A streak of light fell from the sky, and Lin Xuan arrived before an elegant complex of buildings. On the archway were written two large characters—Post House.
By now, he had already restored his own appearance. Invitation card in hand, and seeing that he was the young sect master of Spirit Herb Mountain, the disciples on duty naturally received him warmly and assigned him the best room.
It was a small, separate pavilion. After entering the bedroom, Lin Xuan closed the door and carefully swept the place with his divine sense. Once he was certain no one would monitor or spy on him, he nodded in satisfaction.
Even so, Lin Xuan still formed a spell seal with his hands and laid down a layer of warning restrictions around him. A little caution would never hurt.
Then Lin Xuan took a pitch-black dagger from his Storage Bracelet.
From the outside, it looked utterly unremarkable, yet it gave off astonishing fluctuations of spiritual power. And upon closer inspection, rings of silver light circled it, flickering bright and dim...
The dagger seemed like a living thing, restless and ready to move. Yet every time it struggled, those silver rings flashed, and the dagger, as if struck by lightning, was beaten back. This was the restrictive spell sealing it.
Seeing the scene before him, a faint, playful smile appeared on Lin Xuan's face.
This dagger had naturally belonged to the Daoist in the Herb Garden.
After it had unexpectedly slain that woman, the dagger had turned into a streak of light and fled on its own.
By sheer coincidence, the direction it flew in happened to be right where Lin Xuan was hiding.
An opportunity lost would not come again; with a treasure delivering itself to his door, Lin Xuan naturally would not let