Three days passed in a flash. The entire city had fallen into a tense lockdown. Streets were patrolled relentlessly, checkpoints sprouted like mushrooms, and the investigation into the caravan ambush intensified. Many innocent merchants and travelers were seized, tortured for information, or jailed on mere suspicion. Rumors of a group of unmatched experts striking caravans spread like wildfire. Even the bravest traders hesitated, postponing shipments for fear of meeting the mysterious assailants.

  Commander Qi sat alone in his study, the faint light of dusk casting long shadows across the room. His mind churned with disbelief and unease. It can’t be that boy… Chen Mo… impossible. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought, but the unease clung stubbornly. Every instinct, every shred of evidence, whispered that someone of extraordinary talent was behind the ambush.

  But worry was no longer just about finding the boy. The consequences of the caravan attack pressed down like a mountain. The Imperial Trade Hall would come down on him, blaming him for negligence, and the officials would seize any chance to implicate him in the chaos. He could feel accusations forming like a storm gathering in the distance. One thought crystallized in his mind: only Master Xu could shield him now. If he failed to secure his protection, Qi knew the next wave of blame would drown him completely.

  While the whole city struggled to navigate the chaos left in the caravan’s wake, Chen Mo remained completely indifferent, lounging calmly in his courtyard. The noise, the rumors, the lockdown—it was all as distant as another world. Sun Bo approached him, bowing respectfully.

  “Master Chen,” he said, a faint excitement in his voice, “the medicine you requested will arrive by tomorrow.”

  Chen Mo nodded without much expression. Once it arrived, he would resume his training. This time, his sights were set higher—Innate. Nothing else mattered.

  The next day, Sun Bo arrived carrying a large wooden box, setting it carefully before Chen Mo.

  “Master,” he said, bowing slightly, “this is the Primordial Viscera Tempering Elixir. One dose is to be taken every four days. There are twenty doses inside.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes glittered with anticipation. “Good… good. I hope the silver was enough.”

  Sun Bo nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. “Yes, my lord. More than enough. These twenty doses alone cost a total of 240,000 taels of silver.”

  After Sun Bo left, Chen Mo remained in the courtyard, eyes fixed on the wooden box holding the Primordial Viscera Tempering Elixir. Each dose was a key to advancing further in Organ Refinement, and the road ahead was far from gentle. Late-stage Bone Forging had made him strong, but now every organ, every thread of marrow, would be tested to its limit.

  Chen Mo took a deep breath, centering himself. The Primordial Body Art flowed through him like molten qi, aligning his bones, blood, and organs into a coherent resonance. Without it, this elixir would tear him apart instead of strengthening him. With it… he might just survive—and thrive.

  He carefully measured the first dose, no larger than a few drops, and let it enter his body. Immediately, heat flared along his spine, marrow vibrating violently, blood rushing with unnatural speed. The heart was first—a hammer striking from the inside, testing the walls he had painstakingly tempered. Then the lungs, expanding and contracting beyond normal limits, each alveolus straining under the flood of qi.

  Chen Mo’s fingers dug into the stone floor, his teeth clenched, but he welcomed the pain. Liver, spleen, and kidneys flared in bitter fire, each organ screaming as it adapted, purified, and learned to resonate with the skeletal qi he had perfected. This was the essence of Organ Refinement—pain, precision, and patience. One misstep now, and the internal collapse would be permanent.

  When Chen Mo finally refined the last drops of the elixir, two days later, he exhaled a long, trembling breath, letting the accumulated energy settle. He opened his eyes and immediately summoned the realm column.

  Realm: Organ Refining 65/1200

  A rare smile spread across his face. “Really good stuff,” he thought. With the Primordial Body Art guiding him, not only could he dominate others in the same realm, but the efficiency of the refinement was astonishing—nothing was wasted.

  He calculated the remaining doses in the box and felt a surge of confidence. If the Primordial Body Art functioned as promised, these medicines alone might carry him all the way to the Innate Realm. No spiritual treasures, no divine intervention—just sheer, tyrannical cultivation.

