He returned to Moonlit City, still occasionally visiting taverns for drinks and to gather intelligence. Ten days passed in a blink, yet the Huahun Palm manual had vanished without a trace, no word of it surfacing anywhere.

Li Muzhan hadn't been idle during this time. He journeyed to the mountains in the north, finding a secluded valley where he set up an array to seal his aura.

He modified the array, making the suppression of his presence increasingly potent. Even so, he couldn't be certain the Qinghe Sword Sect wouldn't locate him, but with his instant movement ability, he felt no fear.

He quieted his mind, consulting Zheng Tianhe's cultivation methods while practicing his own swordsmanship.

After ten days of practice, Li Muzhan felt disappointed. Although the method was excellent, it couldn't be rushed. To reach Zheng Tianhe's level would take at least ten years, even with his formidable body.

Li Muzhan sighed. Ten years was too long. If he couldn't return to his original world, nothing held meaning. Though this world was extraordinary, he grew increasingly homesick for both of his original worlds.

The Bright Mountain in his mind constantly emitted the emotions of the women there. He could feel their longing for him, and his own yearning for them intensified.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find the path back. This world was too powerful; finding a passage would not be easy.

Having experienced three worlds, he vaguely grasped a sliver of profound mystery: the opening of the Gate between Heavens required specific conditions—achieving the pinnacle of power within this very world.

Traveling from one world to another was akin to the ancient ascension to immortality; one needed overwhelming strength capable of shattering the bonds of this realm to transcend it.

He wasn't rushing to find an exit point now; he urgently needed to increase his strength. Once his power reached the requisite level, the passage would naturally appear, and departure would be a matter of course.

The spiritual energy in this world was incredibly dense, allowing people to advance quickly in cultivation. As a newcomer, he was at a severe disadvantage. With the same aptitude and cultivation method, what others achieved in ten years might take him twenty or thirty, especially since they were older and possessed superior foundational techniques. Despite his formidable spirit granted by the Guantian Ren Shen Zhao Jing, facing these top masters still felt arduous.

When he was in the Tianyuan Pavilion, he felt invincible. Only upon leaving did he realize how vast the world was, how abundant the masters, and how countless the supreme experts. He had inherited profound power, but other major sects possessed similar arcane methods. In comparison, his advantage was limited.

Once he understood this, he shifted his focus to comprehending the Twelve Swords of Tianyuan. The deeper his grasp of the Void-Breaking Sword Intent became, the easier his Shunyi became, and his flying daggers grew ever more unpredictable.

Under the guise of Li Canghai, he utilized his palm techniques; as Li Wuji, he wielded his sword. The flying daggers remained his ultimate trump card, reserved for life-or-death situations.

He was confident that his mastery of the flying daggers surpassed the other two arts; it was a supreme skill he had practiced since childhood, never neglecting it, integrating it completely into his being.

One morning, while sitting alone in a tavern, sipping his drink, his ears twitched. He overheard a hushed conversation: "Did you hear? Several people died in the peach grove on the southern outskirts of the city."

"Oh?"

"Seriously! Ten people dead. I saw them with my own eyes—it was terrifying!"

"How did you see them?"

"I just happened to be passing by that way."

"How were they handled?"

"Ten people dying at once—clearly trouble. I didn't dare linger and ran straight out."

"Smart!"

Though the two spoke softly, almost inaudibly to anyone nearby, Li Muzhan's spirit lifted. He had been waiting for news these days. This was the territory of the Mingjing Sect, and the Tianyuan Pavilion’s eyes and ears were less effective here. The Mingjing Sect was notoriously tyrannical, forbidding other sects from establishing footholds within their domain.

Li Muzhan paid his bill and left, quickly exiting the south gate. He activated the Eye of the Void and soon located the peach grove. Already, over twenty individuals were examining the ten corpses.

Li Muzhan frowned, floating closer until he entered the grove. The twenty-odd people sifting through the bodies wore varied attire, but their cultivation levels were all exceptionally deep.

They turned to look at Li Muzhan, their expressions unfriendly.

Ignoring the group, Li Muzhan strode to a corpse and looked down. A middle-aged man in a grey tunic frowned: "May I ask which esteemed guest you are?"

