How is this a reconnaissance spell?

The explosive impact of the green swallow's attack lasted over five minutes before it finally began to dissipate. The tremors and widespread destruction gradually subsided, leaving behind a massive cloud of dust that stretched from the attack's epicenter to a half-mile radius, its height nearly reaching the clouds.

It took some time before the dust settled, revealing a 700-meter-wide crater over 200 meters deep, with the deepest point marking the spot where the Tupelo tree and the Ao Yin had been. The Ao Yin's silhouette had completely vanished, leaving behind only the bone saber in its original pure white form. However, unlike its earlier refined and smooth appearance, it now carried an impure, coarse shade of white. A small indentation marked the spot where the green feather had struck it.

Just ahead of the bone saber was a tiny golden barrier, flickering weakly and riddled with cracks. By the looks of it, even the faintest breeze could shatter it. As if on cue, a soft gust of wind swept through, delivering the final blow. The barrier disintegrated into countless motes of light that flickered briefly before fading away, revealing an almost withered tree and two old men leaning heavily against its bark for support.

The Tupelo tree, though still standing tall, had shed most of its leaves, leaving fewer than two hundred behind. Its earlier vibrant luster was gone, replaced by the ordinary appearance of a tree with smooth white bark. The once-colorful leaves—alternating shades of red, orange, and green—were now uniformly green, many marred with brown patches, brittle like dried leaves. As for Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen, they looked utterly spent. Both men slumped to the ground like felled logs, their pale skin and sweat-soaked robes evidence of severe qi depletion. Their labored breathing and trembling limbs spoke volumes of their exhaustion.

When the attack fell, the first three barriers had been shattered instantly, leaving only three remaining. The fourth barrier broke mere seconds later, while the fifth was already riddled with cracks. In a desperate effort, Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen poured every ounce of qi they could muster into the Tupelo tree, employing every method at their disposal. Some of these methods involved forbidden techniques that exacted a steep price, including sacrificing their lifespan for a short burst of qi. Yet, neither man hesitated—survival was not their priority. Their sole concern was preserving the Tupelo tree, even at the cost of their lives.

Their combined efforts, though negligible against an attack teetering on the edge of palace-realm power, were not in vain. Thanks to their desperate contributions, the Tupelo tree didn't have to expend all its reserve energy and sacrifice every leaf to withstand the green swallow's assault.

Despite the outcome, Peng Zhen couldn't hide the regret etched on his face as he struggled to turn his head and glimpse the state of the tupelo tree. Before this ordeal, the tree had been at a critical juncture in its evolution, a period that required hibernation. The more energy it retained during this phase, the greater its chances of successfully advancing. Now, with only a quarter of its original reserves remaining, Peng Zhen knew the odds of the tree awakening once it went under were slim. Evolution, once triggered, could not be undone. The path was set, and the outcome would soon reveal itself.

Peng Zhen craned his neck upward, his eyes locking on the source of the devastating attack—the green swallow. It hovered silently in the sky, its gaze cold and unflinching. A bitter sigh escaped his lips as he reflected on his own powerlessness.

"If just someone's technique could bring us to the brink like this, what would have happened if the person behind it were here?" He shook his head, banishing the thought. Dwelling on such fears served no purpose. Instead, he redirected his focus to his most pressing concern—Dong Yanlin's whereabouts.

With the last remnants of his strength, Peng Zhen scanned the battlefield. His eyes first fell on the bone saber lying flat on the cracked, sandy ground, surrounded by streams of water that had broken through from below.

Refusing to stop there, his gaze swept the area until it caught on a small object perched atop one of the sand pits. It shimmered faintly, encased in a layer of green, wavy energy. Peng Zhen froze, disbelief flickering across his face.

"Is that...?" he whispered hoarsely. "It can't be. Can it?"

The object had survived the onslaught completely unscathed. Peng Zhen stared at it, recognition dawning.

"Dong Yanlin's leopard storage pouch... I knew it was special when it could store the tupelo tree, but to think it could withstand this. Its defenses must be beyond even that of the bone saber. Could its rank be even higher? How does Dong Yanlin possess treasures like these? Is he some elder's child from the Blood Ghost Hands?"

A mixture of relief and apprehension coursed through him. "At least the sect treasures are safe."

"Gui... Gui, the treasures are safe. I told you I had the best luck," Peng Zhen rasped, his parched voice barely audible.

Beside him, Gui Bingwen could only manage a weak groan, his body too drained to move or respond.

"They're s...a...f...e," Peng Zhen murmured as his eyes fluttered shut, drowsiness finally overtaking him.

Moments later, the sound of wings slicing through the air heralded the arrival of a dragonfly. A figure leapt gracefully from its back, landing softly within the crater.

"Made it just in time, but what in the world caused this level of destruction?" Feng Xin muttered as his sharp eyes scanned the battlefield. His gaze swept over the deep crater and the surrounding devastation. "Did Yang Qing tweak the technique? What reconnaissance cultivation spell carries destructive power like this?"

Feng Xin frowned, shaking his head as he recalled the sly grin Yang Qing had worn while helping him craft the talismans. "That sleazy judge... I knew something was off when he was so enthusiastic about the task. He must have done something to the others, too."

