With negotiations concluded, the suffocating pressure within the White Bone Hall finally dissipated.
There were no cheers from the victors, no curses from the vanquished—only the cold echo of heavy iron-soled war boots striking bone-tiled floors, accompanied by the distinctive metallic scrape of armor plates grinding against one another.
Lin Cang's expression remained impassive. With a sweep of his sleeve, he turned and departed, leading the Black Blood Stronghold elites away.
From start to finish, he never once glanced back at Li Mang.
This disregard was the supreme arrogance of a victor, the unquestionable confidence of a Rank 4 powerhouse. In his eyes, this had been nothing more than a strong man's collection of dues. The weak were fit only to lick their wounds in the shadows.
Deep within the hall's darkness, Li Mang's withered fingers gripped the armrests of his bone throne, his gaze following the departing column with cold intensity.
Though the White Bone Stronghold elders surrounding him wore expressions of barely contained fury, their eyes practically spitting fire, none dared make a sound beneath their Patriarch's deathly silence.
This round, Black Blood Stronghold had won both face and substance. White Bone Stronghold had won time. As for who would prove the ultimate victor—only time could answer that.
Lin Mu, blending into the rear of the column, keenly sensed that taut string in the air finally, completely snap loose.
"It's over."
He quietly released his grip on his blade handle, his palm slick with sweat.
Though neither side had actually drawn weapons, that silent half-hour confrontation—the psychological pressure of being ready to fight for his life at any moment under that terrifying aura—had been more exhausting than an actual battle in Black Wind Ridge.
Leaving White Bone Mountain's territory, the column entered the buffer zone between the two strongholds.
The mist here was considerably thinner. Long-absent sunlight filtered through the clouds.
Lin Cang rode atop an enormous black-armored rhinoceros, his expression placid, as though he hadn't just intimidated a powerful enemy in their own lair but had merely collected an old debt from some countryside debtor.
Beside him, Elder Kuangxu toyed with several bone tablets freshly acquired from White Bone Stronghold—the so-called "defensive formation diagrams" that Li Mang had surrendered.
"Heh."
After a few cursory glances, the elder let out a contemptuous snort.
"Patriarch, that old ghost Li Mang grows stingier with age. These things he handed over? Just a few scattered 'Earth-Listening Gu' and a pile of worthless stones cobbled together into a warning array."
"It doesn't even qualify as a complete Rank 3 defensive formation. Offering this as compensation is practically an insult—like tossing scraps to a beggar."
"As expected."
Lin Cang waved dismissively, not even bothering to lift his eyelids. His tone carried the seasoned shrewdness of one who saw through everything.
"If he'd actually handed over the genuine Mountain-Guarding Formation diagrams—his true foundation—I'd suspect treachery. Perhaps a trap to lure me deeper."
"These scraps are merely a gesture, a way of giving me a step down while signaling his submission."
"This is enough." Lin Cang gazed toward the distant silhouette of Black Blood Stronghold.
"At minimum, this warning will keep White Bone Stronghold quiet for the next decade. Regional struggles are won through steady persistence."
"Though I've broken through to Rank 4, I'm not yet capable of ignoring a Mountain-Guarding Formation and crushing them outright. If we actually destroyed White Bone Stronghold, we'd cripple ourselves in the process—and that would only benefit outsiders."
These words drew approving nods from the elders nearby.
In Lin Cang's eyes, White Bone Stronghold was a bone already squeezed dry of marrow—temporarily not worth further effort.
Night deepened. The march slowed.
Lin Cang appeared to be in good spirits. He dismissed his attendants, keeping only Lin Feng riding alongside him.
"Feng'er."
Lin Cang regarded his spirited nephew, his steel-hard gaze softening slightly.
"Today, you did your father proud. When Li Huang tried to scheme against you, you turned the tables and killed your way out. When the two strongholds faced off, you kept your composure. That ruthless edge of yours—it's just like your father in his youth."
At the mention of his father—Supreme Elder Lin Zhen—Lin Feng hastily bowed from horseback.
"Uncle flatters me. I merely did my duty. I wouldn't dare bring shame to the family."
"Your father and I share a bond forged in blood. We carried each other out of piles of corpses—true brothers."
