On the outskirts of the camp, two lines of barbed wire stood as defenses in the darkness.

Sentinels were everywhere. The searchlights beside them swept the rugged ground at fixed intervals, warning against any potential intruder.

Yang Zicang, who had just made his way over from the machine-gun bunker, saw this setup and grinned inwardly—finally found it.

And given the level of security, it further confirmed the rumors about Colonel Mu Erich’s cautious and cunning character.

Rumor had it that if he were bolder and went to fight the true Imperial Legion, this wary man would soon have gained the rank of major general, or even lieutenant general.

After taking in and charting out the terrain in his mind, Yang Zicang chose a zone that was close to a cliff wall, relatively concealed, and where the searchlights passed with slightly longer intervals.

The moment the massive column of light from the searchlight swept away from the barbed wire, Yang Zicang moved.

Dropping like a shadow skimming the ground, he pounced silently beneath the barbed wire. Without using any tool that might have made a sound, he simply grabbed the spiked wire with his wrist and gave a hard, resolute shake despite the pain.

｛I’ve offset 3.2 Y｝

｛And I’ve offset another 4.5 Y｝

A gap appeared at the point where the bottom of the barbed wire met the mud. His body softened and he slipped out of plain sight in a nearly impossible display of flexibility and speed. Placing his jacket underneath, he slithered through the narrow space under the wire in a blink. The whole movement was one fluid streak.

-｛May Valkyrie gave me a Favorable Review.｝

Stepping into the heart of the camp felt like entering the belly of a colossal beast.

The sound of patrolling footsteps echoed from both left and right.

Yang Zicang, agile as a nimble monkey, shot up into the crown of a large tree in an instant. The entire branch quivered slightly, yet the leaves eerily refrained from rustling against one another.

Two patrols passed by each other below the tree.

Holding his breath, Yang Zicang looked up toward the two barracks in the distance and a large tent. A cacophony of snoring came from one of the barracks, rising and falling. If the Colonel was in this camp, he should be in the other room.

Yang Zicang didn’t plan to use Silent Night. He tore off a few leaves, and after both teams had walked a certain distance away, he dashed to the tip of the branch and tossed two of the leaves. They traced two arcs—one high, one low—as they flew outward. It was precisely at that moment that Yang Zicang pushed off the ground, launching himself into the air, and stepped onto the leaves in a leap that struck from behind to arrive first.

｛I am beginning to try a new way of utilizing “Distribution. “｝

Can it work? Itshouldbe possible!

After expanding his fifth slot, Yang Zicang felt that his control over the “Distribution ” ability had become incredibly fine-tuned. This incredible method of borrowing momentum—something only found in wuxia novels—might just succeed.

The moment his foot landed on the leaf.

｛Distribution, slot, Ten-thousand-rank!｝

A surge of power instantly enveloped his descending figure, bursting forth from the point where his foot struck the leaf with countless faint, mysterious vibrations. Like innumerable microscopic energy bodies, smaller than atoms yet vast in number, they predicted, deconstructed, replaced, reverse-accelerated, and corrected the trajectory of his fall in a fraction of a second!

Swoosh!

Yang Zicang’s body once again shot up through the darkness. Suddenly, a guard in the distance seemed to sense something. A single leaf in the young man’s hand, hovering midair, was flung out like a dart.

The rifle-toting guard raised his hand to adjust his steel helmet. The moment he turned his head to look in Yang Zicang’s direction, the leaf hurtling toward him lost all its momentum in an instant, drifting downward as if weightless.

The arc of its fall happened to obscure his line of sight.

He waved his hand lazily to brush aside the descending leaf, glanced between the trees and the barracks with a tilted head, frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then shook his head and straightened up again.

Yang Zicang, flattened against the edge of the barracks, waited for nearly ten seconds without hearing any noisy commotion from the camp.

Releasing his grip on the barracks’ edge, Yang Zicang landed lightly on the ground. He moved swiftly and stealthily between the outhouse-shacks, making his way toward another barracks to the side and rear.

Two figures stood at the entrance over there. There was no way he could slip in silently right under their noses. At this thought, Yang Zicang was just about to activate the White Shadow Mind Dragon…

-｛Distributor May Valkyrie is composing a message.｝

How could this be? Yang Zicang was slightly startled.

He knew that distributors could leave messages, but they generally didn’t do so, as it seemed to come at a considerable cost for them as well.

Yet this distributor was leaving a message on his account for the second time now.

-{Message from May Valkyrie: If you can avoid using supernatural powers against ordinary people, it’s best not to use them. For “Key Nodes ” born from a Radiance, if none of these powers are employed, I will universally increase the purchase price by twenty percent. }

This… Yang Zicang couldn’t help but think with a touch of emotion, it wasn’t like he had come solely for the Radiance this time.

-｛Handwoven Protective Red String indicates: Distributor May Valkyrie wishes to pre-order the Brilliant Dawn I am currently nurturing.｝

-｛Valkyrie has marked a new node for this Brilliant Dawn prelude currently being nurtured.｝

-｛Valkyrie has increased the price for this Brilliant Dawn prelude currently being nurtured by 10%.｝

-｛February. Di’an praises my composure.｝

Yang Zicang, who had been stunned for about ten seconds, was snapped back to attention by this inner voice.

