Chapter 89: The Eye Above Black Crow City
The smoke from the demonic camp still rose into the heavens when Han Feng left the mountains behind.
The wind carried the stench of burnt blood for miles. Even after he had descended into the plains, the smell clung to his clothes, following him like an unwelcome reminder of the previous night's battle.
Han Feng did not look back.
In the Gu World, massacres were nothing unusual. Tomorrow, another bandit group would appear. Another caravan would vanish. Somewhere, a settlement would be reduced to ruins while its neighbors pretended not to notice.
Cruelty was not an exception.
It was the rule.
And those who survived learned to distinguish between suffering they could change and suffering that would only consume them.
Han Feng had saved some of the prisoners because he had possessed the opportunity to do so. He had killed the demonic cultivators because they had tried to kill him. He had not stayed to search every wagon because doing so would have risked everything he had already accomplished.
He had made his choice.
He would not waste time regretting it.
Still, as the mountains faded behind him, his left side throbbed beneath his robe.
The demonic leader's final attack had inflicted more damage than Han Feng had initially admitted to himself. Several ribs remained sore, and the poison from the earlier ambush had not been completely removed. His medicinal pill had suppressed its spread, but a faint trace still lingered deep within his meridians.
His condition was far from ideal.
Unfortunately, the road ahead offered little opportunity for rest.
Han Feng continued across the dry plains, keeping his aura concealed beneath the Art of the Celestial Veil. Every few hours, he stopped to inspect the terrain, check for pursuers, and circulate a small amount of primordial essence through his injured body.
He avoided settlements whenever possible.
When he needed water, he approached isolated streams. When he encountered travelers, he kept his distance and listened rather than asking questions.
He had learned that people often revealed more when they believed nobody important was listening.
Yet even during these quiet hours, his attention repeatedly returned to the Celestial Diagram.
Something had changed.
The golden lines along its outer edge no longer vanished immediately after appearing. They remained visible within his consciousness, moving slowly between the existing patterns like narrow rivers of light.
They did not form a complete circuit.
Some sections remained dim, while others brightened at irregular intervals.
But the change was unmistakable.
Before the battle at the demonic camp, the golden lines had behaved like brief traces of an unfamiliar energy. Now they had become a persistent feature of the Diagram.
Han Feng examined them carefully.
He could not determine whether the Diagram had absorbed something from the battle or whether the conditions of the fight had simply allowed him to perceive a property that had always existed.
The distinction was important.
A cultivator who misunderstood the source of his strength could easily become dependent on an ability he did not truly possess.
He had already made that mistake once by assuming that the crimson energy would behave consistently.
It had not.
The golden particles had appeared during the fight, concentrated the flame, and helped it penetrate the demonic leader's defensive technique. But Han Feng had neither summoned them deliberately nor understood how they interacted with the flame.
He refused to call that control.
Nevertheless, the Diagram's increased stability had produced several subtle changes.
His perception of Qi had become more precise. He could distinguish minor differences between nearby spiritual currents that he would previously have overlooked.
His control over ordinary Qi circulation had also improved slightly. He could suppress small fluctuations with less effort, although doing so still required concentration.
Most unusual of all, he had occasionally sensed distortions in space before they became visible.
The sensations were faint.
Sometimes they were no more than a brief pressure behind his eyes, followed by a subtle disturbance in the surrounding spiritual energy.
He could not predict where a distortion would appear, how long it would last, or whether it would become dangerous.
It was not foresight.
It was merely an additional warning.
Yet even that was valuable.
Han Feng had survived several recent encounters because he noticed danger before his enemies expected him to react.
If the Diagram could help him do that more consistently, it might eventually become one of his greatest advantages.
But he was not ready to trust it.
The golden seal beneath his chest remained another concern.
Since the battle, it had stayed silent. There had been no further voice, no sudden visions, and no visible reaction.
That silence did not reassure him.
The seal had once appeared to regulate the foreign energy that threatened his body. Now it seemed connected to something much larger, something that could communicate through forces Han Feng could neither identify nor measure.
He touched the area beneath his robe.
Nothing happened.
Han Feng withdrew his hand.
"Whatever you are," he murmured, "you'd better have a good reason for keeping me alive."
The wind carried his words away.
The seal remained silent.
On the third day, Han Feng finally saw a city.
Or rather, he saw what passed for a city in this increasingly troubled world.
