That Night
Guards were stationed everywhere, eyes sharp for any unusual movement, but they failed to spot Chen mo as he moved like a shadow along the eastern outer wall. With his mastery of the Threaded Movement and the strength of peak Skin Refining, leaping the three-zhang-high wall was effortless. He ran at breakneck speed, leaving faint afterimages behind him as he darted toward the rented courtyard.
Reaching the destination, he scaled the courtyard wall silently and melted into the shadows. The night was still, the only sound his controlled breathing.
Moments later, the courtyard gate creaked and opened, and a figure slipped inside—Zhou. He paused, sensing the stillness, his steps hesitant as he advanced. Suddenly, a sharp warmth spread across his neck. His eyes widened in shock and confusion, but no sound escaped his lips. He tried to turn, tried to resist, but his body betrayed him. Within seconds, he collapsed, eyes fixed in disbelief, the world around him fading into darkness.
The courtyard returned to silence, as if nothing had happened. Chen mo, hidden in the shadows, allowed himself a single, measured breath. Every loose end had been dealt with. There was no time to mourn, no time to hesitate. Tonight, his path forward was clear—but darker than ever.
Chen mo’s eyes scanned the courtyard once more. Zhou was gone, and the warning of what could happen had been made brutally clear. A flicker of regret passed through him, fleeting and suppressed—Zhou had been useful, loyal even—but usefulness ended where survival began.
Chen mo’s mind sharpened, each thought precise and deliberate. Every move from now on had to be calculated: the courtyard, the Black Market, the gangs, even the Alchemy Department—they were all variables in a web he was weaving. Hesitation was a luxury he could no longer afford.
Chen Mo lifted Zhou’s body effortlessly, the weight barely registering in his hands—a peak Skin Refining expert could carry far more without strain. Every movement was smooth, precise, as if the world itself had slowed to accommodate his speed.
He headed toward a remote, broken section of the city wall he had scouted earlier. With a single powerful spring, he leapt over the jagged stones, landing silently on the other side. The forest beyond stretched like a dark, endless sea, and Chen Mo accelerated, moving with bursts of Threaded Movement that left afterimages dancing in his wake.
Soon, the familiar ravine came into view—the very place where he had once discarded the bodies of the two gang members. He paused just long enough to glance at the yawning chasm, then casually tossed Zhou’s body into the depths. The lifeless form fell cleanly, swallowed by shadow, and Chen Mo allowed himself a brief moment to observe the void.
Without hesitation, he turned and surged forward, his Threaded Movement propelling him toward the path that led back to his village. His mind was calm, calculating, focused on one objective: return, prepare, and grow stronger, leaving nothing behind that could slow him down.
Chen Mo didn’t linger long on the outskirts of his village. The night was quiet, the village deep in slumber, and he moved like a shadow, silent and swift. He could have slipped into his old hut, but there was no time for nostalgia. Instead, he headed straight for Chief Young’s yard.
The yard was shrouded in darkness, and Chen Mo’s eyes quickly located the chief’s room. With the precision of a seasoned predator, he entered and approached the bed. A gentle nudge was all it took.
Chief Young stirred, opening his eyes to see a man dressed entirely in black beside him. He started to speak, but the words never left his mouth—Chen Mo’s hand clamped over it with inhuman strength. Before the old man could process what was happening, he found himself lifted off the ground, suspended like a doll.
Confusion and terror twisted in his mind as he was carried effortlessly outside the yard. When Chen Mo finally set him down, Chief Young’s head spun, his breath coming in panicked gasps.
“Y-Your Excellency… please… spare this humble one…” he stammered, voice trembling. Every fiber of his being screamed that this man was no ordinary person—he was something far beyond. And as his thoughts raced, he realized with chilling clarity that there was no way he could resist, no way to bargain. How had he provoked such a calamity?
Chen Mo spoke softly, his grip loosening just enough for the old man to breathe.
“Chief Young, don’t panic. It’s me. Chen Mo.”
Chief Young’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Y-young Chen? H-how is this poss—”
Chen Mo cut him off, his tone calm but absolute. “I said don’t worry. I only need you to answer a few questions. Then I’ll leave.”
The old man swallowed hard and nodded repeatedly. “Y-yes. Yes. Ask anything.”
Chen Mo’s gaze sharpened. “That bandit stronghold. Do you know exactly where it’s located?”
Chief Young’s face turned pale. “Chen Mo, that place is far too dangerous. You can’t—”
Chen Mo interrupted again, a faint pressure in his voice that made the night feel heavier. “Just answer. My time is limited, and I’m already in danger.”
The chief steadied himself, realizing persuasion was useless. “The bandits’ stronghold is deep in the northern mountain ridge. It’s about a full day’s journey from the village if you move quickly.”
Chen Mo nodded. “Good.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Listen carefully. If people from the martial hall come asking questions, you deny ever seeing me tonight. Not a word. The survival of the village depends on it.”
Chief Young’s lips trembled. “I understand. I swear it.”
That was enough.
Chen Mo released him and, in the next heartbeat, his figure blurred. By the time Chief Young lifted his head, the yard was empty, as if the encounter had never happened at all.
The old man stood there in the cold night air, fear lingering in his bones, fully aware that the boy he once knew had stepped onto a path far beyond the village, far beyond safety.
