Chapter 452 - 449: Discovered

Chapter 452: Chapter 449: Discovered

The warehouse had been picked clean. Just as Fang Han was about to turn and leave—

Suddenly, his expression changed drastically.

Through the perception of his "Thousand Mile Soul Lock," the Second-Grade aura, which had been calm and steady, suddenly fluctuated.

It had broken free from a deep state of Cultivation or sleep, and its aura’s fluctuations had become violent.

Moreover, the aura was now moving at an incredible speed.

Its direction was straight toward the warehouse.

’I’ve been discovered?’

Fang Han’s heart skipped a beat.

He had no time for shock or doubt. He pushed the Wind God Step to its absolute limit, his figure transforming into a faint, barely perceptible streak of light as he shot out of the warehouse.

Under the moonlight, his speed was astonishing, almost blending into the night wind.

The very instant he left the warehouse, a figure had already charged over, closing in.

It was an old woman of about sixty. Her frame was thin and frail, but her back was ramrod straight.

Her graying hair was meticulously combed into a tight bun at the back of her head, secured with a simple silver hairpin.

Her face was aged, but her eyes were shockingly bright, glinting with a sharp light as she blinked.

She wore the unique dark-patterned black robe of a Netherworld Pavilion Elder. The hems were embroidered with silver thread in a dark flame pattern that shimmered with a cold luster in the night.

This was none other than Qin Luomei, one of the Netherworld Pavilion’s nine remaining Second-Grade Elders.

"Halt, thief!"

Qin Luomei’s voice was hoarse and deep, yet it carried an unquestionable authority.

With a flicker of her body, she transformed into a black streak of light, shooting after Fang Han.

WHOOSH!

Fang Han didn’t look back, simply pushing his Wind God Step to its absolute peak.

His speed was staggering. Like an invisible gust of wind under the moonlight, he swept past rows of wooden huts in the mining camp, racing toward the surrounding wall.

"Stop him!"

Qin Luomei’s voice rang out from behind, thick with suppressed rage.

In the mining camp, a few Netherworld Pavilion Steward Disciples, startled awake, rushed out of their wooden huts. Seeing a green shadow speeding toward them, they hastily drew their weapons.

"Halt!"

One Steward roared, his long saber transforming into a bolt of white silk as he slashed directly at Fang Han.

Fang Han didn’t even slow down. The Cloud Splitting Sword left its sheath, its light flashing once.

The Steward didn’t even see the sword’s path before he felt a chill on his throat and collapsed limply.

Another Steward lunged from the side, thrusting out both palms. A jet-black Palm Seal, carrying a sinister, cold gale, shot toward Fang Han’s ribs.

Fang Han sidestepped the attack and countered with a backhanded slash.

The sword light flashed past. The Steward’s head flew high into the air, and his headless body continued to stumble forward two more steps from inertia before crashing to the ground.

Several Netherworld Pavilion disciples closed in from the front, trying to impede Fang Han’s speed.

Fang Han’s Sword Momentum didn’t falter. He swept the Cloud Splitting Sword horizontally.

A condensed streak of azure Sword Qi shot from the blade, sweeping toward the disciples.

PFFT! PFFT! PFFT!

Several dull thuds sounded almost simultaneously.

The disciples had no time to react before the Sword Qi struck them, slicing their bodies in two and spraying blood everywhere.

WHOOSH!

From the moment Fang Han left the warehouse to when he had cut down several people, only a few breaths had passed.

His speed was almost completely unaffected. With the Wind God Step at full power, he had already reached the base of the surrounding wall.

Tapping his toes lightly on the ground, his figure soared into the air like a night bird, silently vaulting over the wall.

When he landed, he was already outside the mining camp.

Behind him, Qin Luomei’s figure was in hot pursuit.

Though she was over sixty, her Body Technique showed no signs of age. Her speed was astounding, her dark figure like a black bolt of lightning under the moonlight.

However, Fang Han was faster than she was.

As a Grandmaster-level Body Technique, the speed of Wind God Step, even at the Entry Level, was far beyond what the Body Technique of an ordinary Second Grade Martial Artist could match.

