The Crimson Bastion delegation departed Redstone City before the auction hall's lights had fully dimmed.
They traveled in a tight formation, six cultivators in white robes moving through the night with the confidence of men who believed themselves untouchable. Their leader, the young delegate who had won the tea set, rode at the center of the group, his core formation Stage 7 cultivation radiating the quiet authority of someone who had never faced a real threat. The others ranged from early-stage to mid-stage core formation, respectable by any frontier standard. His prize was secured in a silk-wrapped box at his hip.
"Did you see his face?" The delegate laughed, his voice carrying across the empty road. "That merchant. When I told him I'd take the set one way or another. I thought he might actually cry."
His companions offered polite chuckles. They'd been offering polite chuckles all evening.
"Fifty-five stones," the delegate continued, patting the box. "Worth every one, just to put that frontier trash in his place. These border cities forget themselves. Forget they're nothing but outposts clinging to the edge of wilderness. One bad tide and they'd be rubble."
The night swallowed his words. The road stretched ahead, pale under starlight, winding south toward Jade Spring City.
None of them noticed the figure high above, a grey speck against the stars. Shen Wuyan walked through the night sky with his hands clasped behind his back, each casual step carrying him kilometers through the air. To him, following these cultivators was like watching ants crawl across a garden path. Core formation, foundation establishment, it made no difference. They were all insects from where he stood. He could have overtaken them a thousand times over. Instead, he matched their pace with the patience of a man who had eternity to spare.
He had watched this land for two thousand years. From up here, the road was a pale thread winding through darkness, the cities dim clusters of light, the forests vast shadows where countless things had vanished without trace.
The night was pleasant. Cool air, clear skies, the distant calls of nocturnal beasts in the forests to either side of the road. Shen Wuyan appreciated nights like this. They reminded him of simpler times, before he'd learned what the world truly was.
The delegation reached Jade Spring City just before midnight. They swept through the gates with the arrogance of men returning to civilization after slumming in the provinces, barely acknowledging the guards who bowed at their passage.
Shen Wuyan stopped high above the city, watching its lights flicker like dying embers far below.
He could end this now. Step through the space between moments, appear in their rooms, leave six cooling corpses for the servants to find in the morning. It would be easy. It would be satisfying.
But it would also be sloppy.
Shen Wuyan had not survived twenty-eight centuries by being sloppy.
A ripple of spiritual sense expanded outward from where he stood, washing across the civilized lands below. He kept the scan shallow, careful. Extending spiritual sense into the Dragon Spine Mountains or the deep Blackwood Forest was suicide, even for someone at his level. The things that slumbered in those ancient places did not appreciate being observed, and some of them were old enough to make even Shen Wuyan cautious.
But the settled lands between cities? Those he could read like an open book.
And there, perhaps sixty kilometers south, halfway between Jade Spring and the domain capital... corrupted qi. Demonic cultivators. A stronger group than the ones reportedly hiding near Dragon Spine. He counted seven signatures, ranging from late-stage core formation to mid-stage mortal shedding. Competent operatives, hiding well enough to avoid local patrols.
Not well enough to avoid him.
An idea formed.
He turned away from the city and walked through the southern sky. He had preparations to make.
The demonic cultivators had made camp in a wooded valley sixty kilometers south of Jade Spring, positioned along a route that would let them strike at trade caravans heading to the domain capital.
There were seven of them, huddled around a formation that suppressed their corrupted qi signatures. Clever work, actually. The formation would fool most detection methods, hide them from patrols, allow them to move through the region unnoticed.
It did nothing against someone who could see the flow of energy itself.
Shen Wuyan observed them from the sky above, cataloging their cultivation levels with the idle interest of a scholar examining insects. Late-stage core formation at the weakest, stages 7 through 9. The stronger ones had broken through to mortal shedding. Two at Stage 2. One at Stage 4. Their leader, a scarred woman with corruption visibly threading through her meridians, had pushed herself to mortal shedding Stage 5 through methods that would kill her within a decade.
