"Come to me… Fen Mo…"
Lin's voice was barely above a whisper, lost amid the constant noiss of Skyvault City. The words were not spoken to the air, nor to any living being nearby. They were directed inward... along a thread so deeply buried in his existence that only he could feel it respond.
The crowd continued to move around him, oblivious.
Then, quietly, impossibly, a man in white stepped out from between two ascending stone terraces.
He walked with unhurried confidence. His hands were clasped behind his back, his robes pristine despite the dust and bustle of the city. A neatly kept moustache framed his lips, and a short beard traced his jaw, lending him an air of maturity Lin himself did not currently wear.
At first glance, he was merely another refined cultivator.
At second glance—
He was Lin.
Older, perhaps. Sharper around the eyes. The arrogance was muted, tempered into something calmer, more calculating but the resemblance was undeniable.
They locked eyes.
No words were exchanged.
They moved simultaneously, drifting toward a narrow side passage between buildings where the noise of the city dulled into a distant echo. Stone walls closed in around them, carved with ancient reliefs worn smooth by centuries of hands and weather.
The man in white stopped.
Lin stopped before him.
For a heartbeat, they regarded each other like strangers.
Then the man smiled faintly.
"Still alive," he said. "Figures."
Lin snorted. "You took your time."
The man chuckled softly, then stepped forward.
His body blurred.
There was no explosion of qi. No violent collision. No spectacle.
Fen Mo simply phased forward and his form dissolved into streams of light and shadow that flowed seamlessly into Lin's chest.
Lin stiffened as the world flooded.
Decades of memories crashed into him all at once.
Streets, names, faces, secrets, whispered conversations overheard in teahouses and imperial halls. Power structures mapped and remapped. Family trees. Merchant alliances. Underground sect dealings. Noble rivalries. Royal bloodlines.
Skyvault City unfolded inside his mind... not as a place he had visited, but as one he had lived in.
Lin exhaled slowly with his fingers curling as he absorbed the last fragments of Fen Mo's existence.
"…You really settled down," he murmured.
Fen Mo had lived here for nearly seventy years.
Not as a wanderer.
Not as an invader.
But as a resident.
He had taken work. Built connections. Gained influence. He had even loved—quietly, briefly and carefully. He had cultivated within limits, never drawing attention, always moving just enough to remain useful but never threatening.
And most importantly—
He had vanished from Lin's awareness.
That had been intentional.
Unlike most of Lin's clones who were directly linked, acting as extensions of his will, Fen Mo had been cut loose. The connection severed so thoroughly that even Lin could not feel him unless he deliberately reached out.
It was dangerous and risky but necessary.
The Emperor's reign stretched across an entire continent, a net of authority woven through cultivation marks, imperial formations, and soul-recognition arrays that spanned cities and sects alike. Lin could avoid detection most of the time, but certain places—
Certain places resisted him.
Skyvault City was one of them.
Not because of its walls or guards.
But because of its blood.
Royal blood.
Ancient pacts layered into the city itself. Lineage-based formations keyed to bloodlines older than recorded history. Even Lin's power could not brute-force entry without triggering alarms he did not yet wish to test.
So Fen Mo had gone instead.
A clone without a tether.
A man with his own name.
His own life.
His own risks.
Lin opened his eyes fully, now standing alone in the narrow passage.
He smiled.
"So," he muttered, "what did you find?"
The answer came immediately.
One name surfaced above all others.
Wen Xu.
Lin's expression shifted.
Wen Xu.
An old cultivator who was ancient, even by Skyvault City's standards. His cultivation realm was unknown, deliberately obscured, his history fragmented by conflicting records and deliberate erasures.
What was known was far more troubling.
Wen Xu was royalty.
Not a prince.
Not a duke.
But a remnant.
A bloodline bearer from the Old Imperial Line, predating the current Emperor's reign.
A man who had once stood close enough to the throne to be erased from history when power shifted hands.
Fen Mo's memories painted a careful picture.
Wen Xu had not appeared in public for over a century.
No sightings.
No decrees.
No disciples openly claiming lineage.
And yet—
Influence traced back to him like veins beneath skin.
Rare scriptures resurfacing mysteriously.
Forbidden knowledge circulating among elite circles.
Cultivators vanishing after claiming to have "met an old man."
Every rumor about the Immortality Scripture—every credible whisper—eventually bent toward one quiet conclusion:
If anyone in Skyvault City knew the truth…
It was Wen Xu.
Lin leaned against the stone wall, tilting his head back as clouds drifted far above, barely visible between towering structures.
"…Royalty," he murmured. "Of course."
That complicated things.
Royal blood meant protections layered so deeply that even the Emperor treated them carefully. Killing Wen Xu outright—if that was even possible—would send ripples Lin was not yet prepared to deal with.
More importantly…
A man like Wen Xu did not survive this long without reason.
Fen Mo's memories confirmed it.
Wen Xu had outlived emperors.
Outlived sects.
Outlived eras.
Lin was only a thousand years old and Wen Xu seemed to ebay at least five times older than that.
The thought amused Lin.
The irony almost made him laugh.
Lin straightened, adjusting the fall of his black robes as he stepped back into the light of the city's ascending avenues. His stride was unhurried, but purpose burned quietly beneath his calm exterior.
"So that's the target," he said softly. "An old ghost hiding behind royal blood and a century of silence."
He smiled.
"Good."
Skyvault City stretched upward before him, its higher tiers were shrouded in cloud and secrecy.
Lin turned toward the rising stairs.
"Let's see," he murmured with eyes gleaming beneath the shadow of his hat, "how well royalty bleeds."
And with Fen Mo's life, memories, and secrets now his own, Lin began to climb.