From the city walls, the frantic cries of battle echoed ceaselessly, as wave after wave of reinforcements flooded into the fortress from the rear of Blood Slaughter City, swarming forward like ants to engage in a death struggle with the Western army, who were just as numerous and insignificant as ants.

Precious lives, at this moment, were indeed as cheap as insects.

Blood Slaughter City had become aptly named; in a mere three days, a full ten thousand souls had perished beneath and atop its ramparts.

A soft knocking sounded at the door.

He Yiming merely waved his hand, and the heavy entrance swung open across the space.

Jin Zhanyi entered, regarding He Yiming’s placid expression in silence, seemingly attempting to fathom the man’s true intentions.

After a long pause, he finally asked, "Brother He, how do you feel?" He Yiming shook his head slightly. "Helpless.

And powerless." Jin Zhanyi sighed softly. "Give it another hundred years, and you’ll grow accustomed to it." He Yiming took a deep breath. "Brother Jin, since you are here now, does this mean it is time for us to depart?" "Indeed." A flicker of surprise crossed Jin Zhanyi's eyes. "Brother He, you seem to have changed somewhat." He Yiming hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the direction of the city walls.

Though blocked by stone, he could not see the fighting, yet his gaze was so profound it gave Jin Zhanyi the strange impression that he was indeed witnessing the battlefield. "Brother Jin, my helplessness now stems from my insufficient strength.

If I possessed the power of the Divine Path, would they dare defy my will?" He Yiming’s voice was low yet resonant.

Jin Zhanyi’s expression shifted slightly, his eyes gleaming with longing.

The power of the Divine Path—that was the realm every cultivator dreamed of reaching; even he, upon mentioning it, could not help but feel his heart stirred and his spirit swayed.

They had been stationed here for over a month, and finally, the war between the East and West had erupted below Blood Slaughter City.

After three days and nights of ceaseless slaughter, the experts from various factions tacitly agreed it was time to move out.

When they left the room and entered the main courtyard, Hao Xue and the other two were already waiting there.

Zhu Guanhao strode forward with a booming laugh. "Brother Jin, Brother He, news from Ghost Cry Ridge—we can proceed." His laughter was brimming with anticipation, excitement, and pure joy—an emotion sprung entirely from his core.

He Yiming felt a chill in his heart.

This man was so elated upon receiving word that they could enter Ghost Cry Ridge, yet utterly disregarded the lives of the Eastern and Western soldiers fighting daily on the walls.

In this moment, he finally understood: in the minds of these scions of influential families, perhaps only the attainment of their objective truly mattered.

He sighed inwardly.

The individuals holding ultimate authority in both the East and West largely shared this very mindset.

Were it not so, this war could likely have ended long ago.

Jin Zhanyi glanced south. "Judging by the timing, it is indeed about right." He then stated gravely, "The three of you—do you intend to travel with us, or split up?" His phrasing at this juncture made it clear to anyone with a modicum of sense that he favored separating.

However, Fang Sheng acted as if he hadn't grasped the implication at all, laughing, "Of course, we should all travel together." Jin Zhanyi was momentarily stunned.

Though displeased, he had posed the question, making it difficult to immediately retract his words; he merely nodded slightly in assent.

Fang Sheng seemed to perceive a nuance in the air, letting out a long sigh. "Brother Jin, you know as well as I do that this area is currently teeming with masters.

Traveling together, keeping an eye on one another, is for the best.

As for what awaits us inside Ghost Cry Ridge—life or death—that will be up to fate." Jin Zhanyi exchanged a look with He Yiming.

They both knew that while entering Ghost Cry Ridge presented a magnificent opportunity for breakthrough, it was equally a place fraught with peril.

A single lapse in caution could lead to utter annihilation.

It was a place where danger and opportunity coexisted, yet everyone focused only on the chance, ignoring the risks.

The five of them traveled as a unit, exiting through the South Gate, effortlessly traversing the entire battlefield, speeding toward the far edge of the great plains.

Although Western troops were also stationed outside the South Gate, those soldiers, upon seeing the five of them moving across the vast plain with an almost heedless attitude and incredible speed, immediately abandoned any thought of interception.

Against masters of the Xiantian Realm, no matter how numerous, ordinary soldiers could not encircle and kill them, unless the master was foolish enough to fight to the death within the encirclement.

Thus, upon seeing these clear Xiantian experts, they naturally gave up pursuit.

The five picked up speed across the great plain.

Neither He Yiming nor Jin Zhanyi employed their ultimate movement techniques, the Wind Limit or the Ten Thousand Miles Leisurely Stroll, instead following quietly behind Zhu Guanhao and the others.

Suddenly, He Yiming stopped, planting his feet firmly.

This action immediately drew everyone’s attention.

