Four hundred and eighty thousand ghosts fall silent.

Of the four, Big Kidney was the only disciple who understood formations. Hearing the urgency, he dared not delay. Yet in his haste, how could he possibly break through? The dark shroud encircling them was slowly closing in, the ghostly faces upon it becoming sharper and more numerous, their eyes filled with ferocity.

He struck his chest, forcing out a mouthful of vital blood that he spat into the air, where it transformed into a mist of crimson. The blood mist quickly spread, settling on the surrounding stone pillars and revealing red specks of varying sizes.

At this, the ghostly faces around them suddenly let out a chorus of howls, merging with the wind, transforming into ripples that battered the glowing barrier conjured by the Wind-hearing Talisman.

The howls seemed anxious, carrying a faint note of weeping, but to those present, it only signaled that the situation was growing ever more perilous.

Big Kidney’s face grew even paler, his hands trembling as he tapped rapidly through the air.

Qin Chuan, watching, hesitated for a moment. He had wanted to tell the others that the sinister winds bore no malice, but seeing a fellow disciple beside him shivering uncontrollably, he decided against it.

He himself was puzzled by the sudden appearance of these winds; they seemed more like children playing hide-and-seek, wanting to be indulged rather than truly threatening. The howls were provoked only because Big Kidney was trying to disrupt the playful game between the winds and Qin Chuan. In fact, the fleeting looks the ghostly faces gave him even hinted at a child-like fondness.

His gaze sharpened. Plucking a strand of ashen thread from his hair, he formed a seal and cast it into the dark shroud.

It was as if a child had been given a new toy or candy—delight sparkled in those ghostly eyes. In an instant, they scattered and vanished, the darkness lifted, and the sky was revealed above.

Even Big Kidney was dumbfounded, staring at his hands in disbelief. Since when had his mastery of formations become so profound?

His heart burned with excitement as he glanced at the others, who all wore surprised expressions. His chest thudded wildly, a sense of elation rising—until his eyes caught Qin Chuan’s calm face, and he immediately forced his expression back into sternness.

Qin Chuan remained composed, not the least bit surprised. To Big Kidney, this casual air was nothing short of infuriating. He grumbled inwardly that, given another chance, he would certainly not bother saving him again.

Even Wan Tong’s gaze toward Big Kidney had shifted. Among the five present, excluding the recently added Qin Chuan, the other four each possessed their own specialties: alchemy, formations, seals, and talismans.

Within the sect, their status was not insignificant; they enjoyed the sect’s trust. Besides the overt mission to obtain the Mystic Dust Herb, they also carried a secret task.

Among those who had entered the Wind-shadow Domain, there was a traitor to the sect.

Whether it was Shanglu or Kongqing remained uncertain; Wan Tong could only proceed cautiously, hoping to glean clues near the Mystic Dust Herb in the Zhen position.

Regardless of whether the traitor was Shanglu or Kongqing, she was determined to expose them. Their hurried pace was meant to make up lost ground, yet trouble had still found them.

“This disturbance is truly strange! The phenomenon of Ten Thousand Ghosts Falling Silent shouldn’t appear on the outskirts like this. Could it be that something has changed in the Domain after the sect’s long absence?”

“What’s more, this event differs somewhat from the records. The ghosts this time seemed more lively, even making aggressive howls!”

Qin Chuan smacked his lips, but swallowed his words. He knew they would not believe him, so why invite trouble?

He hadn’t trusted these people who had so suddenly invited him to join their group, but before his appearance, the worry in Wan Tong’s eyes had been genuine, easing much of his wariness.

“When this is over, we’ll report to the sect. Something unusual is happening within the Domain—perhaps it’s related to those people. Who knows what they’ve done here?”

Wan Tong made no effort to exclude Qin Chuan from this conversation. Since the sect had secretly tasked her with protecting him, he was naturally considered trustworthy.

She unconsciously linked the two matters together, attributing the recent happenings to the traitor. Qin Chuan, listening in confusion, saw that the others were not hiding anything from him, and decided to enjoy the peace without offering clarification.

The sinister winds here had a tempering effect on both body and spirit. While further cultivation of his spirit was pointless for him, the refinement of his body was still quite effective. The sooner they found the Mystic Dust Herb, the more time he would have for training.

None of the others noticed the strand of gray thread that lingered within two fathoms of the group. This was the limit of Qin Chuan’s perception—any farther, and even he would lose control.

Without spiritual sense, he was unable to perform most sword control or telekinesis techniques unless he used special methods. Even his storage pouch, lacking a spiritual imprint, functioned simply by the formations inscribed upon it.