Li Muzhan replied calmly, "Li Canghai."

"...Li Canghai of Baishan?" The grey-clad man frowned.

Li Muzhan nodded, examining the body. "Killed by palm force?"

The wariness on the grey-clad man's face dissolved, and he slowly sighed. "A formidable palm technique. Young Brother Li, please observe."

He turned the corpse over, showing Li Muzhan the palm print on the chest.

Li Muzhan placed his own right palm against it, comparing it to the charred imprint. This man's hand was shorter than Li Muzhan's but broader.

Li Muzhan captured a faint trace of vital energy. These people hadn't died long ago. A subtle, almost imperceptible aura lingered on the palm print. Li Muzhan was overjoyed, yet his face remained composed, showing no flicker of emotion.

The grey-clad man asked, "Young Brother Li, have you heard of anyone with astonishing palm strength?"

Li Muzhan asked, "Did the Mingjing Sect do this?"

"Surely not..." The grey-clad man's expression shifted slightly, hesitation crossing his face.

The might of the Mingjing Sect was deeply ingrained in people’s minds, and this was their territory. To utter such words required immense courage. The middle-aged man’s heart trembled, then he recalled Li Muzhan's reputation—a man daring to confront the Qinghe Sword Sect alone must indeed possess great audacity.

He felt it best to keep his distance from Li Muzhan, lest he be implicated. Such reckless behavior would surely invite trouble from the Mingjing Sect sooner or later.

Li Muzhan stated, "I hear the Mingjing Sect's palm techniques are exquisite, even superior to their swordplay."

"While that may be true, calling the Mingjing Sect responsible is too presumptive," the grey-clad man shook his head with a wry smile. "Better we all examine the evidence together first."

Li Muzhan examined a few more bodies. Judging by appearances alone, it was difficult to confirm a single assailant. There were traces of palm force and fingertip strikes, all resulting in instant death, indicating profound cultivation.

The onlookers grew grave, realizing that if they had faced such an opponent, they might have suffered the same fate as the corpses lying before them.

However, Li Muzhan discerned that these ten deaths were the work of one person; the palm force and fingertip strikes originated from the same source. This individual's cultivation was extremely deep, and Li Muzhan judged himself inferior. Furthermore, the aura of this person felt vaguely familiar—it was the same one who killed Mo Shiren!

He shook his head inwardly. Even if he tracked this person down, obtaining the manual would be monumentally difficult, and he might end up being hunted himself. This person was somewhat more terrifying than Zheng Tianhe.

Li Muzhan did not retreat; instead, a fierce battle intent ignited within him. The sheer number and strength of the masters in this world were exhilarating. Since he possessed Shunyi, he could flee anytime he wished, so he held no real fear of these experts.

He turned and floated away without bidding farewell to the others.

He moved swiftly, following the faint trace of vital energy. Soon, he passed through Moonlit City and headed north into the continuous mountain range, guided by the sensation.

After an hour of rapid travel, Li Muzhan suddenly stopped, sitting cross-legged beneath a tree, utterly still, while the Eye of the Void spread outward.

Ten miles away, in a mountain valley, a fierce battle was underway between just two individuals—one thin and one stout—resembling two spiraling tornadoes. Where they passed, not a blade of grass remained, and stones and sand were whipped into the air.

Li Muzhan observed their fight and thus did not rush closer. The cultivation levels of these two far surpassed his own; if he engaged them directly, he would not be their match.

He opened the Eye of the Void to examine them. Both were around forty years old. The thin one was short, his movements as agile as an ape's. The stout one was also not tall, stocky, with a smiling, amiable look, appearing almost like a tavern keeper.

The thin man's movement was fluid, his palm strikes like lightning. The stout man seemed clumsy but practiced the essence of achieving mastery through apparent awkwardness; his palm force was heavy and profound, his footwork mystical, mastering the principle of countering movement with stillness. Every move employed by the pair was exquisite, eliciting silent admiration from Li Muzhan.

He mused to himself: Even if he possessed the same internal energy, he might not defeat either of them. Their palm techniques were too refined. If it were swordsmanship, Li Muzhan would have some confidence, but when it came to palms, he was inferior to these two.