Dark walls stretched between enormous rock formations, enclosing a vast settlement built along the slopes of several black mountains. Watchtowers rose above the battlements, their tops crowded with armed guards.
Black flags fluttered in the wind.
Crows circled overhead.
Thousands of them.
Their cries echoed across the surrounding plains, sometimes overlapping until the entire city seemed to be surrounded by a living cloud of noise.
Han Feng stopped on a ridge overlooking the road.
Black Crow City.
He recognized the name from the memories inherited from the original Han Feng and from rumors he had heard during his time in the Black Moon Sect.
The city occupied an important position along the western routes leading toward the Central Region. Officially, it was controlled by a minor neutral clan whose influence extended only a short distance beyond the walls.
In practice, the clan maintained a simpler policy.
Anyone could enter.
Anyone could trade.
Anyone could settle a dispute.
Provided they possessed enough stones to pay the appropriate people.
As a result, Black Crow City had become a refuge for those who could not operate openly elsewhere.
Illegal merchants.
Demonic cultivators.
Smugglers.
Assassins.
Slave traders.
Even members of respectable sects occasionally came here under false identities when they needed something that could not be obtained through ordinary channels.
Han Feng studied the city for several minutes.
Under normal circumstances, he would have preferred to avoid it.
But his supplies were running low, and his injuries would become a serious problem if left untreated. He also needed information about the routes ahead, particularly the strange disturbances reported near the Central Region's outer territories.
Traveling blindly was no longer an acceptable risk.
He pulled his hood lower and continued toward the gates.
The guards inspected him briefly.
One looked at his clothes, another at his storage pouch.
A third glanced at the medicinal stains on his sleeve.
"Passing through?"
"Most likely."
The guard raised an eyebrow.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
The man studied him for a moment, then held out his hand.
"Entry fee."
Han Feng paid without complaint.
The guard stepped aside.
"Welcome to Black Crow City. Keep your weapons close, your mouth shut, and your valuables closer."
Han Feng entered.
He suspected the advice was sincere.
The streets were crowded.
Merchants shouted prices from beneath stained awnings. Cultivators pushed through the crowds with weapons strapped to their backs, while small Gu crawled across the shoulders of several vendors displaying their wares.
The city smelled of smoke, sweat, blood, and cheap medicinal wine.
Han Feng passed a shop selling preserved organs suspended in glass containers.
A woman stood behind the counter, smiling as she displayed a row of eyes.
"Rank Two investigative materials! Recently harvested! Excellent preservation!"
A customer leaned forward to inspect one.
"Are they from cultivators?"
"Of course."
"Which Gu did they possess?"
The woman smiled more broadly.
"That depends on what you are willing to pay."
Han Feng continued walking.
Farther down the street, two armed men dragged a chained prisoner past a row of shops. The prisoner's face was bruised, and one leg dragged uselessly behind him.
A few bystanders watched.
Nobody intervened.
One man laughed when the prisoner stumbled.
Another moved his goods aside to avoid being splashed by the blood dripping from the chain.
Han Feng's expression did not change.
He had seen enough of the Gu World to know that outrage would accomplish nothing here.
The city had no shortage of people willing to condemn cruelty in private while profiting from it in public.
He continued toward the commercial district.
His immediate priorities were simple.
Medicine.
Information.
Possibly a replacement defensive Gu, if he found something suitable at a reasonable price.
He did not have enough resources to buy rare treasures, and he had no intention of revealing the crimson flame or the Celestial Diagram to an unknown merchant.
For now, he needed practical things.
A quiet place to rest.
A way to remove the remaining poison.
And a route toward the Central Region that would not force him through another battlefield.
Yet as he moved deeper into the city, he noticed something troubling.
The people here were afraid.
Not the ordinary caution of criminals who expected betrayal.
This was different.
Veteran cultivators spoke in low voices. Merchants who would normally argue over a single primal stone accepted unfavorable prices without protest. Even the guards stationed near the main intersections repeatedly glanced toward the sky.
Han Feng slowed.
The city had seen violence before.
It had survived wars, raids, and conflicts between demonic sects.
But something had disturbed even these people.
He began listening more carefully.
"Another fissure opened near Dead Lake."
"How large?"
"Large enough to swallow a watchtower."
"That's impossible."
"Then explain why the eastern patrol hasn't returned."
A second conversation drifted from a nearby stall.