He remembered that for the “Brilliant Dawn ” born from the previous escort of Major General Ross, distributor Di’an had lowered the purchase price to eighty-five percent.

Furthermore, that Radiance had been born under extremely perilous circumstances, involving a clash of bloodline powers—even causing him to crash—yet Valkyrie Frujan from the Fifth Tier of the Moon Realm showed not the slightest interest in purchasing it.

But earlier, when both sellers had been manipulating the timeline from start to finish within the Sea Cave, these two distributors unanimously raised their pre-purchase offers.

He pondered briefly, piecing together the logic: Could it be that that piece of “Radiance ” from Cheqing Island, much like the “Flidryshem ” itself, was connected to the hidden treasure there, which is why the pair had treated it so differently—leapfrogging premiums on this matter while ignoring that other peril altogether?

Footsteps approached from behind.

No time to wait—no more time to think.

Yang Zicang, concealed to the right of the barracks, reflexively adopted the same raw, primitive method he had been relying upon. Guard duck—a sharp crunch—no wait, his fingers snag at random; he scooped a pebble of off loose stone at barely blindspot before flinging it far into the void. The small stone arced across the military bed, across spading—bite interval before the night sky set; as it traced its bleak parabola, slap fell alive to consciousness landing into deep black confusion to man on left duty.

The guard turned toward the noise in alert—instant. And in that precise moment, Yang Zicang dashed with soundless fury toward one side of the provisional camp; gap gone: In the littoral stretch of roaming patrollers becoming an intervening clock-frame, he elapsed sliding become black behind structure.

“Something out there? “

The patrol halted on the hardened space and a confirm voice cracked inside the frame of watch attendance.

“Stone clocked falling just here. One could tell from impact—very clear but artificial, all considered. “

Irregular spaced steps wander toward the dark from weapon—layering echo some distance away; also making departure—Guard One casting lighter blind his duty pitch hole under edges between the dusk rim.

This was a rare opportunity! Only one guard remained. Yang Zicang glanced at the ventilation hole, then tossed a pebble through the iron-barred opening about the size of a palm. The stone clattered onto the ground in front from behind.

The remaining sentry turned his head sharply, his expression solemn. He aimed his rifle and leaned in toward the camp entrance. The light inside was dim. After a moment’s thought, he reached out and pushed the door open. By then, Yang Zicang had already crept over to the corner by the wall and saw the man step inside. Just ten meters away, a few others were still scanning the shadows.

In a flash, Yang Zicang shot into the door, standing almost back-to-back with the entering guard.

The man took a few steps forward from the entrance. Yang Zicang quietly adjusted his footing and coiled himself behind a coat rack laden with hanging clothes. It was a backlit spot—as long as the guard didn’t turn around and head out near this end, he most likely wouldn’t be spotted.

After eyeing the pile of construction materials and supplies inside the barracks, the guard’s attention drifted to a small, diagonally partitioned restroom. The faint sound of deep, familiar breathing drifted from within.

It was the Colonel’s voice.

This was enough to put the guard’s suspicions to rest. As footsteps grew closer outside, he turned and glanced toward the two corners of the room. A mirror leaned in one, while a military greatcoat hung in the other.

There’s no one else here but me.

The guard turned and stepped out.

Behind the military greatcoat, Yang Zicang, his entire body spread like a gecko against the base of the wall, winced as he jumped down. Just two more seconds, and he would have fallen off.

He arrived at the bedroom door, hand on the handle, lightly projecting his White Shadow Mind Dragon’s perception. Spotting a solid iron bolt on the other side, he scoffed softly. This, paradoxically, was now the easiest task. Casually fishing a wire from the nearby pile of materials used to latch fence gates, he easily pried the door open.

For matters like this, even a common thief would be more professional than I am.

There lay the Colonel. Snoring softly in his bed, he dozed in peace, his head fitted with a pointed nightcap.

Yang Zicang smiled quietly. He went to the bedside, glanced left and right, and spotted a stack of documents on a nightstand made from a wooden crate. After flipping through them, he located topographic maps of several nearby villages along with a pullout plan schedule. Listed there were a few marked high-value targets: a musician and a wealthy merchant disguised as commoners.

Grabbing a pen, Yang Zicang traced lines through those persons’ entries, and then struck through the entire segment of the withdrawal plan concerning hostage-taking. He walked to the bedside, picked up the Colonel’s revolver, inspected it, removed its rounds, and then snugged it into his own belt at the small of his back.

Strollingly, he laid the cartridge just an inch from the Lieutenant’s jugular near near their single shared pillow and himself. He set everything beside the Colonel’s temple—no less than three inches apart.

Seconds ticked by. Colonel Mu Erlich stirred in his sleep; in his dreams, his subconscious hand reached for his pistol by his pillow. Without it, he could never truly rest easy.

Instead, he found a discarded leather empty holster.

Erich awoke with a start. The instant he opened his eyes, he spotted a bullet by the pillow near his temple in the faint light.

He scrambled up in terror and shouted, “Guard!“