Yun Yang pushed forward as carefully as he could, and, befitting the breeze he was now, he camouflaged himself by wholly blending into nature and drifted forward as softly as he could.
Anyone in Yun Yang's vicinity or even anything that went through him would not be able to feel anything unusual. It was like the soft caress of a breeze; one could feel it but it left no trace – that would be all!
Therefore, Yun Yang, who was in such a state, assumed himself to be in an incredibly ideal form.
Then, there was no more movement from below; the other party had completely disappeared, seemingly more adept than Yun Yang in vanishing – whether it was the person, sword, sense, deific consciousness, or even the attack itself, it was like they never existed!
The only remnant was the instincts of a cultivator that told of danger.