The moonlight cascaded over the earth like freshly fallen snow, as if a layer of white, silvery frost had settled upon the land.

Two figures swept past beneath that radiant moon, moving at speeds that defied imagination.

The figure in the lead was shrouded in a thick, rolling mist, appearing to churn through the air itself; with a single surge, he covered dozens of zhang.

Behind him, an elder moved with the fluid grace of flowing water, his feet seemingly gliding across the ground. Though his pace did not appear rapid, the rate at which he closed the distance was relentless.

Following them were several more silhouettes, all maintaining a steady, unwavering rhythm of pursuit. No one could overtake the others, yet equally, no one could truly shake off the tail.

Zhuo Shengfeng’s heart was a tempest of rage and disbelief. This person’s speed far exceeded his estimations, but what chilled him even more was the dense fog surrounding the fugitive, which seemed to grow thicker with every passing moment.

Ever since the chase began, this shroud of mist had persisted. Under its cover, Zhuo Shengfeng couldn't even discern what cultivation technique the man was using to escape—a testament to the mist’s extreme power of concealment.

Zhuo Shengfeng felt certain that the ability to bypass his defenses and sneak into the Armory undetected must be linked to this very fog.

If He Yiming, currently fleeing at full tilt, could have heard Zhuo Shengfeng’s thoughts, he would surely have burst into laughter.

In fact, He Yiming was in equally high spirits. Once he cleared the city limits of the Lingxiao Treasure Hall, a profound sense of relief washed over him.

Inside the pagoda, the mere thought of the numerous masters at the Hall felt like a massive boulder pressing down on his chest. Now, having left that perimeter, the sensation was entirely different.

After drawing a layer of cloud-mist power around himself, he immediately employed the Wind-element skill, Two Points, One Line, fleeing onward. This time, he exerted every ounce of his strength; this potent movement technique, utilized continuously, was being pushed to its absolute limit.

Prior to this day, he had never attempted to use the technique non-stop for so long, but now, as he did so, he felt an urge as if he might dissipate into the wind at any moment.

Faintly, he seemed to grasp the very pulse of the wind. That immense power of wind, cloud, and mist surged into him, allowing him to become utterly immersed in the sensation.

At this moment, even if no one were relentlessly pursuing him, He Yiming would not have stopped.

After an indeterminate distance, He Yiming suddenly felt the speed at which the cloud-mist power was being absorbed rapidly decline.

He paused slightly. Though his forward momentum remained unbroken, he glanced upward. The bright moon on the horizon had vanished, and the entire sky seemed to have plunged into profound darkness.

A realization struck him: dawn was approaching.

The period just before the first light of morning was invariably the darkest hour.

This thought caused his expression to shift subtly. The power of wind, cloud, and mist exhibited its strongest potential under the cover of night; daytime, while not severely impacting the wind element, presented a significant obstacle to the effective use of the cloud-mist force.

His ears twitched almost imperceptibly, instantly capturing the sounds of the pursuers behind him.

He offered a wry internal smile: among those clinging to his trail, besides his old acquaintance Jin Zhanyi, there were three other Venerables! He cursed under his breath; he hadn't even set the Armory ablaze, yet these men maintained such a tenacious grip on the pursuit—it was infuriating.

He surveyed the surroundings. Although they were traversing a plain, scattered clusters of low-lying woods dotted the landscape, offering patches of green vitality across the vast expanse.

Taking a deep breath, He Yiming abruptly changed direction, plunging headlong into the nearest patch of green brush. At his speed, it took barely a few breaths to enter the woods.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the True Qi within him spun violently. The cloud-mist power ceased being drawn inward; instead, it erupted outward in an instantaneous burst.

This potent cloud-mist energy saturated the surrounding space, instantly engulfing the entire wood, which was not particularly large.

At the tail end of the night, as the first light of morning threatened, the air was already heavy with moisture. This cloud-mist power acted as a catalyst, absorbing and transforming all available vapor into a vast, impenetrable fog.

Zhuo Shengfeng inwardly sensed disaster. Though he hadn't caught up, nor made physical contact with the mist, as an elder who had lived for centuries, his experience spoke volumes. As the fog began to spread, he knew tracking the target was now likely impossible.

Indeed, upon entering the small wood, he instantly lost all sensation of the fugitive. This dense fog possessed a formidable power of obfuscation, and pinpointing the man’s whereabouts within it was far beyond his capabilities.

Suddenly, a familiar voice carried in from the edge of the woods.

"Uncle-Master Zhuo, did you catch him?"

Zhuo Shengfeng was instantly overjoyed. "Junior-Nephew Jin, do not enter! This fog possesses a strange and potent effect. You and the other two Uncles must guard the perimeter. We must capture this man today."