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Chen Mo moved like a ghost, his figure blurring as he merged with the natural flow of the world. What the village chief claimed would take a full day was reduced to mere hours beneath his feet. At the peak of the Skin Refining realm, distance yielded easily to him, just as Zhou’s body had weighed no more than a bundle of cloth in his grasp.
As the bandits’ stronghold drew nearer, Chen Mo slowed and surveyed the land. Charging in blindly was foolish. He needed eyes and ears before steel. After a short search, he found a small cave hidden among broken rocks and creeping vines, secluded enough to serve as temporary cover. From here, at the outskirts of the stronghold, he would wait and hunt.
Bandits would come and go. They always did.
He settled in, patient and still, intent on capturing one alive if possible. Information came before action. He had no intention of mingling with those bastards or pretending to be one of them. His purpose was simple and cold. Learn their true strength, judge the danger, and if the risk was acceptable, wipe them out to the last man.
The stronghold itself would be his reward.
If fortune smiled, there might be a cultivation manual hidden within, something that could change his path. He needed it. Soon, the Martial Hall would brand him a wanted criminal, and once that happened, the world would offer him no shelter and no mercy.
This was his only chance.
The next morning, after finishing her training and washing away the sweat, Li Yuxue followed her usual routine and headed toward the administrative area. Today was supposed to be no different. She would oversee the movement of goods and, as always, keep Chen Mo under her watchful eye.
Before she even reached the building, something felt off.
Several attendants were loitering near the entrance, whispering among themselves instead of preparing for the day’s work. Li Yuxue’s brows knitted together. Her voice rang out, cold and sharp.
“What are you doing here, slacking around?”
The attendants jolted as if struck by lightning. Panic flashed across their faces as they hurriedly bowed.
“Y-Young Miss, we are waiting for Lord Steward Chen.”
Li Yuxue’s heart sank slightly. Chen Mo was never late. Even if something delayed him, his assistant should have arrived long ago.
Her gaze hardened. “Where is the accountant Zhou?”
The attendants exchanged uneasy looks. One of them swallowed and answered hesitantly, “He… he hasn’t arrived either, Young Miss.”
That was when unease truly set in.
Without another word, Li Yuxue brushed past them and strode into the administrative building. Her steps were fast, controlled, but her thoughts raced. She went straight to Chen Mo’s office and pushed the door open.
Empty.
Her eyes flicked to the side room. She hesitated for the briefest moment before stepping inside.
Still empty.
No signs of struggle. No explanation. Just silence.
Li Yuxue spun around and hurried toward Zhang Qiang’s office. This time, she didn’t bother knocking. She pushed the door open and entered directly.
Zhang Qiang had been seated at his desk, reviewing documents. He sensed her presence and looked up, startled by her expression. The tension in her posture made him rise immediately.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Li Yuxue spoke quickly, her voice tight. “Chen Mo is gone. His office is empty. Zhou is missing as well. None of their attendants have seen them since last night.”
Zhang Qiang’s pupils shrank.
“What?” He straightened fully, disbelief flashing across his face. “That’s impossible.”
He turned sharply and barked toward the doorway, his voice carrying unmistakable authority. “Call the guards. All of them.”
A guard hurried in and dropped to one knee. “Yes, Lord Zhang!”
“Seal the facility,” Zhang Qiang continued coldly. “Search every building, every storehouse, every corner. Find Chen Mo.”
As the guard rushed out to relay the order, a heavy silence settled in the room.
Zhang Qiang clenched his fist slowly, a deep sense of unease crawling up his spine.
He had waited too long.
And now, the boy was gone.
Time trickled by, grain after grain, and with every passing moment the unease in Zhang Qiang’s chest grew heavier. His expression was solemn, rigid, as one possibility after another played out in his mind.
Had the Alchemy Department acted first?
Had they secretly moved the boy away, silencing him before Law Enforcement could make its move?
Before he could settle on an answer, hurried footsteps echoed outside the office.
A guard burst in, breathless. “My lord! We searched the entire facility. There is no trace of Chen Mo.”
Zhang Qiang’s jaw tightened. “Then send men to capture the accountant, Zhou. Bring him in immediately.”
The guard did not move.
Zhang Qiang’s eyes sharpened. “Anything else?”
The guard hesitated, then spoke carefully. “My lord… we found something. It’s better if you see it yourself.”
Zhang Qiang did not waste another breath. He strode out at once, Li Yuxue following close behind. The guard led them through the administrative corridors and toward the warehouse under Chen Mo’s jurisdiction.
As they stepped inside, Zhang Qiang’s heart sank.
Everything appeared orderly.
The crates were stacked neatly. The seals were intact. At first glance, nothing seemed amiss.
Only then did Zhang Qiang release a shallow breath. But the guard did not stop there. He continued walking, guiding them toward the rear of the warehouse, to a corner cluttered with discarded wood and broken tools.
He pushed aside the wreckage.
There, hidden behind the debris, yawned a dark opening in the wall.
A tunnel.
Li Yuxue’s expression changed instantly, her pupils contracting as she stared at the crude but deliberate passage.
Zhang Qiang froze for a heartbeat.
Then his face darkened, fury boiling over as he spat out a curse.
“Damn thief…”
The pieces fell into place with brutal clarity. The missing steward. The absent accountant. The spotless records. The silent warehouse.
Zhang Qiang straightened, his voice turning cold and sharp. “Report this immediately. Send word to the school.”
His gaze hardened. “Inform Elder Li Zhen personally.”
This was no longer a matter of suspicion.
It was betrayal.

