After reading the note, Fang Han’s gaze fell on the bright red, urgent Sect seal at the very end.

The Mail Eagle on his arm ruffled its feathers and cooed softly.

Lan Yuexin stood to the side. Seeing the sudden change in Fang Han’s expression, her bright, usually smiling eyes became tinged with gravity.

She didn’t speak immediately, only waiting quietly until Fang Han slowly folded the note and tucked it away. Only then did she ask softly,

"Sir Fang Han, is there an urgent matter from your Sect?"

Fang Han looked up and nodded, his voice tinged with gravity.

"A Fourth Grade Steward from the Sect has lost contact. His last message was sent from a location not far from Jinhuang City. The Sect has ordered me to investigate immediately."

For a Fourth Grade Steward to go missing was no small matter.

A Martial Artist of this Cultivation level was part of the Sect’s backbone. Unless they encountered a powerful enemy or were trapped in a desperate situation, it was unthinkable that they couldn’t even send back a message.

As an intelligent woman, Lan Yuexin immediately understood the implications. A flicker of worry crossed her eyes, and she quickly said,

"Sir Fang Han, please wait a moment. I’ll have someone prepare some rations and water for your journey. You’ll need supplies while you’re on the road."

With that, she turned and walked out of the courtyard. Her steps were hurried yet graceful, her azure skirt brushing across the bluestone path and stirring up a faint, fragrant breeze.

"Thank you."

Fang Han watched Lan Yuexin’s departing figure and didn’t refuse her kindness.

He would likely have to camp in the wilderness, so rations and fresh water were indeed essential.

He turned his attention back to the urgent mission, quickly assessing the situation in his mind.

The point of last contact was a small town called Luoxia Town, nestled by the mountains. The environment wasn’t complex, but its proximity to the forest made it ideal for concealment and ambushes.

For a Fourth Grade Steward to go missing here meant the opponent was by no means an easy foe—at the very least, another Fourth Grade Martial Artist.

A short while later, Lan Yuexin returned, followed by a Maid holding a somewhat worn, gray cloth bundle.

The bundle wasn’t large, but it looked solid and seemed to be stuffed full.

"Sir Fang Han, inside are some dried meat, flatbreads, and fresh water, as well as a small bottle of our Hundred Treasures Pavilion’s specialty, Qi Recovery Pills. They can be used to rapidly restore one’s Inner Qi."

Lan Yuexin handed over the bundle, her tone sincere.

"I wish you a safe journey, Sir Fang Han."

Fang Han took the bundle, looked at Lan Yuexin, and said with a nod,

"Thank you for your trouble, Miss Yuexin. I shall take my leave now."

"Take care, Sir Fang Han."

Lan Yuexin gave a slight curtsy.

WHOOSH!

Saying no more, Fang Han slung the bundle over his shoulder. With a flicker of his body, he activated the Wind and Cloud Escape technique. He shot out of the courtyard like a streak of pale green light.

In just a few bounds, he vanished at the far end of Jinhuang City’s maze-like streets, heading straight for the city gates.

...

On the main road, Fang Han pushed his speed to its absolute limit.

The Inner Qi from his Profound Wind Technique, at the Early Stage of Fourth Grade, surged endlessly through his body, sustaining his prolonged, high-speed dash with the Wind and Cloud Escape.

The scenery on both sides flew backward, turning into blurry bands of color.

As he ran, he would occasionally pull out a map to confirm the location of Luoxia Town and adjust his direction.

「A little over four hours later.」

As the sun gradually set, dyeing the horizon a warm gold, a stretch of gray-tiled roofs built against a mountain appeared on the horizon. He had arrived at Luoxia Town.

A journey of over four hours at full speed would be an immense burden for an ordinary Middle-Grade Martial Artist.

But as a Fourth-Grade Martial Artist, Fang Han had immense stamina and profound Inner Qi. Aside from fine beads of sweat forming on his temples, his vitality remained perfectly stable.

He looked at the town from a distance.

The town was not large and looked no different from an ordinary mountain town. Its low walls had collapsed in some places, giving it a somewhat dilapidated appearance.

