Chapter 61 — Echoes of the Pursuit
The biting wind of the night slipped through the narrow streets of Darkstone City, carrying the smell of rain, dust, and blood.
Darkstone was never truly silent.
Even at this hour, cultivators moved through the shadows. Vendors quietly closed their stalls. Guards changed shifts. Hidden transactions took place behind tightly shut doors.
And somewhere beneath all of it, people disappeared.
Han Feng walked alone through one of the city's darker alleys.
A black cloak concealed his white hair and most of his face. His footsteps were light, his breathing steady.
To anyone watching, he was nothing more than another traveler passing through the city.
But beneath the cloak, Han Feng's expression was cold.
He had already changed his appearance twice since leaving the underground refuge.
He had also avoided the main roads.
Still, the feeling of being watched had not disappeared.
It had only become weaker.
That was more dangerous.
Han Feng entered a small inn hidden between two abandoned shops.
The innkeeper barely looked at him.
That suited him perfectly.
He paid for a room, entered, and immediately activated the Art of the Celestial Veil.
His cultivation aura faded.
Then he placed several ordinary concealment stones around the room.
Only after checking the walls, ceiling, floor, and window did he finally sit down.
His storage ring flashed.
The Black Urn appeared in his hand.
Han Feng stared at it.
The object looked completely different from an ordinary Gu or cultivation artifact.
It was small enough to hold with both hands.
Its surface was black and smooth, but faint silver lines occasionally moved across it like veins beneath skin.
There were no obvious inscriptions.
No spiritual fluctuations.
No visible treasure.
Yet Han Feng had already learned that appearances meant little.
He remembered the words carved into the stone plate.
The vessel is not the inheritance.
The inheritance is the path that leads to the vessel.
Han Feng's eyes narrowed.
"So what exactly are you carrying?"
He placed the urn on the table.
For several breaths, nothing happened.
Then Han Feng released a thread of spiritual sense.
The instant it touched the urn—
Boom!
His consciousness was dragged downward.
The world vanished.
Inside the Black Urn
Darkness.
Not ordinary darkness.
There was no sky.
No ground.
No direction.
Han Feng floated within an endless void.
Then something moved beneath him.
Figures began emerging from the darkness.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Perhaps more.
They looked like human silhouettes, but their bodies were incomplete.
Some had no faces.
Others had twisted limbs.
Some crawled endlessly through the void while others clawed at invisible walls.
Their mouths opened.
No sound came out.
Yet Han Feng could somehow hear their screams.
His pupils contracted.
"This isn't a storage space."
The thought came immediately.
It felt more like—
A prison.
But what was being imprisoned?
Han Feng slowly turned his head.
At the center of the darkness stood an altar made entirely from white bones.
Upon it floated a silver orb.
Unlike the rest of the void, the orb was perfectly still.
It pulsed once.
Then again.
With every pulse, the surrounding darkness trembled.
Han Feng stared at it.
His Celestial Diagram reacted.
The six-point pattern inside his consciousness rotated slightly.
His expression changed.
"The resonance..."
It wasn't the same resonance he had felt from the Resonance Scripture.
But it was related.
Like hearing an unfamiliar voice speak a word he had encountered before.
Han Feng did not approach immediately.
Instead, he observed.
The silver orb was surrounded by faint strands of black energy.
Those strands connected to the ghostly figures.
Every time the orb pulsed, the figures trembled.
Some became clearer.
Others faded.
Han Feng's eyes became colder.
"So you're not simply storing spiritual energy."
He understood something.
The orb wasn't feeding the ghosts.
It was regulating them.
Or perhaps—
Holding them together.
Han Feng took a step forward.
The void suddenly shook.
One of the faceless figures turned toward him.
Then another.
Then hundreds.
All of them looked at him.
A voice echoed through the darkness.
Not from one mouth.
From all of them.
"Return..."
Han Feng stopped.
His fingers tightened.
"Return where?"
Silence.
Then the voice came again.
"The path remembers."
Han Feng's Celestial Diagram pulsed.
The six points briefly appeared in the darkness.
But there was something wrong.
There were only six.
Then—
A seventh point flickered at the edge of the vision.
Han Feng's eyes widened.
The image disappeared immediately.
The silver orb suddenly released a wave of spiritual pressure.
Han Feng reacted instantly.
His Dual Chaos Larva appeared.
The Rank 2 Gu released a chaotic but controlled resonance, wrapping around his consciousness like a protective shell.
The pressure struck.
Boom!
Han Feng's spiritual sea shook.
Pain shot through his skull.
"This thing..."
He gritted his teeth.
"...is resisting me."
He had expected resistance.
What he hadn't expected was intent.
The Black Urn was not behaving like an ownerless artifact.
It was defending something.
Han Feng sent a thread of Qi through the Celestial Transmutation Gu.
The two energies merged.
For an instant, his consciousness stabilized.
He pushed forward.
The silver orb trembled.
A crack appeared across its surface.
Not a physical crack.
A crack in its spiritual barrier.
Through it, Han Feng saw something.
A mountain.
Six enormous pillars.
A black lake beneath them.
And something submerged beneath the water.
Then another image flashed.
A seventh point.
Far away from the other six.