  Chen Mo exhaled again, settling into the calm that followed. For now, he needed rest—a few days to recover before taking the next dose and continuing his relentless march toward Middle Stage Organ Refinement and beyond.

  At the same time, in the capital, Li Yuxue was quietly celebrating her breakthrough to the Muscle Refining realm, surrounded by her uncle Li Shao and Qiang Zhang.

  Zhang shook his head in admiration: “Young miss, your talent is unmatched… not even seventeen, and yet you’ve surpassed expectations. This old man is in awe.”

  Li Shao nodded, his expression serious: “Well done, Yuxue’er. But don’t lose sight of the bigger picture. The immortal recruitment is what truly matters.”

  Li Yuxue frowned slightly. “I will, uncle… but why am I not allowed to leave the courtyard?”

  Li Shao sighed, a shadow passing over his face. “We cannot risk it. Elder Zhou Henge warned that city lord Xu might be watching. He’s dangerous and calculating.”

  Zhang’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t he also chasing that boy? Does he intend to eradicate the Silver Crane Martial Hall from its roots?”

  Li Shao shook his head. “Hard to say. That boy must have done something serious to be labeled a rebel. It’s remarkable he hasn’t been caught… at least as far as we know. But what we do know is that Xu Haoran fears you being chosen by the immortals. He worries you’ll return seeking revenge.”

  Li Yuxue’s eyes gleamed with determination. “He’s not wrong to fear that. That is exactly what I intend to do… if I am chosen.”

  Li Shao placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “Thousands of young people will be filtered in the recruitment. It isn’t about background. Even if you are chosen, stay focused. Xu Haoran will have his own candidates and schemes—he’s no fool.”

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  Xu Haoran sat in a resplendent hall where incense coiled lazily through the air, its fragrance heavy and restrained, much like the tension between the two men present. Opposite him sat Sheng Zhen, the Second Prince, a dignified middle-aged man whose calm bearing concealed an authority forged through bloodline and ambition. The two Innate experts faced one another in rare communion. In the vast Hua Empire, there were only ten Innates in existence, and half of them belonged to the royal family. Any meeting between such figures carried weight enough to tilt the balance of the realm.

  “Second Prince,” Xu Haoran said evenly, cupping his hands, “thank you for granting me this audience.”

  Sheng Zhen waved a hand lightly. “Lord Xu is too polite. You are not only an honorable Innate master but also share blood ties with the royal family. There is no need for formalities between us.”

  Xu Haoran nodded, then leaned slightly forward. “It is precisely because of this relationship that I believe our… little competition no longer serves our interests. In the end, even if the immortals lend us their favor, they will not truly care about our internal struggles.”

  A faint snort escaped Sheng Zhen. “Is this because you failed to find the legacy?”

  Xu Haoran did not bristle. Instead, he sighed. “We all failed. Years of searching, countless resources burned, and not even a shadow left behind. As for that boy… he is nothing more than a gamble born of desperation. A final, reckless hope.”

  Sheng Zhen’s eyes narrowed. “And what if he truly possesses it?”

  “Then cooperation becomes the wisest path,” Xu Haoran replied calmly. “If our factions continue to obstruct one another, that boy may slip through our fingers entirely. United, our odds of capturing him increase dramatically.”

  Sheng Zhen studied the man before him. He knew Xu Haoran well. Power-hungry, calculating, unwilling to yield unless forced. For Xu to speak of compromise now meant one thing—desperation had finally crept into his heart.

  “So,” Sheng Zhen said at last, “what is your proposal?”

  “Simple,” Xu Haoran answered. “We cease the search for now. Let the boy breathe. Let him feel safe. He must be aware of the upcoming immortal recruitment. With the path cleared, he will eventually walk straight into our grasp.”

  Sheng Zhen’s lips curved faintly. “Easy to say. Why should I trust you?”

