The urgent countdown had already begun ticking in his ears. The autumn wind cut through Lin Mu's thin robes and dried the cold sweat that had soaked through to his skin.
"Can't panic. Absolutely cannot lose my footing now."
Lin Mu drew a long breath and slowly closed his eyes — those pupils, faintly reddened from the extreme tension. His mind became a precision compass, spinning through the current situation at full speed.
"Li Mang holds the Bone Scepter. That is his absolute advantage."
"But right now he can only sense a general direction — he doesn't know which specific person is carrying the Bone Plate. That is my only protection. And it is the most lethal one I have."
The information gap was his lifeline.
As long as that paper screen remained unpierced, Li Mang was nothing but a blind, rabid dog sniffing blindly through the dark.
"He engineered this inter-stockade friendly tournament for one purpose: to walk that 'radar' of his through Black Blood Stockade's gates under a perfectly legitimate pretext, then conduct a systematic, close-range sweep of every clan member who comes to compete or spectate."
"The closer the distance, the stronger and more precise the Bone Scepter's resonance."
Lin Mu's eyes snapped open. A flash of cold, resolute light crossed his pupils. A solution had taken shape in his mind.
"If your radar needs close range to scan, then I simply won't play your game."
"This so-called friendly tournament — not only can I absolutely not participate, I cannot go anywhere near that central arena. Not a single step."
"As long as I stay far enough away, always beyond the threshold of your resonance, that bone stick of yours will remain nothing but a useless piece of dead wood."
Can't beat it? Then avoid it.
Before one possessed the absolute power to flip the table, avoiding strength and striking at weakness was the most fundamental survival wisdom of any Demonic Path practitioner.
His mind made up, Lin Mu straightened his slightly disheveled Deacon's robe.
He became an ordinary Deacon who had just received an urgent summons and was rushing to check in at the hall — and strode toward the External Affairs Hall with long, purposeful steps.
The External Affairs Hall at this moment had descended into complete chaos, like a pot of water boiling over.
Before he even crossed the threshold, Lin Mu heard the deafening noise spilling out — shouting, barked orders, and the crashing of supplies being hauled by servants.
Lin Mao Mao — the fat Hall Master who on any ordinary day could be found leisurely sipping tea with a birdcage in hand — was now standing at the second-floor railing, drenched in sweat.
Waving a thick fistful of assignment slips, his voice hoarse as he bellowed:
"Move! Everyone move faster! The White Bone Stockade advance envoy arrives the day after tomorrow! Is the venue set up yet?"
"Are the spirit teas and spirit fruits for the reception fully prepared?! If the Patriarch loses face in front of our old rivals, I will skin every last one of you!"
"And the Jia Clan Caravan! Ancestors above, how did they arrive early?!"
"That stretch of wasteland thirty li south of the city — send people immediately to clear and level it! The caravan's tents, the pack animals' feed, the defensive fencing — all of it must be finished within three days!"
Two mountains crashing down at once had pushed this pampered Hall Master to the edge of collapse.
Down in the main hall, dozens of External Affairs Hall Deacons and managers were arguing themselves red in the face over how to divide the two massive assignments.
Anyone with half a brain could see the difference between the two tasks.
Receiving the White Bone Stockade envoy delegation and setting up the tournament venue — tedious, yes, but it was a prestige assignment.
On the day of the tournament, Patriarch Lin Cang and every major Elder with real authority would be present in person.
Bustling about visibly in that kind of setting, running errands right under the noses of the clan's upper echelon — that was the single best shortcut to rapid advancement and getting one's name remembered by those who mattered.
The other task — heading thirty li south of the city to some desolate stretch of wilderness to house the Jia Clan Caravan, coordinating the rough, unglamorous logistics of basic supplies — was a thankless slog from start to finish.
Wind and sun, backbreaking work, and if anything went wrong, you were the one holding the blame.
Most critically, it was far removed from the clan's political center. There would be no opportunity to be seen at all.
