Chapter 397 - 394: Discovering the Black Crow Thieves
Chapter 397: Chapter 394: Discovering the Black Crow Thieves
Night fell, and the mountain forest was pitch-black.
Only sparse moonlight filtered through the dense canopy of leaves, casting mottled and fragmented shadows on the ground.
Fang Han took the lead, his form like a phantom as he weaved through the woods. Over a dozen elite disciples followed closely behind, keeping a distance of about a hundred feet—close enough not to lose him, yet far enough not to interfere with his Tracking.
HUMMM—
The Great Success level of his Spirit Smelling Technique activated at full power, and a complex tide of scents from the surroundings flooded into Fang Han’s perception.
The fresh scent of vegetation, the dampness of the earth, the rank odor of nocturnal beasts, the mist from a distant stream—countless scents wove together, forming an incredibly complex tapestry of smells.
And from this, he had to pick out the scent left by the bandits—a scent so faint it was nearly gone.
The scent was like a candle in the wind, so faint it threatened to vanish at any moment.
Fang Han didn’t dare to relax for even a moment. His mind was laser-focused, acting like the finest of sieves, repeatedly filtering, discerning, and locking onto the single wisp of the culprits’ scent within that endless sea of odors.
The dozen or so men behind him remained silent.
Only the faint whisper of robes cutting through the air and the occasional CRACK of a snapped twig were audible in the silent woods, each sound startlingly clear.
They were all elite disciples of the Sect; they knew what was most important right now.
No one would dare speak and disturb Fang Han.
Half an hour passed.
An hour.
Two hours.
Fang Han never broke his stride.
Though the scent was faint, his Great Success Spirit Smelling Technique could still just barely detect it.
However, Fang Han came to an abrupt halt before a fork in the path.
The dozen or so men behind him stopped as well, their eyes fixed on him.
Fang Han didn’t look back. He simply stood there, his brow furrowed in concentration.
The scent had vanished.
Before them, the valley split into two paths: one leading northeast, the other due east.
And it was here that the scent he’d been following abruptly faded into nothing.
’The reason is probably the terrain here. It’s more open, with stronger mountain winds, so the scent is dissipating faster than elsewhere.’
"Senior Brother Fang?"
One of the disciples behind him couldn’t help but ask in a low voice.
Fang Han raised his right hand, silencing him.
He said nothing, merely closing his eyes and pushing his Spirit Smelling Technique to its limits.
Within the complex sea of odors, two nearly identical, faint wisps of the scent stretched out in opposite directions, making it momentarily impossible for him to tell them apart.
After a moment, he opened his eyes.
"To the northeast."
Without another word, his figure blurred as he shot off to the northeast.
The dozen or so men hurried to keep up.
However, after several miles, they still hadn’t picked up the bandits’ scent.
Fang Han stopped, his gaze placid as still water.
Without hesitation, he turned and led the group back, heading down the other path.
This time, after several miles, the bandits’ scent reappeared.
"This way."
Fang Han murmured, not breaking his stride.
The men behind him exchanged glances, a shared look of admiration in their eyes.
’Anyone who dares to make a move on the Qingxuan Sect’s property must be far from ordinary. They must have some incredibly sophisticated method for hiding their trail.’
Though they couldn’t sense it themselves, they could only imagine how faint a trail the bandits had left.
For him to pinpoint the right direction under these conditions... Senior Brother Fang’s Tracking Technique was far beyond anything they could have imagined.
The night deepened.
A mist began to rise through the forest, glowing with a ghostly, cold light under the moon.
Fang Han remained at the lead, like a tireless hound latched onto a scent that was barely there at all.
Meanwhile, he found himself sinking into a profound and mysterious state.
Pushing the Spirit Smelling Technique to its limits for so long was the best form of Cultivation for the technique itself.
As he continuously channeled the Spirit Smelling Technique, he could faintly feel himself drawing closer and closer to the next Realm.
The Heart Method of the Spirit Smelling Technique flowed through his mind. The incantations and crucial acupoints, which he already knew by heart, became clearer and more profound with each full-powered application.
Time slipped by unnoticed during the chase.
After what felt like an eternity, the eastern sky began to show the pale light of dawn.
The morning light filtered through the leaves, chasing away the forest’s darkness.
Suddenly, Fang Han stopped.
The men behind him stopped as well, their tense gazes fixed on him.
’Has the trail gone cold again?’
But Fang Han neither turned nor doubled back.
He simply stood there silently, his eyes closed.
A moment later—
HUMMM...
A soft hum, audible only to him, resonated from deep within his body.
The sound was so faint as to be almost imperceptible, yet it felt as if it had unlocked an invisible door.
In that instant, the scents of the world around him materialized in his senses with unprecedented clarity.
Those faint scents, which had previously required his utmost concentration to capture, now stood out as clearly as fireflies in the night.
The scent of the bandits, once so faint it was practically nonexistent, was now distinct.
He could even faintly distinguish the subtle differences between individuals within the scent—one had vigorous qi and blood, another had a cold and sinister aura, and a third carried the unique fragrance of a particular medicinal herb.
