Chen Mo stood inside the warehouse alongside Zhou. Today marked the final tally. Once the numbers were confirmed, the goods would be sealed and dispatched to headquarters.

  Rows of wooden crates lined the spacious hall, their lids still open. Attendants moved back and forth in practiced silence, carefully placing packets of processed herbs into the containers. Each bundle was wrapped in oil paper, neatly labeled and sorted by type.

  Zhou held a brush in one hand and a stack of documents in the other, recording each entry with meticulous care under Chen Mo’s watchful gaze.

  “These herbs are mainly for medicinal bath powders, recovery pills, and qi-boosting pills,” Zhou said in a low voice, more out of habit than explanation. “As for the truly precious ingredients meant for high-level experts, those are handled by a different department.”

  Chen Mo nodded slightly.

  Even so, the crates before him were anything but ordinary.

  A single large crate of these processed materials was worth no less than one hundred taels of silver. That figure alone was enough to make ordinary merchants salivate. Yet Chen Mo knew this was only the surface value.

  Once these raw materials entered the hands of alchemists, they would be refined into finished medicine worth at least five hundred taels per crate.

  A fivefold return.

  Chen Mo’s gaze lingered on the wooden boxes as the attendants worked. The school did not merely cultivate disciples. It cultivated profit, influence, and control, all distilled through alchemy.

  No wonder so many factions circled the Alchemy Department like moths drawn to a flame.

  “Record carefully,” Chen Mo said calmly. “Not a single packet missing.”

  Zhou straightened immediately. “Yes, my lord.”

  As the brush continued to scratch across paper and the crates slowly filled, Chen Mo felt an unspoken tension hanging in the air. This place held more than herbs and silver. It held leverage, temptation, and danger, all sealed behind wooden planks and official stamps.

  And he was now standing right at the center of it.

  After the last crate was sealed and stamped, Chen Mo left the warehouse with Zhou and returned to the office to finalize the accompanying documents for the caravan.

  Inside, the room was quiet. Zhou respectfully handed over the ledgers and summary sheets. Chen Mo sat behind the desk and read through them slowly, his expression calm and composed.

  In total, there were twenty-five full large crates, plus one half-filled crate prepared for transport.

  Chen Mo picked up the steward’s seal and pressed it down firmly onto the document.

  Thump.

  Then, without a word, he reached into a drawer and took out another document. It was identical in format, paper, and ink. He stamped this one as well.

  The only difference lay in the numbers.

  This second document recorded only twenty large crates.

  The moment the seal dried, understanding struck him like cold water.

  So this is how it works…

  Anything beyond twenty crates was quietly swallowed. Cleanly. Systematically.

  And worse, he recognized this second document. It was the one sent to him earlier by Master Lian.

  Chen Mo’s fingers tightened slightly.

  If something goes wrong in the future… I’ll be the one standing between these two numbers.

  A steward newly promoted. Young. Convenient.

  A perfect scapegoat.

  For the first time since arriving, a trace of urgency crept into his thoughts.

  I need a way out. A second path. If this turns ugly, I can’t be trapped here.

  He pushed the official document across the table to Zhou.

  “This goes with the convoy,” Chen Mo said calmly.

  Zhou accepted it with both hands.

  Then Chen Mo handed him the second document, his gaze steady and deliberate.

  “This one is for Master Lian,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. “Deliver it to him personally. By hand. Understood?”

  Zhou’s eyes flickered for a brief instant before he nodded.

  “Don’t worry, my lord. This isn’t my first delivery. I understand.”

  He bowed deeply, tucked the documents away, and exited the office.

  The door closed softly behind him.

  Chen Mo remained seated, staring at the tabletop, his expression stern and unreadable.

  Two documents.

  Two truths.

  One name at the bottom of both.

  Outside, the convoy was preparing to depart. Inside, Chen Mo felt the invisible net tightening around his position.

  And this time, brute strength alone would not be enough to tear it apart.

  The office of the Law Enforcement Hall was vast and austere, its stone walls bearing the faint scars of past conflicts. Weapon racks lined one side of the room, every blade polished, every spear aligned with obsessive precision. The air itself felt heavy, as if soaked with discipline and restrained violence.

  Gu Ming stood at the head of the room, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Before him sat the core pillars of the Law Enforcement Hall.

  Each elder present was a Bone Forging expert, their qi restrained yet oppressive, like sleeping beasts. Every one of them commanded a unit composed of Muscle Refining and Skin Refining disciples, men and women who formed the sharp edge of the Silver Crane Martial Hall.

  Their duties varied.

  Some oversaw escort missions, guarding caravans of resources and spiritual items across dangerous routes.

