Chapter 568 - 564: Tracking

Chapter 568: Chapter 564: Tracking

The slaughter in the square was drawing to a close.

The last Tiejiang Gang disciple’s scream was cut short. Blood gushed from the wound on his neck as his body slid limply into a pool of blood.

The masters from the Seven Sects sheathed their weapons, each one gasping for breath.

Some sat cross-legged and took pills to heal their wounds. Some silently wiped the blood from their weapons. Others spoke in low voices about the battle that had just occurred.

The air was thick with the reek of blood, mingled with a sickening, charred odor.

Fang Han sheathed his sword and stood at the edge of the square, looking toward the sect’s main gate.

He didn’t choose to rest for the moment; he hadn’t expended much energy in the previous fight.

Before long, the figures of Hui Ming and Liu Meiniang appeared at the top of the stone steps.

Chen Tianyuan hurried forward to greet them, cupping his hands in a fist as he asked:

"Master Hui Ming, were you able to capture... Yan Wuji?"

Hui Ming shook his head and pressed his palms together, his voice calm yet tinged with regret.

"Yan Wuji escaped. Donor Liu and I managed to injure him severely, but we failed to capture him."

"Fortunately, he is gravely wounded and shouldn’t dare to show his face again for some time."

Liu Meiniang took over, sheathing her longsword. Her voice was cold and clear.

Chen Tianyuan’s heart was heavy, but he didn’t dare blame the two Grandmasters. After all, they had already done their best.

Everyone rested briefly in the square, clearing the battlefield and treating the wounded.

The night deepened. A wind carrying the chill of late autumn swept across the square, rustling the rubble and withered leaves that littered the ground.

"He escaped!"

Chen Tianyuan stood before the steps with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the sect gate. He remained silent for a long time.

Yan Wuji had escaped.

’A Grandmaster who cultivates a Demon Skill, lurking in the shadows and waiting for a chance to strike... The very thought is terrifying.’

A deep sense of worry grew in his heart.

Fang Han walked up and stopped beside Chen Tianyuan.

"Sect Leader."

Fang Han spoke, his voice steady.

"Yan Wuji is severely injured; he couldn’t have gotten far. I wish to try tracking him to see if I can find his whereabouts."

Chen Tianyuan turned his head, his gaze falling on Fang Han’s face.

Hesitation flickered in his gentle eyes. He was silent for a moment before speaking slowly:

"Even though Yan Wuji is badly injured, he is still a Grandmaster. It’s too dangerous for you to track him."

"It may be dangerous, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it."

Fang Han met Chen Tianyuan’s gaze and said in a steady voice.

"The perception range of *Thousand-Mile Soul Lock* is a full three miles. As long as I maintain my distance and don’t get too close, even a Grandmaster will have a hard time detecting me. It was the same when I tracked that Grandmaster Demon last time."

Chen Tianyuan fell silent.

He gazed toward the mountain forest swallowed by the night beyond the sect gate, a faint furrow forming between his brows.

Yan Wuji’s escape would lead to endless trouble.

A Grandmaster who cultivated a Demon Skill, hiding in the dark, was like a sharp sword hanging over the Qingxuan Sect, ready to fall at any moment.

"Be careful."

Chen Tianyuan withdrew his gaze and looked at Fang Han, his voice low but solemn.

"If you find any trace of Yan Wuji, do not approach. Send a message immediately. If the situation is impossible, prioritize your own safety."

"I understand."

Fang Han gave a cupped-fist salute, then turned and walked toward the sect gate.

His green robes fluttered slightly in the night wind, the Cloud Splitting Sword at his waist swaying gently with his steps. His figure soon vanished into the darkness at the end of the mountain path.

The reason he had volunteered to track Yan Wuji was not entirely for the Sect’s sake; he was also thinking of himself.

’As the most talented disciple the Qingxuan Sect has seen in centuries, I’m bound to be a thorn in Yan Wuji’s side. Once he recovers from his injuries, I’ll surely be his target.’

To prevent this from happening, he decided to take a risk and find and eliminate Yan Wuji before he could recover.

VMMMM—

Once outside the sect gate, Fang Han stopped.

He closed his eyes and activated *Thousand-Mile Soul Lock* with all his might. The Tracking Secret Technique, at the Realm of Perfection, was unleashed without reservation, his senses spreading out like a tidal wave.

Within a three-mile radius, the auras of all things entered his perception.

He filtered out the irrelevant auras—the earthy scent of the soil, the dry smell of withered grass, the faint tang of blood drifting on the night wind.

His mind was highly focused, searching through the vast sea of auras to capture the single thread belonging to Yan Wuji.

"Found it."

Fang Han opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing within them.

He had found the trail of aura Yan Wuji left behind. It was cold, violent, and carried a heart-pounding pressure.

SWOOSH—

Using the Wind God Step at full power, his green-robed figure became like a wisp of invisible wind, speeding northwest as he followed the trail of aura.

The night was as thick as ink, the moonlight obscured by clouds. Ancient trees on both sides of the mountain path rustled in the night wind.

The shadows of their branches swayed in the darkness like countless specters baring their fangs and claws.

’*Ghost Shadow*.’

With a flicker of his thoughts, he activated *Ghost Shadow* at full power.

The vibrant life force and Inner Qi fluctuations of an Early Stage of Second Grade Martial Artist around him began to recede and quiet down, as if slowly veiled by an invisible, dark gauze, becoming as faint as a shadow, as light as smoke.

His aura seemed to vanish completely.

If one weren’t seeing it with their own eyes, it would be nearly impossible to detect a living Martial Artist with a Second Grade Cultivation speeding through the forest by sense alone.

