The weather was bitterly cold, and everything seemed frozen in the chill. Even the air felt as if it were about to solidify.

The longer one lingered in this boundless, inky black mist, the more profound the chill seemed to cling to one's body.

This was the oppressive sensation of being compressed by Yin Sha energy; no human could possibly survive long in such an environment.

And at this very moment, He Yiming stood somewhere deep within the dense fog.

He drew a long, slow breath, allowing the icy cold to seep into every corner of his being before his Dantian slowly absorbed it.

Slowly, he raised his hand, scrutinizing the strange and miraculous unique weapon held within his grasp.

The Forked Sword—a specialized weapon only permitted for use by those who had achieved the Yixiantian (First Heaven) level within the Yellow Springs Gate.

It was the symbol of the Yellow Springs Gate’s authority. Ever since the Patriarch of Yellow Springs became famous and established the sect with his own hands, no other force dared to wield a similar weapon.

This distinctive weapon had become a divine instrument that no one in the entire Eastern territory dared to imitate.

But for He Yiming, who hailed from the Northwest, he had no idea of the lofty status the Yellow Springs Gate commanded within the Great Shen Kingdom. Thus, when he needed to conceal his identity, he chose this as the optimal path without hesitation.

Suddenly, the tracker pinned to his chest shifted almost imperceptibly. Only He Yiming, who wore it pressed against his skin constantly, could discern the minimal, almost nonexistent vibration.

The muscles in his chest miraculously writhed, pushing the tracker out from beneath his robes and up to his ear. He listened quietly to the faint sounds emanating from the device.

His body finally moved, vanishing swiftly into the darkness like a jungle leopard.

He was shrouded in a deep layer of black, moving silently like a spirit under the night sky.

He Yiming’s spirit was concentrated to its absolute peak; he vaguely sensed that he had merged with this expanse of black mist.

And as this thought took hold, his body naturally began to completely dissolve into the fog.

The experts who traveled to Ghost Cry Ridge, while utilizing the unimaginably rich Heaven and Earth energy within the black mist to attempt breakthroughs to the Dingzu (Tripod Foot) or Venerable realms, kept this entire area of fog at arm's length.

If given a choice, they would rather seek out an opponent comparable to the Twin Devils of Qilian for a fierce battle than enter this perilous place.

But He Yiming was different. Once his Dantian began to accept the black mist here, the energy was assimilated by his core.

It was like the Ice Elemental Jade Bottle from before, like the Paralysis Ability of the Stone King, like Hao Xue’s Distortion and Blood Coagulation techniques. Once these miraculous powers entered He Yiming’s body, his Dantian could dissolve them and convert them for his own use.

That was why he could now merge his very self into the black mist.

In that instant, he suddenly felt a profound connection: he was the black mist, and the black mist was him.

Suddenly, a piercing, sharp whistle ripped through the air, wrenching He Yiming, who was deep in that subtle state, sharply back to awareness.

He shook his head, sighing with regret. Trying to recapture that state resembling enlightenment was never easy; even for him, it wasn't something he could enter at will.

However, thankfully, he still remembered his objective. Upon hearing that sound filled with violence, He Yiming immediately knew he was nearing his destination.

His movements slowed considerably. The surrounding black mist even seemed to slowly drift toward him, making the area around him look startlingly like a dark vortex.

Slowly, centering on him, the nearby black fog grew denser and gradually expanded.

This change began slowly, but once it achieved a certain scale, the transformation became visibly faster and more pronounced.

From the black mist ahead came the ferocious roar of a desperate man fighting to the death. Amidst this immense howling, the voices of Hao Xue and the others could vaguely be heard.

“Brother Hao, the fog here seems even thicker,” Fang Sheng’s voice rang out urgently, tinged with a slight anxiety.

They had been in this place for about twenty days now, and even he could feel a suffocating pressure almost constantly.

Zhu Guanhui’s tone was no better. He snorted coldly, “Half an hour should be enough; the Blood Coagulation Bead should be forming by now.”

Hao Xue’s voice resonated faintly. Perhaps due to the special cultivation method he practiced, among the three of them, he was the only one who could maintain complete composure.

“No, you must remember how we failed last time. It was because the engagement was too brief; we didn't allow him to maximize his potential, so the Blood Coagulation Bead failed to form. Therefore, this time we must be steady and not be careless again.”

Fang and Zhu fell silent. Violent sonic booms echoed in the space. If they couldn't kill the frenzied man, keeping him constantly battered and injured while confining him to a fixed area was no simple task.