  Others were assigned to protect critical facilities within the city.

  A few operated entirely in the shadows, handling matters that never appeared in official records.

  Together, they represented the true combat power of the Silver Crane Martial Hall. Not the alchemists. Not the administrators.

  These were the hands that bled when order was threatened.

  Gu Ming’s gaze swept across the room, sharp and cold.

  “The situation has worsened,” he said, his voice low but heavy with authority. “The city lord grows impatient. His people are moving more openly, and his scouts have appeared near our outer operations more than once.”

  One of the elders narrowed his eyes. “Are they testing us?”

  Gu Ming gave a short, humorless snort. “They are measuring us.”

  Silence followed.

  Another elder leaned forward slightly. “If it comes to force, we are not weak.”

  Gu Ming turned, his eyes hard. “Strength alone is not the problem. Timing is. If we move first, we give them justification. If we move too late—”

  He did not finish the sentence.

  Everyone in the room already understood.

  The Silver Crane Martial Hall was standing on a blade’s edge. One wrong step, and blood would flow, regardless of who claimed righteousness afterward.

  Gu Ming straightened.

  “From today onward,” he said, “double patrols near all storage and transport facilities. Any unfamiliar movement, any unusual order, any disciple acting out of routine—report it directly to me.”

  His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary.

  “There are forces within and without testing our resolve. I will not allow the Law Enforcement Hall to be used as someone else’s shield or scapegoat.”

  The elders rose as one and cupped their fists.

  “Yes, Elder Gu.”

  As they filed out, Gu Ming remained alone in the room, staring at a map spread across his desk.

  His finger rested on the eastern side of the city.

  And for reasons even he could not yet fully explain, a sense of unease settled deep in his bones.

  Elder Gu Ming raised his head, only to find that one figure had yet to leave.

  It was Elder Li Zhen.

  Li Zhen stood quietly near the doorway, his posture straight, his presence heavy. He was Li Yuxue’s father, a peak Bone Forging expert, only half a step away from the Organ Refining Realm. Yet that final threshold had tormented him for years, turning ambition into silent frustration.

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  Within the Law Enforcement Hall, everyone knew one thing.

  Li Zhen was Gu Ming’s right hand.

  Gu Ming’s eyes sharpened. “Speak.”

  Li Zhen clasped his fists. “My lord, it concerns the eastern storage and transportation facility.”

  Gu Ming’s brows furrowed slightly.

  “We failed to place our man as steward,” Li Zhen continued. “The Alchemy Department moved first. They appointed one of their own, a newly promoted Skin Refining disciple.”

  Gu Ming’s gaze turned cold. “I was told they had no suitable substitute. That they were stretched thin.”

  “That was our judgment as well,” Li Zhen admitted. “Who could have expected them to nurture a Skin Refining expert in just one month? Even my daughter, with her superior aptitude, required more than two months to break through.”

  Gu Ming raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering briefly across his stern face. “Such talent escaped your scrutiny. How did that happen?”

  Li Zhen lowered his head slightly. “It was a fortunate encounter, my lord. The boy is an orphan from a mountain village. He entered through the outer courtyard, which mainly accepts commoners. We rarely pay attention to those backgrounds.”

  Silence filled the room.

  After a moment, Gu Ming exhaled slowly. “A pity. Such a seed wasted.” His tone darkened. “Those greedy bastards. Would it not have been better to hand such talent to us, to be nurtured properly?”

  Li Zhen nodded. “At this point, my lord, I believe profit matters more to them than the hall’s long-term interests.”

  Gu Ming’s fingers tapped lightly against the table. “Have you thought it through?”

  Li Zhen’s eyes hardened. “The boy is only fifteen. Green. Inexperienced. We can win him over, bring him to our side, and use him to disrupt the Alchemy Department’s operations.”

  Gu Ming’s eyes narrowed, a faint glint of approval flashing within. “Mmm. Do it. Use whatever means are necessary.”

  His voice dropped, heavy with suppressed anger. “I am tired of those corrupted leeches.”

  Their gazes met, understanding passing silently between them.

  “Do not worry, my lord,” Li Zhen said calmly. “We have our ways of convincing people.”

  He bowed once and turned to leave.

  As the door closed behind him, Gu Ming remained seated, staring into the empty space before him.

  External pressure was dangerous.

  But the rot growing inside the Silver Crane Martial Hall?

  That was the real cancer.

  Next morning

  Morning light spilled through the lattice window as Chen Mo sat behind his desk, his posture relaxed but his mind alert. Across from him sat Zhou, freshly returned from escorting the goods convoy to headquarters.

