Chen Yu returned as the sun was nearly setting.
The door to the room opened slowly. The cold night air slipped inside, carrying with it the lingering scent of blood that had not yet fully faded from the man's body.
His robe was torn in several places, and dark red stains clung to the edges of his sleeves and boots.
Yet his steps were steady.
There was no hesitation. No wavering.
The task had been completed.
He closed the door behind him, then knelt on one knee on the wooden floor.
"It's done," Chen Yu said in a low voice.
There was no long explanation. No defense. No apology.
Mo Zhaoyuan stood near the window, his back facing the room.
The twilight light fell upon Lin Shuyuan's face—the face he was now wearing—casting sharp shadows that made his features appear colder than before.
He did not turn around immediately.
"No survivors?" he asked flatly.
"None," Chen Yu replied without hesitation. "I made sure of it."
Several seconds passed in silence.
Outside, the sound of footsteps and faint conversations from the inn's lower floor could still be heard.
The world moved on as usual, as if several lives had not just been erased from existence.
Mo Zhaoyuan finally turned around.
His gaze swept over Chen Yu from head to toe—not to look for injuries, but to confirm one thing.
Whether this man was still useful.
"Are you injured?" he asked.
"Only scratches," Chen Yu replied. "They won't affect the journey."
"Good."
Mo Zhaoyuan walked to the table and adjusted the clothes that now fully belonged to Lin Shuyuan. His movements were calm, as if the blood that had just been spilled outside the city had nothing to do with him.
"We can't stay here any longer," he said. "This inn has served its purpose."
Chen Yu nodded.
"What are your next orders, Young Master?"
Mo Zhaoyuan thought for a moment.
It was not about whether they would return. That was already certain.
What he was considering was how.
"Find a carriage driver," he finally said.
"Not one of our people."
Chen Yu lifted his head. "An outsider?"
"Yes," Mo Zhaoyuan replied. "Someone who doesn't ask many questions, has no connections, and doesn't care about the affairs of great families."
He added coldly, "If necessary, pay generously. If he still hesitates, find someone poorer."
Chen Yu immediately understood the meaning.
The poor valued money.
The greedy valued their lives.
Both were easy to control.
"I understand," he said as he stood up. "Will we depart tonight?"
Mo Zhaoyuan looked at Lin Shuyuan's corpse lying in the corner of the room, covered with a thin cloth.
"No," he replied softly.
"We leave tomorrow morning."
Chen Yu paused briefly, then nodded.
"Understood."
As he turned to leave, Mo Zhaoyuan's voice sounded again.
"Chen Yu."
He stopped.
"You have cut off your path of return today," Mo Zhaoyuan said emotionlessly. "From now on, you have no master but me."
"And take a sack and cremate Lin Shuyuan's body," Mo Zhaoyuan ordered.
Chen Yu did not smile. Nor did he object.
He simply clenched his fist, then lowered his head deeply.
"Order received."
The door closed again.
Mo Zhaoyuan was left alone in the room.
He looked into the mirror—Lin Shuyuan's face, Lin Shuyuan's name, Lin Shuyuan's future.
Yet behind all of that, the will standing firm did not belong to the Lin family.
"The journey home…" he murmured softly.
"Has only just begun."
Mo Zhaoyuan held a small dagger in his hand and lightly cut into his right shoulder.
His expression did not even change, as if he truly did not care.
He wiped away the remaining blood with a cloth.
Then bound the wound on his shoulder.
.....
Morning arrived without any fanfare.
A thin mist still hung in the air as the inn began to come alive again. The sound of wooden doors opening, hurried footsteps, and the smell of hot porridge mixed with damp earth filled the front courtyard.
The horse carriage was already prepared.
It was a simple carriage, bearing no family insignia. The wood was old, but the wheels and axle were well maintained. A dark brown horse stood calmly—not a warhorse, but strong enough for a long journey.
The driver was a middle-aged man with a rough face and eyes that were far too cautious for an ordinary person.
His clothes were shabby, yet his hands were deft as he checked the reins.
He did not speak much.
And that was precisely why he had been chosen.
Mo Zhaoyuan stepped out first.
He was now fully dressed as Lin Shuyuan—neat robes, a simply engraved belt, and the calm expression of a young master from a great family.
There were no obvious wounds. Only a faint injury on his shoulder.
If anyone saw him now, they would never imagine that the owner of this face had died the night before.
Chen Yu followed one step behind.
He carried his sword and stood upright like a proper guard. Yet there was one difference that only he himself was aware of.
