At dawn the next day, the mist over Poison Miasma Ridge had yet to disperse.
Chen Ming rose early, washed up quickly, and left with his herb basket on his back. Rather than rushing to gather information about the Scripture Pavilion, he followed the mountain path toward the herb fields on the rear mountain, just like a genuine herb-gathering disciple.
Along the way, he encountered several other early-rising disciples of the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect. Some nodded in greeting, and he returned the gesture, his expression perfectly natural, without the slightest hint of anything amiss.
The Medicine Field lay on a gentle slope on the rear mountain, shrouded in a formation and rich with spiritual energy. All manner of spirit herbs and poisonous plants grew between the ridges. Some were crimson from root to tip, like dancing flames; others were pitch-black, like flowing ink. Still others twined around wooden frames, bearing bewitching purple blossoms that released a cloyingly sweet, sleep-inducing fragrance.
Chen Ming crouched before a row of Ink-Scaled Ferns, making a show of inspecting their leaves while discreetly surveying the surrounding terrain out of the corner of his eye.
An inconspicuous path in the northwestern corner of the Medicine Field wound into the deeper woods. While studying the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect's map yesterday, he had noticed that the path seemed to lead to an abandoned alchemy chamber—and that chamber stood barely a hundred zhang from the Scripture Pavilion's rear wall.
If I could sneak along that path to the back of the Scripture Pavilion...
As the thought turned over in Chen Ming's mind, his hands kept moving. He deftly plucked a few poor-quality Ink-Scaled Fern leaves and placed them in his basket, then moved to the neighboring row of Crimson Flame Mushrooms to continue his "inspection."
For three consecutive days, Chen Ming followed this routine.
By day, he worked diligently in the herb fields, occasionally exchanging a few words with fellow disciples passing by, gradually becoming a familiar face among them. Everyone thought he was merely an honest, dutiful herb-gathering disciple. No one suspected him in the slightest.
At night, he changed into stealth clothing, evaded the patrolling disciples, and learned every detail of the rear mountain's terrain. He even found the path leading to the abandoned alchemy chamber and left marks along the way that only he could recognize.
Late on the fourth night, Chen Ming finally received the news he had been waiting for.
In the tavern, he overheard two Inner Sect disciples talking-Senior Brother Qin Mo's injuries had worsened, and Elder Qin, his heart burning with anxiety, had set out overnight for Bluefall Valley, a thousand li away, to obtain a rare medicinal pill. He would need at least seven days to return.
Elder Qin is away from the Sect...
Chen Ming's fingers tightened slightly around his wine cup, and a sharp gleam flashed through his eyes.
This was an opportunity that came once in a thousand years.
Elder Qin was the key figure responsible for the Scripture Pavilion's restrictions. With him gone, the defenses on its second floor were bound to slacken somewhat. Although other duty disciples still took turns standing guard, careful planning might yet reveal an opening.
Chen Ming did not rush into action. He returned to his quarters and reviewed all the information he had gathered over the past three days, repeatedly working through every possible scenario. Only after confirming there were no obvious oversights did he close his eyes and fall into a deep sleep.
Late on the fifth night, the moon was dark and the wind high.
The night mist over Poison Miasma Ridge was thicker than usual, making it almost impossible to see one's own fingers at arm's length. Chen Ming changed into a dark green stealth outfit and covered his face with a cloth of the same color, leaving only his calm eyes exposed.
Like a wisp of smoke, he slipped silently out of his room. Following the route he had already scouted, he skirted two patrol posts and ducked onto the path leading to the abandoned alchemy chamber.
Bushes crowded both sides of the path, and dew soaked the hem of his clothes. He paid it no mind. His steps light and steady, he reached the long-abandoned alchemy chamber in less than half an incense stick's time.
Half the chamber's roof had collapsed, and moss and vines covered its walls. Chen Ming did not enter. Instead, he circled around the back and parted a dense clump of brambles, revealing a crack wide enough for one person that led straight into the mountain.
This was the secret passage he had stumbled upon two days earlier. It appeared to be an abandoned mining tunnel left from many years ago, and it happened to connect to the Scripture Pavilion's basement.
