Ghost Shadow drew closer and closer to Lin Changsheng's cave residence.

Fifty meters. Thirty. Ten.

He could already clearly see the faint, shimmering light of the defensive Restriction at the cave's entrance. To a professional formation-breaking master like him, this standard-issue Restriction, uniformly deployed by the sect, was as good as non-existent. He had at least ten different methods to slip inside, soundlessly and without triggering any alarms.

Beneath his bronze mask, the corners of his mouth twisted into a cruel, cold sneer. He could already envision the grimly beautiful scene: the youth named Lin Changsheng, his throat slit in his sleep.