He was no longer standing to protect.
He was standing to serve.
"Destination?" the driver asked briefly without turning around.
"Northern Plains," Chen Yu replied. "The Northern Sword Clan."
The driver paused for a moment—long enough to recognize the name—then nodded.
"A long journey," he said. "Payment up front."
Chen Yu tossed him a small pouch of silver.
The driver caught it, weighed it quickly, then immediately climbed onto the carriage.
No pleasantries.
No questions.
Mo Zhaoyuan stepped inside the carriage.
The interior was narrow but clean. The wooden seats were covered with thin fabric, enough for two people. Morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting shifting shadows as the horse moved.
Chen Yu sat opposite him, his back straight, his gaze steady.
The carriage began to move.
The wheels creaked softly as they left the inn's courtyard.
For a time, neither spoke.
Chen Yu noticed the bandage on Mo Zhaoyuan's right shoulder beneath his clothes.
Yet he did not ask, though curiosity gnawed at him.
Only the sound of hoofbeats and the subtle vibrations of travel filled the space.
Mo Zhaoyuan closed his eyes briefly.
Not to rest.
But to adjust.
Every small movement, every habit, every pause in breathing—everything had to become Lin Shuyuan.
"Chen Yu," he finally said.
"Yes, Young Master."
"Have you thought about what you'll say when we arrive?"
Chen Yu looked at him. "About what?"
"About my injury," Mo Zhaoyuan replied calmly. "About why we returned early. About why some of the guards didn't come back."
Chen Yu fell silent.
After a few seconds, he said, "I'll say we were attacked on the way back. They died protecting you."
"And the location?"
"A mountain route," Chen Yu answered. "No witnesses."
Mo Zhaoyuan opened his eyes.
His gaze was sharp, but not reproachful.
"Plausible," he said. "But too simple."
"If you say only that, the clan head will send experienced people to investigate."
"And in the end, we'll be exposed."
Chen Yu stiffened slightly.
"A threat that's too obvious makes people stop thinking," Mo Zhaoyuan continued. "I need a reason that makes them think… but not too deeply."
He lightly tapped the carriage wall.
"Add one detail."
Chen Yu waited.
"Say that we discovered traces of an unusual poison," Mo Zhaoyuan said. "Not lethal, but damaging to the meridians."
"And after being ambushed by the Black Forest Bandits, we were attacked again on the return journey by mountain bandits. The exhausted guards eventually died."
"Forgive me, Young Master, but what about the wound on your shoulder?" Chen Yu finally asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.
"Oh, this?" Mo Zhaoyuan pointed at his right shoulder.
"Just say that while fighting the Black Forest, I was hit by an arrow due to the guards' negligence, while you were focused on battling their leader."
Without waiting for Chen Yu to speak, he continued,
"That way, the enraged clan head will blame their negligence and won't investigate their deaths."
Chen Yu nodded slowly. "That would make your injury seem reasonable."
Mo Zhaoyuan paused.
"Repeat it."
Chen Yu recounted the entire sequence without a single mistake.
Only then did Mo Zhaoyuan nod.
Outside, the sun rose higher, illuminating the long and desolate dirt road ahead.
Mo Zhaoyuan pulled aside the curtain slightly and looked forward.
The journey back to the Northern Sword Clan was not the end.
It was the entrance to the real arena.
And this time—
He had no intention of leaving as the same person.
.....
The carriage slowed.
The sound of wooden wheels creaking over stone finally came to a complete stop.
Before them, the main gate of the Northern Sword Clan loomed like a wall separating the outer world from an ancient power rooted for centuries.
The gate was made of thick black wood reinforced with iron, carved with intertwined patterns of clouds and swords—symbols of glory and violence passed down through generations.
Above it hung a large signboard.
Its golden characters were not ostentatious, yet they radiated an authority that made people unconsciously lower their heads.
Guards in dark green uniforms stood on both sides, spears held upright toward the sky. Their gazes were sharp, trained, and cold—clearly not ceremonial guards.
Chen Yu stepped down first.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he took a quiet breath, as if reaffirming every word he would soon speak. His clothes were slightly damp at the chest, water stains deliberately left as part of the story.
Mo Zhaoyuan stepped down after him.
His movements were calm—no haste, no hesitation. He stood half a step behind Chen Yu, the position of a servant, yet his demeanor showed none of excessive humility.
One of the guards stepped forward, glanced briefly at Chen Yu, then gestured for them to enter without much talk.
Passing through the main gate, the atmosphere changed.