"They say an entire sect disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
"That's what I heard."
The speaker swallowed.
"They weren't destroyed. They were consumed."
"Consumed by what?"
The man looked around.
Then shook his head.
"I don't know. And I don't want to."
Han Feng continued walking.
He had heard similar rumors during his journey, but their frequency was increasing.
The disturbances were no longer isolated incidents that could be dismissed as unstable formations or unusual Gu behavior.
Something was happening across multiple regions.
The only uncertainty was whether the incidents shared a common cause.
Han Feng had no proof.
But he had learned enough from his recent encounters to know that dismissing the possibility would be foolish.
He found the tavern shortly before dusk.
It stood in a narrow alley between a pawnshop and a building whose windows had been sealed with black paper. Its sign had lost most of its paint, leaving only the outline of a crow perched above a crescent moon.
The interior was dim and crowded.
Several cultivators occupied the tables near the entrance. Some drank in silence. Others spoke quietly over maps and small wooden tokens.
A man slept with his head resting on a table beside a corpse.
Nobody seemed interested in asking which one of them had died first.
Han Feng chose a seat in the darkest corner.
He ordered a bowl of broth and a cup of water.
The broth tasted unpleasant, but it was hot.
That was enough.
He ate slowly while observing the room.
A pair of merchants argued over the price of a formation stone. Three cultivators discussed a missing caravan. Near the staircase, a masked woman quietly sold information to anyone willing to pay.
Han Feng waited until she finished her current conversation.
Then he placed several primal stones on the table.
The woman glanced at the payment before sitting down.
"What do you want?"
"Information about the roads leading toward the Central Region."
She collected the stones.
"Specific roads or general advice?"
"Routes that are still usable."
The woman gave a dry laugh.
"Usable?"
She leaned forward.
"Boy, there are no safe routes anymore."
Han Feng said nothing.
The woman seemed to appreciate that he did not interrupt.
"Demonic sects are taking control of isolated roads. Spirit beasts are abandoning their territories and attacking settlements. Fissures open without warning, and some of them leave behind energy that causes ordinary Gu to malfunction."
She tapped the table.
"Even experienced cultivators are disappearing near the spatial borders."
"Gu Immortals?"
Her expression changed slightly.
"That is what the rumors say."
"Do you believe them?"
"I believe people have been disappearing. Whether they were Gu Immortals is another question."
Han Feng nodded.
The distinction mattered.
Rumors often grew more extravagant with every person who repeated them. He had no intention of treating every frightening story as fact.
The woman lowered her voice.
"The world is changing, boy. The question is whether you can reach the Central Region before it changes too much."
Han Feng studied her.
"Which route gives me the best chance?"
She considered the question.
"Gray Ghost Valley."
Han Feng's expression remained neutral, but his attention sharpened.
He knew the name.
Gray Ghost Valley was an old passage between several mountain ranges. The terrain made it difficult to travel through, and the spiritual currents were notoriously unstable. Under normal conditions, only cultivators familiar with the region attempted the crossing.
It was dangerous.
But considerably faster than the more established trade routes.
"Why is it still open?" Han Feng asked.
"Because most people with enough sense to avoid it are still alive."
The woman gave a thin smile.
"Besides, something else has been occupying the attention of the local factions."
"What?"
"The Bone Refining Sect."
Han Feng's gaze sharpened.
He had heard of the sect before. It was a demonic organization known for its grotesque refinement methods and its obsession with strengthening the physical body through forbidden Gu techniques.
"What are they doing?"
"Capturing cultivators along the roads near the Central Region."
"To refine bone Gu?"
"That's the usual explanation."
The woman glanced toward the staircase before continuing.
"But the recent reports suggest something worse."
Han Feng waited.
"Their leader supposedly encountered a spatial fissure several months ago. Since then, he has become obsessed with creating what he calls a perfect body."
She lowered her voice further.
"A body capable of enduring the energy from both sides of a fissure."
Han Feng's fingers stopped against the rim of his cup.
The woman noticed.
"That interests you?"
"It sounds dangerous."
"It is."
She leaned back.
"They say the Bone Refining Sect has been experimenting on living cultivators. Some of the people they capture never return. Others come back changed."
"Changed how?"
"Different eyes. Bones that glow beneath the skin. Gu that no longer respond to ordinary methods of control."
The woman shook her head.
"Most of those stories are probably exaggerated. But the sect has certainly been taking people, and its patrols have become more aggressive."
