A full day had passed since Lyn outplayed the three juniors, and the twenty contribution tokens resting in his pocket offered a small but welcome measure of breathing room. For someone who had earned barely two or three tokens a day by breaking rocks in the mines, the amount felt like the beginning of something broader than hunger and routine.
Morning light spread across Emberbar. When the sun struck his eyes, Lyn squinted and raised a hand against the glare, blinking away the last traces of sleep as he pushed himself upright from the patch of ground where he had rested.
"Not rich, huh?" he muttered, a dry curl of amusement touching his mouth as he set off without choosing a destination.
Dust whispered beneath his boots while his feet wandered and his mind turned toward the weight in his pocket.
Twenty contribution tokens... Five for food if I eat once a day, leaving fifteen. Shelter comes next. The nights are getting colder, and a decent place would probably cost one token a day, depending on how miserably I'm willing to live. Seven days would leave eight. I should keep four for emergencies, which gives me another four to use...
Tavern doors came to mind, along with warmth, spilled drink, and careless mouths. The meals held some appeal, especially to his empty stomach, but the people mattered more. Taverns offered information and connections, both of which could prove more valuable than food.
"Excuse me, Senior." Lyn stopped an elderly man passing through the street. Age rested gently upon him, silver filling both his hair and beard, and his eyes softened when he looked at Lyn.
"Yes, Junior?" the elder asked, his smile warming immediately. "Do you need any help?"
Lyn swallowed before answering, allowing uncertainty into his voice. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Elder. Do you know of any taverns that are... peaceful? Somewhere without constant fighting?"
The elder chuckled and looked toward the sky as though the request had awakened an old memory. "I know only one worth mentioning. I have been going there for ten years. It is a family place, run by good people with good hearts. They call it Bamboo Delight." His expression brightened as though the name itself carried a pleasant taste.
Lyn bowed deeply. "Thank you, Elder. Could you also tell me where it is?"
"Of course, of course. Go right from here, then take the first left. You will see the line. It is always full."
After Lyn thanked him again, the elder continued on his way with a satisfied smile, pleased by the simple act of giving guidance.
Just as promised, Lyn soon found a building whose wooden sign bore the name Bamboo Delight. Despite the early hour, a line already stretched along its front. People occupied the tables outside, raising mugs while steam curled from their plates, and laughter drifted beneath the morning sun alongside the deeper rumble of voices from within.
The tavern had an outer seating area, a crowded inner hall, and even a second floor. Common folk naturally trusted places built by other commoners. Lyn slipped through the entrance and chose a corner table. The inner hall was nearly full, and its warmth pressed against him with the scents of strong alcohol and rich food. His stomach tightened hopefully, but he forced the hunger down rather than loosen his spending. Tea would be enough.
A girl approached his table, barely older than Lyn, with dark hair falling along her back and silver eyes bright with life. Her gentle appearance did nothing to hide the Essence leaking from her, and what Lyn sensed made him pause. His reaction had nothing to do with her smile or beauty. Flesh held no interest for him; her cultivation was what he payed attention to.
Rank Four, Stage Three could never ever be dismissed lightly. Someone at that level possessed enough strength to survive alone beyond familiar roads and stood only a few steps from becoming truly formidable. Seeing such a person serving drinks in a tavern tightened Lyn's chest for a heartbeat.
Why would someone at that level work as a barmaid?
He set the question aside and offered her a soft, reassuring smile. "Hello, Sister. A cup of your best tea, please."
She returned his smile with quiet warmth before moving toward the other tables, sunlight catching in her hair while the tavern continued its steady rhythm around her. Advancing as far as she had required passing through Heaven's blockades. Three stood between every cultivator and true strength, each designed by heaven to test you. Lyn remained at Rank Three, Stage One, which alone gave him reason to be cautious.
Advancement sounded glorious when spoken aloud, although its reality was far less forgiving. He had no intention of pushing forward any time soon, especially with the second blockade looming like a silent beast in the darkness. Lyn steadied himself with a quiet breath and let the thought recede before it could carry him any deeper.