The inner courtyard of the Lin Clan stretched wide, a pristine white stone path cutting through meticulously trimmed gardens. Small ponds reflected the morning light, while pavilions stood gracefully in the distance, their curved roofs resembling the wings of cranes.
At the center of the complex stood the main pavilion, higher than all the others.
Its wooden pillars were massive and solid, filled with intricate carvings that marked it as the heart of the clan's authority.
The air there felt heavier.
Every step Chen Yu took felt watched—by human eyes, by unspoken rules, and by an irrefutable past.
They stopped before the stone steps of the main pavilion.
A senior servant emerged, giving Chen Yu a brief but evaluating look.
His gaze paused for a fraction of a second on Mo Zhaoyuan before shifting away, as if unwilling to meddle in matters beyond his concern.
With a flat voice and a slight bow, he said,
"The Clan Head summons Lin Shuyuan."
Each step felt heavy to Chen Yu, even though he had rehearsed the explanation countless times in his mind.
Explaining it directly to the clan head was far more oppressive.
They finally reached the door.
Before the servant could knock, a voice came from inside.
"Enter."
The voice was flat.
After Chen Yu and Lin Shuyuan entered, Lin Cangjian regarded them with a scrutinizing gaze.
His eyes also fell on the bandage on Lin Shuyuan's right shoulder.
"Tell me what happened on the journey."
Chen Yu took a deep breath.
He stepped forward, then knelt on both knees. His forehead glistened faintly with sweat, even though the pavilion hall was cool and breezy. He lowered his forehead to the floor.
"During the mission, our group was ambushed. We suspect the information was leaked," he said steadily, though his throat felt dry.
"In the western outer forests."
Lin Cangjian's expression did not change.
But his index finger tapped the armrest once.
Chen Yu continued.
"The Black Forest Bandits. Their numbers weren't large, but with leaked information they prepared traps, moved in coordination, and had a powerful leader."
He paused for a fraction of a second—long enough to seem like recollection, not fabrication.
"The battle was brief. We killed their leader, but several guards were injured. The Young Master was also struck by an arrow during the chaos."
Lin Cangjian's gaze finally shifted.
He glanced again at Lin Shuyuan's bandaged right shoulder beneath his clothes.
"An arrow?" he asked flatly.
"Yes," Chen Yu answered quickly. "An arrow coated with poison. Not lethal, but enough to damage the meridians. Fortunately, it didn't hit a vital point."
"And you?" Lin Cangjian asked.
Chen Yu lifted his head. His eyes were faintly red, as if holding back anger and guilt.
"At the time, I was restraining the Black Forest leader. It was my negligence."
He slammed his clenched fist against the floor.
Silence.
Several elders exchanged glances.
"Continue," Lin Cangjian said.
Chen Yu lowered his head further.
"After the first battle, we decided to return since the mission was complete. However, the injured guards hadn't fully recovered."
He clenched his fists within his sleeves.
"On a narrow mountain path, we were ambushed again—this time by local mountain bandits."
"The exhausted guards couldn't hold out," he said heavily. "They fell one by one… while protecting the Young Master."
Sweat dripped from Chen Yu's temples.
Not from fear of being exposed.
But from the pressure of the clan head's gaze.
"If the Clan Head wishes to punish me, Chen Yu will not object."
Silence descended again.
Heavier this time.
Lin Cangjian stared at him for a long while—long enough for Chen Yu's back to grow cold with sweat.
Finally, the clan head leaned back.
He turned to one of the elders.
"Have you heard of a poison that damages meridians without killing?"
The elder nodded slowly.
"Yes. A low-grade poison from the western forest region."
"And if the victim hasn't opened their meridians yet, would it be fatal?" Lin Cangjian asked again.
"No," Elder Xiao answered firmly. "If a person hasn't opened their meridians, the poison won't be effective. Its nature relies on spreading through Qi flow. Without Qi, the poison loses its function."
Lin Cangjian turned his gaze back to Chen Yu.
"Stand."
Chen Yu rose, his legs trembling slightly, but he maintained his posture.
"The guards died due to exhaustion and negligence," Lin Cangjian said.
"I will handle compensation for their families."
His tone was flat.
But it was clear—he had no intention of digging deeper.
Lin Cangjian's gaze shifted to Lin Shuyuan.
"Go and rest," he said.
"Your injury is not light."
Mo Zhaoyuan bowed respectfully.
"Thank you, Father."
Chen Yu lowered his gaze.
And the two of them left the hall together.