Now that he had reached the Entry Level with this Grandmaster-Level Breath Concealment Secret Technique, its Breath Concealment Ability surpassed even that of the *Returning Ruins Hidden Essence Skill* at Perfection. It could suppress his aura to the greatest extent, preventing Yan Wuji from discovering him.

’The scent trail is gone!’

Following the trail, Fang Han soon covered over thirty miles, which led him to a cave.

Yan Wuji wasn’t in the cave. It seemed he had stayed there for a moment before the scent trail abruptly ended.

He decided to enter the cave and investigate why Yan Wuji’s trail had suddenly vanished.

The cave was not deep. By the sparse moonlight filtering in through the entrance, he could make out the scene inside.

The cave walls were rough, the ground covered in gravel and dust. The air was thick with the heavy stench of blood mixed with the smell of medicine.

Fang Han’s gaze fell upon the ground—several blood-stained strips of cloth were scattered about messily.

The blood on the strips had not yet completely dried, and it glistened darkly in the moonlight.

He crouched down, his fingertips gently picking up a piece of the cloth.

The fabric was of high quality—fine silk, likely a part of Yan Wuji’s own robes.

The edges of the strip were ragged, as if torn off, and it was covered in large patches of blood that had yet to fully dry.

Fang Han put the cloth down, his gaze sweeping over the rest of the cave.

Aside from these few bloody strips of cloth, there were no other clues.

’No hidden mechanisms.’

Fang Han searched the cave carefully, looking for any signs of hidden mechanisms or secret passages.

But after searching for a full half-hour and exploring every inch of the cave, he failed to find any such thing.

’Yan Wuji must have treated his wounds here and used some kind of extremely high-grade breath concealment elixir!’

A guess formed in Fang Han’s mind.

There were no hidden passages in the cave, which meant there could only be one reason for the abrupt disappearance of Yan Wuji’s aura.

Yan Wuji had treated his wounds here and then used a breath concealment elixir.

Grandmasters were already extremely skilled at concealing their auras. Supplemented by a high-grade breath concealment elixir, even his *Thousand-Mile Soul Lock* at the Perfection realm was not enough to continue the pursuit.

’The worst-case scenario has happened!’

Fang Han stood up, clasping his hands behind his back at the cave’s entrance. He frowned deeply as he stared out at the mountain forest, which was swallowed by the night.

*Thousand-Mile Soul Lock* was only a Top-grade Secret Technique. Its Grade wasn’t considered high, and it was insufficient against a Grandmaster who had used an elixir to hide their aura.

’To let a Grandmaster who cultivates a Demon Skill hide in the shadows...’

Fang Han’s expression was grim; he was extremely unwilling to accept this.

Letting a Grandmaster who practices a Demon Skill hide in the shadows, waiting for a chance to retaliate, was an extremely dangerous matter.

But he had already done his best. He could no longer continue the chase.

Although deeply reluctant, he could only choose to give up. Just as Fang Han was about to turn back, his gaze suddenly shifted.

’Tracking Yan Wuji’s aura is a dead end, but the trails left behind by the other Tiejiang Gang members won’t dissipate so quickly.’

He muttered to himself, his thoughts racing.

’The members of the Tiejiang Gang who attacked the Qingxuan Sect tonight didn’t appear out of thin air. They must have left a trail of aura on their way to rendezvous.’

’Even though they’re all dead, the aura they left along the way won’t disappear right away. I might be able to use it to find the Tiejiang Gang’s hidden base.’

’And a severely injured Yan Wuji would very likely retreat to this secret base to recover.’

’This method might just work!’

Once the idea took root, he no longer hesitated.

Fang Han’s figure blurred. Pushing the Wind God Step to its limit, his green robes transformed into a faint, imperceptible streak of light as he sped back toward the Qingxuan Sect.

The night wind howled past his ears, but the small glimmer of hope in his heart grew brighter and brighter.

If he could really follow this trail to its source, he might just find Yan Wuji.

VMMMM—

Upon reaching the vicinity of the Sect, Fang Han did not return. Instead, he activated *Thousand-Mile Soul Lock* at full power, his senses spreading out like invisible ripples on water, meticulously sorting through all the residual auras within a three-mile radius.

The mixed auras were a tangled mess. There were traces left by patrolling disciples from the Seven Sects, scents from nocturnal birds and beasts, and the lingering stench of blood from the recent, brutal slaughter, along with the after-effects of battle hanging in the air.

Fang Han focused his mind completely, filtering out the countless useless traces and concentrating on finding the auras belonging to the attacking Tiejiang Gang members.

"Found them."

Fang Han quickly made a discovery.

Dozens of Martial Artists from the Tiejiang Gang had participated in the attack, so finding the trail of aura they left behind was not difficult.

The auras of these dozens of people extended to the northwest, stretching beyond the range of his perception.

It was the same direction Yan Wuji had fled. It was highly likely that Yan Wuji had retreated to this secret base.

SWOOSH!

Fang Han delayed no longer. The Breath Concealment Technique, *Ghost Shadow*, silently enveloped him, reducing his presence to a minimum. He then followed the residual traces of aura, using his Body Technique to give chase.

After a pursuit of nearly one hundred and thirty miles, the eastern sky began to show the pale light of dawn. Fang Han stopped outside a medium-sized city.

The city’s silhouette was faintly visible through the thin mist, and flags could be seen on the city walls.

However, the trail left by the dozens of auras did not enter the city. Instead, about a mile and a half out, it turned onto a road leading toward the foothills.

Looking into the distance, at the end of the road, a manor with green tiles and white walls stood quietly, partially hidden by the trees.