His attention returned to the tavern. Nearly every table was occupied, with laughter and idle conversation woven into a constant living murmur. Most of the customers appeared ordinary, surrounded by the quiet comfort of stable lives: middle-class workers, modest merchants, and cultivators capable enough to travel safely without approaching the heights that could bend the world around them.
Lyn counted only four or five people who might possess something resembling genuine authority, and even that judgment rested more upon their posture than any overwhelming presence. Bamboo Delight had been built upon warmth, habit, and community, which made it an excellent place for someone like him to remain unnoticed.
Several quiet minutes passed before the girl returned with a simple porcelain cup. Steam curled from its surface, carrying a warm and calming scent. Lyn thanked her politely and pushed one contribution token across the table.
I wonder whether I could replicate the formation inside these chips one day. If I could, I would become the richest man alive.
The girl accepted the token with a nod and disappeared back into the rhythm of her work. Lyn raised the cup without drinking and listened instead to chairs scraping against the wooden floor, laughter rising and falling between tables, and whispers lowered just enough to sound secretive. Eventually, a conversation two tables ahead carried clearly enough for him to follow. Several middle-aged men had leaned closer together.
"Vilen? I've heard of him," one murmured.
"Oh Vilen the merchant?" another asked.
A bald man grinned as though preparing to boast about knowledge that belonged to him alone. "They say he's a prophet."
"That stupid rumor again?"
"It's true. He told me that Frozen Nova rain would fall yesterday, and it did." Impressed murmurs passed through the group before someone pointed toward the entrance.
"Look. He's here."
The tavern door opened, and the hall changed almost immediately as a man stepped inside. Long silver hair descended beyond his back and nearly reached his waist, every strand sleek and carefully maintained. A deep-blue silk robe covered his frame, with the sect's crescent symbol stitched proudly across its chest, while his rigid posture kept his back perfectly straight and his hands folded calmly behind him.
His face was neither handsome nor pleasant. Harsh features gave him an almost disagreeable appearance, yet the gazes directed toward him softened with respect as authority clung to him like a mantle. Silence swallowed the hall, but after no more than a heartbeat, the man smiled and asked in a hoarse voice, "Friends, why have you all gone silent so suddenly? I only came to enjoy some tea."
Awkward laughter moved through the tavern, easing the tension without restoring the previous atmosphere. Conversations resumed, although voices remained softer and words more carefully chosen. Lyn narrowed his eyes in response.
An inner disciple, perhaps?
No Essence escaped from the man, leaving Lyn unable to detect any clear indication of his rank, and that absence alone felt dangerous. In this world, the amount of Essence a person naturally leaked often revealed what words could not. Lyn possessed the natural ability to conceal his own Essence completely, but his concealment was an anomaly rather than the product of rank or training.
When the silver-haired man began walking directly toward him, Lyn's fingers tightened around his cup. The Dao Chosen stopped beside the table and sat without asking, his posture still perfect and his expression unreadable.
This is bad. Did someone trace the scam back to me? Were those three juniors connected to him? Has the sect already noticed? Why would he come for me? I'm only another street scammer. Why me, and why now?
His pulse settled into a slow, guarded rhythm while he raised his eyes to meet the stranger's gaze. Whatever had brought the man to his table, the matter would not be simple.
The girl returned a moment later, but the confidence she had shown while serving Lyn was gone. Caution trembled beneath the warmth in her silver eyes, her face paling as she approached, and her fingers tightened around the tray.
"What... what may I bring you, Honored Guest?"
Vilen was somewhat known for possessing an immense wealth of resources and rare materials, earning respect throughout the martial world as well as among ordinary people, with most regarding him as nothing more than an exceptionally wealthy businessman, while others believed he was simply a Dao Chosen gifted with remarkable talent in trade, yet she found herself growing increasingly nervous, not because of the absurd rumors, instead because a single decision from him carried enough financial weight to bankrupt the entire establishment without the slightest effort, reducing fortunes built over generations into nothing.