’My Spirit Smelling Technique... has reached the Perfection Realm!’
Fang Han opened his eyes, an unconcealable flicker of joy in their depths.
’I never thought I’d have a breakthrough under these circumstances.’
’But this is a good thing. With my Spirit Smelling Technique at the Perfection Realm, I’m even more confident I can track down these bandits.’
"Senior Brother Fang?"
A disciple’s questioning voice came from behind.
"It’s nothing. Let’s keep moving."
Fang Han shook his head, snapping out of his reverie.
He offered no explanation. His body blurred, and he shot forward once more.
The men hurried to follow, but they had the vague sense that Fang Han was moving even faster than before.
No, it wasn’t just his speed.
It was his certainty.
Before, Fang Han had moved at a measured pace to pick up the faint trail.
But now, his pace had quickened significantly. He took every turn without a flicker of hesitation, as if the bandits’ trail was as clear to him as a grand highway.
The sun climbed high into the sky and began its descent to the west.
Fang Han’s group had been tracking through the mountain forest for an entire day, resting for only a few hours.
Everyone’s face showed signs of exhaustion, but no one asked for a break. A fire of suppressed rage burned in each of their hearts.
「The next morning.」
As the first rays of sunlight pierced the canopy, the forest ahead suddenly began to thin.
Fang Han came to a sudden halt.
The men behind him stopped as well, their gazes traveling past his shoulders to look ahead.
Ahead, beyond the edge of the mountains, they could faintly make out a winding main road. At the end of the road stood a massive boundary marker.
Considering the direction they had been traveling, it wasn’t hard to guess what it was.
Donglu County.
The bandits had already fled Qingyang County.
"Senior Brother Fang..."
One of the disciples began in a low, hesitant voice.
’If we keep going, we’ll enter Donglu County.’
’Entering Donglu County means leaving the Qingxuan Sect’s sphere of influence. If we run into danger, we won’t get any backup.’
’The risk will skyrocket.’
Fang Han said nothing.
He just stood there, his gaze fixed on the lands of Donglu County ahead.
The men behind him were also silent, awaiting his decision.
After a moment, Fang Han spoke. His voice was calm, yet it held an unshakeable resolve.
"We keep going."
He didn’t look back. He simply took a step and continued on.
The men behind him exchanged a glance, then followed without another moment’s hesitation.
’Donglu County was unfamiliar territory to them.’
’But since their leader, Fang Han, had made his decision, they would not back down.’
’Besides, their fallen sect-brothers were waiting for them to bring back justice.’
The sun climbed high into the sky, then began to set.
Fang Han and his party moved through the mountain forests of Donglu County.
They avoided the main roads and towns, sticking to the rarely trodden paths of the deep forest.
Under the perception of his Perfection-level Spirit Smelling Technique, the trail left by the bandits was as clear as a great highway, guiding their every step.
「Noon on the third day.」
Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
"Careful. The target is near!"
Fang Han said, slowing his pace and lowering his voice.
"Excellent!"
The men behind him, mentally exhausted after three days of continuous pursuit, felt their spirits jolt.
They slowed their pace, their gazes sweeping warily across their surroundings.
After continuing for about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, Fang Han stopped and raised his right hand.
Everyone halted instantly, melting behind trees and into bushes, concealing their presence completely.
Fang Han’s gaze pierced through the sparse woods ahead, landing on a hidden mountain hollow.
There was the light of a fire.
The smoke of a cookfire.
And the flicker of moving figures.
From a distance of several hundred yards, he could vaguely make out several simple tents pitched in the hollow, with thirty or forty figures scattered about.
Some were roasting food over a bonfire, others were polishing their weapons, and a few were dozing against tree trunks.
Beside the tents were a dozen or so bundles of various sizes—inside, he surmised, were the medicinal herbs plundered from the North Mountain herb fields.
"Found them."
Fang Han whispered, his voice barely audible.
Behind him, the dozen or so elite disciples slowly gathered around, their gazes fixed on the hollow beyond the trees.
Some gripped the hilts of their blades, while others’ eyes glinted with a cold light.
Three days of tracking, crossing two counties, traversing countless mountains and forests—
Finally, they had found them.
Fang Han’s gaze swept slowly over the figures.
’Over thirty men. It matches what I sensed.’
’Three of the auras are the most potent; those must be the three Fourth-Grade Martial Artists.’
Right now, they were sitting in a circle before the largest tent, seemingly discussing something.
Fang Han pulled his gaze back and turned to his men.
"Three are Fourth Grade. The rest are ordinary Martial Artists."
His voice was low, but it carried clearly to each of their ears.
"We’re outnumbered, but we far surpass them in skill."
"Rest here for half an hour. Then we attack. Aside from the three leaders, leave no survivors."
He spoke the last three words very softly.
But the coldness in his tone sent a chill through everyone’s heart.
The dozen or so men nodded in unison, their eyes glinting with long-suppressed killing intent.
Fang Han turned his gaze back toward the hollow.
The bonfire crackled and the cookfire smoke drifted on the air.
The bandits had no idea that the shadow of death had already fallen upon them.