception, a person had slipped down from the carriage and was rolling forward in an extremely bizarre manner.

This person’s rolling speed was extreme; in an instant, he traversed the range covered by the yellow smoke. Moreover, the direction he fled was precisely calculated, managing perfectly to evade He Yiming and the other two Xiantian powerhouses.

The people on the periphery were already in chaos, scrambling like startled beasts. By using the confusion to roll away, the person immediately merged into the crowd and moved into the distance as slickly as a fish through water.

He Yiming was secretly shocked by the man's profound skill—his ability to conceal his tracks, his decisiveness in creating chaos, and finally, his unexpected method of slipping into the crowd while evading Jin Zhanyi’s stone projectile. All these actions made He Yiming view him with newfound respect.

Even though they were not allies, this in no way detracted from He Yiming's assessment of him.

After a quick turn or two within the crowd, the man bypassed everyone and reached the outside of a surrounding wall. His familiarity with the route suggested clear prior planning and calculation.

A sharp gleam flashed in He Yiming’s eyes, and the world before him suddenly seemed to pale.

However, before the familiar lines could appear, He Yiming’s heart instantly tightened.

A powerful and sharp killing intent surged heavenward. The moment He Yiming sensed this intent, the fine hairs on his body involuntarily stood on end.

The tracker on his chest vibrated violently. In that instant, He Yiming immediately withdrew from his Wind Realm state and became fully vigilant.

This incredibly powerful sense of crisis was something he hadn't even experienced when facing Venerable Ai Wenbin and the others. Of course, those Venerables hadn't intended to kill him then, so they hadn't used their full strength against him.

In an instant, He Yiming pinpointed the source of this killing aura.

In the other direction of the yellow smoke, a tangible, metal-elemental force had unknowingly reached its peak.

This metallic power was different from his Great Guan Blade. Although it lacked the crushing momentum of Mount Tai, the inherent piercing sharpness and unbreakable quality unique to the metal element were superior.

Jin Zhanyi. He Yiming instantly understood that this aura must come from the Eastern powerhouse.

He Yiming’s pupils contracted rapidly. He was finally witnessing a fraction of Jin Zhanyi’s revealed strength; this tip of the iceberg was already terrifyingly potent. He finally understood why the Venerables on the Heavenly Pool Main Vein had gone to such lengths to persuade him to postpone his match against Jin Zhanyi after seeing his own power.

The Venerables had not been wrong; Jin Zhanyi’s strength was even more dreadful than they had anticipated.

Then, a flash of lightning ripped through space. It seemed that the moment the weapon was thrown, it had already reached its destination.

He Yiming had "heard" it: it was a spear, a long spear nearly three meters in length.

This spear pierced through from the opposite end of the smoke, leaving a transparent hole in the wall where the assassin had disappeared, and then it vanished.

But with ears as sharp as He Yiming’s, he could naturally hear a sound of someone collapsing on the other side of the wall. Although he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, He Yiming knew that the assassin, on the verge of escaping, had failed at the very last step.

Similarly, although this spear was not aimed at He Yiming, he still felt a chilling sensation.

One thought kept circling in his mind: if he fought Jin Zhanyi with full force and let him launch this single strike, how could he possibly block it?

Innumerable thoughts spun through his mind; in mere moments, he judged that unless he used the 108 Transformations of the Great Guan Blade, he had no certainty of surviving it. Even using the Five Elements Ring would not suffice.

This sequence of events transpired in a flash and concluded just as quickly.

Before the majority of people could even react to what had happened, Jin Zhanyi had already thrown a spear, killing the culprit on the spot.

With a flash, Jin Zhanyi leaped over the smoke, which had stopped spreading, and arrived outside the wall.

He Yiming hesitated briefly, then also leaped out.

Outside the wall, a figure dressed entirely in black was pinned to the opposite wall by a long spear.

Jin Zhanyi reached out and pulled the spear free. His technique was incredibly subtle; with a flick of his wrist, he turned the body over.

That fierce spear thrust had gone straight through the throat. Blood was oozing from the man’s neck, and the powerful True Qi clinging to the spear had long since destroyed all vitality within his body.

It was an ordinary face, etched with horror, as if he could never believe he would die in such a manner.

He Yiming looked at the man and suddenly felt a flicker of familiarity. He seemed to have seen this person somewhere before, but he couldn't recall where.

Jin Zhanyi glanced at the spear in his hand, a cold look flashing in his eyes.

He Yiming focused his gaze. Although he had just slain a man, the spear held not a trace of blood. Both the tip and the shaft were as bright as snow under the sunlight, dazzling and brilliant.

Jin Zhanyi gave a slight shake, and the shaft of the spear suddenly went soft, quickly collapsing into a long, thin strip, leaving only the glittering tip visible.

Then, the long strip coiled into a circle. Jin Zhanyi lightly tapped the spearhead, and tucked it into his waist pouch.

Surprise shone in He Yiming’s eyes. He took a deep breath and said, "Brother Jin, what is the shaft of your spear made of?"

Jin Zhanyi smiled slightly, not hiding anything. "The shaft of this spear is forged from the skin armor shed by a mythical beast—a Dragon's molt. It is a priceless treasure from the armory of Lingxiao Palace."

"A Divine Dragon?" He Yiming asked hesitantly. "Do such beings truly exist in this world?"

"Legends say that thousands of years ago, the heavens and earth were filled with Divine Beasts and cultivators of the Divine Path. But in the last few millennia, they have vanished without a trace," Jin Zhanyi sighed deeply. "However, artifacts and traces left by Divine Beasts and beings are not uncommon, so such things probably do exist."

He Yiming immediately thought of the first friend of the 108, that expert who might have been a cultivator of the Divine Path, who had also mysteriously disappeared thousands of years ago.

As for that person's whereabouts, even the 108 had no knowledge.

Letting out a soft sigh, just as He Yiming was about to speak, he suddenly heard a sound like ghosts wailing and wolves howling—a cacophony of cries and lamentations.

He and Jin Zhanyi exchanged glances, immediately vaulted over the wall, and saw the master of this mansion, Li Dongrong, prostrated on the ground, weeping tears that flowed like rain, creating a chilling spectacle.