The distance between them was widening at a visible rate.

Thirty zhang.

Fifty zhang.

A hundred zhang.

Fang Han’s figure grew more distant and fainter in the night, like a wisp of green smoke scattered by the wind.

Qin Luomei’s expression grew uglier and uglier.

She desperately circulated her Inner Qi, pushing her Body Technique to its absolute limit, yet she still couldn’t close the distance with Fang Han.

That green shadow was like the real wind—impossible to catch, impossible to pursue.

A moment later, it vanished completely into the darkness of the night.

"Damn it!"

Qin Luomei cursed under her breath, her eyes filled with unwillingness.

But she knew she couldn’t catch him.

Continuing the chase would only be a pointless waste of Inner Qi.

She stopped abruptly, standing on a ridge with her hands clasped behind her back. She stared in the direction the green shadow had fled, her face as dark as water.

The night wind rustled past, stirring her graying hair and making her look particularly desolate under the moonlight.

After a long while, she finally retracted her gaze and turned to race back toward the mining camp.

When she returned to the camp, the awakened Steward Disciples were gathered in front of the warehouse, their faces pale and their eyes filled with terror.

Seeing Qin Luomei return, they all hurriedly cleared a path, standing with their heads bowed, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Qin Luomei’s gaze swept over the eight corpses propped against the wall, then fell upon the slightly ajar warehouse door.

She walked forward and pushed the door open.

Moonlight streamed in from outside, illuminating the empty warehouse.

Of the wooden crates that had once been piled high, not a single one remained.

In that instant, Qin Luomei’s face turned ashen.

She turned around slowly, walked out of the warehouse, and her gaze fell on the eight bodies.

"Who was on duty tonight?"

Her voice was hoarse, laced with uncontrollable anger.

"Re... Reporting to the Elder... it... it was me..."

A middle-aged man in a Steward’s Robe steeled himself and stepped forward, his voice trembling.

"Someone snuck right up to the warehouse door, slaughtered all eight guards, and you noticed nothing?"

Qin Luomei’s gaze landed on the Steward’s face, her voice ice-cold.

"I... I..."

The Steward opened his mouth, wanting to make an excuse, but found he had none to give.

Eight disciples had been killed and the warehouse picked clean, yet they, the ones in charge of the night watch, had been completely oblivious.

It was a dereliction of duty, an undeniable one.

Qin Luomei said no more, only withdrawing her gaze and standing before the warehouse door with her hands behind her back.

She stared at the slightly ajar door and the broken iron lock on the frame, her expression so dark it seemed like water could drip from it.

Those crates, that ore—

That was the stockpile accumulated from several months of mining, worth tens of millions of taels.

Now, in a single night, it had all turned to nothing.

"Thief..."

Qin Luomei ground her teeth, uttering the word as if each syllable was laced with poison.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, suppressing the roiling emotions within her.

A moment later, she opened her eyes. In those sharp, glinting pupils, only an icy chill remained.

"Send a message to the Sect."

She spoke, her voice returning to a calm tone, but beneath that calm lay a volcano on the verge of erupting.

"Report that the mining camp was robbed. The entire ore stockpile is gone, eight guard disciples have been killed, and the thief’s Body Technique was extremely fast. I... was unable to catch him."

"Yes."

The Steward quickly complied and hurried away.

Qin Luomei stood before the warehouse, hands clasped behind her back, staring at the ajar door. The more she thought about it, the more furious she became.

In the end, she could no longer suppress her rage.

She raised a hand and struck out with her palm.

BOOM!

Under the force of the blow, the heavy ironwood door exploded, sending splinters flying everywhere.

A huge, jagged hole appeared in the door, and broken wood littered the ground.

The Steward Disciples, standing with their heads bowed, trembled in fear at the strike. They lowered their heads even further, suppressing their breathing to a minimum.

Qin Luomei withdrew her palm and stood with her hands clasped behind her back.

Her face was still dark, but the turmoil in her eyes had gradually calmed.

"Clean this up. Take the bodies away."

She spoke, her voice flat.