"Hall Master! Leave the envoy reception to me! I've handled ceremonial affairs before — I'll make it spotless!"
"Bullshit! With your cultivation level, you think you can keep those White Bone savages in line? Hall Master, this one has to be mine!"
Several Deacons who normally spent their days scheming against each other were now on the verge of rolling up their sleeves and coming to blows over the reception assignment.
Lin Mu watched his colleagues with cold eyes — a swarm of flies fighting over scraps. He felt a flicker of relief. In a chaos like this, it was actually easier to get things done.
"A pack of fools blinded by the prospect of power. They've handed me the perfect cover."
Lin Mu drew a slow breath. Rather than fighting for anything, he deliberately let his complexion look a shade paler than usual. He even made his breathing slightly more labored.
He parted the crowd and climbed to the second floor.
Before the frantically pacing Hall Master Lin Mao Mao, he gave a deep bow, his tone carrying an undisguised note of weakness and self-reproach.
"Hall Master, Lin Mu has been useless. I've caused you trouble."
Lin Mao Mao blinked, looking at this newly promoted Deacon who had been making quite a name for himself lately. He asked with urgency, "Deacon Lin, what's wrong with you? You look terrible."
"I won't hide it from you, Hall Master."
Lin Mu gave a bitter smile and lowered his voice to a register only the two of them could hear.
"A few days ago, I felt a breakthrough coming and entered closed-door cultivation. But my foundation was unstable, and the hidden injuries I sustained in the Blood Forest had not yet fully healed."
"When I forced myself out of seclusion just now, my Primeval Essence backlashed. My Aperture is aching even as we speak. I'm afraid... I am in no condition to shoulder any heavy responsibility."
Lin Mao Mao's expression shifted — first alarm, then a flash of genuine regret.
At a critical juncture like this, a man rendered half-useless by a backlash was the last thing the External Affairs Hall needed. It was snow piled onto frost.
"Hall Master."
Lin Mu offered his "loyalty" and his "concession" at precisely the right moment.
"Receiving the White Bone Stockade envoy concerns the clan's dignity and the Patriarch's authority. In the sorry state I'm in right now, if I showed up looking like this, I would only invite ridicule from outsiders and diminish the prestige of Black Blood Stockade."
"But how could I stand aside with my arms folded when the clan is in need?"
"The work of housing the caravan is hard and exhausting, yes — but it requires no combat or Primeval Essence expenditure. It is purely a matter of coordination and logistics."
"I am willing to put my name on a binding pledge and take on the southern assignment myself. I will not cause you a single moment of trouble, Hall Master."
Retreating to advance. Righteous and selfless to the last.
Lin Mao Mao stared at this young man — pale-faced, yet voluntarily stepping forward to take the hardest job. He was so moved he nearly shed tears.
At a time when everyone was scrambling to get in front of the Patriarch and claim credit, here was someone willingly shouldering the most grueling, most thankless, most blame-prone dirty work — and a Gu Master with backing, no less.
What awareness. What character.
"Brother Lin... I — how do I even begin to say it!"
Lin Mao Mao clapped Lin Mu on the shoulder with genuine emotion and made the call on the spot.
"Settled! The overall responsibility for housing the caravan in the southern district — it's yours!"
"Rest assured, as long as you keep that caravan stable, I will personally make sure you get first credit on the books!"
"Thank you for your trust, Hall Master."
Lin Mu accepted the bronze coordination token — the one representing full authority over the southern district — with a humble, downcast expression.
When he turned around, his back to the Hall Master and the Deacons still squabbling over the reception assignment —
A cold, satisfied smile spread across Lin Mu's pale face.
"The one closest to the water enjoys the moonlight first. I'll accept this windfall without the slightest hesitation."
He gripped the bronze token tightly and walked out of the External Affairs Hall at a brisk pace, heading for the wasteland thirty li south of the city.
This token was not merely his talisman for perfectly avoiding the human-shaped radar of the White Bone Stockade envoy.