However, the three of them had no choice. If they didn't contain this person in a fixed spot, the moment another howl erupted, these berserk individuals would unhesitatingly abandon them. Having suffered twice already, they would not pay that price again.

This arrangement, however, suddenly increased the pressure on each of them. If they hadn't each possessed the immense power of the Dingzu level, they certainly couldn't have maintained this situation for long.

After the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Hao Xue finally stated, “Brother Fang, you can make your move.”

Fang Sheng responded with a long drawl, his voice carrying a sense of relieved satisfaction. Then, his figure flickered slightly, instantly becoming ethereal and unsubstantial. The strangeness of this movement technique was so unpredictable that facing not just one frenzied man, but even He Yiming, would leave them dizzy and disoriented.

In a flash, he appeared before the man and gently blew into the flute in his mouth.

A sharp, needle-like stream of True Qi shot out from the other end of the flute, instantly piercing the center of the man’s brow.

The man’s body swayed a few times before collapsing limply.

Fang Sheng’s heart finally relaxed. But at that very instant, a sinister aura suddenly permeated the air, causing every hair on his spine to stand on end.

An intense premonition of danger surged from the depths of his heart, chilling him to the bone.

Although he came from a great established family in the interior, he was a veteran of countless battles, and his reaction speed was unparalleled.

Without a second thought, he swung the jade flute in his hand. A strange, crisp sound rang out, as if striking something solid. However, the fatal crisis did not dissipate; instead, it grew even more intense.

In that split second, Fang Sheng lunged sideways, utilizing his most adept and peculiar movement technique to its absolute limit, crying out in alarm, “Someone…” At this moment, he could only focus on saving his own life; he had no way to spare a thought for the already dead frenzied man.

A black glint seemed to flash through the black mist. A long, strange sword thrust out from the spot where Fang Sheng had just stood.

He Yiming’s shock was no less than Fang Sheng’s.

First, he condensed the mist to conceal his presence as much as possible.

Fortunately, the attention of the three was entirely focused on the frenzied man; otherwise, even He Yiming could not have infiltrated this area so easily.

Fang Sheng had just successfully killed the man and was at his most relaxed, and He Yiming chose this precise instant to strike.

He used his self-created Blood Needles, integrated with Ice and Paralysis powers, to lead the attack, followed immediately by the Forked Sword.

These two chained attacks represented the absolute limit of what he could achieve while maintaining his disguise.

However, Fang Sheng’s reaction speed was far beyond his expectation. With that seemingly casual wave of his hand, the jade flute bizarrely deflected the Blood Needle, and Fang Sheng’s movement was so agile and unpredictable that after dodging He Yiming’s surprise thrust, he still felt almost impossible to pursue.

Thus, He Yiming’s meticulously planned first assassination attempt completely failed.

But his reaction was not slow in the slightest. Failing the initial strike, he immediately lowered his body, and with a flick of his wrist, he telekinetically pulled the corpse on the ground into his palm.

Almost simultaneously, He Yiming pushed off slightly with his feet, retreating backward at a speed even faster than when he arrived.

The furious roars of Hao Xue and Zhu Guanhui erupted in unison. The three of them could never have imagined that a super expert capable of hiding from them lurked behind them.

Two massive torrents of True Qi instantly pierced the air, pursuing the direction of He Yiming’s retreat.

Immediately following them was Fang Sheng, who had regained his composure.

A trace of ferocity appeared on all three of their faces. At this moment, they were utterly united in their desire to kill this unknown expert on the spot.

After all, their actions this time absolutely could not be leaked in the slightest, or the fate awaiting the three of them would be unspeakably grim.

He Yiming’s figure abruptly stopped. He simply dissolved into the black mist, seemingly becoming another dense patch of fog, and vanished without a trace.

Hao Xue’s eyes narrowed, and he exclaimed in shock, “An illusion technique…”

He Yiming’s heart stirred. In their voices, he detected not shock or fear, but rather a subtle, gratified joy.

Such an involuntary utterance could not be faked. A thought flashed through He Yiming’s mind, and without pausing his movements, the Forked Sword he had retracted suddenly thrust out again.

“Clang…”

A crisp sound rang out suddenly from the void.

“The Forked Sword Assassin?” Zhu Guanhui, who waved his hand to deflect the sword, also gave a soft cry, his voice carrying an indescribable tone of relief.

Hao Xue’s voice finally sounded, heavy with relief: “My lord, please stop. We are all on the same side.”