Departure and Hidden Currents

Daylight had fully broken.

The two caravans broke camp and set out almost simultaneously.

After two consecutive assassination attempts last night, the guards of Spirit Hall and the attendants of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect alike wore more solemn expressions.

Although the casualties had been kept under control, the feeling of being watched made everyone's heart tighten.

Claude rode beside Lan Aotian's carriage. His face was still pale, but he was in much better spirits than he had been the previous night.

He lowered his voice. "Your Majesty, I'm afraid there may be more trouble on this trip to Spirit City."

Lan Aotian leaned against the carriage shaft and rested with his eyes closed. "What makes you say that?"

Claude glanced around and lowered his voice further. "After that Soul Saint confessed last night, I interrogated several survivors through the night. I didn't learn much, but one thing is certain: the information about this shipment was leaked long ago."

Lan Aotian opened his eyes and looked at him.

Claude hurriedly continued, "Those assassins knew the caravan's personnel, route, and the strength of its guards like the backs of their hands. They especially knew the defenses around those three Specially-made Carriages. They even knew when the guards changed shifts and which positions were weakest."

He paused, his expression solemn. "This means that at least one person within Spirit Hall knew every detail of this mission and sold the information to the Shadow Tower."

Lan Aotian did not respond, merely listening in silence.

Claude continued, "Your Majesty, who do you think that person is? Bishop Molson? Or... someone even higher up?"

Lan Aotian gave him a look and said mildly, "You already have an answer in mind, don't you?"

Claude's face stiffened, and he gave a bitter smile. "Your Majesty sees through everything, but that person's position is too high. I... I don't dare imagine it."

"Then don't." Lan Aotian withdrew his gaze. "Focus on the road. Once we reach Spirit City, everything will naturally become clear."

Claude repeatedly agreed and urged his horse away.

Lan Aotian closed his eyes again, but his mind was rapidly calculating.

He naturally knew who Claude meant by "that person."

Platinum Bishop Salas.

He was the highest-ranking person in charge of the Spirit Hall Branch Hall in Sylvester City, as well as the one who had directly ordered this escort mission.

If this shipment truly held the secret of a "God-given Item," then Salas, as the person who handled it, was the prime suspect.

But it was also possible that someone even higher up was involved.

The factional struggles within Spirit Hall were more complicated than he had expected.

Just as he was pondering this, a set of light, brisk hoofbeats approached.

Lan Aotian opened his eyes and saw a small snow-white horse stop beside the carriage. A girl in white sat astride it.

Ning Rongrong.

She blinked her large eyes and looked Lan Aotian up and down curiously. Her little face held a hint of eager excitement.

"Uncle Lin!"

Lan Aotian: "...Call me Brother Lin."

Uncle Lin?

Does he really look that old?

Still, he was in disguise now. Looking a little older was understandable.

Ning Rongrong grinned. "My Dad asked me to invite you over to sit with us. He said there's something to discuss."

Lan Aotian glanced at her.

This girl certainly acts familiar with people.

He nodded, leaped down from the carriage, and followed Ning Rongrong toward the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's caravan.

Ning Fengzhi was sitting inside a spacious carriage. When he saw Lan Aotian arrive, he greeted him with a smile and invited him aboard.

The carriage was far more spacious inside than it appeared from the outside, with elegant furnishings and the faint fragrance of tea curling through the air.

Chen Xin sat in a corner with his eyes closed, yet Lan Aotian could clearly sense that the obscure Sword Intent had remained shrouded over the entire carriage.

"Brother Lin, please sit." Ning Fengzhi personally poured him tea.

Lan Aotian took a seat and sipped from the cup.

Ning Fengzhi smiled. "Brother Lin, do you know how many days it will take to reach Spirit City from here?"

Lan Aotian replied, "Three days."

Ning Fengzhi nodded. "Three days is neither long nor short. But judging from what happened last night, I'm afraid these three days won't be peaceful."

He paused and looked at Lan Aotian. "Brother Lin, have you considered why they launched repeated attacks when we were only three days from Spirit City?"

Lan Aotian set down his teacup. "Because they're desperate."

"Exactly." A trace of approval flashed through Ning Fengzhi's eyes. "Further ahead, we'll enter Spirit City's sphere of influence."

"There will be more and more patrols from Spirit Hall, and stronger personnel will be stationed at the supply points and relay stations along the way."

"Once that happens, attacking us will become several times more difficult."

"So they must succeed before we enter Spirit City's territory," Lan Aotian interjected.

Ning Fengzhi nodded. "In other words, during these remaining three days, the enemy will likely launch one final wave of attacks—and it will also be the most violent."

Lan Aotian looked at him. "What does Sect Master Ning mean?"

Ning Fengzhi mused, "Although the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect has nothing to do with this matter, now that we've been drawn into it, it's impossible for us to withdraw unscathed. The assassins attacked my camp last night precisely to draw Uncle Jian away and leave the Spirit Hall caravan isolated."

He looked Lan Aotian straight in the eye. "So from here on, we're all in the same boat."

Lan Aotian looked at him without answering immediately.

Ning Fengzhi's words were both a declaration of his position and a test of Lan Aotian's attitude.

After a moment, Lan Aotian slowly asked, "What does Sect Master Ning plan to do?"

Ning Fengzhi said, "I suggest that the two caravans merge into one, concentrate our forces, and hurry forward at full speed."

"Uncle Jian can handle aerial surveillance, Brother Lin can hold the center, and I will coordinate the rear."

"Then no matter which direction the enemy comes from, we'll be able to respond immediately."

Lan Aotian nodded. "That will work."

Ning Fengzhi breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "With Brother Lin's word, Fengzhi can rest easy."

He paused, then added, "However, there's one matter I'd like to ask Brother Lin about."

"Please, go ahead."

Ning Fengzhi glanced at Chen Xin in the corner and lowered his voice. "Brother Lin, both Uncle Jian and I saw the strength you displayed last night. The toughness of those vines and the purity of their life force are far beyond what an ordinary plant-type Soul Master could achieve."

He looked at Lan Aotian, his gaze deep. "What exactly is Brother Lin's martial soul?"

The carriage fell silent for a moment.

Chen Xin opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing through his cloudy, aged eyes.

Lan Aotian's expression did not change. He said calmly, "Sect Master Ning, knowing too much about some matters isn't necessarily a good thing."

Ning Fengzhi froze, then smiled bitterly. "Fengzhi was being presumptuous. Please don't take offense, Brother Lin."

Lan Aotian shook his head. "It's fine. When the time is right, I will naturally tell you."

Ning Fengzhi nodded and did not press further.

His intelligence lay precisely in this: he knew when to advance and when to retreat.

The carriage continued onward.

The journey that followed was indeed just as Ning Fengzhi had predicted. The atmosphere grew increasingly tense.

The first day passed without incident.

The caravans and travelers they encountered along the way grew fewer and fewer, while the wilderness on either side of the official road seemed especially desolate. The occasional Soul Beasts that appeared were easily driven away by the guards.

But the oppressive feeling that a storm was brewing grew more intense by the moment.