Qianjia Town, East Mountain Village.
Not long after Mo Hua left, a group of unexpected visitors arrived outside the village.
They stood on the mountain and gazed at East Mountain Village from afar. Then they took out a golden compass, as though searching for something.
The compass needle wobbled erratically, pointing nowhere definite.
They frowned, found nothing, and eventually left in silence.
This group of cultivators had come quickly and gone quickly, without disturbing the local cultivators.
The spirit farmers of East Mountain Village had no idea that outsiders had once watched them.
They still concerned themselves with their Lingtian, their harvests, and their livelihoods, thinking of ways to contend against the Sun Family.
A few days later, another three cultivators arrived.
One was a gaunt old man, one was a refined-looking middle-aged cultivator holding a paper fan, and the last was a clear-eyed young man in white.
The gaunt old man took out some coins, tossed them into the air, and caught them in his palm.
Looking at the coin divination, he muttered something under his breath for a long while before finally sighing.
"It seems to be here, but I can't calculate it clearly..."
The middle-aged cultivator said, "Elder Ge calculated that person to be within this State Boundary. Finding him should only be a matter of time."
The gaunt old man let out a derisive snort. "What are you thinking?"
The middle-aged cultivator froze.
The old man sighed. "Great sound is sparse; great form is formless."
"At his level, let alone being within the same State Boundary—even if he were in the same Little Immortal City as you, if he concealed his tracks, you would never find him."
"What is soundless cannot be heard; what is formless cannot be seen; what is without trace cannot be known."