Chapter 528 - 524: Something’s Wrong

Chapter 528: Chapter 524: Something’s Wrong

"Just what I needed!"

A faint smile touched Fang Han’s lips as he continued to flip through the pages.

The second page was a general outline, explaining the cultivation principles and core secrets of "Ghost Shadow." The text was archaic and profound.

The main text began on the third page, filled with densely packed, minuscule script accompanied by several complex diagrams of the human meridians.

It detailed the pathways for Inner Qi circulation, the Magic Gates for retracting qi and blood, and the incantations for coordinating the mind.

Fang Han studied it word by word, sentence by sentence.

Although the text was abstruse and the meridian charts complex, with his current attainments in the way of Secret Techniques and his ridiculously high Secret Technique Talent after the Talent Amplification, it wasn’t too difficult for him to understand.

He continued flipping through the pages, but he faintly sensed that something was off.

At first, it was just a faint, almost imperceptible sense of disharmony.

It was like two strings that were supposed to resonate at the same frequency but were off by the slightest margin, sounding just a little discordant to the ear.

He stopped reading, closed his eyes, and reviewed the pages he had just read in his mind.

This time, he didn’t just skim through it. He scrutinized every word and sentence, cross-referencing the general outline, the main text, and the diagrams.

Then, his brows slowly furrowed.

’Something’s wrong!’

Fang Han opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the Beast Hide Booklet in his hands.

He began flipping through it from the beginning again, this time much more slowly and carefully.

He mulled over every incantation, meticulously compared every diagram, and repeatedly simulated every path of Inner Qi circulation in his mind.

When he reached the fifth page, he finally found the source of the disharmony.

This page recorded an incantation regarding the "circulation of Inner Qi."

According to the cultivation principles of the Returning Ruins Hidden Essence Skill, the core of a Breath Concealment Technique is "retraction."

It requires one to retract all their Inner Qi, qi-blood, and life force into their body, allowing their aura to become like a drop of water in the ocean, merging completely with the surroundings.

But this incantation required the Cultivator to draw their Inner Qi out from their body and have it cling to the surface of their skin when circulating the Secret Technique.

’This Cultivation Technique is flawed!’

Fang Han’s brow furrowed even tighter.

He simulated the technique’s circulation path in his mind over and over again and finally came to a conclusion.

If he cultivated according to this incantation, at best, he would fail to master the Secret Technique. At worst, his Inner Qi would run rampant, his meridians would be damaged, and he would suffer a backlash.

’This Grandmaster Secret Technique is a fake!’

Fang Han put down the booklet and fell silent for a moment.

Having cultivated a Top Grade Breath Concealment Secret Technique to Perfection, he possessed profound attainments in the way of Secret Techniques.

Coupled with the fact that his Secret Technique Talent had been greatly enhanced after consuming the Secret Technique Fruit, his intuition regarding Secret Technique cultivation was far sharper than before.

Only then was he able to sniff out that faint, almost imperceptible hint of disharmony from this seemingly profound and mysterious manual.

’It’s a fake.’

Fang Han muttered those three words, his voice echoing softly in the quiet cave.

He had thought it was a Grandmaster Level Breath Concealment Secret Technique that could make up for his shortcomings in Concealing Breath.

But unexpectedly, the manual he had fought so hard to obtain was a fake.

The level of forgery on this fake manual was indeed extremely high.

If not for his profound attainments in the way of Secret Techniques and his extremely high Secret Technique Talent, he probably would never have noticed the problem and would have just treated it as a genuine Grandmaster Secret Technique, eagerly beginning his cultivation.

Then, he would have either failed to master the Secret Technique, wasting a great deal of time and energy, or his Inner Qi would have flowed in reverse, causing a backlash and leaving him severely injured.

’Who would do this, and why?’

Fang Han suppressed his disappointment and fell into deep thought.

’Who was the forger?’

’And why would they do such a thing?’

The information he had was extremely limited, making it difficult to deduce the forger’s motive.

’Whatever their reason, this person most likely has the real Grandmaster Secret Technique in their possession.’

A glint flashed in Fang Han’s eyes.

To create a forgery so convincing it had almost fooled him was something no ordinary person could achieve.

It was only possible if the forgery was mixed with genuine content, which meant this person almost certainly possessed the real Grandmaster Secret Technique.

’If I can find this person, there’s a high probability I can obtain a genuine Grandmaster Secret Technique!’

Fang Han closed "Ghost Shadow" and activated "Thousand-Mile Soul Lock" with all his might.

He unleashed his Tracking Secret Technique, which was at the Realm of Perfection, without reservation, extending his senses toward the manual in his hands.

His mind was highly focused as he sifted through the vast sea of auras, distinguishing the residual scents on the Beast Hide Booklet one by one.

The scent of the lean man, the scent of the bald, burly man, and the scents of those men in black—

All these had been picked up in the woods outside Songqiao City. Less than half a day had passed, so their scents were still strong.

But beneath these several scents, there was another one—extremely faint, almost nonexistent.

The scent was so faint that if he hadn’t pushed "Thousand-Mile Soul Lock" to its limit and focused his mind completely, he wouldn’t have been able to detect it at all.

And this wisp of scent belonged neither to the lean man, nor the bald, burly man, nor any of the men in black.

’It’s most likely the forger’s scent.’

Fang Han opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing within them. He firmly memorized this extremely faint scent.