They were Frozen Moon operatives. He could tell by their techniques, their equipment, the specific pattern of corruption in their qi. Infiltrators, probably. Sent to cause chaos during the beast tide that everyone with eyes could see building in the north.
Shen Wuyan felt nothing in particular about the Frozen Moon Empire or their war with the Blazing Sun Empire. He had watched empires rise and fall. Had seen sects that considered themselves eternal crumble to dust. The politics of nations held no interest for him.
But these cultivators were useful.
He descended from the sky.
The Mortal Shedding Stage 5 leader sensed him first. Her head snapped up, eyes widening, hands already forming seals for a defensive technique.
She was fast. For her level.
Shen Wuyan was faster.
He didn't bother with techniques. Didn't waste energy on displays of power. He simply moved, and where he moved, demonic cultivators died.
The leader's defensive formation shattered like spun glass. His palm found her chest, and the corrupted qi she had spent her entire life cultivating dispersed in a single breath. She collapsed without a sound.
The two Mortal Shedding Stage 2 cultivators tried to flee. They made it three steps before Shen Wuyan appeared between them, hands closing around their throats. A twist. A crack. Two more bodies.
The others didn't even have time to scream.
Twelve seconds. Seven cultivators. Six corpses.
The seventh, the weakest of the group at core formation Stage 9, knelt in the dirt where he'd been sitting moments before. He hadn't moved. Hadn't tried to fight or flee. He simply knelt there, trembling, as the man in grey robes walked toward him through the carnage.
"P-please..." The demonic cultivator's voice cracked. "Please, Senior, I'll do anything, I'll..."
Shen Wuyan stopped in front of him. Looked down with those calm, empty eyes.
"Yes," he said. "You will."
He reached down and lifted the core formation cultivator by the collar, like a farmer lifting a sack of grain. The man weighed nothing to him. Less than nothing.
"There is a group of Crimson Bastion delegates resting in Jade Spring City tonight. Tomorrow morning, they will depart for the capital." Shen Wuyan's voice was pleasant, conversational.
The demonic cultivator's eyes went wide. "I... Senior, they're core formation, I can handle them, but if Crimson Bastion investigates..."
"That is not your concern."
"But..."
Shen Wuyan's grip tightened. Not enough to injure. Just enough to remind the man exactly how fragile he was.
"You will do this," Shen Wuyan said, "or I will make your death last longer than your life has. Do you understand?"
The demonic cultivator understood. The terror in his eyes said he understood completely.
"Good." Shen Wuyan released him, and the man crumpled to the ground. "When it is done, you will return to me. You will find me in Redstone City. The Quiet Cup. Do not make me wait."
He turned to leave, then paused. A small gesture with one hand, almost casual, like brushing away a speck of dust.
White flames erupted across the campsite. Silent. Hungry. The six corpses, the formation array, the supplies, the very earth where they had stood, all of it consumed in an instant. The fire burned so hot it left no smoke, no ash, no trace. Within seconds, the wooded valley looked as though no one had set foot there in years.
The demonic cultivator watched his former companions vanish, his face grey with terror.
Without a word, Shen Wuyan rose into the air. He didn't jump, didn't push off from the ground. He simply floated upward, as naturally as smoke rising from a fire, until he stood among the stars.
Then he began to walk.
Each step carried him kilometers through the night sky. One moment he was there, a grey silhouette against the heavens. The next he was a distant speck. The next he was gone entirely, swallowed by the darkness between here and Redstone City.
The demonic cultivator knelt alone in the empty valley, surrounded by nothing but bare earth and the memory of white flames.
Three days after the auction, Wang Ben sat across from his father in the small alchemy workshop behind their home.
The wooden box of Coldvein Lotus rested on the table between them, its lid open to reveal the pale blue flowers within. Even in the morning light filtering through the workshop's single window, frost seemed to cling to their petals, defying the warmth of the room.
