After roughly the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Yang Jing sped through sparse stretches of woodland across the wilderness and swept over rolling, untamed hills. The view before him suddenly opened up.
A vast, expansive lake appeared ahead.
Ripples shimmered across its surface. A gentle breeze stirred layer upon layer of delicate waves, and pale mist drifted over the clear water, shrouding the entire lakeshore in a hazy veil of moisture.
Yang Jing checked his momentum and stood at the edge of the lake. His steps halted, and his brows drew together slightly.
He had pursued the lingering aura all the way here, following a clear trail to this lakeshore. There could be no mistake.
Yet after he arrived, the once-continuous traces of demonic qi in the air grew thin and scattered, drifting unpredictably, almost entirely dispersed.
Yang Jing understood. After reaching this place, Qi Shaohu must have completely reined in his aura, sealed off the circulation of his demonic qi, and concealed both his presence and his body somewhere along the lakeshore.
This man had spent years fighting and killing, honing his skills at escape and concealment. Knowing the terrain favored hiding, he had used the lake mist to mask his aura and the landscape to cover his tracks, cutting off further pursuit by his lingering presence.
Yang Jing swept his gaze over the lakeshore, caution in his eyes.
Thick stands of wild reeds crowded the banks on every side. They grew lush and sturdy, each stalk towering above an ordinary person's head. Dense layers interlaced, their thick stems and abundant leaves concealing the entire shoreline.
The dense reed beds connected in successive layers, blocking sight. Thick moisture and the strong scent of vegetation perfectly masked human presence and movement.
Once someone hid deep within