’As long as this person appears within ten li of me, I’ll be able to recognize him.’

Fang Han stood up, took out a map to get his bearings, and executed Wind God Step, dashing toward the nearest city.

Because the scent was too faint and only lingered on the fake manual, he couldn’t track the forger directly.

However, by investigating city by city, he was bound to find the forger’s trail eventually.

Although it would take a considerable amount of time, it was completely worth it for a Grandmaster Secret Technique.

Over the next few days, Fang Han visited every city within a several-hundred-li radius.

At each city, he didn’t enter. Instead, he stood in an inconspicuous corner outside the city gates, pushed "Thousand-Mile Soul Lock" to its limit, and scanned every aura within the city.

On the first day, he checked three cities.

Nothing.

On the second day, he checked another four cities.

Still nothing.

On the third day, he arrived at a small city called "Qingxi City."

The city walls were low, and the banners on the battlements hung listlessly in the twilight.

BZZZZ—

Fang Han stopped beneath an ancient tree outside the city gates. He activated "Thousand-Mile Soul Lock" with his full power, sweeping his perception across the city.

The diners in the restaurants, the travelers in the inns, the pedestrians on the streets, the residents in their homes—

Countless auras intertwined, forming an incredibly complex tapestry of scents.

He scanned from the east side of the city to the west, from the south to the north.

Then, his perception suddenly focused.

In an unremarkable courtyard in the western part of the city, an aura entered his perception. It was restrained, faintly exuding a barely perceptible, sinister chill.

"Found him."

Fang Han slowly opened his eyes, a faint smile appearing on his lips. After several days of searching, he had finally found the scent.

Wearing the Human Skin Mask, he stepped into the city.

He didn’t rush toward the source of the aura. Instead, he found a small teahouse to drink tea and listen to the storyteller.

He didn’t leave the teahouse until nightfall, then headed for the source of the aura.

Qingxi City wasn’t large. The western district was mostly inhabited by commoners, with narrow, winding alleyways and bluestone paths pockmarked from years of disrepair.

Under the moonlight, Fang Han followed the direction of the scent, passing through several narrow alleys barely wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side, and stopped before an inconspicuous courtyard.

The courtyard walls were low and made of mottled green bricks, with a few clusters of half-withered vines creeping along the top.

The courtyard gate was shut tight. The New Year’s paintings of door gods pasted on it had faded into blurry patches of color.

BZZZZ—

Fang Han didn’t rush to sneak in. Instead, he pushed "Thousand-Mile Soul Lock" to its limit, his perception flooding into the courtyard like a tide to ascertain the situation inside.

’Only one aura.’

Within his perception, there was only one person in the courtyard. Judging from the aura, this person was most likely a Third Grade Martial Artist.

’I hope this pays off!’

Fang Han carefully smoothed out a wrinkle at the temple of his Human Skin Mask. After confirming everything was in order, he vaulted over the wall and snuck in.

Leaping over the wall, Fang Han’s boots landed silently on the courtyard’s green bricks.

The courtyard wasn’t large. In a corner were several half-man-high earthenware jars, their mouths sealed with red cloth, faintly emitting a pungent medicinal smell.

The door to the main room was ajar, and a dim yellow light seeped through the crack, casting a long, thin shadow on the stone steps outside.

WHOOSH!

Fang Han pushed the door open and darted inside.

A Third Grade Martial Artist was esteemed enough to be an honored guest even in a major faction, yet the furnishings in the room were so simple they were almost squalid.

A table, a chair, a bed, and a wooden cabinet standing in the corner.

Seven or eight sheets of artificially aged beast hide were spread across the table, next to several ceramic bowls containing half-dried ink and pigments.

The air was filled with a foul medicinal odor, identical to the smell coming from the earthenware jars in the courtyard.

A man sat behind the table.

He appeared to be in his fifties, so gaunt he was almost skeletal. His cheekbones were high, his eye sockets were deep-set, and his eyes glinted with a sinister cold light in the dim lamplight.

He wore a gray cloth long-robe, its cuffs stained with ink spots. His fingers were as long and thin as withered branches, their knuckles covered in calluses.

"Who’s there?"

Hearing the commotion, the man abruptly looked up and saw Fang Han, who had just darted into the room.

His pupils contracted. His right hand shot out like lightning, reaching under the table.

A short spear was placed there.

However, Fang Han clearly wasn’t going to give him the chance.

WHOOSH!

Fang Han moved.

His figure was like a wisp of invisible wind, closing in on the man’s side in an instant.

His right hand seized the man’s right wrist as it reached under the table, while his left hand was already gripping the man’s throat.

His physical strength of three hundred thousand jin erupted without reservation. He lifted the man into the air and slammed him heavily against the wall.

The wall shook violently, and streams of plaster dust trickled down.

The man let out a muffled grunt. As a Third Grade Martial Artist, his Protective Inner Qi surged wildly under Fang Han’s palm, but it was like waves crashing against a reef, shattering and dissipating upon impact.

He tried to raise his leg to kick Fang Han’s waist, but Fang Han simply kneed him in the stomach. A sharp pain spread from his abdomen, and the man temporarily lost all his strength.

"Who... are you?" the man asked in a low voice.

The flickering flame of the oil lamp was reflected in his eyes, making them glint erratically.

"I ask, you answer," Fang Han said, ignoring the man’s question as he tightened his grip on his throat.