It was now evening. Wisps of cooking smoke curled into the air, and the occasional bark of a dog or crow of a rooster could be heard.

He slowed his pace and walked into the town.

The bluestone-paved streets were sparsely populated. A few old men squatting at the base of a wall, basking in the last rays of the sun, raised their cloudy eyes to give him a lazy once-over before apathetically looking away.

Fang Han approached a middle-aged man at the side of the street who was packing up a stall of sundries. On display were items like needles, thread, and crude porcelain bowls and jars.

He asked in a calm voice,

"Brother, may I ask, was there a fight between Martial Artists in town yesterday?"

"Young man, why do you ask...? Yesterday afternoon, there was indeed a huge commotion from the woods to the east."

Hearing this, the man paused in his packing, a flicker of fear crossing his face.

He subconsciously glanced eastward before lowering his voice and saying,

"It was like thunder, and it lasted for a while. None of us dared to go near. Then it suddenly stopped."

"Do you know who was fighting? What happened later?"

Suspecting one of the parties in the fight was the missing Fourth Grade Steward, Fang Han pressed.

The man shook his head. "Who would dare go look? We hid in our houses as soon as we heard the noise. But... I think I saw some figures chasing someone into the mountains. I don’t know the details."

He paused, then added a kind warning.

"Young man, if you have no business there, you’d best stay away. The Martial Artists who were fighting might still be around."

"Thank you for the information, Brother."

Having gotten the information he wanted, Fang Han didn’t linger. He left a small piece of silver, turned, and headed toward the eastern edge of town.

After passing through a sparse woodland, the scene ahead suddenly opened up, and a ravaged battlefield came into view.

Within a radius of dozens of yards, the vegetation was destroyed, and the ground was cracked, exposing fresh soil.

Several trees as thick as a man’s waist were severed in the middle. The cuts were smooth as a mirror, clearly caused by a sharp blade or an extremely strong Qi Force.

The ground was pockmarked with craters of varying depths, along with several scorched black marks that seemed to be the lingering effects of a lightning- or fire-based technique.

The signs of a battle were unmistakable. Judging from the level of destruction, the combatants were by no means weak; they were at least at the Fourth Grade level.

’I hope it’s not the worst-case scenario!’

Fang Han’s eyes were sharp as lightning as he carefully scanned every inch of the ground.

He walked slowly through the wreckage, already prepared for the worst: the Fourth Grade Steward might already be dead.

However, aside from the traces of a fierce battle, there were no bodies or significant bloodstains at the scene.

He breathed a small sigh of relief. The Fourth Grade Steward probably hadn’t been killed, or at least not here.

’Spirit Smelling Technique.’

With a thought, Fang Han activated the Spirit Smelling Technique.

Having reached the Mastery Realm, his sense of smell was far beyond that of an ordinary person.

His nostrils twitched, and the surrounding world instantly transformed into an incomparably complex yet clearly layered map of scents.

The earthy scent of the soil, the tang of sap from broken plants, the acrid odor of something burnt... countless smells flooded his senses.

He ignored these useless distractions, his mind concentrating with the precision of a fine sieve, filtering and isolating any human scents.

Under the powerful perception of the Master Level Spirit Smelling Technique, he quickly filtered out the scents of the people who had been here.

’The scents of three people in total...’

Fang Han’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He discerned three lingering scents. Three people had fought here.

One of them, tinged with the faint smell of blood, must have been injured.

If he guessed correctly, the scent of the injured person belonged to the Sect’s Fourth Grade Steward.

His scent trail dissipated towards the southeast, deep into the mountain forest, appearing hurried and intermittent.

Meanwhile, the other two scents followed close behind, clearly giving chase.

’One person injured and fled, two others in pursuit...’

Fang Han quickly pictured the scene in his mind.

The Sect Steward encountered two strong enemies here. After a fierce battle, the Steward was defeated and injured, forced to flee southeast into the mountain forest.

And those two enemies pursued relentlessly, also chasing into the mountain forest.

