The next morning, Chen Mo paid one last visit to Master Lian to bid his farewells. Formalities concluded, he hailed a carriage and set off toward the far eastern edge of the city. The journey carried him away from the orderly bustle of inner districts to a harsher frontier where stone roads thinned and the breath of the forests grew heavier in the air.

  An hour later, Chen Mo stepped down from the carriage before his destination.

  The storage and transportation facility stood like a squat iron turtle at the city’s edge, its high stone walls weathered and stern. Guard towers rose at measured intervals, banners snapping softly above them, while the main gates were reinforced with thick iron bands. Armed guards stood in rigid formation, their gazes sharp and unwelcoming. Attendants moved constantly in and out, some pushing carts, others carrying ledgers or sealed boxes, each step brisk and purposeful.

  Beyond the gates, the interior spread wide and utilitarian. Several administrative buildings occupied the front, orderly and severe, while farther back loomed massive warehouses, their doors thick and locked, exuding a silent weight of stored wealth. The air inside buzzed with movement and restrained tension, like a coiled spring.

  As Chen Mo approached the gate, the guards raised their halberds and stopped him. Without a word, he produced his token and the transfer documents. After a brief inspection, their posture shifted, and he was waved through without further obstruction.

  No sooner had he stepped inside than an attendant with shifty eyes hurried toward him, movements quick and cautious, as if afraid of being noticed too long. His name was Zhou, and the moment his gaze met Chen Mo’s, a practiced smile crept onto his face.

  Zhou bowed hurriedly, his head dipping a little too fast.

  “Forgive this humble one, my lord… are you Lord Chen?”

  Chen Mo studied the shifty-eyed attendant for a brief moment, then gave a small nod.

  Zhou’s face brightened at once, his smile practiced and eager. “Welcome, Lord Chen. This humble one is Attendant Zhou. I was instructed to wait for you here.”

  “Lead the way,” Chen Mo said calmly.

  “Yes, yes, this way, my lord.” Zhou turned at once and began walking, his steps light, almost hurried.

  As they moved through the compound, Zhou’s mouth seemed unable to rest. “This humble one works as an accountant and previously assisted the former steward. If Lord Chen has any questions, I will answer them fully. I swear I will do my utmost to serve the lord faithfully.”

  Chen Mo listened in silence, committing the tone and cadence of Zhou’s words to memory.

  Before long, they entered one of the administrative buildings. The noise outside faded as Zhou led him down a long corridor, stopping before an office at its far end. He pushed the door open and gestured respectfully.

  The office inside was unexpectedly spacious. A large wooden desk occupied the center, shelves lined with ledgers covered one wall, and a side room lay beyond a half-open door, furnished simply for rest and meditation.

  Zhou smiled again, lowering his voice slightly. “This will be Lord Chen’s office from now on.”

  Chen Mo entered the office without ceremony. He wasted no time, moving straight to the main seat and sitting down with calm authority. With a casual gesture, he signaled Zhou to close the door and take a seat as well.

  “Tell me,” Chen Mo said evenly, “how long have you been working here?”

  Zhou sat upright, hands folded. “To answer the lord, it has been five years. Two of those were spent serving as the previous steward’s assistant.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes flickered faintly. “Promoted from an ordinary attendant to steward’s assistant in just three years. You must be quite capable.”

  Zhou let out a weary chuckle, lowering his head slightly. “It is all thanks to the good grace of the higher-ups, my lord.”

  Chen Mo smiled faintly. Inwardly, he had already drawn his conclusion. This man, like him, had likely been placed here through the influence of the Alchemy faction.

  “Very well,” Chen Mo said. “Explain our duties in detail. I am new here, and for the time being, I will be relying on you.”

  Zhou’s expression grew earnest. “Please rest assured, my lord. I will explain everything at once. In truth, matters here are not complicated. Our role is to record the goods entering the storage, confirm their quantities, and prepare them for transportation to the headquarters.”

  Chen Mo nodded slowly. “What about herb gathering and processing?”

