Chapter 448 - 445: Perfection of the Returning Ruins Hidden Essence Skill

Chapter 448: Chapter 445: Perfection of the Returning Ruins Hidden Essence Skill

In the Quiet Chamber, Fang Han sat cross-legged with his eyes slightly closed.

The Technique of the Returning Ruins Hidden Essence Skill flowed through his mind. A mystical aura circulated within his body, each cycle smoother and more natural than the last.

His one-hundred-and-twenty-eightfold Secret Technique Talent Amplification was on full display at this moment.

The various key points of the technique became crystal clear in his mind, as if parting the clouds to see the sun.

Guiding his Inner Qi became effortless, as natural as breathing.

He could feel himself drawing closer and closer to that threshold.

One day.

Two days.

Three days.

Fang Han poured his entire being into the Cultivation of this Secret Technique, day after day, without interruption.

On the eighth day, he could faintly touch that thin membrane.

On the ninth day, the membrane had become so thin it was almost nonexistent.

The tenth day.

In the Quiet Chamber, Fang Han sat cross-legged, the aura around him as still as water.

The Technique of the Returning Ruins Hidden Essence Skill flowed through his mind. A mystical aura circulated within his body, each cycle more complete and fluid than the last.

Suddenly—

HUMMM...

A soft hum that only he could perceive resounded from deep within his body.

The sound was exceedingly faint, almost imperceptible, yet it seemed to open some invisible door.

In that instant, the aura around his body underwent a qualitative change.

The feeling of "nothingness" was several times more profound than it had been at the Great Success Realm.

It was as if he were not a person, but a stone, a piece of deadwood, a speck of dust.

He blended completely with his surroundings, with no sense of being out of place.

"The Returning Ruins Hidden Essence Skill, Perfection."

Fang Han opened his eyes, a flicker of joy flashing within them.

He stood up, and with a slight shift in his thoughts, activated the Secret Technique with his full power.

The sensation of blending with his surroundings became intense to the extreme.

He stood in the center of the Quiet Chamber, yet it was as if he didn’t exist.

No aura leaked out, no life force was revealed, and even his body temperature merged with the surrounding air.

Even if someone were to stand right in front of him, they would likely perceive nothing but empty space if they relied on their senses alone.

’With this Secret Technique, a Second Grade Martial Artist’s Spiritual Perception would have an incredibly difficult time discovering my presence.’

Fang Han muttered to himself, savoring the Transformations brought by the Realm of Perfection.

He paused for a moment before continuing.

’Even a First Grade Martial Artist might not be able to detect me.’

’This is enough.’

There were only a handful of First Grade Martial Artists in the entire Netherworld Pavilion, and each one guarded an extremely important location, rarely ever leaving.

As long as he avoided those critical locations, he could easily avoid the risk of encountering a First Grade Martial Artist.

’It’s time to act.’

Fang Han’s gaze was as calm as still water.

The plan to raid the Netherworld Pavilion’s properties had been swirling in his mind for a long time.

The Netherworld Pavilion and the Qingxuan Sect were like fire and water, constantly engaged in open and secret struggles throughout the county, their conflicts unending.

And as for him and the Netherworld Pavilion, they had long since formed a mortal, irresolvable feud.

The Netherworld Pavilion had targeted him many times, and a good number of their True Inheritors, Stewards, and Elders had already died at his hands.

The Netherworld Pavilion was eager to eliminate him, so naturally, he had no reason to be courteous to them.

...

Tingyu Hall was the Qingxuan Sect’s intelligence agency. The agency was named Tingyu Hall because the Qingxuan Sect had modeled it after the Tingyu Building, which specialized in intelligence gathering.

Tingyu Hall was located on the eastern side of the Qingxuan Sect’s mountainside. It was a three-story pavilion with green bricks, dark tiles, and flying eaves with interlocking brackets, appearing exceptionally serene in the afternoon sun.

As Fang Han stepped into the hall, the faint scent of ink washed over him.

The hall was brightly lit, with several rows of tall bookshelves standing against the walls, neatly stacked with all sorts of scrolls and files.

A few disciples of Tingyu Hall were organizing materials. Seeing Fang Han enter, they hurriedly bowed in greeting.

"Senior Brother Fang."

Fang Han gave a slight nod and walked straight to a middle-aged Steward behind the counter who was looking through a file.

"I need to see the detailed intelligence on the Netherworld Pavilion’s properties in the county."

The Steward looked up. Seeing it was Fang Han, he quickly put down the file in his hands and plastered a smile on his face.

"True Inheritor Fang, please wait a moment. I’ll go get it right away."

He turned and walked into an inner room, returning a moment later holding a thick file, which he presented with both hands.

"True Inheritor Fang, this is the detailed intelligence on all of the Netherworld Pavilion’s properties within the county, including their locations, scale, and garrisoned forces. It is the result of many years of collection and organization by our Tingyu Hall."

Fang Han took the file, sat down by a window, and opened it.

The file was thick, at least a hundred pages, densely packed with records of the Netherworld Pavilion’s various properties in Qingyang County—mines, herb gardens, markets, shops... each one was marked with perfect clarity.

He flipped through it page by page, his gaze slowly sweeping over the text.

The markets and shops were located in the city, where there were too many people and prying eyes. An attack would be easily exposed, and with the spies of various factions in the city, the aftermath would be troublesome to deal with.

’The most suitable targets are the mines and herb gardens...’

Fang Han’s gaze lingered on the sections for mines and herb gardens, and he quickly selected a suitable target.

The target was one of the Netherworld Pavilion’s herb gardens.

It was located southeast of the Qingxuan Sect, in a remote area, with dozens of miles of desolate, uninhabited land around it.

