Night draped Skyvault City in layers of mist and lantern light.
From the lower tiers, the city never truly slept. Markets dimmed but never closed, soft chatters chimed from taverns, and cultivators meditated openly beneath glowing formations. But higher up, far above the reach of ordinary eyes, silence thickened.
That was where Lin was headed.
He moved without haste nor hurry with his conical hat pulled low as his figure flowed upward along paths few were allowed to tread. Stairways meant for nobles. Bridges guarded by formations that weighed bloodlines and intent alike. Platforms that refused to activate unless recognized by imperial authority.
For most people, this ascent was impossible.
For Lin, it was merely inconvenient.
He did not brute-force his way through. He did not clash with guards or tear through formations. Instead, he slipped between patrol intervals measured down to the breath, through blind angles in perception arrays, across rooftops where shadows pooled unnaturally thick.
Every step was calculated.
Every pause intentional.
By the time the moon reached its highest point, Lin stood at the edge of Wen Xu's residence.
It was massive.
Not ostentatious, not gaudy... just vast. Courtyards layered within courtyards, tiled roofs cascading downward like frozen waves, reinforced with subtle qi lines that whispered of age and authority. Ancient stone walls bore slightly worn carvings older than Skyvault City itself which glowed.
And surrounding it were over a hundred cultivators stationed across the perimeter.
These were elites.
Their auras were restrained but dense and their eyes alert even when seemingly relaxed. Every one of them was high-realm—cultivators who, elsewhere, would be elders, commanders, or sect pillars.
Lin stood perfectly still on a neighboring rooftop with his eyes half-lidded.
"Overkill," he murmured.
He slipped down silently, moving along the outer wall until he found what he was looking for.
A blind spot.
Not in the guards' vision but in their assumptions.
An empty stretch of stone where no one bothered to look because nothing was supposed to be there.
Lin stepped into it.
And stopped.
His expression sharpened.
'An array.'
The array was neither invisible nor aggressive but it was present nonetheless.
It wrapped the entire residence like a sealed shell, subtle to the point of arrogance. The kind of array only someone with absolute confidence would deploy.
Lin extended his perception, tracing the formation lines.
"…Hm."
It was beautifully constructed.
Layered permissions. Internal anchoring. No external entry points. Anyone allowed inside was already part of the array... bound to it, recognized by it.
The guards stationed around, were all within it and so were the servants.
Every living thing that belonged here was already acknowledged.
Anyone who did not…
Was simply not allowed to exist past this point.
Lin smiled faintly.
"I see how it is."
He could dismantle it...
Easily.
The array's logic was clean. Its core was elegant. If he wanted, he could unravel it thread by thread and walk in as though it had never been there.
But the moment he did, alarms would go off everywhere.
The entire upper tier would light up like a struck bell. Imperial oversight arrays would react. Royal observers would take notice.
It would be loud.
Very loud.
Lin was not here to be loud.
Not yet.
So he withdrew.
He retreated a short distance and settled himself into the shadows, folding his robes and leaning casually against stone as if he had all the time in the world.
"I'll wait," he muttered. "Someone always slips."
Hours passed.
Then a day.
Then two.
And nothing happened.
Lin watched.
Guard rotations occurred with machine-like efficiency. Shifts changed seamlessly with cultivators stepping back into the array as replacements emerged from within it. No one entered from the outside.
No one left.
Not a single servant.
Not a single errand runner.
Not a single courier.
No food carts. No supply deliveries. No casual strolls.
Nothing.
By the end of the second day, even Lin frowned.
"That's… strange."
He had infiltrated sects, imperial compounds, hidden realms. Even the most paranoid fortresses required interaction with the outside world.
Food had to come from somewhere.
Resources did not appear from nothing.
His eyes narrowed as he leaned back and studied the residence anew.
"…Unless," he murmured, "they don't need to."
The thought tickled something in the back of his mind.
He watched longer.
The guards never ate in public.
Never drank.
Never showed signs of fatigue beyond what was theatrically appropriate.
They rotated, yes... but every movement was contained. Internal. Closed-loop.
The residence was not just sealed.
It was self-sustaining.
Lin straightened slowly.
"A closed system," he said quietly. "Interesting."
That alone was enough to confirm it.
Whatever Wen Xu was doing inside that residence, it was not normal cultivation. Not orthodox living. Not even standard royal isolation.
This place was not a home... It was a vault.
And Lin had just confirmed something more valuable than any rumor.
Lin a low chuckle escaped Lin's lips as he exhaled.
"Well," he said to the silent night, "now you've got my full attention."
He remained where he was, unhurried as his mind raced several steps ahead. He could force entry. He could provoke a response. He could burn the place down and sift through the ashes.
But none of that would be fun.
And none of that would give him what he truly wanted.
"Two days without a single delivery," Lin mused. "Either you've solved a problem the rest of the world hasn't… or you're hiding something that can't afford to be seen."
He adjusted his hat and melted back into the shadows, leaving no trace behind.