In the blink of an eye, that raucous and absurd "Civilization Construction Month" had become a thing of the past.
Deep autumn quietly descended upon Black Blood Stockade.
Inside the steward's compartment on the second floor of External Affairs Hall, the charcoal brazier burned vigorously, dispelling the chill seeping through the windows.
Lin Mu closed the doors and windows, skillfully activated the Soundproofing Gu, then retrieved the private ledger he kept close to his person.
His fingers traced lightly across the account book, finally resting on that string of heart-racing numbers.
One thousand two hundred Primeval Stones.
This was the net liquid capital remaining after deducting daily cultivation expenses, Gu feeding costs, and procurement payments to Lin Ping.
This sum included the generous red envelope Lin Ze had stuffed in for "expedited processing," the reward Lin Feng had bestowed for winning hearts, and the "tributes" sent by minor clan descendants hoping to gain visibility.
"Before, for just a few dozen Primeval Stones, I had to risk my life at Black Wind Ridge, wrestle wild boars in the mud, fight desperately against others in poisonous mist."
Lin Mu closed the ledger and tucked it back into its hidden compartment, the corner of his mouth curving into an arc both self-deprecating and satisfied.
"Now, I only need to sit here drinking tea and moving a brush, and wealth pours in daily."
"This is the power of platform. This is the taste of authority."
But he didn't let it go to his head.
He understood clearly that this money was "passing wealth"—a bubble generated by the special circumstances of the Grand Competition period. Once the competition ended, these good times would be over.
So he didn't squander it. Instead, he stored all these Primeval Stones away as strategic reserves for his future path to Rank 2.
Moreover, during this time, he hadn't completely halted his cultivation.
After several months, Lin Mu had fully stabilized his Rank 1 Upper Stage cultivation and was gradually mounting an assault toward Rank 1 Peak.
"Money only becomes real when you spend it on yourself and transform it into cultivation."
Having sorted out his thoughts, Lin Mu pushed open the door and stepped out.
Today was the day the Character Assessment Rankings on the clan plaza would be updated again.
After two months of fermentation, this contest for the True Inheritance position had entered a white-hot phase.
The plaza was still packed with people, but the initial clamor had faded, replaced by a somber gravity.
Lin Mu stood at the back of the crowd, raising his head to gaze at the Red Placard floating in midair.
First Place: Lin Feng.
This was beyond doubt. As the Patriarch's nephew, wielding both the political achievement of "caravan diplomacy" and military merit from the Blood Forest Campaign, his score stood like a mountain pressing down on everyone else—unshakeable.
Lin Mu's gaze shifted downward to second place.
He had originally assumed that position would be occupied by the deep-pocketed Lin Ze, or by Lin Yan, who possessed profound foundations.
But reality delivered a resounding slap.
Second Place: Lin Xue.
"It's actually her?"
Lin Mu narrowed his eyes slightly.
He had little impression of this young lady from the Medicine Hall, remembering only that she was an expert in poisons.
By all logic, she had neither sought backdoor mission assignments from External Affairs Hall nor thrown money around to boost her score like Lin Ze.
How had she surged to second place?
Carrying his doubts, Lin Mu used his Steward privileges to quietly access the Medicine Hall's mission records from the past two months.
One look, and he couldn't help but draw a sharp breath.
"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."
The records showed that over these two months, Lin Xue had taken almost no high-difficulty hunting missions.
She had done only one thing—"aftermath care."
Remember that disaster Lin Yan suffered in West Mountain Swamp? Punishment Hall disciples had returned wounded to a man, fire toxins invading their bodies, complaints filling the air.
Just when Punishment Hall's morale had hit rock bottom, Lin Xue arrived with her Medicine Hall people.
She didn't kick them while they were down. Instead, flying the banner of "mutual aid among sect-mates," she led Medicine Hall disciples in half a month of "free medical consultations."
Not only did she cure the Punishment Hall disciples' injuries, but she also took the opportunity to conduct stockade-wide educational sessions on "Toxic Insect Prevention" and "Simple Self-Rescue Guidelines."
This move was nothing short of divine inspiration.
She not only won over Punishment Hall's hearts, making those brutes who only respected fists feel grateful to her; she also established herself among the lower-ranking disciples as a living bodhisattva image of "benevolence" and "superb medical skills."
In the "Clan Prestige" column of the rankings, her score was perfect, followed by hundreds of co-signed endorsements from ordinary clan members.
"Rising to power by stepping on Lin Yan's failure. Using minimal cost to harvest the hearts of the entire clan."
Lin Mu gazed at that name, his expression growing unprecedentedly grave.
"Compared to those two brutes who only know how to throw money and hack at people, this woman is the true political rival who actually understands the game."
By comparison, the names that followed seemed rather awkward.
Third Place: Lin Ze.
His score, bought with money, was stable but lacked highlights. He was privately mocked as the "Young Master of Copper Stench."
Fourth Place: Lin Yan.
This fierce warrior of Punishment Hall was now frustratingly hanging at the tail end of the seeded candidates.
Though he had frantically taken hunting missions over the past two months to salvage his reputation—even taking injuries to solo-challenge peak Rank 1 demon beasts—the point deduction from that West Mountain Swamp blunder had been too severe.
Even worse, because Punishment Hall owed Lin Xue a debt of gratitude, he was forced to yield ground to Medicine Hall on many occasions.
Constrained at every turn, he had rage he couldn't release.
"It seems Senior Brother Lin Yan has had quite a frustrating two months."
Lin Mu shook his head inwardly. In this results-oriented clan, recklessness was the greatest sin.
His gaze continued downward, preparing to see the names of those running alongside without hope.
However, in the fifth position, a completely unfamiliar name pierced his vision like a thorn.
Fifth Place: Lin Wuxie.
"Lin Wuxie? Who is this?"
Lin Mu searched his memory but found no impression of this person whatsoever. He hadn't attached himself to any powerful elder, kept an unremarkable profile, and had never even come to External Affairs Hall to pull strings.
Yet his score clung tightly behind the four seeded candidates, separated from Lin Yan by merely a hair's breadth.
Out of curiosity, Lin Mu opened this person's mission dossier.
One look, and even with his composure, he couldn't help but feel his scalp tingle.
All "hunting" and "gathering."
Not the high-difficulty solo challenges, but extremely tedious, cumbersome, repetitive tasks requiring tremendous stamina.
"Hunt twenty Ironhide Boars."
"Gather two hundred stalks of Cliff Grass."
"Clear ten miles of mine tunnels."
Dense mission records filled nearly every day's schedule.
Most terrifying of all, his completion rate was one hundred percent. And based on delivery times, his completion speed was over three times that of an ordinary person!
This meant this person needed no rest, no socializing, perhaps not even thinking.
Like a tireless killing machine, through an almost self-torturing method, he had forcibly stacked quantity alone to drag his score to this position.
"Lin Wuxie..."
Lin Mu chewed on that name.
In this dog-eat-dog, profit-above-all Black Blood Stockade, taking a name meaning "without evil" was itself a profound irony.
"No background, no resources. Fighting with nothing but his life."
Lin Mu closed the dossier, his gaze drifting toward the overcast sky outside the window.
"It seems the dark horse of this Grand Competition has already emerged."
"These waters are murkier than I imagined."