Chen Mo paced back and forth inside his office, footsteps tracing a restless circle on the wooden floor. The moment had finally arrived. No more room to drift with the current. When pushed to the edge, only sharp decisions mattered.

  First, he had to reach the peak of Skin Refining.

  Second, he had to squeeze every last tael of silver he could from this facility.

  Third, he needed information. Real information. A path to a body?refining method beyond the Silver Crane Martial Hall.

  Reporting his true progress was impossible.

  Joining another hall was nothing but a fool’s fantasy.

  As for remaining openly in the city once things erupted? That would be suicide.

  Even now, invisible nets were tightening around him.

  Chen Mo halted, exhaled slowly, and forced his thoughts into order. Panic was useless. Fear wasted time.

  “Step by step,” he murmured.

  First, Zhou would be sent to acquire third?grade medicinal powder, whatever the cost. From this moment on, everything would be sacrificed for cultivation. He would shut the door, ignore the world, and grind his way straight to the peak of the realm.

  As for Li Yuxue, he would play along. Smile when needed. Nod when required. Two weeks. Just two weeks of patience.

  After that, he would vanish.

  No loyalty, no banners, no factions. Only survival.

  Chen Mo’s eyes hardened, a cold glint settling deep within them. Wealth could be earned again. Power could be rebuilt. But a life, once lost, was gone forever.

  And he had no intention of dying here.

  The operation with Zhou ran like clockwork. Fifteen packets of Grade 3 medicinal powder, worth 450 taels, were in hand, and with his other gains, he now held 550 taels—not extravagant by some standards, but enough to fund the first phase of his true objective.

  Chen Mo leaned back against the edge of the medicinal bath, eyes fixed on the faint golden shimmer that still clung to his skin. Two weeks of relentless cultivation had paid off—Skin Refining was finally at its peak, 300/300, and the familiar rush of power filled every fiber of his body. He could feel the density of his skin, the imperviousness it now offered, and the strength in every tendon, every muscle.

  His Threaded Movement skill ticked forward too, now at minor achievement 15/600, a subtle yet profound shift. With it, he estimated, he could move with such speed and precision that even a Muscle Refining expert would struggle to track him. Every shadow, every step, could be leveraged for perfect stealth.

  Chen Mo’s mind turned to tomorrow. Li Yuxue would have to be dealt with delicately. A simple excuse—visiting Zhou Heng, his only connection outside the facility—would provide the perfect cover. After that, he would slip into the city’s black market, invisible among the crowds, seeking information.

  Knowledge first, survival second, power third.

  As the night settled, Chen Mo quietly gathered his things, already plotting his steps: where to go, who to talk to, and how to remain unseen. 550 taels could buy a start, but what he truly needed was direction. And the city’s underworld would be the only place to find it.

  The game was about to change.

  At dawn, Chen Mo was just about to step out of the eastern facility when a clear, unhurried voice stopped him in his tracks.

  “Oh? Leaving so early?”

  Chen Mo’s steps froze for the briefest instant.

  Damn it.

  He turned to see Li Yuxue approaching, hands clasped behind her back, posture relaxed, eyes bright with unmistakable interest. During the past two weeks she had clung to him like a shadow, appearing wherever he went, asking questions that sounded casual yet carried sharp hooks beneath them. The pressure had been constant, suffocating. More than once, a violent impulse had flashed through Chen Mo’s mind—the urge to silence her with a single punch.

  He buried it deep.

  Chen Mo smiled, flawless and polite.

  “Good morning, Young Miss Li. What a coincidence to see you so early.” He paused, then added calmly, “Yes. I’m heading out to visit a trade store. Its steward is… the only family I have in this city. Otherwise, I wouldn’t trouble myself with such a trip.”

  Li Yuxue tilted her head, studying him for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

  “Is that so?” she said lightly. “Then I’ll come along. It’s boring staying here anyway.”

  Chen Mo’s smile tightened, almost imperceptibly.

  “I’m afraid that may not be appropriate, Young Miss Li. It’s merely a personal visit—”

  “No need to argue,” Li Yuxue interrupted, already turning toward the street. “I’m coming. That’s final. Come on, let’s hail a carriage.”

  Chen Mo stood there for half a breath, fingers curling slowly at his sides.

  Damn it.

  Zhang Qiang would surely be watching from afar. Perhaps not openly, but eyes would be on them—guards, informants, shadows hidden among the morning crowds. Running now would only confirm their suspicions. Any sudden move would invite pursuit… or worse.

  Is it too late to bolt?

  No. Far too late.

  Chen Mo exhaled silently and followed her, his expression calm, his steps steady. Inside, however, his thoughts churned.

  So this was how it would be from now on. Watched. Tested. Boxed in from every direction.

  Very well.

  If he couldn’t move openly, then he would move indirectly. If he couldn’t act himself, then Zhou would act in his place. Information could still be gathered. Paths could still be prepared.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  For now, he would comply.

