Fang Lin remained on the ridge for several breaths after Wei Shanzhu died.
The wind moved through the dry grass, carrying the faint smell of dust and old stone. Below the ridge, the abandoned watch post stood quietly between black cliffs. Meng Shi, Du Heng, and Wei Shanzhu had all disappeared into Fang Lin's storage treasures, and the traces of frost, blood, and death force had been erased as much as possible.
But Fang Lin did not feel relaxed.
His expression was calm, yet his fingers tightened slightly around Wei Shanzhu's storage ring.
An elder's disappearance could not go unnoticed.
Luo Cheng had been solitary. If he vanished for a short time, people might only think he had gone into seclusion or lost his temper somewhere. But Wei Shanzhu was different. He belonged to the Mission Hall. He remembered routes, checked records, and had clerks who waited for his orders.
If Wei Shanzhu did not return, someone would notice.
If Meng Shi did not return, someone would ask.
If Luo Cheng's private order was investigated, the thread would lead back to him.
Fang Lin exhaled slowly.
Not a sigh of fear.
A sigh of calculation.
"The door is closing."
Inside his spiritual sea, the grey seed pulsed softly. Meng Shi's old vitality leaf rested inside a sealed wooden box in Fang Lin's storage treasure, and the seed's reaction to it remained quiet but clear.
Fang Lin wanted to study it.
He wanted to know why those leaves could awaken the seed.
But not here.
Not inside Black Mountain Gate.
Not while Core Formation elders were already digging through the Demon Sealing Ruins incident.
He had gained the old vitality leaf. He had gained the clue to Venerated Black Tortoise Mountain. But there was still one thing inside Black Mountain Gate that he wanted before leaving.
The Black Mountain Suppression Art.
Luo Cheng had used only one part of it, yet even that had created powerful pressure. Fang Lin did not intend to cultivate Black Mountain Gate's earth path, but the technique itself was useful. It was not a cultivation method. It was a skill technique.
If he could take its structure and later adapt it with the Nine Nether Phantom Body, soul pressure, and Darkness Qi, it would become another blade in his hands.
Fang Lin's eyes became colder.
He had to return once.
Only once.
Get the technique.
Then leave Rivercloud City's region before Mo Jintao or the Gate Master realized that something had gone wrong.
He lowered his hand toward Wei Shanzhu's corpse.
"Soul Scour."
His soul power entered the elder's fading spiritual sea with careful precision. Wei Shanzhu's recent memories loosened like ink in water, but Fang Lin seized what he needed before they scattered.
Mission Hall habits.
Clerk arrangements.
Travel records.
The time before Wei Shanzhu's absence would be noticed.
Then he searched for the Technique Pavilion rules.
Black Mountain Gate's Technique Pavilion allowed elders to enter the second floor with their elder token. Luo Cheng's identity had enough authority to read skill techniques below the restricted Core Formation level. The Black Mountain Suppression Art was not a supreme inheritance. It was valuable, but not forbidden to elders.
Good.
That meant he did not need to force his way in.
Fang Lin withdrew his soul power and stood.
Phantom Transformation shifted his body again. Luo Cheng's narrow features returned. His shoulders broadened, his eyes became colder and more sunken, and a heavy dark-earth surface aura settled around him.
Within several breaths, Elder Luo Cheng stood on the ridge once more.
Fang Lin glanced toward Black Mountain Gate.
His lips curved faintly.
It was not a smile of joy.
It was the expression of someone walking back into a burning house because one useful thing was still inside.
By dusk, Fang Lin returned to Black Mountain Gate through the western gate.
The guards bowed quickly.
"Elder Luo."
Fang Lin gave a cold grunt and walked past them without slowing.
The gate formation swept over him. Luo Cheng's dark iron elder token warmed at his waist, and the formation withdrew after accepting the aura stored inside it.
No alarm sounded.
No one stopped him.
Fang Lin's expression remained indifferent, but his heart stayed sharp.
He did not return to Luo Cheng's residence. He did not go to the Mission Hall. He did not look toward the central peak.
He went straight to the Technique Pavilion.
The Black Mountain Technique Pavilion stood halfway up the inner mountain, built into a cliff of black stone. Its entrance was guarded by two Spirit Foundation deacons and four inner disciples. Tall stone doors stood behind them, carved with mountain patterns and pressure formations.
When the guards saw him, they bowed.
"Elder Luo."
One deacon stepped forward. "Elder has come to select a technique?"
Fang Lin looked at him coldly. "Do I need to explain?"
The deacon's expression stiffened.
"No, Elder. Please enter."
Luo Cheng's reputation once again became useful.
Fang Lin walked past them and entered the pavilion.
Inside, the air was dry and heavy. Stone shelves lined the walls, holding jade slips, black tablets, bone scrolls, and sealed technique plates. The first floor held disciple techniques. Fang Lin did not stop there.
He walked to the stairway leading upward and placed Luo Cheng's elder token against the formation.
The barrier trembled once.
Then opened.
Fang Lin climbed to the second floor.
There were far fewer techniques here. Each shelf carried a formation mark, and every jade slip had a short description engraved below it.
Iron Stone Skin.
Heavy Blood Circulation.
Black Bone Stance.
Mountain Crushing Elbow.
Stone Vein Step.
Fang Lin ignored them.
His divine sense spread carefully, only a short distance, concealed beneath Shadow Breath. He did not search wildly. An elder browsing a pavilion did not need to act like a thief who had never seen shelves before.
