Sunlight pierced the distant mountaintops and fell on Sun Moxíng. He looked up, finding the glare a little blinding.
The sunrise did nothing to improve Sun Moxíng's mood. He still felt trapped.
He had thought that coming to the Scripture Pavilion would let him investigate its Daoist Magic. But a Spiritual Sense Realm cultivator was inside, and he didn't dare go in.
Forget investigating Qingxiao Sect's secrets—he didn't even have time to watch the Daoist Convention.
The more he thought about it, the more wrong it felt. Why had he been stationed here as soon as he arrived?
And why was the Spiritual Sense Realm cultivator inside the Scripture Pavilion staying there without leaving?
Could Zhao Zhen be deliberately targeting him?
This wasn't Sun Moxíng's first time infiltrating a cultivation sect. He had always managed to get away unscathed, thanks to his instincts. Whenever something felt off, he withdrew.
"Forget it. I'll find a chance to leave, head north first, then come back to gather information."
That was what Sun Moxíng thought. After all, he would have to pass through Qingxiao Sect on his way back to Ziyang Island.
The Daoist Convention was still underway, but disciples visited the Scripture Pavilion in droves every day. There were plenty of outer sect disciples like Sun Moxíng stationed nearby. Under these circumstances, stealing a manual from inside the pavilion wouldn't be easy.
Once he had made up his mind, Sun Moxíng felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He regained his former composure and watched the disciples come and go.
Standing guard here made time pass quickly for Sun Moxíng.
As evening approached, a new group of disciples finally came to relieve them.
He walked downhill with the other disciples from his courtyard, chatting and laughing. It was only a shift change;