The black-clad figure, upon witnessing the infinite radiance erupting truly from beneath the earth, was struck with absolute terror.

In his understanding, only a Venerable-level expert possessing the Earth Flower could command such burrowing capabilities. The realization that he was being trailed by one of the world's supreme figures instantly filled him with despair.

Yet, years of rigorous training compelled his body into the most basic reaction: he shot airborne, and the trident-sword in his hand simultaneously unleashed power without parallel.

Under the crushing pressure of the mighty Venerable, he pushed his innate potential to its absolute limit.

The space echoed with endless rupturing sounds; in a collision of such supreme force, there was no room for trickery.

When all the light finally dissipated, the black-clad man was astonished to find that he had managed to completely absorb the seemingly unstoppable, multicolored radiance.

A wave of unexpected joy surged through him, but at that very moment, a finger—as if reaching out from the netherworld—lightly brushed the sole of his half-suspended foot, seemingly without any weight at all.

A peculiar, unimaginable force surged from that point into his body.

This force appeared to have a profound restraining effect on Zhenqi; even though the Zhenqi within him flowed ceaselessly, it instantly solidified.

Worse still, not only was his Zhenqi rendered useless, but his body began to paralyze as well.

In an instant, the black-clad man, suspended mid-air, froze in his leaping posture before crashing heavily to the ground.

With a dull thud, as he hit the earth and kicked up a cloud of soil, he still could not comprehend what had just happened.

What kind of power could cause him to be paralyzed in that single moment?

He Yiming stepped forward and swiftly struck the figure a few times.

Taking advantage of the man’s loss of resistance, he severed the Zhenqi within him and sealed his vital acupuncture points—the undeniable method for dealing with Xiantian-level powerhouses.

Moments later, the paralysis gripping the black-clad man finally receded.

Although this force was potent, it could only deliver its truly lethal effect during the first unexpected strike. If the opponent were already prepared, the chance of a successful ambush would be infinitesimal.

Moreover, while this force could cause brief paralysis, the duration was definitely not long. The higher the opponent's martial cultivation, the shorter the effect.

Of course, for someone at He Yiming’s level, if the opponent’s movements slowed even slightly, the final outcome was predictable.

Feeling his meridians sealed and his power completely suppressed, the black-clad man showed no sign of panic. He simply gazed steadily at He Yiming and calmly asked, "Could you tell me your name? I wish to know by whose hand I die."

He Yiming smiled slightly and picked up the trident-sword the man had dropped.

As he held the weapon, he could finally confirm it: Sima Yin truly shared the same origins as these people.

His gaze flickered down to the man’s feet, and He Yiming’s brow furrowed slightly.

Though this man’s trident-sword was nearly identical to Sima Yin’s, he was not wearing Cloud-Stepping Boots on his feet, but rather ordinary, high-quality rain boots.

Reaching out, He Yiming gently swept his hand across the man’s chest, causing his frown to deepen further. There was no silver ring on this man's chest either.

A thought flashed through his mind: perhaps the Cloud-Stepping Boots and the silver ring were not standard issue for all of them?

He Yiming’s actions clearly piqued the captive's curiosity, and he calmly inquired, "Are you searching for something?"

Glancing at him, He Yiming felt a measure of respect; even under such duress, the man maintained his composure and spoke with ease.

He paused for a moment and then said, "You are an assassin from the Yellow Springs Gate, are you not?"

The man offered a faint smile. His face was utterly ordinary; if thrown into a crowd, he would likely never be found again. But at that moment, the smile carried an air of sheer heroism: "And you, sir, are the Venerable from the Northwest Heavenly Pool?"

He Yiming remained silent, which, in the man’s estimation, was tacit agreement.

The assassin let out a bitter laugh. "I did not expect that upon returning to Da Shen, Jin Zhanyi would suddenly have a Venerable by his side. Had we known this, we never would have attacked."

"Why?" He Yiming asked suspiciously. After these two successive assassination attempts, He Yiming had witnessed their methods; he found it hard to believe they would flinch from attacking a Venerable.

"Since you are new to Da Shen, you must not know the rule among the assassination circles here: one must not lay hands on predecessors at or above the Venerable realm." The black-clad man’s expression betrayed unconcealed regret.

He Yiming was slightly taken aback by this unexpected protocol. A thought stirred in his mind, and he pressed, "Are Venerable-level experts also forbidden from appearing on the Yellow Springs Rankings?"

"Naturally. If even Venerables cannot be assassinated, how could their names possibly make it onto the Yellow Ranks?" The black-clad man, though immobilized on the muddy ground, looked at He Yiming with an expression that suggested he viewed him as an idiot, showing no fear whatsoever.

Meeting the man’s gaze, He Yiming’s heart tightened; he instantly understood that this person was prepared to die, otherwise he would not be so cavalier.