"The technique requires seven supplementary herbs," Wang Tian said, consulting a list he'd compiled from Wang Ben's "research." His voice held a careful neutrality, neither believing nor disbelieving. "Five to moderate the cold, one to facilitate meridian penetration, and one to stabilize the spiritual energy flow during the... tremors."
He said the last word like it tasted sour.
"The proportions are specific," Wang Ben replied. "Too much moderating herb and the cold won't penetrate deeply enough. Too little and..."
"And the patient freezes from the inside out. Yes, I understood that part." Wang Tian set down the list and rubbed his eyes. "This is not a technique any sane alchemist would attempt, Ben. You understand that? The margin for error is essentially nonexistent."
"I know."
"And yet you're certain it will work."
Wang Ben met his father's gaze. "I'm certain the theory is sound. Whether it works depends on execution. Your execution."
Wang Tian was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked back at the list.
"Silverleaf is on here. Grade 9, but high quality would be preferable. It's a common stabilizer, but the quantity required..." He trailed off, calculating costs.
"I have Silverleaf."
Wang Tian looked up. "You have..."
"I bought a batch several days ago. Before the auction." Wang Ben kept his voice casual. "Old Chen had undervalued it significantly. I thought it might be useful for something."
His father stared at him. The silence stretched.
"Several days ago," Wang Tian repeated slowly. "Before you knew we would acquire the Coldvein Lotus. Before you knew about this technique. You bought Silverleaf because you thought it might be useful for something."
"Yes."
"Ben'er." Wang Tian's voice was quiet now, careful. "How much of what's happening do you actually understand? How much are you planning ahead that you haven't told me?"
More than you can imagine. Less than I'd like.
"I prepare for possibilities," Wang Ben said. "The Silverleaf was cheap. Even if it proved useless, we would have lost nothing. But if it proved useful..." He gestured at the list. "Then we're ahead."
Wang Tian studied his son for a long moment. Whatever he saw in Wang Ben's face, it didn't provide answers he was looking for.
"Fine," he said finally. "Keep your secrets. For now. But I want to see the research before we proceed. The actual texts you found. I want to understand why this technique works, not just how to perform it."
"I'll get them for you today."
"See that you do." Wang Tian stood, tucking the list into his robes. "In the meantime, we still need Dragon's Tear Moss, Calm Heart Flower, and Spirit Settling Root. The alchemy guild should have all three in stock."
"I'll stay and prepare the research documents. You wanted to see the texts I found."
Wang Tian paused at the door. "You're not coming?"
"The transcription will take time. And you know the guild better than I do." Wang Ben met his father's eyes. "I'll have everything ready by the time you return."
Something in Wang Tian's expression shifted—not quite suspicion, not quite acceptance. Somewhere in between.
"Fine. But I want to see those documents today, Ben'er. No more delays."
"You will."
Wang Tian nodded once and left. Wang Ben listened to his footsteps fade down the corridor, then turned back to the empty workshop.
He had work to do.
Wang Ben sat alone in the workshop with a blank scroll, a brush, and the weight of deception pressing down on his shoulders.
His father wanted research. Notes. References. Evidence that the Coldvein Lotus technique came from a legitimate source, that the meridian tremors were therapeutic rather than destructive, that this desperate gamble had some foundation in established knowledge.
Wang Ben had none of those things. He had System data extrapolated from a dead universe's alchemical traditions, cross-referenced against local herb properties, filtered through pattern-matching algorithms that were themselves operating at one percent efficiency.
He had truth dressed in clothes no one here would recognize.
So he would have to lie. Convincingly. To an experienced alchemist who had spent decades studying these exact principles.
System. I need help constructing a plausible research document.
[QUERY ACKNOWLEDGED]
[ANALYZING HOST REQUIREMENTS...]
[PARAMETERS:] [- Document must appear to originate from external scholarly source] [- Content must explain therapeutic mechanism of "meridian tremors"] [- Technical language must be consistent with Azure Sky World alchemical traditions] [- Conclusions must be verifiable through practical application]
[CONSTRUCTING FRAMEWORK...]