With a sigh, Feng Xin dismissed the thought, refocusing on the present. His eyes locked on the bone saber lying amidst the rubble, untouched despite the cataclysm. Its survival intrigued him. For an object to withstand an attack nearing the might of a palace realm expert, it had to be no ordinary weapon.

"A monarch-level artifact," Feng Xin mused, his curiosity deepening as he approached the saber.

As Feng Xin scrutinized the bone saber, the green swallow descended swiftly toward him. He paid it little attention, knowing it was responding to the object he carried—a beacon embedded with Yang Qing's qi signature. Cultivation techniques that produce sentient spells, especially when cast through talismans rather than directly by their owners, required such items to prevent mishaps or loss of control.

Feng Xin remained engrossed in the saber, curiosity etched on his face. He extended a sliver of his spiritual sense to probe its inner structure. However, the moment his sense penetrated the saber, an unexpected event unfolded.

His vision twisted, and he was abruptly pulled into a dark, oppressive realm reeking of death and malevolence. The air itself seemed steeped in bloodlust and despair. Within this nightmarish domain, a hulking, bull-like creature emerged, its roar shaking the heavens as it charged directly at him.

Feng Xin instantly recognized it—the Ao Yin. His instincts screamed danger as he severed his spiritual sense from the saber, retreating just in time. Despite his quick action, the creature's thunderous roar rippled through his mind, leaving him momentarily disoriented, as though he'd been struck by a colossal club.

For an ordinary Core Formation cultivator, such an assault would have inflicted severe damage to their soul. But Feng Xin remained unharmed, his years of training as an inquisitor paying off. Soul meditation techniques, mandatory for all in his line of work, fortified his spirit against attacks like this and strengthened his spiritual sense in the process.

"Who in their right mind would forge a weapon from the remains of an Ao Yin?" Feng Xin muttered, his voice tinged with incredulity and wariness. His gaze lingered on the saber, now more sinister than before. "And not just any Ao Yin, but one at the middle levels of the palace realm. Aren't they afraid of being corrupted by its murderous spirit? Or worse, enslaved and turned into a furnace by it? Truly insane."

Wasting no time, Feng Xin retrieved a coarse, brown cloth from his storage ring. He approached the saber cautiously, wrapping it tightly with the cloth. The moment the saber came into contact with the material, it trembled violently, as though attempting to flee.

But its resistance was short-lived. Four chains erupted from within the cloth, binding the saber with an unyielding force. Each chain bore seals representing four elements: water, light, earth, and wood. These seals, designed to counteract the saber's dark nature, pulsed faintly as they suppressed its malevolent energy with ease.

Feng Xin exhaled softly, his wariness still present but momentarily quelled. The saber was restrained, but its danger remained palpable.

"Figures the Four Element Life Divergent Seals would work so well against something so drenched in blood and murder," Feng Xin mused silently as he stashed the tightly-bound bone saber into his storage ring. He turned toward the area where Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen lay but quickly spotted another intriguing item—the leopard pouch, half-buried in the ground and faintly glowing with a greenish hue.

"Interesting storage pouch," Feng Xin murmured, picking it up and brushing away the dirt. His movements were cautious, his eyes scanning the pouch for traps or tricks that might have been laid upon it. His careful inspection soon uncovered a trace locator array, deeply concealed within the pouch's structure.

"Hmm... this array seems to have been drawn by someone at the Palace Realm," Feng Xin muttered, his tone assessing. "But their skill in formations is mediocre at best compared to a true master of that level. Breaking it with a monarch-tier weapon should suffice."

He unsheathed his sword with a fluid motion, its blade gleaming with a sharp, deadly light. Forming a series of rapid hand seals, he compressed their energy into the sword's tip, which glowed with a pure white brilliance. When satisfied with the intensity of the seals, Feng Xin slashed downward toward the pouch.

The resistance was minimal but palpable, the sword's tip sizzling as it burned through the array's layers. With each sizzle, the blade pushed further until it finally completed the cut. The lingering glow of the array dissipated, leaving the pouch free from its tracking mechanism.

Feng Xin sheathed his sword with a quiet clang, a faint smile of satisfaction tugging at his lips. "That should take care of whoever planted that."

Turning his attention back to the leopard pouch, Feng Xin's expression shifted to one of delighted surprise as he examined its properties more closely.

"This is top-tier stuff," he whistled, his voice laced with genuine excitement. "A storage pouch capable of holding living objects, and with an internal space the size of two living rooms? Must be how they transported that tree. What a steal!"

Unable to hide his glee, he twirled the pouch around his index finger before securely tying it to his waist.

Then his demeanor changed. The light-hearted excitement drained away, replaced by a cold, calculating air that made Haishi, standing silently behind him, instinctively flinch.

"Now, what to do with those two?" Feng Xin muttered, his voice low and frigid. "Only one might be needed for the case."

He approached the trio—the two unconscious men and the withered Tupelo tree—with slow, deliberate steps. His gaze lingered on the tree as he reached out to brush his fingers against its remaining leaves, the gesture oddly gentle despite the glacial chill in his aura.