Headquarters

Amid the distortion, countless tiny threads of karma could vaguely be seen emerging. They were all of his connections to the outside world: with Qingwei, with Thunder Splendor, with Venerable Lingfeng, with Elder Tianji, with the Abyssal Overlord...

But immediately afterward, those karmic threads began to fade.

As though shrouded in dense fog, they blurred bit by bit, dissipating bit by bit.

In the end, only a faint, insubstantial "phantom" remained.

That phantom was the final trace he had left upon the karmic plane—a projection that was both real and unreal. It allowed others to sense that he still existed, yet made it impossible for them to pinpoint his exact location.

Chu Ming withdrew his hand, closed his eyes, and sensed carefully.

That feeling of being "watched" had faded.

It had not vanished completely, but had become indistinct, like looking through a pane of frosted glass.

He could still sense the existence of that gaze, but he could no longer tell from which direction it came.

The method of concealing karma had succeeded.

Chu Ming opened his eyes and let out a long breath.

He rose to his feet and walked out of the tent.

Outside, it was already deep into the night.

There were no stars in the night sky, only lead-gray clouds.

The clouds hung low, drifting slowly in the night wind like countless sleeping behemoths.

The cliff top was quiet—so quiet that he could hear low roars drifting in from afar, the sounds of abyssal creatures wandering through the darkness.

A faint light still glowed within Qingwei's tent, the distinctive emerald halo produced by the circulation of the Longevity Art.

Thunder Splendor's tent was utterly silent, but the one-armed burly man's aura was steady and long.

Venerable Lingfeng's sword intent faintly blanketed this small area. He was