Jin Zhanyi, walking beside him, stabilized his stance instantly, while the three ahead flickered and immediately turned back. "Brother He, what is the meaning of this? Are you changing your mind about going?" Zhu Guanhao asked, clearly displeased.

He Yiming shook his head slightly, his expression grave.

He looked around, a distinct vigilance in his eyes.

The three from Zhu Guanhao exchanged glances.

Although their outward expressions suggested confusion, they were internally highly suspicious: could this man truly have detected something? Jin Zhanyi’s face also grew serious.

Having spent considerable time with He Yiming, he knew the man would not voice baseless alarms; such behavior meant he must have sensed something. "Brother He, what is it?" Jin Zhanyi inquired deeply.

He Yiming pondered for a long moment. "Brother Jin, I have a feeling.

It seems someone is following us." A sharp glint flashed in Jin Zhanyi’s eyes. "In which direction?" He Yiming shook his head with a wry smile. "I don't know.

It is merely a sensation." The three from Zhu Guanhao secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

He chuckled, "Brother He, perhaps because we are nearing Ghost Cry Ridge, you are hearing things that aren't there." He Yiming frowned slightly.

Zhu Guanhao was effectively accusing him of becoming paranoid due to fear of Ghost Cry Ridge.

He snorted coldly. "Though I cannot pinpoint their location, I am quite familiar with this feeling." He Yiming stated formally, "If I am not mistaken, this person originates from the Yellow Springs Sect, and is at least at the level of a Forked Sword Assassin." "Yellow Springs Sect.

Why would those assassins follow us?" A murderous intent flashed in Jin Zhanyi's eyes. "If he dares enter Ghost Cry Ridge, this Jin swears he will never return." As the highest-bountied target on the Yellow Springs Ranking, Jin Zhanyi held no affection for the Yellow Springs Sect.

Furthermore, decades of evading assassination had instilled in him a powerful confidence that he could safely navigate any attempt they made.

The three scions, though maintaining external composure, were experiencing turbulent shockwaves internally.

Just who was this fellow? Jin Zhanyi and He Yiming assumed their pursuer was merely a Forked Sword Assassin, but the three of them knew that the one following them was, in fact, a genuine expert at the Venerable level.

Yet even such a powerful entity had been faintly detected by He Yiming.

This result was naturally astonishing to them.

Fang Sheng managed a strained smile. "The Yellow Springs Sect is renowned throughout the world for their arts of concealment.

If it truly is one of their Forked Sword Assassins, I fear we would find it difficult to detect their trail." Jin Zhanyi and He Yiming nodded in unison.

They had engaged with assassins from the Yellow Springs Sect before and understood the menace these individuals posed; Fang Sheng’s assessment struck a nerve.

Jin Zhanyi waved his hand decisively. "When the army comes, we meet it with our general; when the water rises, we meet it with earth.

Brother He, let us accompany these Forked Sword Assassins for a round!" Seeing his boldly heroic demeanor, a surge of high spirits rose in He Yiming’s heart.

He laughed heartily, "Since Brother Jin has such inclination, this younger brother will certainly oblige." The three from Zhu Guanhao exchanged glances, a shared thought of schadenfreude flashing through their minds.

These two still believed their follower was only a Forked Sword Assassin.

If they knew the truth—that their pursuer was actually a Venerable-level killer—would they still maintain such arrogant confidence? He Yiming suddenly turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the three of them.

After a moment of hesitation, he ultimately said nothing.

For a moment, cold sweat beaded on the backs of Zhu Guanhao’s neck.

Their sole thought was whether their pact with the Yellow Springs Sect had been discovered by this inscrutable individual.

Fortunately, He Yiming merely glanced over before retracting his gaze, and their anxieties gradually subsided.

He Yiming had actually intended to mention that he sensed more than one person following them, but because he was especially sensitive to the aura of the Yellow Springs Sect, he had identified that specific affiliation immediately.

As for the other tracking party, he couldn't name their origin.

He had nearly asked, but in the end, the words remained unspoken.

The five continued onward and soon vanished into the distance.

After they departed, three figures flashed past in succession, scattered across a considerable distance from one another.

They made no attempt to signal each other, maintaining a tacit distance between themselves as they followed closely.

However, even these three pursuers had no idea.

In the far distance, beyond the reach of their sight, at a certain undisclosed location.

The light in Bai Lingba’s eyes slowly receded.

On his chest, the Treasure Pig was still draped over him, its front hooves hooked onto his tunic, soundly asleep.

Clearly, the little creature considered Bai Lingba the ideal sleeping mat.

Bai Lingba seemed utterly oblivious to this, gazing forward as if contemplating something deeply.

Finally, he began to move, proceeding in his unique manner, heading toward the same distant destination.

Ps: Five chapters again tomorrow, ugh...

This period has been truly exhausting.