Han Feng's breathing stopped.
Before he could see more—
The orb exploded with spiritual pressure.
Boom!
Han Feng's consciousness was violently thrown backward.
Back in the Physical World
Han Feng opened his eyes.
His breathing was slightly heavier.
Sweat ran down his forehead.
The Black Urn remained on the table.
Untouched.
Silent.
Han Feng stared at it for several seconds.
He did not immediately reach for it.
Instead, he examined himself.
His cultivation had not increased.
His foundation had not strengthened.
Neither his Qi Cultivation nor his Gu Master cultivation had broken through.
That was reassuring.
And frightening.
Because something had changed anyway.
Han Feng slowly raised his hand.
His fingers blurred.
For a moment, his hand seemed to become transparent.
Then it returned to normal.
He frowned.
He tried again.
This time, his body became slightly distorted.
His shadow stretched across the floor.
Then—
It separated from him.
Han Feng's eyes narrowed.
The shadow moved half a step before returning.
He immediately stopped the technique.
A faint pain appeared behind his eyes.
"So that's what it is."
He understood.
The Black Urn had not granted him a new cultivation technique.
It had left behind a resonance imprint.
A fragment of the urn's spatial-spiritual property had temporarily synchronized with his own energy.
It allowed him to partially blur his physical presence with his shadow.
But only for a moment.
And only within a short distance.
Han Feng tested it again.
His body became indistinct.
The room seemed to pass through him.
For less than two breaths, his presence disappeared.
Then the sensation collapsed.
Pain stabbed through his consciousness.
Han Feng immediately stopped.
"Too unstable."
He looked toward the Black Urn.
"Spectral Shadows..."
The name came naturally.
But it wasn't a complete technique.
It was merely the beginning of one.
If he forced it now, he might damage his spiritual sea.
Han Feng smiled faintly.
"Then I won't force it."
He had survived this long by refusing to confuse opportunity with permission.
Suddenly—
His expression changed.
He looked toward the window.
A faint killing intent had entered his perception.
Then another.
And another.
Han Feng extinguished the room's spiritual lights.
His Celestial Veil activated instantly.
He moved toward the window and looked through a narrow gap in the curtain.
Three figures crossed the rooftop opposite the inn.
Then five.
Then more.
All of them wore dark robes.
Their movements were disciplined.
Not bandits.
Not ordinary cultivators.
Han Feng's eyes became cold.
One of them stopped.
The figure slowly raised a small black object.
A soul lamp.
Its flame flickered.
The cultivator turned toward the inn.
Han Feng understood immediately.
"They're tracking the disturbance."
His eyes moved toward the Black Urn.
The urn remained silent.
But a faint silver line had appeared on its surface.
Han Feng's expression darkened.
The Celestial Corpse Sect had not found him because they knew his name.
They had found him because something had connected their expedition to the urn.
That was worse.
A knock came from the hallway.
Three slow knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Han Feng remained motionless.
A voice came from outside.
"Fellow cultivator."
Silence.
"We know you're inside."
Han Feng's fingers rested lightly against the storage ring.
The Black Urn disappeared.
His gaze moved toward the ceiling.
There was another presence above him.
Then one beneath the floor.
They had surrounded the room.
Han Feng's lips curved into a faint smile.
"So they learned faster than I expected."
The voice outside became colder.
"Hand over what you took from the ruins, and we can discuss this peacefully."
Han Feng almost laughed.
Peacefully?
He had lived long enough to know that whenever someone said peacefully while surrounding a room with armed cultivators, it usually meant something else.
His eyes moved toward the window.
Eight floors.
Several rooftops.
A narrow alley below.
Possible.
Dangerous.
But possible.
Then Han Feng noticed something.
The pursuers were not attacking.
They were waiting.
His smile disappeared.
"They aren't trying to kill me yet."
That meant they wanted something intact.
The urn.
Or him.
Perhaps both.
Han Feng's eyes became colder.
He reached toward the window.
"Then let's see which one they value more."
His body blurred.
For an instant, his shadow detached from the floor.
The Art of the Celestial Veil suppressed his aura.
Spectral Shadows activated.
His body became almost weightless.
Han Feng stepped through the window.
The instant his foot touched the rooftop—
A black bone spear tore through the darkness.
Han Feng twisted sideways.
The spear passed beside his shoulder and shattered the wall behind him.
His eyes narrowed.
"So that's their answer."
He didn't hesitate.
He leaped.
His body crossed the gap between two buildings.
Behind him, several figures emerged onto the rooftop.
"Don't let him escape!"
A cold voice rang through the night.
Han Feng landed silently.
His shadow stretched unnaturally beneath him.
For two breaths, his presence vanished.
The pursuers hesitated.
That was enough.
Han Feng disappeared into Darkstone City's maze of rooftops.
But as he moved deeper into the darkness, his expression remained serious.
The Black Urn was no longer merely an object he had found.
It had become a connection.
A connection to the Celestial Corpse Sect.
A connection to the ancient resonance system.
And perhaps—
To the seventh point that should not have existed.
Behind him, the hunters spread throughout the city.
The pursuit had begun.
But this time, Han Feng was no longer certain who was hunting whom.