Jin Zhanyi responded loudly, and he and the two other pursuing Venerables immediately took positions guarding the three approaches to the thicket.

The might of the Lingxiao Treasure Hall was immense. As the sun began to rise, nearly ten more people arrived. Though none were Venerable-level veterans, they were all formidable experts at the Innate or First Heaven realm.

The contingent searched the dense woods for half a day, even hacking down every small tree, yet they found nothing.

Despite their intense unwillingness, they were eventually forced to admit that the mysterious individual was no longer present.

Emerging from the wood, the faces of the group were grim.

The first two Venerables who had given chase were a study in contrast: one was broad-shouldered and tall, built solidly like a wall; the other was leaner, yet still seemed far more vigorous than Zhuo Shengfeng.

Within the Lingxiao Treasure Hall, although most Venerables had officially retired from worldly affairs, every five years, two were assigned to guard the High Pagoda. They acted as liaisons should major external events occur—these were the on-duty Venerables of the Hall.

These two were the assigned pair for the current five-year term.

The tall one was named Gao Weiliang; the leaner, Du Wenbin. Though their current fame was subdued, a century prior, they were legendary figures, top-tier experts in the Great Shen dynasty, in no way inferior to the current Jin Zhanyi. But with the passage of a hundred years, they had withdrawn into seclusion.

When the group reunited, they exchanged looks of shared failure; every face was etched with displeasure.

To be outmaneuvered by such a culprit, despite fielding such strength, felt like a slap across the face, leaving them all feeling scorched with humiliation.

"Senior-Brother Zhuo, what did the man look like, and what technique was he using?" Gao Weiliang inquired in a deep voice.

Zhuo Shengfeng’s expression was ashen. "He wore a black scarf over his face, but although I did not see his features, I can state with certainty that he must be from the Yellow Springs Gate."

The expressions of Jin Zhanyi and the others shifted subtly.

Du Wenbin hesitated. "Senior-Brother Zhuo, we are all aware that while the Yellow Springs Gate is the foremost assassin sect, they have never targeted Venerables, nor have we ever heard of them infiltrating the strongholds of major sects."

Though the Yellow Springs Gate was powerful, they dared not earn the utter enmity of every sect in the world.

No assassinations of Venerables; no intrusions into the domains of great sects.

This was an unspoken, mutually agreed-upon boundary. If the Yellow Springs Gate disregarded these rules recklessly, it would ignite widespread panic and hostility among all major powers. Should all sects set aside their differences and unite, even the hidden Yellow Springs Gate would likely face utter annihilation.

Zhuo Shengfeng let out a cold snort. "This man’s illusionary arts have reached a state of perfection. Were it not for my memory of the Armory’s layout, I, too, would have been fooled." He paused, his face hardening like a mountain. "I am ashamed that I don't even know how he breached the Armory. This level of deception is undeniably the work of a direct disciple of the Yellow Springs Gate; there can be no other origin."

Gao Weiliang’s expression flickered. "His illusions managed to fool even you?" He turned and scanned the surroundings once more.

Zhuo Shengfeng gave a wry laugh. "Junior-Brother Gao, we have already chopped down every tree. Even if his illusionary art is supremely potent, there is no possibility of concealment left."

Gao Weiliang withdrew his gaze, though a trace of unconcealed frustration remained in his eyes.

Zhuo Shengfeng continued, "This man not only excels in illusionary arts, but the weapon he wielded was also a specialized Forked Sword of the Yellow Springs Gate. I managed to strike and leave that Forked Sword behind when he fled. It should still be inside the Armory."

Gao Weiliang blinked in surprise. "Senior-Brother Zhuo, I just came from the Armory. Although I didn't search meticulously, I don't recall seeing any Forked Sword." A Forked Sword, being such a conspicuous item, would surely not have been overlooked if it were present within the chaos of the Armory.

A sharp gleam flashed in Zhuo Shengfeng’s eyes. "Impossible. I personally knocked that Forked Sword loose; it is in the Armory."

Gao Weiliang hesitated slightly. "If that is the case, let us return and discuss it there."

The group rushed back with the speed of wind and fire. When Zhuo Shengfeng learned that the Forked Sword was indeed not found in the Armory, his face contorted with fluctuating moods, and sparks of anger seemed to ignite in his eyes.

The situation was grave indeed: not only had the three Venerables lost the fugitive, but they remained ignorant of how he infiltrated the Armory, and the Forked Sword Zhuo Shengfeng swore was there had vanished without a trace. All these developments were utterly baffling.

A day later, the entire fifth-floor Armory was relocated to the tenth floor of the High Pagoda. Not only were guards posted outside the entrance, but a Venerable was stationed within both the Library and the Weapon Repository.

The Lingxiao Treasure Hall, caught in a state of high alert, felt as though it were facing an invading army.