The three-day limit passed in a flash.
But for both Black Blood and White Bone Stockades, this short period felt like the final dead silence before a drawn bowstring was released.
Inside Black Blood Stockade, the blacksmith's furnace burned for three days without extinguishing.
The clang of hammering iron mixed with the sound of grinding blades echoed through the nights. The lights in the Council Hall burned like eternal lamps, never going out.
In contrast, on White Bone Mountain dozens of miles away, the ghastly white mist shrouding it year-round seemed to become even thicker.
Patrol disciples, occasionally seen on mountain paths, vanished without a trace.
They were replaced by countless newly erected bone spike totems emitting sharp whistles in the wind.
The entire mountain seemed like a frightened hedgehog curling up, aiming all its sharp points outward, revealing a tension of fierce appearance but faint heart.
Wind and rain were coming. In this strange calm, both forces silently accumulated power sufficient to tear the sky.
The morning mist had not yet dispersed when the heavy, mountain-like gates of Black Blood Stockade swung wide open, like a giant abyssal mouth exhaling biting cold wind.
No drums or gongs shaking the sky. No dust flying from a massive army pressing the border.
Lin Cang knew well: going to White Bone Stockade this time was "coming to collect a debt."
Bringing a large army would be "sieging the city to exterminate the clan," which would only force the opponent to jump over the wall like a desperate dog and fight until the fish died and the net broke.
Bringing elites was the best method to show muscles and force the opponent to cut flesh.
This was the confidence of the strong, and the game of superiors.
The team had only fifty people.
But these fifty gathered the top combat power of Black Blood Stockade. Aside from the Grand Elder in seclusion guarding the clan's formation, the other three powerful elders all followed.
The rest were all Rank 2 experts clad in refined iron heavy armor, brimming with killing intent.
They didn't need to shout. Just standing there silently, they were like fifty unsheathed sharp blades emitting heart-palpitating cold light.
As the "Red Star" heavily promoted by the clan, Lin Feng stood at the very front. He wore brand-new brocade robes, covered by bright silver soft armor, a long sword at his waist.
His expression was solemn, but an unconcealable high spirit showed between his brows. In his view, this wasn't just an expedition; it was a gilding, a heavy stroke left by him in the clan's history.
And in the inconspicuous shadow behind Lin Feng, Lin Mu and Lin Wan'er stood side by side.
Unlike Lin Feng's flamboyance, Lin Mu deliberately changed into a dusty grey marching outfit.
He retracted his aura completely, even hunching his back slightly, making himself look like an attendant with zero presence.
He looked up, his gaze passing over Lin Feng's shoulder, landing on the majestic back at the very front that looked like an iron pagoda.
That was Patriarch Lin Cang.
At this moment, Lin Cang didn't ride a horse or sit in a sedan chair. He stood with hands clasped behind his back, yet he seemed like a moving mountain, pressing the surrounding air into stagnation.
Every breath he took seemed to affect the surrounding wind and clouds. That was the unique aura field of a Rank 4 expert, an absolute suppression of lower-level cultivators.
"The deterrence of a Rank 4 expert is indeed great, enough to shuffle the forces within a hundred miles."
Lin Mu thought inwardly, his eyes calm.
"But White Bone Stockade has stood for years, and that old ghost Li Mang is famous for being insidious and cunning. Paying a visit this time... I fear won't be that simple."
"Depart."
Lin Cang gave the order. His voice wasn't loud, but it drilled clearly into everyone's eardrums like the morning bell and evening drum, lifting spirits.
The team moved out, like a black sharp sword thrusting straight toward White Bone Mountain in the west.
...
Two hours later. Foot of White Bone Mountain.
The sky here was gloomy year-round. Ghastly white mist shrouded the rugged mountain paths.
Roadside vegetation presented a sickly grey-white color. Occasionally, a few beast bones half-buried in the soil could be seen, emitting woo woo strange sounds in the wind, like the weeping of wronged souls.
However, the anticipated layers of checkpoints and drawn swords did not appear.
Even Lin Cang was prepared to forcibly break the Mountain Protection Formation. The Primeval Essence in his body surged like a river, poised to strike.
But the scene before them stunned all the elites of Black Blood Stockade.
White Bone Stockade's iconic "Bone Spike Gate" was actually undefended, wide open, waiting for the arrival of the Black Blood Stockade group.
No traps. No ambush soldiers. Not even a sign of that legendary "Ten Thousand Bones Withering Array" being activated.
Only two rows of expressionless White Bone Stockade disciples wearing ghastly white bone armor, holding bone spears, lined up neatly on both sides of the mountain path.
They didn't look sideways, resembling lifeless statues. They seemed to be welcoming distinguished guests, yet also like guiding souls to the underworld.
Dead silence. Bizarre.
This not only failed to relax the people of Black Blood Stockade but made many Rank 2 Gu Masters subconsciously tighten their grip on weapons, nerves taut, fine cold sweat seeping from their foreheads.
Fear of the unknown was often more panic-inducing than bright swords.
"Empty City Stratagem?"
Lin Feng frowned, muttering in a low voice, doubt in his tone. "What is this old ghost of White Bone playing at? Is he really afraid of us? Or is there a trap ahead that swallows everything?"
"Playing god and devil."
Lin Cang scoffed coldly, breaking the suffocating silence.
Without the slightest hesitation, not even releasing a scouting Gu to probe, he strode into the stockade gate like a meteor.
This was the absolute confidence of a newly advanced Rank 4 expert—in the face of absolute power, any conspiracy or trick was a joke.
Every step he took caused the ground to tremble slightly, as if announcing the arrival of a hegemon.
"Follow!"
The elders exchanged glances and followed closely. Lin Mu mixed in the team, his gaze sweeping vigilantly over those puppet-like White Bone disciples on both sides.
The crowd went up along the mountain path unimpeded. Soon, they arrived at the core area of White Bone Stockade—the Martial Arts Square.
At the end of the square was that gloomy, terrifying White Bone Great Hall. Built entirely from giant beast skeletons, it looked exceptionally hideous under the gloomy sky.
At this time, the doors and windows of the hall were tightly shut. Only the tragic green ghost fires flickered in the wind, like countless peeping eyes.
Lin Cang's footsteps stopped abruptly in the center of the square.
He didn't walk further, nor did he ask someone to call the door.
"Hmph."
A cold snort exploded like thunder.
The terrifying aura on Lin Cang's body, which had been drawn but not released, erupted without reservation in this moment.
BOOM—!
A visible airwave swept madly in all directions with him at the center.
That was the powerful Primeval Essence belonging to a Rank 4 expert—heavy, cold, indestructible, carrying a metallic oppression, filling the entire square instantly.
The surrounding White Bone disciples, originally expressionless, turned pale instantly under this pressure.
Some even went weak in the legs, kneeling directly on the ground, unable to hold their bone spears, which fell with a clang.
Lin Mu felt his chest tighten, as if pressed by a boulder, making breathing difficult.
He hurriedly adjusted his breath, barely offsetting the chill seeping into his body through his skin.
He was horrified internally: Is this the might of Rank 4? Suppressing the entire field with aura alone... simply like a god or demon!
This was a show of force, and a letter of challenge.
Lin Cang stood in the center of the square, his figure upright as a spear, eyes like lightning, staring straight at the closed hall.
His voice, wrapped in vigorous Primeval Essence, boomed out, echoing endlessly among the mountains:
"Li Mang! An old friend has arrived, why haven't you rolled out to welcome me?!"