He frowned. "It is said that members of the Yellow Springs Gate cannot leave the borders of Da Shen. Is that true?"

"Correct. Our sect does indeed have such a rule."

A sharp glint flashed in He Yiming’s eyes. "You’re lying. I clearly encountered an assassin from the Yellow Springs Gate in the Northwest. Are your sect rules merely decorations?"

The black-clad man was initially stunned speechless, but he quickly recovered. "That is impossible. Our Yellow Springs Gate has not dispatched members beyond the national borders for decades."

He Yiming scoffed. "Nonsense. That person's attire, weapons, and cultivation methods were all from your sect. Furthermore, he possessed a pair of magical artifact shoes that allowed him to fly, and a silver ring that contained a mysterious space."

The black-clad man's face instantly changed drastically—this was the first time he had lost his composure since losing his ability to resist.

"It was him... So he actually entered the Northwest..."

As he spoke, a flicker of extreme remorse crossed the assassin’s eyes. Observing his reaction, He Yiming immediately realized some secret must be involved.

The black-clad man took a long, deep breath. "Venerable Sir, if you can sell this information to the Old Ancestor of Yellow Springs, the entire Yellow Springs Gate will be eternally grateful to you."

He Yiming chuckled wryly. "What use is your gratitude to me?"

A look of anxiety crossed the assassin’s face. He opened his mouth, and suddenly his complexion turned pitch-black; a stream of thick, black blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

He Yiming was first stunned, then utterly dumbfounded.

The man had clearly ingested a potent poison, yet He Yiming had been watching him carefully and had no idea when he had taken it.

A thought flashed through He Yiming’s mind, and he instantly understood: the man had consumed the deadly toxin the moment he fell under He Yiming’s control. To ensure the poison was instantly fatal, he had forcibly concentrated his remaining trace of Zhenqi to suppress its onset.

When the poison’s effect reached a point where even his Zhenqi could no longer hold it back, it erupted like a volcanic explosion, instantly taking his life.

However, the man had shown clear regret upon hearing Sima Yin’s whereabouts. Alas, his remaining Zhenqi was insufficient to suppress the poison’s final burst, leaving him unable to utter what he knew.

Sighing softly, He Yiming picked up the man’s trident-sword. After a moment of hesitation, he lifted the body as well and headed back the way he came.

Although this conversation yielded no concrete answers, it did reveal some clues.

The Cloud-Stepping Boots and the spatial silver ring on Sima Yin’s person might be the property of the Old Ancestor of Yellow Springs, the man had mentioned. But for some reason, they had fallen into Sima Yin’s hands.

And Sima Yin, evading the surveillance of the Yellow Springs Gate, had traveled to the Northwest, only to meet his end unknowingly at He Yiming’s hands.

Acquiring the silver ring and the Cloud-Stepping Boots without anyone else knowing was undoubtedly a huge stroke of luck. However, He Yiming decided that under no circumstances could he reveal these two items publicly, lest he face the most intense pursuit the Yellow Springs Gate had ever mounted.

For a sect that had stood for a thousand years and commanded such prestige, He Yiming refused to believe they lacked Venerable-level masters guarding them.

Soon, he returned to the small temple. His gaze swept over the scene: the dozen-plus attackers were either dead or captured, not a single one having escaped. Before them, a massive greatsword was planted flat into the ground, radiating an intensely sharp aura of killing intent.

The moment He Yiming presented the black-clad man and the trident-sword in his hand, the eyes of the few remaining survivors widened with horror and disbelief.

Jin Zhanyi’s reputation was formidable, so his return after killing someone was not particularly surprising. But this man had killed one of the elite powerhouses of the Yellow Springs Gate—that was almost impossible for them to accept.

Jin Zhanyi laughed loudly from inside the building. "Brother He is back too! Hurry and come in."

He seemed so confident in He Yiming’s ability to dispatch his target that his laughter held little surprise.

He Yiming entered the temple and resumed his seat in the original spot.

Zhang Zhongjin’s gaze swept over the captured assassin through the small doorway. "Brother He truly lives up to his name as the foremost expert below the Northwest Venerables. You even managed to track down and eliminate the top Yellow Springs killer who had obtained a trident-sword."

He Yiming glanced unexpectedly at the peculiar trident-sword on the corpse, realizing then that the holder of this weapon commanded a considerably high status within the Yellow Springs Gate.

Jin Zhanyi raised the tea cup before him and declared boldly, "Since they dared to come, they were courting death. Brother He, I toast you with tea in place of wine."

They both drained their cups and burst into laughter.

He Yiming casually asked, "Brother Jin, did you manage to extract any information?"

It was merely an offhand question, but a look of gravity immediately washed over Jin Zhanyi’s face. "I didn't expect it. This time, not only the Yellow Springs Gate but also the Assassin Guild from the Western nations sent people to assassinate me."