Han Feng's thoughts moved rapidly.
The Bone Refining Sect might simply be exploiting the instability for its own purposes.
But if the leader was genuinely experimenting with energy from beyond a fissure, the consequences could extend far beyond a few missing cultivators.
Desperate people had always attempted dangerous refinements.
The difference now was that the world itself had become an unreliable laboratory.
"What is the least dangerous approach to Gray Ghost Valley?" Han Feng asked.
The woman considered him for a moment.
"Travel with a group, if you can find one that doesn't intend to sell you. Avoid the northern pass. And if you see white stones arranged in a circle, do not step inside."
"Why?"
"Because the people who did rarely returned."
She stood.
"That's all your stones will buy."
Han Feng looked at the empty space where the payment had been.
"Then I suppose I got what I paid for."
The woman gave him a faint smile and disappeared into the crowd.
Han Feng remained seated.
Gray Ghost Valley.
The Bone Refining Sect.
Experiments involving energy from both sides of a spatial fissure.
He had not obtained enough information to make a firm judgment, but he had learned what he needed for the moment.
He would avoid the northern pass.
He would watch for the white stone formations.
And he would not approach the Bone Refining Sect unless circumstances left him no alternative.
He finished his water and prepared to leave.
Then the Celestial Diagram vibrated.
Hard.
Han Feng froze.
The sensation was stronger than any ordinary reaction he had experienced since leaving the demonic camp.
It felt as if something had touched the outer edge of his consciousness.
Not an attack.
Not a direct attempt to probe his spiritual sea.
Something closer to recognition.
His expression changed.
He slowly turned his head toward the second floor.
A man sat alone beside the railing.
White robes.
Long black hair.
A cup of wine resting between his fingers.
His face was youthful, but there was something about his stillness that made age difficult to judge.
The man was looking directly at Han Feng.
Their eyes met.
For a single instant, Han Feng felt a chill pass through his spiritual sea.
It was not the pressure of a powerful cultivator releasing his aura.
The man had not done that.
Instead, Han Feng felt as though the distance between his hidden secrets and the stranger's gaze had suddenly become meaningless.
The Art of the Celestial Veil remained active.
The Soul Chameleon Gu continued altering his outward appearance.
Yet neither technique gave him the comfort they usually provided.
The man's gaze seemed to pass beyond the disguise.
Beyond the suppressed aura.
Toward the golden seal beneath Han Feng's chest.
And perhaps farther still.
Han Feng could not tell whether the man had actually perceived those things or whether his own fear was filling in the gaps.
That uncertainty made the encounter worse.
The stranger lifted his cup and took a sip of wine.
Then he looked away.
Just like that.
No threat.
No greeting.
No visible interest in following Han Feng.
He returned his attention to the wine as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Han Feng remained motionless for one breath.
Then another.
His instincts were clear.
Danger.
Not the kind he could measure by cultivation level or combat technique.
The kind that made every calculation feel incomplete.
Yet the man had shown no killing intent.
If he wanted Han Feng dead, he had given no indication that he intended to act.
The stranger might have been curious.
He might have recognized the Celestial Diagram.
Or he might simply have noticed something unusual about the young cultivator sitting below him.
Han Feng refused to decide without evidence.
He rose, left enough primal stones to cover his meal, and walked toward the exit.
He did not look at the second floor again.
But he could feel the Diagram vibrating irregularly within his consciousness.
The man had not spoken.
Still, Han Feng had the unsettling impression that the encounter had not been accidental.
The streets had darkened by the time Han Feng emerged from the tavern.
Black crows circled above the rooftops, their silhouettes passing between the lanterns and the fading sky.
The wind had grown colder.
Han Feng walked quickly, but he did not run.
Running would suggest fear.
More importantly, it would make him easier to follow.
He turned into a narrow street, crossed a crowded intersection, then entered a small market where several merchants were closing their stalls.
He paused beside a rack of dried herbs and used the reflective surface of a polished metal plate to observe the road behind him.
No obvious pursuer.
No unusual spiritual fluctuations.
No sign of the white-robed man.
Han Feng continued.
The Celestial Diagram vibrated again.
This time, the golden seal responded.
Pain shot through his chest.
Han Feng stumbled against a wall and pressed a hand beneath his robe.
The seal burned.
Not with ordinary heat, but with a pressure that seemed to reach directly into his bones.