  Xu Haoran smiled thinly. “Because we will withdraw our forces back to the capital. With so many watchful eyes gathered there, anyone who dares to act independently will not escape notice. Mutual restraint ensures mutual safety.”

  “The legacy,” Sheng Zhen said sharply. “What of it?”

  “We present it together to the immortals,” Xu Haoran replied without hesitation. “As for the throne of the Hua Empire, it will be yours. In return, I ask for autonomy over my provinces and continued support for my cultivation, including spiritual items bestowed by the immortals.”

  Sheng Zhen’s fingers tightened slightly. Spiritual items were not mere treasures; they were strategic resources monopolized by the throne. To share them was to allow Xu Haoran the chance to grow stronger… perhaps strong enough to nurture new Innates under his banner.

  “How much?” Sheng Zhen asked.

  “Half,” Xu Haoran said softly. “Only fair.”

  Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. At last, Sheng Zhen exhaled.

  “Very well,” he said. “I agree.”

  Xu Haoran rose and bowed deeply. “Your Highness, a pleasure to cooperate. One more thing—my men were not responsible for the attack on your caravan. However, I assure you, those bandits will be dealt with.”

  “There is no need,” Sheng Zhen replied coolly. “Just ensure you keep your word.”

  Xu Haoran departed soon after, his footsteps fading into the distance. Left alone, Sheng Zhen’s composed expression finally cracked into a sneer.

  “What a greedy bastard,” he muttered. “Half? He might as well ask for the throne itself. Dream on.”

  Another month had passed. Chen Mo had just finished refining the third dose of the Primordial Viscera Tempering Elixir. He exhaled deeply, opening his eyes to check his progress.

  Realm: Organ Refining (Initial) 185/1200

  Each dose required ten days—two for the refinement itself, seven for necessary rest—but Chen Mo felt no frustration. The numbers climbing steadily on his realm column were a gratifying affirmation of his progress. His body and mind were growing sharper, stronger, more attuned with each cycle.

  A sudden knock at the door drew his attention. He sensed Sun Bo standing outside.

  “Come in,” Chen Mo said.

  Sun Bo entered, bowing low. “Master, good news…”

  Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it?”

  “The wanted posters of yours… they’ve been canceled. The previous tight searches have ended. Even the gates in and out of the city are back to normal.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Really? They eventually gave up?”

  Sun Bo shook his head. “I don’t know, my lord. But even the search teams were recalled, and everything seems to have returned to normal.”

  Chen Mo snorted softly. “Are they taking me for a fool? Since when has the government ever given up on catching a rebel.”

  Sun Bo hesitated. “Perhaps… they judged it futile and decided to end it.”

  Chen Mo’s gaze sharpened. “Or perhaps it’s bait.”

  Sun Bo’s expression stiffened. “My lord has a point. After spending such vast manpower and resources, withdrawing so cleanly is far from normal.”

  Chen Mo tapped his fingers lightly against the stone table. “What about Commander Qi?”

  “As far as I know,” Sun Bo replied carefully, “he is still the army commander of Jian City. No changes there.”

  “Keep an eye on him,” Chen Mo said calmly. “Inform me of any movement, any shift at all.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Sun Bo paused, then added, “Also, we successfully retrieved most of the resources taken from the caravan.”

  Chen Mo waved a hand dismissively. “Do what you wish with them. Consider it your reward.”

  Sun Bo’s eyes lit up. Those resources, sold through the black market, would fetch a fortune—enough to cover a significant portion of his recent losses. He bowed deeply. “Thank you for your generosity, my lord.” Then he withdrew, steps light despite his effort to remain composed.

  Left alone, Chen Mo’s expression turned cold.

  “What is Xu Haoran planning now…”

  He closed his eyes, the steady hum of refined organs resonating within him. Schemes, traps, bait—it all faded into irrelevance before absolute strength.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured. “Once I reach Innate, every plan of his becomes nothing more than paper before fire.”