  “Oh, that is handled by a completely separate department,” Zhou replied quickly. “Each step is divided clearly, and each has its own overseers. Here, our responsibility is limited to inspection upon entry, verifying quantities, and sealing the crates.”

  “And quality?” Chen Mo asked.

  Zhou gave a light laugh. “That does not concern us, my lord. As long as the quantity is correct, our task is complete. Quality inspection falls entirely under the processing department.”

  “I see,” Chen Mo said. “So in the end, we count, seal, and send.”

  “Exactly, my lord.”

  Chen Mo leaned back slightly. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

  Zhou hesitated for a brief moment before answering. “Only one thing, my lord. You should make time to greet Lord Zhang Qiang the captain of the guards. He is a Muscle Refining expert and is responsible for the security of the entire facility.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. Law enforcement, muscle refining, and a sealed flow of goods. The structure was clean, efficient… and tightly controlled.

  Chen Mo rose to his feet and said calmly, “Alright. Let’s get this over with. Lead the way.”

  Zhou hurried ahead. After a short walk, he guided Chen Mo to a separate building set slightly apart from the warehouses. Guards stood at the entrance like iron statues. After Zhou explained their purpose and received permission, Chen Mo was allowed inside.

  Chen Mo cupped his hands. “Master Zhang Qiang. This one is Chen Mo, newly appointed steward by the school. I will be under your care from now on.”

  Zhang Qiang sat upright behind his desk. His face was cold and stern, carved with the rigidity of long years in law enforcement. He nodded once, then looked Chen Mo up and down without concealing his scrutiny.

  “I hope you will perform your duties faithfully,” Zhang Qiang said flatly. “A newly promoted Skin Refining disciple, not yet sixteen, suddenly appointed as steward… this is something I find difficult to understand. Would it not have been better for the school to focus on nurturing your talent and allow you to concentrate on cultivation?”

  The question was blunt, carrying neither warmth nor courtesy.

  Chen Mo remained composed. He cupped his hands again and replied politely, “I cannot fully explain the school’s decision. However, being assigned here is an opportunity to gain experience. Under Lord Zhang’s oversight, I believe I will learn much.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Zhang Qiang let out a low hum. “Hmph. I hope that is the case. You may return to your duties. If you require assistance, you know where to find me.”

  The words sounded ordinary, yet the meaning beneath them was sharp.

  Chen Mo bowed slightly. “This one thanks Lord Zhang.”

  He left the building with Zhou and soon returned to his office. After a moment of silence, Chen Mo glanced at Zhou, who was standing quietly to the side.

  “Master Zhang does not seem to approve of my transfer here,” Chen Mo said.

  Zhou hesitated, then lowered his voice. “My lord may not know this, but when the previous steward was reassigned, the Alchemy Department did not immediately provide a replacement. The law enforcement side was already preparing to appoint their own person, so…”

  Chen Mo’s gaze sharpened. “I see. Will this cause problems for us in the future?”

  Zhou quickly shook his head. “How could that be, my lord? It is true that Lord Zhang is responsible for the protection of the facility, but he has no authority to interfere with our duties… nor to inspect our files.” He put extra emphasis on the last word.

  Chen Mo’s lips curved slightly. “Good. When do we carry out our inspections?”

  “Every day,” Zhou replied. “At the end of the day, we spend about an hour counting the goods. At the end of each week, we perform a final tally, seal the crates, and personally oversee the wagons transporting the goods out.”

  Chen Mo nodded slowly. The rules were clear, the boundaries well defined. And within those boundaries… there was room to move.

  At the center of the hall stood a long table of dark wood.

  Master Han stood before it, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on a sealed wooden box resting atop the table.

  The box was unadorned, yet the sealing talismans etched into its surface pulsed faintly, suppressing whatever lay within. It seemed ordinary at first glance, but the weight it carried was enough to draw the breath from the room.

  Around the hall, the elders of the Silver Crane School sat in silence. Their expressions were solemn, their eyes sharp and contemplative. No one spoke. No one moved.

  The air was heavy, as though the hall itself was holding its breath, waiting for Master Han to speak… or for the seal to be broken.

