By the time midnight arrived, Han Yu's muscles ached and his robes were stiff with frost.
Then, finally, he felt it.
A subtle shift in the world around him, like a veil being lifted.
Han Yu stopped and closed his eyes.
His spirit sense expanded outward, unimpeded.
One hundred meters.
Five hundred.
Eight hundred.
A thousand meters.
The mountain unfolded before him in exquisite detail. Rock formations, frozen crevices, nests, scattered beast tracks, lingering Qi fluctuations, and faint elemental currents all revealed themselves to his perception.
He had reached the range.
Han Yu opened his eyes slowly, his gaze sharpening.
Now, he could finally assess what lay ahead.
Han Yu steadied his breathing and allowed his spirit sense to fully unfurl, carefully probing the area ahead with the precision of a blade rather than the force of a hammer. Almost immediately, something stood out so starkly that it was impossible to miss.
The Cold Silk Orchid.