  But the moment an opening appeared, he would vanish—leaving behind nothing but empty rooms, missing ledgers, and regret.

  In the carriage, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against cobblestones filled the silence. Li Yuxue’s gaze lingered on the morning streets passing by, but then she turned her head slightly toward Chen Mo, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

  “Have you thought it through?” she asked, voice soft but pointed.

  Chen Mo remained silent for a moment, letting the words hang in the air. Then he spoke evenly, carefully measured:

  “Young Miss, what is there to think about? Joining Elder Li’s ranks is… an honor.”

  Li Yuxue’s lips curved slightly. “That’s for the best. And you know what to do next, right?”

  Chen Mo nodded, his expression composed. “I know, Young Miss. The opportunity will present itself by the end of the week. My attendant just delivered a message from Master Lian regarding the new arrangements starting next week.”

  “Oh? What new arrangements?” Li Yuxue asked, intrigued.

  “To answer you, Young Miss,” Chen Mo continued, “I will receive secret documents that must be stamped and delivered along with the true documents, to be replaced as Master Lian sees fit.”

  Li Yuxue’s eyes glimmered with approval. “Ah… I see. So that’s how it is. You’ve done a great merit this time. Our promise stands—you will be protected.”

  Chen Mo inclined his head slightly, calm and unflinching. “I trust Young Miss’ arrangements.”

  The carriage rolled onward, the city awakening around them, but inside Chen Mo’s mind, every movement, every step of the plan, was already calculated, precise, and unyielding.

  Two days later, Chen Mo sat alone in his office, fingers interlaced, eyes half-lidded as he listened to the silence breathe. A light knock finally disturbed the stillness.

  “Enter,” he said.

  Zhou slipped inside and bowed deeply.

  Chen Mo did not waste words. “Any news? Tell me what you found.”

  Zhou hesitated, then spoke carefully. “My lord, I followed your instructions. However… information sold in the black market is never entirely reliable.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Chen Mo replied flatly. “Speak.”

  Zhou swallowed. “Cultivation methods are tightly controlled. Not just in Lian City, but across the entire Hua Kingdom. Governments and martial halls monopolize them completely. What circulates in the market… ninety-nine percent are fakes.”

  Chen Mo’s gaze sharpened. “So?”

  Zhou continued, choosing his words like stepping stones over thin ice. “There are only two other paths. The first is patience. One could sift through thousands of fake manuals, gambling on luck. But that would require enormous time, vast sums of silver, and fortune bordering on the miraculous.”

  Chen Mo’s voice was calm. “And the other way?”

  Zhou lowered his voice instinctively. “Some gangs operating outside the city may possess real cultivation methods. Most are backed by city forces, but their core experts use techniques they obtained… somehow. Those methods don’t come from nowhere.”

  The room fell silent again.

  Chen Mo leaned back slightly, eyes dark and thoughtful. Outside the rules of the halls, beyond the city walls, power still flowed through blood and shadow.

  It seemed the path ahead would not be clean, nor safe—but then again, it never was.

  Chen Mo sank deeper into thought, then spoke quietly, as if afraid the walls might listen.

  “Tonight. We meet at the rented courtyard.”

  Zhou’s eyes brightened. “Another batch of goods?”

  Chen Mo nodded once.

  After Zhou left, the office felt cavernous. Chen Mo reclined in his chair, fingers tapping the armrest in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

  Gangs…

  He exhaled softly. He was acquainted with one. The bandits who terrorized the villages near the mountain foothills. The same ones who collected their “toll” every month, silver wrung from clenched teeth and swallowed pride. Chen Mo had never forgotten the weight of those payments, nor the humiliation stitched into each coin.

  Perhaps it was time to return the favor. A polite visit, a measured probe. If nothing else, it might spark interest… or blood.

  His gaze cooled.

  And Zhou.

  Zhou knew too much.

  Chen Mo closed his eyes for a brief moment. If Zhou were captured after his departure, everything would unravel. Names, routes, arrangements—his plans would be laid bare under a few carefully applied methods. That risk could not be allowed to exist.

  A faint sigh escaped him, thin as smoke.

  “I’m sorry, Zhou,” he murmured to the empty room. “I hope you find a better job in your next life.”

  Outside, the city continued its bustle, blissfully unaware that another thread had already been cut.

  Zhang Qiang leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Hmm,” he muttered, the words more to himself than to Li Yuxue. “Talent or not… the boy has a dangerous streak. You’ve seen it in the counting, the way he handles things quietly, yet decisively. I can’t shake the feeling he’s always two steps ahead.”

  Li Yuxue let out a soft, amused laugh, almost like a ripple across still water. “Lord Zhang, we are law enforcement. We observe, we wait, and we guide. If he proves himself loyal, we gain an ally. If not… well, we’ll know soon enough. The end of the week will tell all.”

  Zhang Qiang remained silent, but the unease lingered, curling around his chest like a coiling snake. Something about this boy—this green, unassuming steward—set his instincts on edge. And instincts, in his line of work, were never wrong.