"Yes."

As if granted a pardon, the disciples quickly responded and got to work.

Some carried away the bodies, others cleaned the bloodstains on the ground, and some began to repair the shattered door.

’It’s a shame I couldn’t see what kind of Body Technique he used!’

Qin Luomei stood rooted to the spot, gazing at the mess with a deep frown.

’If it were daytime, I might have been able to identify the thief by his Body Technique.’

Unfortunately, her vision was blurry in the dark, and she hadn’t been able to get a clear look at the Body Technique the person used.

---

「Over a hundred li from the mining camp.」

Fang Han’s figure came to a halt in a dense forest.

He glanced back the way he came. Under the moonlight, the mountain forest was silent; there were no pursuers.

’Thousand Mile Soul Lock.’

With a slight shift in his thoughts, he fully activated this Scent Tracking Secret Technique, carefully sensing all the auras within a several-li radius.

The fresh scent of grass and trees, the earthy smell of the soil, the foul odor of nocturnal beasts—

Everything was normal. The cold, heavy aura of the Second-Grade expert was nowhere to be found.

’She didn’t follow.’

Fang Han slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air, the taut string in his heart loosening slightly.

His gaze swept his surroundings. He found a hidden tree hollow and slipped inside.

The hollow wasn’t large, barely big enough for him to sit curled up.

Now that he was safe, a question lingered in his mind, refusing to go away.

’How was I exposed?’

Fang Han frowned slightly and muttered to himself, his voice so quiet only he could hear it.

’With the Breath Concealment Ability of my Perfection-level Returning Ruins Hidden Essence Skill, my aura is concealed as if I were a lifeless stone.’

’Even a Second Grade Martial Artist’s Spiritual Perception should have had no way of discovering my presence.’

’But that Second-Grade Elder from the Netherworld Pavilion clearly discovered an anomaly, which is why she headed straight for the warehouse.’

’How on earth did she discover it?’

Fang Han carefully replayed the entire process in his mind from beginning to end.

’I infiltrated the mining camp without alerting anyone.’

’I approached the warehouse, used Sword Intent to kill the eight guard disciples, and added sword wounds to cover my tracks.’

’I broke the lock, entered the warehouse, and absorbed the ore...’

’Everything was done silently. Not a trace of my aura leaked out, and I didn’t make a single sound.’

’And yet, that Second-Grade Elder still noticed something was wrong.’

’Could it be... the eight disciples?’

An idea flashed through Fang Han’s mind, and he formed a hypothesis.

’It’s unlikely my Breath Concealment Ability was compromised. So if it wasn’t because of me, it must have been because of someone else.’

’The eight disciples were killed, their auras dissipating.’

’The Second-Grade Elder must have swept the mining camp with her Spiritual Perception and noticed the disappearance of those eight auras. That’s what alerted her and made her rush to the warehouse.’

’That must be it.’

Fang Han muttered to himself. The more he thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed.

’Although the Second-Grade Elder’s Spiritual Perception couldn’t detect my aura, it could detect the disappearance of the eight disciples’ auras.’

’That’s how she sensed the anomaly.’

’The reason I wasn’t discovered during my previous two operations must be because only a Third Grade Martial Artist was stationed there...’

Realization dawned on Fang Han.

The medicinal field and mining camp he had previously robbed were both guarded by Third-Grade Elders.

A Third Grade Martial Artist has a limited range of Spiritual Perception and can’t cover an entire mining camp, so naturally, they wouldn’t notice the disappearance of the guards’ auras.

But this Second-Grade Elder’s Spiritual Perception was vast enough to cover the entire camp, which is how she discovered the anomaly.

’Targeting a property guarded by a Second-Grade Elder really is a bit risky!’

A sense of caution rose in Fang Han’s heart.

Just as he had judged before, targeting properties guarded by Second-Grade Elders was indeed too risky.

’For my next move, I should stick to targeting Netherworld Pavilion properties guarded only by Third-Grade Elders.’

’The haul will be smaller each time, but the advantage is that it’s safer and I’m less likely to be exposed.’