Without sparing her a glance, the silver-haired man answered in a flat, dismissive voice. "Light-Fire Whirl tea."
"Yes, Sir," she replied quickly, bowing before she hurried away. Relief showed in the loosening of her shoulders as soon as her back was turned.
The man remained seated with his hands folded behind his back and his gaze wandering across the room without warmth, while the quiet pressure of his presence weighed upon the hall. Lyn watched him from the edge of his vision, keeping his heartbeat steady despite the alertness tightening through him.
People like him do not enter taverns merely to drink. Why is he here?
At last, the man's gaze settled upon Lyn. Stern, piercing sharpness entered his eyes for the span of a breath, then disappeared beneath an easy, friendly expression as though it had never existed.
"Friend," he said lightly, "are you new to Emberbar?"
He found himself strangely unsettled by the sight of Lyn, confusion lingering across his face, though what stood out most was the look in his eyes, a look that suggested he had no idea who Vilen was, which came as an unexpected surprise since, while Vilen had never become a household name throughout the Ashen Light Sect, anyone who had spent even a modest amount of time in Emberbar would almost certainly recognize him because of his reputation within its thriving trade circles, making Lyn's ignorance feel profoundly out of place, prompting him to wonder whether this was his first time setting foot in Emberbar.
I need to be very careful about what I say and how I say it.
Lyn did not answer at once, his smile remaining in place while his thoughts moved quickly.
That kind of calm authority... He must be deeply embedded within the sect. Outer disciples work, sect disciples survive, and inner disciples shape everything beneath them.
When he finally replied, his voice remained warm and harmless. "Is it already that obvious?" He laughed lightly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes, I'm new. May I have the honor of knowing Senior's name?"
Several people nearby turned their gazes toward Lyn in open disbelief spreading across their faces as they struggled to comprehend how someone could fail to recognize Vilen, the sheer audacity of asking who he was leaving them momentarily speechless.
The stranger's sternness dissolved completely into polite charm. "Vilen. And you, Junior? What should I call you?"
After hesitating for a heartbeat, Lyn allowed nervousness into his voice and replied, "My name is Ryn, Sir."
Vilen nodded thoughtfully. "Ryn. Mhm. Simple and steady. Then tell me, 'Ryn,' where are you from?" The man's expression subtly shifted as if he had already seen through the lie hidden in Lyn's tone.
Lyn opened his mouth to answer under the false name, but the girl returned before he could speak.
"It's on the house."
She placed Vilen's tea down a little too quickly, offered a shallow bow, and retreated while pretending that another task demanded her attention. Steam curled upward between the two men, and the tavern quieted once more, as though everyone was waiting to hear what the silver-haired prophet would say next.
"You conceal your Essence perfectly, despite being a Rank Three, Stage One Dao Chosen of the Light Path," Vilen said plainly as he took a sip of tea.
Disbelief held Lyn still. He had kept his rank concealed throughout his time in the tavern, yet Vilen had identified it without any visible effort. Most people had assumed Lyn was rootless when he entered, but murmurs now began spreading among the surrounding tables.
"True," Lyn said after a pause, looking Vilen directly in the eyes. "What of it?" Something within Lyn warned him that lying his way out of this situation would be immensely difficult.
If the people I scammed are somehow connected to this man, my journey ends here anyway.
The surrounding customers pretended to continue their own conversations, although their attention remained fixed upon Lyn and Vilen. A smirk crossed Vilen's face before he answered in a more relaxed tone.
"I see, I see. Not bad. You are merely a Rank Three, yet you can conceal your presence to this extent. Kid, do you want a job?"
Lyn recognized Vilen's type from his demeanor alone. He was not someone who would hesitate to kill another person over tea. Refusal seemed unaffordable, and although the cup remained warm between Lyn's fingers, his hands had begun to feel cold.
"A job?" he asked plainly, even as he understood there was no easy way to withdraw now. Whatever luck had carried him this far appeared to have reached its end.
"To be more precise, you would first need to become my student," Vilen said while watching a miniature tornado of flame swirl inside his Light-Fire Whirl tea. "The job I have in mind is currently impossible for you." He finished the cup, leaving Lyn stunned by the unexpected offer.