  Zhou carefully placed a small wrapped package on the desk and slid it forward.

  “My lord,” he said with a practiced smile, “Master Lian instructed me to deliver this to you personally. He also said that your treatment will improve in the future.”

  Chen Mo unwrapped it. Inside were five packets of medicinal bath powder and one bottle of recovery pills.

  He lowered his gaze, concealing the flicker of thought in his eyes.

  Grade-one powder again…

  At my current stage, this will only raise me two or three points at most.

  Since breaking through to the middle stage of Skin Refining, his requirements had changed. These medicines were no longer enough.

  But I can’t announce my breakthrough, he thought grimly. That would be far too conspicuous. Last time, the moment I revealed progress, I was dragged into this web of corruption. Who knows what that snake, Master Lian, would scheme next.

  For a brief moment, Chen Mo felt the pressure of the invisible net tightening around him.

  Then he raised his head.

  “Zhou,” he said calmly, “when the Herb Processing Department sends materials to our facility, do they keep track of the quantities?”

  Zhou’s pupils shrank almost imperceptibly.

  He was a shrewd man. Instinct told him this question was not casual.

  Choosing his words carefully, he replied, “The counting… is our responsibility, my lord. Only us. We determine the final quantity.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes flickered. “Are you certain?”

  “I am,” Zhou answered immediately. “Absolutely certain.”

  Chen Mo leaned back slightly. “The previous steward,” he said lightly, “how did he handle things?”

  Zhou hesitated, sweat forming at his temples. He glanced at Chen Mo, then lowered his head.

  “Speak,” Chen Mo said evenly. “We’re in the same boat now. No need for fa?ades.”

  Zhou swallowed. “Since my lord has said so… then I will be honest. The previous steward occasionally skimmed a portion of the herbs for personal use. Not much. Just small amounts.”

  Chen Mo nodded slowly. “And you never reported this to Master Lian?”

  Zhou’s voice trembled. “I am only an accountant, my lord. I followed my direct superior’s orders. How could I dare report him?”

  “Yet you dare tell me now,” Chen Mo said, his tone unreadable.

  Zhou’s back was already soaked. “It’s different,” he said hurriedly. “The previous steward has retired. Reporting him now would benefit no one. Especially not someone as insignificant as me.”

  Chen Mo studied him for a long moment, then nodded.

  “I see.”

  He leaned forward slightly. “Then remember this. Whatever you see here in the future, you keep it to yourself.”

  Zhou listened, heart pounding.

  “If you prove your usefulness,” Chen Mo continued, “you will gain far more than the scraps Master Lian tosses your way.”

  His voice suddenly dropped.

  “But if you betray me—”

  Chen Mo released a sliver of his aura.

  The room seemed to thicken. Zhou’s face drained of color as invisible pressure crashed down on him. His knees trembled, breath turning ragged.

  “Before Master Lian could ever help you,” Chen Mo said coldly, “I would crush you first. And your entire family would be implicated.”

  Zhou struggled under the pressure, his voice breaking. “P-please, my lord… rest assured. I would never dare betray you. Never!”

  Chen Mo withdrew his aura just as abruptly as it had appeared.

  The pressure vanished. Zhou nearly collapsed into his chair, gasping.

  Chen Mo smiled faintly. “Good. I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

  Zhou bowed repeatedly, his forehead slick with sweat. “Absolutely, my lord. Absolutely.”

  Chen Mo tapped the desk lightly. “Tell me how the previous steward did it.”

  Zhou took a few breaths to steady himself before answering. “It wasn’t complicated, my lord. The warehouses are heavily guarded, and ordinary attendants are searched whenever they enter or leave. But stewards are not.” He gave a bitter smile. “The previous lord simply pocketed a few packets at a time.”

  “I see,” Chen Mo said. “Then what if we wanted… say, half a crate?”

  Zhou’s face changed instantly. “That’s far too risky, my lord. The guards outside… they would definitely notice. Even if they don’t act openly, they would report it.”

  Chen Mo’s gaze remained steady. “Every week, one crate is left half full,” he said slowly. “We need to be able to smuggle at least half of that half-crate. By the end of the month, that becomes a full crate’s worth of herbs.”

  Zhou swallowed hard. “My lord, even if that were possible… how could we move such a quantity out of the facility without anyone noticing?”

  Chen Mo leaned back, fingers interlaced. “First, we figure out how to get the herbs out of the warehouse. The rest comes later.”

  Zhou fell silent, his brows knitting together as he thought. Deep down, he understood something clearly now.

  This new steward was not content with skimming scraps.

  He was just as ambitious… and just as dangerous… as the higher-ups themselves.