Wang Ben waited, brush poised over the blank scroll.
[RECOMMENDATION: Attribute research to traveling scholar from distant region. Specific origin should be vague enough to prevent verification. Suggest "Eastern Provinces" or "Southern Coastal Academies" as plausible sources.]
[TECHNICAL EXPLANATION FRAMEWORK:]
[The "meridian tremors" observed during Coldvein Lotus application represent a controlled vibrational cascade through damaged meridian pathways. This phenomenon serves three therapeutic purposes:]
[1. SCAR TISSUE DISSOLUTION - The tremors generate micro-fractures in calcified spiritual blockages, similar to how physical therapy breaks down muscle adhesions.]
[2. MERIDIAN CHANNEL CLEARING - Vibrational energy dislodges accumulated impurities that have settled in damaged sections, allowing them to be flushed through natural spiritual circulation.]
[3. PATHWAY RECONSTRUCTION - The cold yin energy of the lotus, moderated by supplementary herbs, fills the cleared channels and provides a template for new meridian growth.]
[LOCAL MISUNDERSTANDING: Azure Sky alchemists interpret the tremors as dangerous because they observe them in isolation. Without proper supplementary herbs to moderate the cold and stabilize the energy flow, the tremors cause damage rather than healing. The technique requires the COMPLETE protocol, not just the lotus.]
Wang Ben began to write.
The brush moved across the scroll in steady strokes, laying down characters that blended System knowledge with local terminology. He wrote as though transcribing from memory, as though he had spent hours in the library studying a text that didn't exist.
The explanation was sound. That was the maddening part. Everything the System had told him was true. The mechanism was real, the therapeutic value was real, the local misunderstanding was real.
But he couldn't explain how he knew. Couldn't point to a source his father could verify. Couldn't do anything except create a convincing fabrication and hope it held up under scrutiny.
This is what my life is now. Truth wrapped in lies, because the truth alone would be incomprehensible.
He wrote until the light through the window began to fade, filling the scroll with careful explanations, precise measurements, detailed warnings about the consequences of improper application. By the time he set down the brush, his hand ached and the scroll contained everything his father would need to understand the technique.
Whether it would be enough to convince him was another question.
The workshop door opened. Wang Tian entered carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle, his expression troubled.
"The guild had everything we needed." He set the materials on the table. "Five mid-grade spirit stones. More than I'd hoped, but necessary."
"Thank you, Father."
Wang Tian didn't respond immediately. He stood there, one hand still resting on the bundle, staring at nothing.
"Father?"
"There was news at the guild." Wang Tian's voice was distant. "The Crimson Bastion delegation. The ones from the auction."
Wang Ben's brush hand went still. "What about them?"
"Dead. All of them. Killed on the road between Jade Spring and the capital." Wang Tian finally looked at his son. "Demonic cultivators, they're saying. The corruption was unmistakable. One of the guild members was saying his friend at the Jade Spring way station saw the bodies."
Wang Ben felt cold spread through his chest.
Crimson Bastion delegates. Dead on the road.
The delegates from the auction. The ones who had mocked Shen Wuyan, threatened him over a tea set, laughed at his concession.
"I am going to take this item. One way or another."
Wang Ben remembered the gleam in Shen Wuyan's eyes. That single moment of murderous intent before it vanished behind a mask of pleasant compliance.
"I concede. The gentleman from Crimson Bastion clearly wants it more than I do."
The tea house owner hadn't conceded anything. He had simply been patient.
"Ben'er?" His father's voice cut through the cold. "You've gone pale."
"I'm fine." The word came out steadier than Wang Ben expected. "Just... it's unsettling. We saw them at the auction. They were alive three days ago."
"Core formation cultivators, all of them. And demonic sects cut them down like nothing." Wang Tian shook his head. "The world is more dangerous than people want to believe. Even here, even in civilized lands."
You have no idea, Wang Ben thought. You have no idea what walks among us.
"The technique," Wang Ben said, forcing his mind back to what he could control. "I finished the documentation. It's ready for you to review."