RUMBLE—

Just as Fang Han prepared to give chase, his stomach rumbled.

From the moment he’d sensed the opportunity for a breakthrough and focused on reaching the Great Success Realm with his Nine Swords of Sky Splitting, to when he received the urgent Sect order and left immediately, he hadn’t had any food or water for the better part of the day.

Although the constitution of a Fourth-Grade Martial Artist was far beyond that of an ordinary person, he had not yet reached the legendary Grain Avoidance Realm. Combined with the massive energy he had expended on Cultivation and travel, his stomach now felt empty and was sending out burning pangs of hunger.

He stopped his rapid steps and found a large rock by the roadside, sheltered from the wind, to rest for a moment.

He untied the bundle Lan Yuexing had prepared. Inside were neatly arranged strips of dried meat, flatbreads, and a waterskin of fresh water.

’This is...?’

Just as Fang Han was about to take some food, his fingertips touched a hard object.

He pushed aside the rations, revealing an exquisitely crafted, palm-sized Purple Sandalwood Box.

The box was warm and smooth to the touch. Its surface was polished and unadorned, yet it possessed an air of understated elegance.

Intrigued, he flicked the lid open with a fingertip.

The box was lined with soft, dark red velvet, and in the center rested a pitch-black sphere the size of a longan.

The sphere’s surface wasn’t smooth; it was covered with naturally formed, silver-white patterns that looked like lightning tearing through the night sky.

Faint light seemed to flow along the fine, silvery lines. Even lying still in the box, it emanated a terrifying, heart-stopping aura of destruction.

’A Thunder Bomb...’

Fang Han’s pupils contracted slightly as he murmured the name.

He recognized this item. It was a secret treasure from the Thousand Skills Pavilion, which was famous for its mechanisms and Hidden Weapons.

Rumor had it that this item was incredibly difficult to craft and required exceedingly rare materials, so its annual yield was minuscule.

Its power was terrifying. If caught off guard, even a Martial Arts Powerhouse from the Upper Three Grades could be severely injured or even killed by a direct hit.

For this reason, every single Thunder Bomb was priceless. They often had a price but no market, as no one was willing to sell. One couldn’t even dream of acquiring one for less than a million taels of silver, and it was certainly not something an ordinary power could obtain.

This must be Lan Yuexin’s thank-you gift for saving her before.

’To give something so precious as a thank-you gift...’

Fang Han’s gaze fell on the Thunder Bomb, his thoughts turning. To him, this item was no different from gaining an extremely strong trump card.

Whether used to hinder an unbeatable enemy and escape, or to unexpectedly turn the tables in a desperate situation, it could play a crucial role.

This was an incredibly generous gift.

Recalling the night of the attack at the inn, Lan Yuexin was startled but not panicked.

Thinking back, even if he hadn’t intervened, she might have been able to protect herself with this Thunder Bomb.

’Now I feel like I’m the one in her debt!’

Fang Han carefully closed the wooden box and tucked it away securely, placing it next to the Jade Bottle that held his Elixirs.

Only then did he pick up the dried meat and flatbread, eating quickly and silently as he washed them down with water.

A few moments later, his hunger and thirst were sated.

’Time to get moving.’

Fang Han rose to his feet, re-fastened the bundle, and slung it onto his back.

His gaze once again turned to the southeast, toward the rolling mountain range that looked even deeper and more mysterious in the twilight.

The sky had completely darkened. A crescent moon hung among the branches, casting its cold light. Mist began to rise through the forest, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

’Spirit Smelling Technique.’

Fang Han took a deep breath of the cold night air, and the Spirit Smelling Technique activated.

The world in his perception once again transformed into an endless sea of scents.

He filtered out the myriad scents of plants and animals, of soil and stone, focusing all his effort on capturing the trail of the three people.

Though the scent trail had been weathered by a day’s wind and had faded considerably, to him, who had cultivated the Spirit Smelling Technique to the Mastery Realm, it was still clear as day.

They were like three invisible threads, winding and pointing deep into the mountain forest.