Wandering through the dark, dense forest, Han Li kept his senses alert, and what appeared blurred and indistinct to ordinary eyes became as clear and well-defined to him as daylight. His caution was not merely aimed at warding off wild beasts, but rather a well-established instinct. Since the Seven-Perfected Sect had moved to the Rainbow Cloud Mountains, the already sparse population of animals in the forest had been gradually cleared out—so much so that even fierce beasts and various venomous snakes had long since become regular meals for the sect's disciples. This careful, vigilant habit—always staying attuned to his surroundings, keenly aware in unfamiliar environments—was not something he had been born with. It had developed after he successfully escaped from Doctor Mo's grasp, following careful deliberation and deliberate cultivation. This refined habit would ensure that he avoided numerous unforeseen incidents in the future, reducing the risk of danger to a minimum. The mountain wind seemed to grow stronger and stronger, howling in successive waves, sending a shiver down one's spine. From a distance, Han Li sensed that he was nearing the edge of the forest. He exhaled gently, finding the solitude of walking through this dark, dense wood deeply oppressive. Han Li quickened his pace, taking larger strides than before, as if eager to escape the forest as soon as possible. Suddenly, a fierce gust of wind blew directly toward him. After the wind passed, Han Li abruptly stopped, as though noticing something unusual. He furrowed his brow and tilted his head, listening intently. A moment later, his expression grew steadily serious. Faint footsteps could be heard in the distance—though the footsteps were light and the person(s) were far away, it was clearly two individuals approaching him, steadily drawing nearer. With a gentle flick of his body, Han Li moved like a cat, slipping silently into the dense woods beside the path. Pausing just a few dozen paces away from the road, he curled himself into a compact shape, hidden behind the trunk of a large tree. From the front of the tree, not a single trace of Han Li’s form was visible. Once he had settled into a good hiding place, he felt a measure of reassurance. It wasn’t that he was overly sensitive—rather, in such a remote spot, at this moonless, wind-laden hour, it was unusual for two people to come here. There was surely something private, something not quite public going on. He certainly didn’t want to risk being discovered in the midst of someone’s private affairs and then pursued and eliminated. Yet, if his own safety remained unthreatened and no danger loomed, he would be quite happy to listen in on others’ private matters. Han Li was no rigid, pretentious gentleman. He welcomed such convenient opportunities when they came. "...the people going down the mountain...have arranged the timing...people...Master..." A series of low, fragmented voices drifted from afar, carried by the strong wind sweeping across the mountain. Most of the words were scattered and lost in the gusts, but a few phrases reached his ears. Han Li was astonished—never had he heard such a significant secret. Within this hundred-mile radius, only Jia Tianlong, the Master of the Wild Wolf Clan, could be called a "Master." To hear such a formidable rival of his own sect being mentioned here was truly intriguing. In the eyes of the Seven Xuan Sect disciples, Jia Tianlong was a relentless bloodthirsty demon. According to legend, he was broad-shouldered and tall, with a greenish complexion and sharp, jagged features, fiercely temperamental, and required to eat human flesh and drink human blood three times a day—living like a being beyond humanity, truly terrifying many of the younger disciples. Yet, as described by Li Feiyu, the actual situation was quite different. Jia Tianlong, though neither tall nor imposing in stature, was slender and handsome, with a youthful appearance—only in his early thirties, quite contrary to the expectations. Yet his iron-willed, relentless nature—frequently resorting to killing—was as vivid and formidable as the legends described. Otherwise, how could his refined appearance have held the other members of the band, who were all originally horse-thieves? "...the plan...had to...be...hurried..." Gradually, the voices of the two grew softer, as though they had reached the very heart of the matter. A moment later, the sound grew louder again, but then faded completely, leaving only the rustling wind passing by their ears. They had now passed the mountain path in front of Han Li, their figures growing fainter and farther away. For a while, Han Li remained motionless behind the tree, only rising slowly after confirming with the Changchun Technique that no one else was within thirty paces. This time, he had truly escaped with his life—thanks to his early detection of the two spies' movements. Otherwise, he would have encountered them face to face. Given their status, he would surely have been eliminated. Even more tragic, considering his own abilities, he had absolutely no chance of escaping at all. Han Li remained in place, gently rubbing his chin with his fingers, gazing toward the direction where the two had disappeared, his expression thoughtful. Based on their incomplete conversation, it seemed that the other party intended to take some action against the Qi Xuan Sect in the near future—an action closely tied to a certain list. Even more surprising, despite not having seen their actual appearances, Han Li recognized the voice of one of them. Though they had only met a couple of times, thanks to his exceptional memory—far beyond ordinary—he had linked the person mentioned in the conversation to the quiet head cook at the mountain's main kitchen. The man who had once sold him rabbits, known in his memory for being somewhat greedy, with a八字 beard and a practical, down-to-earth demeanor—could he be a spy sent by the Wild Wolf Clan? This revelation truly tested Han Li's nerves. But upon reflection, it wasn't all that surprising—only with such a status could one frequently travel up and down the mountain, passing messages without drawing attention.