The surrounding sounds faded.
For a fraction of a second, the street disappeared.
Han Feng saw a red sky.
Broken mountains floated above a vast darkness. Rivers of pale light crossed the horizon, disappearing into clouds that moved against the direction of the wind.
Then two figures appeared in his vision.
One stood beneath a cold, crimson sky.
The other was surrounded by an oppressive stillness that seemed to swallow the light around him.
Han Feng could not see either figure clearly.
Yet he felt the difference between them.
One presence carried a distant, almost indifferent weight, like an ancient law observing the rise and fall of countless worlds.
The other was calm in a different way.
Measured.
Patient.
As though every change in the surrounding chaos had already become part of a calculation.
For an instant, Han Feng associated the first presence with the mysterious being glimpsed through the earlier fissure.
The second reminded him of Fang Yuan.
But he could not tell whether these were genuine perceptions or associations created by his own memories.
The vision did not explain itself.
It simply ended.
The street returned.
Han Feng caught himself against the wall, breathing heavily.
Cold sweat ran down his forehead.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
He had not crossed a boundary.
He had not entered another world.
He had seen only fragments, separated by an immeasurable distance.
And yet something had connected them.
The golden seal slowly cooled beneath his hand.
The Celestial Diagram remained restless.
Han Feng lowered his head.
"The other side has begun to awaken..."
The distant voice echoed through his consciousness.
He could not tell whether the words had been spoken by the seal, by the entity beyond the fissure, or by something entirely different.
But he remembered them.
And he remembered Fang Yuan's warning.
Do not trust the golden seal.
Anything that kept him alive might also dictate the conditions of his survival.
Han Feng removed his hand from his chest.
He needed to understand what had triggered the reaction.
Had the white-robed man somehow resonated with the seal?
Had the fissures grown stronger?
Or had the golden lines within the Celestial Diagram finally reached a point where they could respond to distant disturbances?
There was no answer.
He refused to accept the simplest explanation merely because it was convenient.
Still, the timing troubled him.
The Diagram had reacted when he saw the man.
The seal had pulsed after he left the tavern.
And the vision had contained two presences he could not explain.
The three events might be connected.
They might also be separate disturbances occurring at the same time.
Until he knew more, he would treat every conclusion as provisional.
Han Feng pushed away from the wall and continued through the street.
He needed to leave the crowded district.
Not because the stranger had attacked him.
Because remaining close to an unknown variable was an unnecessary risk.
He turned toward the outer road.
Then the sky changed.
At first, the movement was so subtle that most people failed to notice it.
The clouds above Black Crow City began rotating.
Slowly.
A vast spiral formed high above the rooftops, its center almost perfectly still.
The crows reacted first.
Their cries became frantic. Hundreds of them abandoned their circles and scattered in every direction.
A moment later, the spiritual energy in the streets began to fluctuate.
Lantern flames bent sideways.
Several Gu insects crawled out from beneath shop counters, trembling as their owners struggled to restrain them.
Han Feng stopped.
The Celestial Diagram vibrated so violently that the sensation spread through his entire spiritual sea.
His eyes narrowed.
Not again.
He looked upward.
The clouds continued to spiral.
A cultivator standing nearby raised his head.
"What is that?"
Another man followed his gaze.
"Is it a formation?"
"No formation can cover the entire sky!"
A sudden pressure descended upon the city.
Conversations died.
People emerged from shops and taverns, staring upward as the clouds twisted into a gigantic vortex.
Han Feng's golden seal began to burn.
The pain forced him to brace himself against the wall.
At the same time, the golden lines within the Celestial Diagram brightened until their outlines became unmistakable.
The crimson trace associated with the foreign flame stirred inside its sealed container, reacting to the disturbance without breaking free.
Han Feng's expression tightened.
Three separate things were responding.
The seal.
The Diagram.
And the crimson trace.
He had no idea why.
Then—
CRACK.
A thin golden line appeared across the firmament.
For one impossible instant, the clouds seemed to separate around it.
The line widened.
Light poured through the opening, revealing a depth that did not resemble the sky above Black Crow City.
There were no recognizable stars.
No familiar mountains.
Only an immense darkness crossed by distant points of light.
The pressure intensified.
Several cultivators fell to their knees.
One attempted to activate a defensive Gu, but the insect barely responded. Another released a burst of primordial essence toward the crack, only for the energy to disperse before reaching the clouds.