It was the first brick he would use to knock open the door to plundering the caravan's resources.
Jia Jinsheng's death had sent a butterfly effect rippling outward, throwing the Southern Border trade routes entirely off their established course.
Jia Fu needed to answer to the clan's upper echelon. He needed to demonstrate his decisiveness and capability in his succession struggle against his brother Jia Gui.
This time, he had not merely departed three months early — he had come out in full force.
He would absolutely bring every premium resource and rare Gu worm under his control and sell them off aggressively at this juncture, converting them into a flood of Primeval Stones and political achievements to take back and consolidate his position within the clan.
Walking along the open mountain road, Lin Mu's mind ran like a high-speed engine.
Drawing on his memories of the original story, he rapidly assembled a list of resources in his head — one that made his pulse quicken with hunger.
First and most urgent — the one he craved and needed above all else — the Red Iron Relic Gu.
Its sole function: to forcibly elevate a Rank 2 Gu Master's cultivation by one minor stage, with no side effects whatsoever.
For Lin Mu, who had only just stepped into the initial stage of Rank 2, this was a supreme medicine that could compress his development timeline.
Obtain it, and he would leap instantly to the middle stage of Rank 2 — saving the better part of a year of grueling cultivation. In this Black Wind Ridge, where great chaos was imminent, time was the most expensive currency of all.
Second: the Liquor Worm.
A Rank 1 Liquor Worm could no longer refine Rank 2 Red Iron Primeval Essence.
To maintain his absolute superiority in Primeval Essence quality, he needed to acquire another Rank 1 Liquor Worm and four exceptionally rare spirits, then refine them together into the premier Rank 2 support Gu — the Four-Flavor Liquor Worm.
And the Jia Clan, as one of the Southern Border's largest merchant guilds, would absolutely have live Liquor Worms for sale in their caravan.
Beyond those two, there were premium Gu worms capable of short-range burst displacement to replace Earth Ring Body, wide-area offensive Gu to compensate for his current reliance on the Metal Rend Leaf Gu as his sole means of attack, and even rare heaven-and-earth treasures capable of nurturing the Aperture walls and expanding the Primeval Sea...
These tempting names flickered through Lin Mu's mind in rapid succession.
And yet.
When Lin Mu returned to his underground chamber in the Silent Stone District, opened the hidden compartment, and counted everything he currently had to his name —
That burning hunger for premium resources was doused by a brutal splash of cold reality.
One thousand two hundred Primeval Stones...
Lin Mu stared at the savings in the hidden compartment. His brow locked into a tight furrow.
For a Rank 1 Gu Master, this was an obscene fortune.
But for a Rank 2 Gu Master about to sweep through a premier merchant caravan — one who intended to secure a Red Iron Relic Gu and compete for a Liquor Worm at auction —
It was nowhere near enough.
Not enough. Not even close.
Lin Mu slammed his fist onto the stone table. Fragments of rock crumbled and scattered.
The trial-and-error costs of refining the Metal Rend Leaf Gu and the Earth Birth Gu had burned through far too much capital.
He had worked hard at accumulating wealth, but against resources of this tier — cross-rank resources — his modest, off-the-books savings could not begin to fill the gap.
The sense of urgency tightened around Lin Mu's throat like an invisible net, pulling taut.
Li Mang's envoy delegation was closing in. That bone radar hanging over his head could sweep this location at any moment.
Every day that passed, the danger grew.
Only by pushing his cultivation and his hidden cards to their absolute limit could he carve a path of survival through the coming storm.
"No money? Then earn it. Can't earn it? Then take it."
Lin Mu stood in the dim underground chamber. His dark eyes glittered with a cold, hungry light.
He looked down at the External Affairs Hall bronze token in his hand — the one granting him authority over the southern district caravan housing — and the corner of his mouth curved slowly upward.
"Before the caravan officially arrives, it seems it's time once again to put my financial talents to the test."
The life-and-death race between money and time had, in this moment, officially begun.