Jing Hongchen's shadow moved.
Two ghostlike figures seeped silently into the outskirts of Fan Yu's laboratory, like drops of ink bleeding into the night.
They were Jing Hongchen's sharpest fangs, the elite of Mingde Hall's covert division. Each of them was equipped with top-grade anti-reconnaissance Soul Tools.
Yet beneath Huo Yuhao's [Spiritual Detection], these two self-proclaimed top assassins were like huskies carrying a pair of thousand-watt lightbulbs through the night—impossibly conspicuous.
"Tsk... kid, some rats have snuck in. Their equipment's pretty impressive too. That thing hanging off them can distort spiritual power fluctuations." In the Sea of Spirit, Sky Dream Ice Silkworm yawned lazily.
"Distortion doesn't mean erasure." Huo Yuhao's consciousness remained utterly calm. "In my network, their data ports are glowing red."
Within the [Thought Palace], a three-dimensional map of the entire laboratory instantly unfolded, with two red dots moving cautiously through it.
Every route they might take, every possible angle from which they could investigate, had been simulated hundreds of millions of times in an instant.
"Teacher." Huo Yuhao's voice rang out next door.
"Huh?!" Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Fan Yu sprang out from a pile of parts. "What is it? What is it? Did those old bastards come looking for trouble again?"
"Relax. Take a deep breath." Huo Yuhao handed him a sheet of paper. "Someone has come to investigate your recent visitor records and material borrowing list."
"Fuck!" Fan Yu's face turned pale instantly. "Then... then what do we do? Won't... won't I be completely exposed?"
"You won't." Huo Yuhao's tone was as calm as if he were commenting on the weather. "I've already written the script for you. Whatever they ask, answer according to what's written there. Remember, your image is that of a technical recluse who has just achieved