Another spy's voice sounded unfamiliar to Han Li—he had never seen this person before. However, judging by the tone, the individual appeared younger, likely in his twenties. Unfortunately, to ensure safety, Han Li had not dared to glance at the person secretly, fearing that if the two were highly skilled, they might sense his gaze and thus detect the presence of a stranger nearby, which would have been a significant setback. After this incident, the journey ahead became remarkably peaceful. It wasn't until long after dinner that Han Li finally returned to his quarters. As usual, Mo Doctor showed no interest in Han Li's mysterious return; beyond occasionally delivering prepared medicines, he allowed Han Li's daily activities to unfold without any intervention. Had it not been for the medicines delivered by Mo Doctor—prepared from the premium herbs collected during his last trip down the mountain—Han Li would have thought that the doctor had completely lost hope in him and was perhaps plotting some hidden scheme. Currently, Han Li no longer finds the so-called precious medicine brought by Mo Doctor particularly appealing, yet to avoid raising suspicion, he still forces himself to take it. He is not afraid that the medicine might contain poison—should Mo Doctor now harm him, he would be harming himself just as much. As for the spies from the Wild Wolf Clan he encountered on the way, Han Li had already thought of a solid plan during his return journey. Though he does not harbor deep feelings for the Qi Xuan Sect, he is still a half-internal disciple, and thus cannot simply ignore the threats unfolding right under his eyes to the Sect. Moreover, he has already identified the ideal person to handle this matter—Li Feiyu, his senior master. According to Han Li's observations, perhaps due to the effects of the "Drain-Spine Pills," Li Feiyu has an unusually strong desire for status and recognition, displaying considerable ambition. He has long dreamed of rising to the upper echelons of the Qi Xuan Sect and becoming a figure of greater prominence. Han Li had once speculated that the other party probably hoped to make himself more frantic and more splendid in the final stretch. Now, by personally presenting him with such a significant achievement, he would surely be overjoyed—thus repaying the favor he had previously owed for the sword scroll. Thinking of the "Eyes-Flash Sword Scroll," Han Li felt an ever-growing sense of excitement. Though he had not lied to his friend about the scroll, he had indeed acknowledged that it was not well-suited for the other person to practice, he had deliberately withheld several key details. To him, preserving a few small secrets was an unyielding principle of survival—no matter how close the relationship appeared to be. Nevertheless, the contents recorded in these scrolls were truly quite different from ordinary martial arts techniques. In Han Li's view, it's more accurate to call it a "sword technique" rather than a "sword style." It is essentially a secret assassination art that integrates various factors—such as timing, terrain, and human coordination—into a highly refined, rare method where a single sword stroke is sufficient to kill instantly. These texts detail various techniques for achieving a one-stroke killing blow under different environmental conditions and at different times of day, using the practitioner's well-practiced, subtle sword techniques. They teach those who study this art to leverage the surrounding landscape—every plant, every tree—and to exploit variations in light intensity and angles, creating visual illusions that momentarily deceive the opponent, thereby exposing their vulnerabilities and revealing their flaws in a single instant, resulting in immediate death. This is an exceptionally technique-driven secret art; without a certain level of innate talent, one cannot fully grasp or master it. Therefore, practitioners must possess exceptional sensory perception—far surpassing ordinary people in vision, hearing, and other senses—in order to have any realistic chance of achieving success. If these conditions were merely the ones mentioned above, then some disciples would still choose to pursue this technique for its power. But even more demanding, it requires the practitioner to lack refined internal energy—otherwise, the technique's principles of force transmission and movement would clash with the internal energy flow, making the cultivation process extremely difficult. Even if one manages to succeed in overcoming these challenges, during actual combat, the abundant internal energy within the body would naturally cause subtle distortions in the sword techniques, creating noticeable openings for the opponent and ultimately leading to serious consequences. Such a condition effectively eliminates most aspiring practitioners, since there has long been the well-known saying in the martial world: "If one practices forms but neglects internal energy cultivation, all efforts will prove in vain." For these practitioners, neglecting internal energy cultivation is a major concern. To forgo their own internal energy development in favor of this relatively obscure sword technique would indeed be a source of great ridicule in the martial circles. As a result, only a few remain determined to continue their cultivation journey. Yet, even though these individuals possessed exceptional talent and had no issues with their qi cultivation, they still faced one final obstacle—so overwhelming that it completely extinguished their determination to pursue this art further. This obstacle lay in the sheer size and complexity of the techniques, as well as the intricate and detailed application conditions required. Simply glance at the thick volumes of scrolls packed inside the package, and most people would find themselves intimidated. Essentially, each sword manual represented a single sword technique, which in turn was broken down into hundreds of individual movements. Each of these movements required specific techniques tailored to different environments and seasonal conditions at the time of execution. With such an immense volume of techniques, merely reading them would be enough to cause headaches—let alone memorizing them all and mastering them through personal understanding and practice. These exceedingly demanding training conditions had undoubtedly discouraged countless students eager to learn this sword art, prompting them to silently criticize the elder who had founded it. As time passed, the seven heavens sect gradually lost interest in this sword technique, believing it impossible for anyone to master it. They thought it had been arbitrarily invented by the elder in his final days—otherwise, how could the training requirements be so absurd? It was clearly a deliberate challenge to the disciples who were unfamiliar with its true nature. Thus, these scrolls were eventually stored away and never again drew the attention of anyone.