This meant that if someone else took his pouch, they could use it freely. Such was the gulf between Foundation Establishment and Qi Refining—a world of difference. But to return to the point:

Every inch of this place was saturated with sinister energy, granting Qin Chuan a sense akin to spiritual perception within a two-fathom radius.

Outside, he would be lucky to manage even a single fathom of control over his gray thread, given the limitations of resonance with spiritual energy.

He instructed the thread: unless given a command, do not disturb the group’s journey.

Where the others could not see, the phantasmal faces nodded lightly, then darted off in pursuit of the gray thread.

The group pressed on. There was no discernible change in the sky above; it remained perpetually gloomy. Only when a chill crept over them did they realize that night was falling.

This chill did not stem from the body but rose from the depths of the soul.

Traveling through the Wind-shadow Domain at night was exceedingly dangerous—far more dreadful phenomena than Ten Thousand Ghosts Falling Silent could occur. The elders of Green Mountain Sect had learned this well; none dared be careless.

As night fell, they took turns standing watch, infusing spiritual energy into the Wind-hearing Talisman, whose radiant barrier dispelled the chill.

Within this domain, cultivation was of little use. The ambient spiritual energy was laced with dust and impurities; once drawn into one’s meridians, it needed painstaking refinement before entering the dantian, or else it would ruin one’s cultivation.

Still, they sat in meditation out of habit, settling their minds in the spirit platform—a practice far more effective than sleep.

By dawn, the swirling gray mists had been largely driven away by the pale light.

Except for Qin Chuan, who had the last watch, the others all opened their eyes one after another, disbelief in their faces. Night was usually the most perilous time, yet this night had passed in utter peace.

They had ventured deep into the domain. According to the records, they should have been beset by fierce battles, with countless shadow serpents and night wolves.

Yet up to now, apart from the Ten Thousand Ghosts event at the outermost edge, they had faced no obstacles. Even the shadow serpents they chanced upon were weak and feeble.

This was no accident—Qin Chuan had intentionally directed the sinister winds to shield their movements, even deceiving the native creatures.

Nor did he fear being discovered. Even if he told them, they would never believe him.

“Senior Sister, look!” Big Kidney suddenly called out, pointing to a patch of sparse grass ahead. The group followed his gaze and indeed spotted something unusual.

Wan Tong’s voice was tinged with delight. “These are footprints. Judging by their depth, they don’t belong to someone small in stature!”

“Then they must be Kongqing and his companion!”

Estimating that, with so few obstacles and rapid progress along the prescribed route, catching up would be easy.

“Kongqing slipped away without a word as soon as we entered the portal. Clearly, something’s off. He must be the one the sect is looking for,” Wan Tong mused, though not entirely sure.

One of the others picked up the thread. “To find out for certain, we’ll follow them and see where they go after collecting the Mystic Dust Herb.”

“No time to lose, let’s hurry. I have plenty of Concealment Pills in my pouch, so we needn’t worry about being discovered when we catch up.”

With Qin Chuan providing cover, the group advanced carefully, encountering few monsters along the way, which naturally sped their progress.

The scenery on either side remained unchanged, so much so that they had grown weary of it.

“Wait!” Qin Chuan suddenly stopped, his eyes flickering with thought.

The others were surprised. Since joining the group, Qin Chuan had played the role of a background figure, rarely speaking, and if he did, it was only to say “Understood” or “Rest assured.”

He had the lowest cultivation among them, but kept pace with surprising stamina—something they found curious but not worth worrying about.

For such a seemingly inconspicuous person to suddenly halt the group was indeed unexpected.

“I don’t know who we’re tracking, but if you don’t want to give yourselves away, take the Concealment Pills now,” Qin Chuan said calmly.

Besides Qin Chuan, there were four others in the team, each with their own specialty: formations, alchemy, seals, and talismans. Big Kidney handled formations, while the alchemist was Fang Mu.

Fang Mu hesitated, glancing at Wan Tong for a decision.

Wan Tong nodded slightly. “No harm in being cautious.” She didn’t believe Qin Chuan had any special means of detection; she herself hadn’t sensed any trace of the others, so it was impossible for a first-level Qi Refining disciple to do so.

Fang Mu sighed inwardly, regretting his earlier boast about having plenty of Concealment Pills. He slapped his pouch and produced ten pills, handing out two to each person.

His expression showed his pain; these were not ordinary pills, nor were they his own handiwork, but were provided by the sect for this mission.

“We should move more slowly. Even with Concealment Pills, too much noise could still give us away,” Qin Chuan said seriously.

“Let’s slow down a bit...” Wan Tong replied, somewhat helplessly, and made only a token effort to reduce their pace. Clearly, she did not believe Qin Chuan.

After nearly a quarter of an hour, Wan Tong suddenly halted, her expression grave. “Something serious seems to have happened ahead...”