According to the file, the garrison at this herb garden was not strong. It was guarded by only a single Third Grade Elder, with three Stewards and over twenty disciples.

He didn’t stop there. Fang Han continued to read, committing any other suitable targets to memory.

A long time later, Fang Han closed the file, stood up, walked to the counter, and handed it back to the Steward.

"Thank you."

The Steward quickly waved his hands.

"True Inheritor Fang, you’re too kind. It’s my duty."

Fang Han nodded and turned to walk out of Tingyu Hall.

In his mind, the intelligence he had just reviewed flashed by, piece by piece.

That herb garden was the most suitable target for now.

It was remote and its defenses were weak, with only a single Third Grade Elder. With his current strength, even if he were discovered, he could easily annihilate the entire herb garden and prevent any news from leaking.

Most importantly, the medicinal herbs stored in the garden were extremely valuable.

After "recharging," they would bring him immense wealth.

’The first target it is, then.’

Fang Han muttered to himself, his decision made.

Returning to Courtyard Thirty-Five, Qiu Lan was speaking with two Maids in the corridor. When she saw him emerge, she hurried forward to greet him.

"Senior Brother."

Fang Han glanced at her and said coolly, "I will be gone for a few days. If anyone asks, tell them I’m in seclusion for my Cultivation."

Qiu Lan was slightly taken aback, but then nodded. "Yes, Senior Brother."

Fang Han said nothing more, turned back into the house, slung the Cloud Splitting Sword on his back, and took out several bottles of Elixirs, carefully stowing them on his person.

He thought for a moment, then took a stack of silver notes from a hidden compartment, counted out three thousand taels, and tucked them into his robes.

Night fell, the sky as black as ink. Fang Han left his residence and departed the Qingxuan Sect.

He chose to leave at night to avoid running into other disciples and exposing his movements.

He had become a thorn in the Netherworld Pavilion’s side, a spike in their flesh. If they learned he had left the sect, they would surely send experts to attack him.

After running for more than ten li, Fang Han stopped in a secluded mountain hollow.

He took out a Human Skin Mask from his pack, one as thin as a cicada’s wing.

He had exchanged three thousand Contribution Points for it at the supply depot. It could alter his appearance. His reputation was far too great now, making it easy for him to be recognized, so changing his face was essential.

He carefully pressed the mask to his face, then took a set of common gray clothes from his pack and changed into them.

A moment later, a middle-aged man with an ordinary face and an unremarkable air appeared in the hollow.

Fang Han checked his reflection in a stream, confirming that he looked like a completely different person. Only then did he carefully wrap the Cloud Splitting Sword in cloth strips, sling it onto his back, and unleash his Body Technique, speeding away to the southeast.

「Two days later, in the afternoon.」

Fang Han’s figure appeared amidst a stretch of continuous mountain ridges.

This place was far from the Qingxuan Sect. The terrain was remote and sparsely populated, with no villages to be seen for dozens of li in any direction.

He slowed his pace, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings.

Ahead, the outline of a valley appeared in his field of vision.

The valley was not large, surrounded by steep cliffs, with only a single narrow passage for entry.

At the mouth of the valley, a few simple wooden huts were built against the mountain, and the faint movement of figures could be seen.

"Thousand Mile Soul Lock."

Fang Han did not approach. Instead, he concealed himself in a dense thicket of bushes outside the valley entrance and retracted his aura, his entire being becoming like a lifeless stone.

As he activated Thousand Mile Soul Lock, the auras within several li of his position became clearly visible in his perception.

Inside the valley, there were over a hundred human auras, among which more than twenty belonged to Martial Artists.

The most powerful one was located deep in the valley. Its aura was heavy and carried a cold, oppressive feeling—it had to be the Third Grade Elder stationed here.

The other twenty-odd auras were of varying strengths. Some were stronger, around the Fourth or Fifth Grade; others were weaker, merely Seventh or Eighth Grade.

There was no discrepancy with the intelligence report.

Fang Han did not act rashly. He remained silently hidden in the bushes, waiting for night to fall.

The sun sank in the west, and dusk began to settle.

The Netherworld Pavilion disciples in the valley grew busy. Some started fires to cook, some patrolled the herb garden, and others moved in and out of the wooden huts.

Night fell.

The moonlight peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a cold, clear glow that bathed the valley in a silvery white light.

Fang Han still did not move.

He lay in the bushes like a statue, completely motionless.

He was waiting.

Waiting for the dead of night, when the disciples would lower their guard.

As the night deepened, the patrolling disciples grew lax. Their steps were no longer as vigilant, and the occasional yawn could be heard.

SWOOSH!

Fang Han made his move, darting silently out from the bushes.

He used his Wind God Step at full power. His figure was like a wisp of invisible night wind, drifting silently into the valley.

There was no sound of tearing wind, no rustle of clothes, not even the nearly imperceptible sound of his footsteps landing.

He followed the route he had observed during the day, sticking to the shadows of the wooden huts as he sped toward the depths of the valley.

Two patrolling disciples passed by, just over ten zhang away from him, completely unaware.

Fang Han was incredibly fast. In just a moment, he had already reached the depths of the valley.

The aura of the Third Grade Elder emanated from the largest wooden hut, steady and deep.

To avoid alerting the Third Grade Elder, Fang Han gave the hut a wide berth and headed straight for the place in the valley most likely to be the herb garden’s storehouse.

It was a building constructed from green stone.

It covered a considerable area. The door was made of ironwood, thick and sturdy, and a huge iron lock hung on it.

Furthermore, two Netherworld Pavilion disciples stood guard in front of the door.