  Gu Ming, the Law Enforcement Elder, was the first to shatter the silence. His sleeve fluttered as he rose, eyes blazing with restrained fury.

  “This is extortion. Blatant theft!” he snapped. “Hall Leader, how can we simply hand over a spiritual item we uncovered with our own blood and effort to the City Lord?”

  Master Han let out a long, weary breath, as though the years had suddenly settled upon his shoulders.

  “From the moment the news leaked,” he said slowly, “the item ceased to belong to us. Keeping it now would only invite calamity. It is better to use it to appease the City Lord and resolve the river route dispute peacefully.”

  Alchemist Zhou Heng’e spoke next, his voice calm, almost detached, as if discussing the weather rather than a treasure that could change destinies.

  “It is obvious now,” he said, “that the river route issue was merely a pretext. The pressure was never about trade. It was about forcing our hand.”

  Master Han nodded. “Exactly.”

  Gu Ming clenched his fists. “But that item is the Hall Leader’s chance to break through to the Innate Realm!”

  A faint, bitter smile crossed Master Han’s face.

  “I am old,” he replied. “My qi and blood will soon decline. Even with the item, my chances are slim at best. It is better to exchange it for a few more years of peace and place our hopes on one of you making that leap instead.”

  Lian Wei, the External Affairs Elder, interjected, his tone blunt and unsentimental.

  “In the end, it is simple. Hand it over willingly, or be crushed. Everything comes down to strength.”

  He paused, then continued, lowering his voice.

  “The City Lord is obsessed with spiritual items. My sources say he has mobilized city resources and even pressured other factions to scour the surrounding mountains. It is likely that item is the only reason a dignified Innate expert remains stationed here at all.”

  The hall fell silent once more, the sealed wooden box at the center of the table seeming heavier than before, as if it carried not just a treasure… but the fate of the Silver Crane School itself.

  Chen Mo spent his days in the eastern storage and transportation facility with disciplined precision. Each morning he trained in the side room of his office, circulating his qi, refining his Silver Crane Body technique, and practicing Threaded Movement until sweat soaked his robes. Afternoons were reserved for inspecting the goods with Zhou, counting crates, checking seals, and noting quantities, while the actual transportation of goods only occurred at the end of the week. The routine was repetitive, yet Chen Mo’s focus never wavered; every action reinforced his cultivation, every motion honed his senses.

  After a week, he prepared his final medicinal bath, filling the basin with water and the last packet of herbal powder. As the water turned a deep red, he stripped and immersed himself, letting the heat and the herbs sting and sear his skin. Pain lanced through him with every pulse, but he maintained control, circulating his qi carefully, letting the medicinal energy penetrate every fiber. Two hours later, the water cleared, leaving Chen Mo drained yet exhilarated.

  Sitting cross-legged, he felt the newfound strength coursing through his body. His speed, his reflexes, even the subtle tension in his skin—all had improved dramatically. When he reflected on his progress, he realized how far he had come in just one week. His cultivation had jumped, his power had nearly doubled, and even in the controlled monotony of the facility, he could feel the true potential of his body awakening.

  Skin Refining Realm: Middle 105/300

  Minor bottlenecks posed no threat now, and the path ahead, though long, felt sharply within reach.

  The Threaded Movement skill didn’t lag behind. Over the week of disciplined training and constant movement, his mastery steadily climbed. By the end of the week, the panel showed:

  Threaded Movement: 120/200

  Chen Mo flexed his limbs, feeling the subtle harmony between his body and the world around him. Each step, each shift of weight, each micro-adjustment of his posture felt instinctive, as if he was no longer forcing the movements but letting his body thread along invisible currents of least resistance. A quiet realization struck him: he seemed to have a natural affinity for escape and evasion techniques, an instinctive sense of moving not against the world, but with it.

  This wasn’t just speed; it was a fluidity that would make tracking him nearly impossible for ordinary opponents, and even skilled pursuers would struggle to anticipate his sudden changes in direction. Chen Mo smiled faintly, inwardly acknowledging that, perhaps, this skill would be his secret edge in the days to come.