The situation might actually benefit him. If he handled it correctly, Lyn could secure more than enough food while gaining the flexibility and opportunity to learn about the world. Even so, he did not allow his hopes to rise. In this world, anything that appeared good frequently concealed something else; good food needed to be checked three times before it was eaten.
"What job, exactly?" Lyn asked, keeping his posture relaxed while his thoughts raced.
Vilen's expression became deadly serious, and the change silenced the entire hall. "Do you have an issue with kil—"
"No," Lyn replied before Vilen could finish, then emptied his own cup.
A long silence followed before Vilen suddenly laughed. "Perfect, perfect! In short, I need you to kill an Expression of Heaven."
An Expression of what?
Around them, the other customers abandoned all pretense of ignoring the conversation, refusing to acknowledge what had been said as though denial alone could soften its impact, some letting their cups fall to the floor while others slipped from their chairs, their shock so immediate and absolute that even reaction itself seemed to stall before it could properly form.
"An Expression of Heaven?" they whispered in near unison.
Vilen sighed and raised his voice just enough for the entire tavern to hear. "You people simply cannot keep your noses out of another person's business. Yes, an Expression of Heaven."
Lyn showed no surprise, perhaps because he was the only person in the hall who had no idea what the title meant. "What is an Expression of Heaven?" he asked plainly.
The surrounding crowd stared at him in even more speechless disbelief. Vilen also appeared mildly surprised by Lyn's ignorance, but he answered regardless.
"A Heavenly Expression is someone whose rank exceeds twelve."
Above Rank Twelve...
The path of advancement continued beyond Rank Twelve and reached as high as Rank Twenty. However, the divide between Rank Twelve and Rank Thirteen was no ordinary gap, but a chasm with mortals and immortals standing upon opposite sides.
Immortals possessed many names in this world, although most called themselves Expressions of Heaven. The title was arrogant, perhaps, but their power had earned it.
Lyn kept his expression steady, still feigning ignorance as he asked, "So, in simple terms, Senior wishes to mentor me, and in return I am expected to kill someone. Why not kill this person yourself?"
His tone remained calm, but the true purpose of the question was to measure Vilen's strength.
Vilen sighed and looked toward the ceiling. "Ugh, that person... He is Rank Fifteen. I cannot break through because I am not ready, and I grow older with every passing day. There is also the poison left behind by my last blockade."
His gaze returned to Lyn. "I have been searching for someone who could prove worthy. Not one of the soldiers or high elders, but a commoner. Someone with the correct... foundation."
So he intends to throw mice at his enemy until one reveals a weakness. He is asking me to become a sacrifice.
He was not as surprised or flustered by his realization, but rather worried about how he could bargain; technically speaking, what if he were to take the benefits and simply leave before having to do the actual job. Yet on further thought, he could not imagine himself being able to escape… an Expression of Heaven. Nevertheless, he at least wanted to ask why he had chosen him specifically.
"Why me?" Lyn asked. "Is it because I can conceal my Essence?"
Vilen leaned forward slightly, his playful demeanor giving way to analytical sharpness.
"Your concealment is flawless for someone of your rank, yes, but that is not the true reason." His gaze seemed to pass beyond Lyn's body and settle upon the space occupied by his soul.
"Beyond the technique, your soul possesses a faint signature, a resonance of quiet oblivion. It is the same echo found within the Silent Hands, those hollow puppets left behind after failure in the Reflection Duel."
Cold spread through Lyn's blood.
Silent Hands... I remember reading about them. The third blockade. Someone becomes one after failing, if I remember correctly. They are like mindless puppets. Then—
Vilen interrupted the thought before Lyn could carry it further.
"But you are clearly whole. Your will belongs to you. This paradox..." A scholar's fervor gleamed within his eyes.
"It makes you a unique specimen. My target's defenses are designed to reflect and shatter coherent wills and souls. But a will that carries the echo of a Silent Hand? I believe you may be the one kind of arrow capable of passing through his guard unnoticed and striking the core." Vilen leaned back, allowing his explanation to settle before continuing.