Wang Tian glanced at the scroll on the table, still drying in the fading light. Whatever troubled thoughts the news had stirred, they faded behind the more immediate concern.
"Good. Let's go over it together. I want to understand every step."
Wang Ben nodded, grateful for the distraction.
He did not mention Shen Wuyan. Did not mention the auction, the tea set, the threat that had been laughed off by men who didn't know they were already dead.
What would be the point? Who would believe him?
And even if they did, what could anyone in Redstone City possibly do about it?
Wang Tian read the scroll in silence, his expression giving nothing away. He read it again. Then a third time, more slowly, occasionally pausing to trace specific passages with his finger.
"This is remarkably detailed," he said finally. "For something you found in a library."
"The scholar who wrote it was thorough."
"Apparently." Wang Tian set the scroll down but kept one hand on it, as though reluctant to let it go. "The mechanism described here... it makes sense. I've seen similar principles applied in other contexts. Controlled stress to promote healing. It's not common, but it's not unheard of either."
Wang Ben said nothing. Let his father work through it at his own pace.
"The warnings are specific. Almost too specific. As though the author had seen failed attempts firsthand." Wang Tian looked up. "Where exactly did you find this? Which section of the library?"
"The old archives. The section nobody visits because the scrolls are falling apart."
"And this particular scroll just happened to be about Coldvein Lotus? An herb nobody uses because everyone believes it's dangerous?"
"It caught my attention because of the controversy. I was curious why the lotus had such a bad reputation." Wang Ben met his father's eyes steadily. "I didn't know it would be relevant. Not until the auction."
The lie came easily. Too easily, perhaps.
Wang Tian held his gaze for a long moment. Then he sighed and looked back at the scroll.
"Either you have the most extraordinary luck I've ever encountered, or you're not telling me something important." He held up a hand before Wang Ben could respond. "I'm not accusing you of anything. Whatever secrets you're keeping, I trust you have reasons. You've earned that much."
"Father..."
"But when this is over, when my meridians are healed or ruined or whatever fate awaits, we are going to have a conversation. A real one. About where this knowledge comes from. About what happened to you in the forest that day. About the son who came back different from the one who left."
Wang Ben's throat tightened. "I know."
"Good." Wang Tian rolled up the scroll with careful movements. "Now. According to this, we need three more days to prepare the supplementary herbs properly. The Dragon's Tear Moss needs to be dried at a specific temperature. The Spirit Settling Root requires purification."
"And the lotus?"
"The lotus is ready. It's been dormant in cold storage, which is actually ideal." A ghost of a smile crossed Wang Tian's face. "Perhaps your luck extends to the auction house's preservation methods as well."
Wang Ben managed a small smile in return. "Perhaps."
"Three days," Wang Tian repeated. "Then we attempt the technique. Assuming nothing goes wrong between now and then."
Nothing except a beast tide building in the north, a clan elder plotting murder, and a ancient monster who's decided to take an interest in my life.
"Nothing will go wrong," Wang Ben said.
Another lie. But what else could he say?
Three days later, the morning sun climbed over Redstone City, indifferent to the plans and fears of the people below. Merchants opened their shops. Guards changed shifts. Life continued in its ordinary rhythms, unaware of the extraordinary forces moving beneath the surface.
In a modest tea house near the market district, Shen Wuyan served his first customers of the day with his usual pleasant smile. His new attendant moved silently in the background, preparing cups and heating water with the mechanical efficiency of someone who had been thoroughly broken.
The attendant did not speak unless spoken to. Did not meet anyone's eyes. Did not do anything except serve and tremble.
No one in Redstone City knew what he had done on the road outside Jade Spring. No one knew about the screaming, the begging, the six white-robed bodies left scattered across the stones.
The attendant knew. He would never forget.
But he would never speak of it either. Some horrors went beyond words.
Shen Wuyan smiled at a customer and poured tea with steady hands.
Life in Redstone City continued.
END OF CHAPTER 14