Han Feng remained standing through sheer effort.
His spiritual sense recoiled from the opening.
He could not measure what lay beyond it.
He could not even determine whether the distant lights were stars, spiritual formations, or something his mind could not interpret.
Then something moved.
A vast shape emerged behind the golden line.
Not crossing.
Not approaching.
Only turning.
For less than a breath, an enormous eye became visible within the opening.
Ancient.
Indifferent.
Its surface seemed to contain layers of darkness, as though the distance between it and the city could not be measured by ordinary space.
Han Feng's body went rigid.
The Celestial Diagram erupted in a violent vibration.
The golden lines flared.
The crimson trace surged against its sealed container.
And the golden seal beneath his chest burned so fiercely that he nearly lost consciousness.
The eye did not visibly focus on him.
It did not speak.
There was no proof that it had even noticed Black Crow City.
But Han Feng felt a terrible sensation, as if the world had briefly become transparent and something beyond it had been allowed to look through.
Then the opening collapsed.
The golden line vanished.
The clouds stopped rotating.
The sky returned to its former appearance.
The entire event had lasted only a few breaths.
Yet nobody moved.
The silence that followed was more frightening than the disturbance itself.
A child began crying.
Somewhere in the crowd, a man whispered a prayer to an ancient Gu Immortal whose name Han Feng did not recognize.
A cultivator dropped his weapon.
Another stared at the sky with an expression of absolute disbelief.
Then the voices began.
"What was that?"
"Did everyone see it?"
"Was that a Gu Immortal?"
"No. That wasn't a Gu Immortal."
"Then what was it?"
Nobody answered.
Because nobody knew.
Han Feng slowly lowered his head.
His chest still hurt.
The golden seal had cooled, but the Celestial Diagram remained active. Its golden lines circulated more steadily than before, though the seventh point had not awakened.
He examined the Diagram carefully.
No new symbol appeared.
No new information entered his mind.
There was no breakthrough.
Only a persistent sense that something had changed beyond his ability to measure.
Han Feng looked toward the tavern.
The second-floor windows were dark.
He could not tell whether the white-robed man was still inside.
He could not tell whether the stranger had witnessed the event.
And he could not determine whether the man had caused anything at all.
The timing was suspicious.
That was not evidence.
Han Feng forced himself to remember the distinction.
He had spent too long surviving by observing details others overlooked. If he began confusing coincidence with certainty, he would eventually make a decision that cost him his life.
For now, he knew only this:
The sky had opened above a crowded city.
Something immense had been visible beyond it.
And the seal, the Diagram, and the crimson trace had all responded.
Those facts were enough to change his plans.
Black Crow City was no longer a place where he could safely rest for several days. Panic would spread, factions would begin investigating the disturbance, and anyone with a connection to spatial anomalies might soon attract unwanted attention.
Han Feng needed to leave before the city became a hunting ground.
He adjusted his hood and began moving toward the western gate.
Behind him, Black Crow City erupted into confusion.
Merchants hurried to secure their goods. Guards shouted orders from the watchtowers. Cultivators began gathering in small groups, already arguing over what they had seen.
Above the city, the crows had disappeared.
Not one remained in the sky.
Han Feng noticed that too.
He kept walking.
The Central Region lay ahead.
So did Gray Ghost Valley, the Bone Refining Sect, and whatever waited beyond the unstable borders.
He had entered Black Crow City seeking medicine and information.
He was leaving with something far more troubling.
Proof that the disturbances were no longer confined to remote mountains or abandoned ruins.
The boundary had opened above a city full of witnesses.
Soon, the entire region would hear about it.
And once the powerful factions learned what had happened, they would begin searching for explanations.
Some would seek treasures.
Some would seek weapons.
Others would seek the people who had somehow survived contact with the unknown.
Han Feng lowered his gaze.
He had no intention of letting them discover how closely he was connected to the phenomenon.
Not yet.
He would reach Gray Ghost Valley.
He would treat his injuries.
And he would learn more about the golden seal before its next reaction left him unable to stand.
Because the eye had appeared for only a moment.
But Han Feng could not shake the feeling that the event had been less an attack than an observation.
Something beyond the boundary had looked into the Gu World.
Whether it had seen him remained uncertain.
What frightened him was the possibility that, next time, it would not be looking at the city.
It would be looking for something specific.