Lin Cang's voice carried a note of wistfulness. "Now I have no sons of my own. The future of our Lin family's direct line ultimately rests with you younger generation."
Warmth surged in Lin Feng's heart. He was about to respond when Lin Cang's tone abruptly shifted, turning grave.
"With external threats settled, it's time to address internal matters."
Lin Cang lowered his voice until only the two of them could hear.
"Feng'er, the 'Elder's True Inheritance' selection is in six months. How are your preparations?"
Lin Feng's eyes sharpened. He immediately suppressed his smile. "Your nephew hasn't slackened for a moment."
"Don't assume you've got it secured."
Lin Cang's tone carried a warning edge.
"That Lin Yan from the Storehouse lineage—I hear his cultivation has progressed well lately. Apparently he's gotten his hands on a rare Rank 2 Fire Path Gu."
"And then there's Lin Xue from the Medicine Hall. Though she's a woman, her talent is no less than yours, and she's won over quite a few supporters. Both of them have their eyes fixed on that 'True Inheritance' position."
Here, Lin Cang's voice dropped further, yet it struck Lin Feng's ears like thunder.
"This competition is no trivial matter."
"The champion won't just be established in the succession sequence—they'll receive priority access to the clan's core resources and become a future Elder candidate with genuine prospects of reaching Rank 3!"
"Though I'm Patriarch now, having achieved Rank 4, this clan is hardly a unified block. Logistics, the Punishment Hall, the Medicine Hall... the various factions are a tangled web. Plenty of people are watching my seat, waiting for me to make a mistake."
"Feng'er, if you can grow strong enough, I'll have someone I can rely on. Your father can rest easy too."
This was a hint about the succession of core family power—and the most direct enticement of benefits.
Lin Feng drew a deep breath. Unprecedented ambition and fighting spirit ignited in his eyes. He cupped his fists and spoke with solemn determination.
"Uncle, rest assured! Your nephew will spare no effort. I won't let those two so much as touch the True Inheritance position!"
Their conversation was utterly private, scattered by the night wind into the thunder of hoofbeats.
But Lin Mu, walking at the rear of the column, managed to catch fragments carried by occasional gusts.
Elder's True Inheritance... Lin Yan... Lin Xue... successor...
Lin Mu kept his head lowered, moving silently with the column, while his mind raced with calculations.
He felt keenly the gulf called "class."
This struggle for core power—he had no standing to participate, barely even qualifying as a pawn.
The resources available to "True Inheritance disciples" were tempting, but they came with rigorous background investigations. Three generations of ancestors, loyalty assessments, every aspect of one's past—all would be scrutinized.
He carried too many secrets. Whether his transmigrator identity or those Gu of questionable origin—the moment he was placed under a spotlight, death would be the only outcome.
"Besides, being valued means becoming completely subordinate to a system. Spending a lifetime as someone's dog. The price is freedom."
This was something Lin Mu absolutely could not accept.
"Right now, I'm still too weak. Lin Feng can rely on his uncle, his father, resources piled up by the family. I can only rely on myself—and the memories in my head."
Black Blood Stronghold's silhouette gradually sharpened against the night, its lights blazing like the eyes of some great beast.
The column arrived. Dismissed.
Lin Cang led the elders straight to the council hall to handle distribution of the "extorted" goods—that was where the real gains lay.
The accompanying elites dispersed to their own destinations.
Lin Mu collected his bonus for this mission—fifty Primeval Stones. Combined with his previous savings, his assets had grown considerably.
He exchanged no greetings with anyone. He didn't join any celebrations. He simply melted into the crowd heading home, like a drop of water rejoining the ocean, and returned to that damp, shadowed stone chamber in the Silent Stone District.
He closed the door. Lit the oil lamp.
Gazing at the cold Primeval Stones in his hand, Lin Mu's eyes were calm as still water.
"No matter how fierce the storms outside, they can't reach a nobody like me. Not yet."
"Lie low. Develop."
"Going forward, aside from exploring the Crimson Mist, my only task is cultivation. Only by pushing with everything I have toward Rank 2—only by gaining sufficient strength—will I earn the right to leap off this game board and venture into the wider world beyond."
The lamplight flickered, casting shadows across the gaunt yet resolute profile of the young man.