"So you see, the important matter is not merely that you can hide. It is what you are hiding. You are an uncarved piece of the darkest wood, and I need a dagger made from shadow to kill a man of blinding light."
Lyn said nothing, and Vilen continued before the silence could deepen.
"If I were not a Heavenly Expression myself, I would never have sensed you."
Indeed. When one remains silent, others simply continue speaking. So he is also a Heavenly Expression. It is logical in a way, how else is one meant to fight a rank 15. Still, facts were better. With this person, I could soar through the skies.
The man seated before Lyn was an immortal. Lyn was not foolish enough to daydream, as it was obviously a very, very sharp double edged sword.
"It is only hard work," Lyn replied, although the information Vilen had revealed left him unsettled, and he did not know what to make of it. For the moment, he chose to ignore most of it.
"I also accept your proposal, Senior. How should I address you?"
Once again, the tavern's customers were left speechless. To them, Vilen had been a powerful and wealthy merchant who, for unknown reasons, could predict events at times. What they had just overheard went far beyond anything they had expected.
"Perfect, perfect." Pride entered Vilen's face.
"You may address me by my title: Defying Sun. I will take you to my training grounds in the Restless Mountains."
The Restless Mountains lay to the east-south of Emberbar, at an almost impossible distance. Although they shielded the capital, the land separating them from it remained vast. The world itself was simply too large; even from the mountains' highest peak, the capital appeared as no more than a faint point upon the horizon.
"Sir Defying Sun, the Restless Mountains are millions of kilometres from here," Lyn said. "Reaching them would require several months of travel, perhaps longer."
"I am a Heavenly Expression. I have my ways."
Vilen tossed something toward him. Lyn caught a Heavenly Shard shaped like a Pegasus with its wings fully spread, its entire body golden. The material resembled glass, yet it gleamed like solid gold, and Lyn could not even determine its rank.
"That is the Pegasus's Leap Heavenly Shard, a Rank Eight shard," Vilen explained.
"Naturally, a Rank Three cultivator cannot activate a Rank Eight shard, so I will channel my Essence through a linked formation space. My Essence will remain linked to that fragment, meaning you need only hold it in your hands and it will work."
He indicated the golden Pegasus in Lyn's grasp before adding, "Do not attempt to place it within your Vessel Realm. The vast difference in rank and the foreign Essence would cause it to crush your Vessel Realm immediately. Understood?"
So something like this is possible.
He nodded, and Vilen sighed before continuing. "Kid, step outside. I assume you have an inn or somewhere similar. Gather your possessions, and then we will leave. I will wait in front of the tavern."
"That will not be necessary."
His eyebrow rose as if questioning, but it quickly returned to its natural state, considering Lyn himself had said this was his first time in Emberbar, of course he would not have an inn.
"Very well. I will continue feeding my Essence into the shard. Do not lose sight of me, or the linked formation may break once the distance between us becomes too great."
He activated the formation, causing faint veins of fire to glow within the golden shard.
"Follow me," Vilen said before vanishing with a speed that revealed the might of a Rank Eight Heavenly Shard. Lyn immediately wondered how he was supposed to keep pace or avoid falling behind, but before the concern could develop, he sensed a magnet-like pull drawing him in one precise direction.
"Ah, that's it."
Lyn focused his intent upon the shard and activated it, vanishing from the tavern.
Throughout the exchange, the other customers had remained speechless the entire time. An old man seated at the bar slowly lowered his mug, his gaze distant with memory, and spoke in a voice like weathered stone:
"When gold-winged promise leaves the hand,
And common ground gives way to sky,
A mortal walks where gods command."
Those gathered around him appeared to agree. It had been an almost perfect reenactment of that myth.
At that, a man who looked to be in his fifties gave a quiet laugh.
"And how did that one end?"
The question pulled the others back to reality. People had repeated those words for years, but what good had ever come of them? At best, they were not a promise, but an omen.