Soon, his gaze stopped on a dark jade slip resting inside a stone case.
Black Mountain Suppression Art.
Fang Lin opened the case with Luo Cheng's elder token and picked up the jade slip.
The moment his spiritual sense entered it, a heavy pressure appeared inside his mind. It was not an attack, only the imprint of the technique itself. A black mountain phantom formed in his perception, vast and silent, pressing down upon the earth.
Information flowed into him.
The Black Mountain Suppression Art had four skills.
Black Mountain Descent.
Black Mountain Guard.
Black Mountain Breaking Palm.
Black Mountain Lock.
Fang Lin's eyes narrowed slightly.
So Luo Cheng had only used the first part properly.
No wonder the technique had felt incomplete in battle.
He read quickly, but not carelessly. The Soul Metamorphosis Technique made his mind clear, and the Late Stage Solid Soul State allowed him to memorize the circulation patterns with terrifying speed. Mountain Bearing Frame helped him understand the body-pressure structure, while his memory of Luo Cheng's battle showed him how the technique behaved in real combat.
For ordinary Black Mountain Gate cultivators, the technique relied on dark-earth Qi.
For Fang Lin, the structure mattered more than the element.
Pressure.
Suppression.
Stability.
Locking.
Crushing.
Those principles could be adapted.
After one hour, Fang Lin placed the jade slip back into the case.
His face remained Luo Cheng's usual cold mask, but a faint light moved through his eyes.
He had learned it.
Not mastered it.
Not yet.
But the technique had entered his mind.
That was enough for now.
Before leaving, Fang Lin went to a small practice chamber attached to the second floor. Elders often tested technique circulation there before deciding whether to cultivate further, so his action was not suspicious.
He activated the chamber formation and stood in the center.
Black Mountain Descent.
A faint pressure gathered above him. It was weak compared to Luo Cheng's version, but the structure formed correctly. Fang Lin did not force dark-earth Qi deeper into his foundation. Instead, he used body pressure from the Nine Nether Phantom Body and a thin layer of false earth aura from Luo Cheng's token.
The pressure descended and made the stone floor tremble faintly.
Fang Lin nodded.
Black Mountain Guard.
A heavy pressure field formed around his body. It was rough, but stable enough to reduce incoming force if refined later.
Black Mountain Breaking Palm.
He raised his hand. Heavy force gathered in his palm, denser than ordinary Wind Break Palm, but slower. Fang Lin's eyes moved slightly. This could be merged later with his body force.
Black Mountain Lock.
A strand of pressure spread outward and fixed onto a stone dummy inside the chamber. The dummy did not move, but the formation marks around it dimmed slightly as the pressure tightened.
Fang Lin withdrew his hand.
A faint smirk touched his lips for half a breath.
"Useful."
Then the smirk vanished.
He erased the traces in the chamber, adjusted his robe, and left.
The deacon outside bowed again.
"Elder Luo, have you chosen?"
Fang Lin said coldly, "Black Mountain Suppression Art."
The deacon nodded. "A suitable technique for Elder."
Fang Lin gave him a flat look.
The deacon immediately lowered his head.
"Disciple spoke too much."
Fang Lin walked away.
He did not hurry.
Hurrying would only draw attention.
He returned briefly to Luo Cheng's western slope residence. Old Ke opened the gate and bowed. Tan Wu and Mei Su were both inside, and neither dared ask where he had gone.
Fang Lin entered the main room, took several useful items from Luo Cheng's storage chamber, and left behind the appearance of an elder entering seclusion.
A closed-door talisman was placed on the door.
The residence formation was activated.
Old Ke received a single order.
"No one disturbs me unless the Gate Master personally arrives."
Old Ke bowed deeply. "Yes, Elder."
Fang Lin looked at him for a moment.
The old servant trembled under that gaze.
Then Fang Lin turned away.
He did not kill Old Ke.
There was no need.
A living servant who believed Luo Cheng was in seclusion was more useful than a corpse that demanded questions.
Night fell over Black Mountain Gate.
Fang Lin left through a rear supply path using Luo Cheng's elder token and a routine inspection excuse. The guard there barely dared to look at him.
By the time the moon rose above the black mountains, Fang Lin had already changed faces twice.
Luo Cheng disappeared.
A scarred wandering cultivator appeared.
Then a thin merchant assistant replaced him.
He moved through forest roads, abandoned stone paths, and dry river valleys without stopping. Only after Black Mountain Gate disappeared far behind him did he allow his shoulders to loosen slightly. He had not forgotten how Wei Shanzhu had tracked him before.
A quiet sigh left his mouth.
He had escaped the second net.
Not perfectly.
Not cleanly.
But early enough.
Behind him, Black Mountain Gate still slept beneath its heavy mountains. The Mission Hall would soon realize Wei Shanzhu had not returned. Meng Shi's absence would be questioned. Luo Cheng's seclusion would delay suspicion for a little while, but not forever.
Mo Jintao would eventually notice.
The Gate Master would eventually hear.
But by then, Fang Lin would no longer be inside their gate.
He looked north.
Turtleback Station.
Venerated Black Tortoise Mountain.
Old Root Storehouse.
The path had become more dangerous.
But also clearer.
Inside his storage treasure, Meng Shi's old vitality leaf remained sealed.
Inside his mind, the Black Mountain Suppression Art settled quietly.
Fang Lin's eyes became calm again.
He had taken what he needed.
Now he had to disappear before the mountain woke.
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