Chen Ming turned sideways and squeezed into the crack. Taking a Luminous Pearl from inside his robe, he felt his way forward by its faint glow. The air inside the tunnel was damp and musty, and loose stones occasionally shifted beneath his feet with faint rattles. He moved slowly, testing his footing with his toes before setting down each step to avoid making too much noise.
After roughly an incense stick's time, a rust-covered iron door appeared ahead.
A fist-sized brass padlock hung on the door. Its surface was covered in green corrosion, and it looked quite old.
Chen Ming reached out, grasped the padlock, and gave it a gentle twist. The lock mechanism gave a crisp click-and, unexpectedly, opened.
He paused in surprise, then understood: the lock had gone unrepaired for years, and its mechanism had long since rusted away. It merely hung on the door for show.
Heaven is on my side.
Chen Ming removed the padlock and gently pushed open the iron door. Its hinges let out a piercing creak, startlingly loud in the silent tunnel. He immediately stopped, held his breath, and listened intently for a moment. Only after confirming he had alerted no one did he slip sideways through the opening.
Beyond the iron door lay a narrow stone chamber, with a flight of ascending stone steps at the other end. Chen Ming climbed the steps until he reached the top, where a thick stone slab blocked the way overhead.
He pressed his ear against the slab and listened carefully for a while-everything above was quiet, without a sound.
He drew a deep breath, braced both hands against the edges of the slab, and slowly lifted it.
A gap opened beneath the slab, letting in a thin ray of dim yellow light.
Chen Ming narrowed his eyes and peered through the gap. The opening lay directly behind a bookshelf in a corner of the Scripture Pavilion's first floor, an extremely well-concealed spot.
He pushed the slab fully aside, climbed out as quietly as he could, and restored it to its original position. Then he hid behind the bookshelf and peeked out to survey his surroundings.
The Scripture Pavilion's first floor was deserted, with only a few oil lamps burning quietly in the corners. Rows of tall bookshelves held neatly arranged volumes of every kind, and the mingled scent of paper and insect-repelling herbs filled the air.
Chen Ming's gaze passed over the shelves and settled on the staircase leading to the second floor. A pale blue barrier stood there, flowing gently like rippling water and giving off barely perceptible fluctuations of spiritual energy.
That was the restriction Elder Qin had laid down.
Rather than approaching rashly, Chen Ming first pulled a volume of the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect Herbal Compendium at random from a shelf and pretended to read it, while quietly probing the restriction's structure with his spiritual sense.
A moment later, his brows furrowed slightly.
The restriction was far more complicated than he had imagined. Not only did it have a spiritual-energy lock, but it was also linked to the formation covering the entire Scripture Pavilion. Any attempt to force it open would certainly trigger an alarm and alert the whole Ten Thousand Poisons Sect.
No wonder Elder Qin felt safe leaving. It looks like I'll have to get his authorization token first after all.
He was about to retrace his steps when he suddenly heard footsteps and voices outside.
"You take the first half of the night, and I'll take the second. No slacking off."
"I know, I know. With Elder Qin away, we need to stay even sharper, or we'll be punished if anything goes wrong."
They were the patrolling duty disciples!
Chen Ming's heart tightened. He swiftly retreated into the shadows behind the bookshelf, even reducing his breathing to the faintest possible whisper.
The footsteps drew closer. Two figures passed the Scripture Pavilion's entrance, and the light from their lanterns swept through the gap in the doors, skimming across the bookshelves.
Chen Ming remained utterly motionless, like an actual stone.
Only when the footsteps gradually receded and vanished at the end of the corridor did he slowly release a breath. A fine sheen of cold sweat had already formed on his forehead.
That was close...
He lingered no longer. Moving quietly, he returned to the corner, lifted the stone slab, and retraced his route.
By the time he stood once more in the darkness outside the abandoned alchemy chamber, the eastern horizon had begun to turn fish-belly white.
Chen Ming pulled the cloth from his face and drew a deep breath of the slightly cool morning air. His gaze turned toward the layers upon layers of halls and pavilions deep within the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect, and an inscrutable smile slowly curved his lips.
"Elder Qin's authorization token..."
He repeated those words softly, then turned and disappeared into the morning mist.