Time passed in silence within the dim underground chamber.
Outside, Black Blood Stockade was undergoing a tremendous shift — the tide of fortune turning in full.
By the time Lin Mu had completely consolidated his Primeval Essence — now comparable to Rank 2 upper stage — and pushed open the door of his Silent Stone District courtyard, the Jia Clan Caravan that had brought days of noise, boundless wealth, and hidden undercurrents had departed Black Wind Ridge entirely.
The vast grassroots market that had sprawled around the outer perimeter of the camp had scattered like startled birds, leaving nothing behind but a field of wreckage.
Yet the atmosphere inside Black Blood Stockade had not cooled with the caravan's departure.
If anything, it had been driven to an entirely different and far more frenzied peak.
Dong — dong —
The familiar rallying bell echoed above the main peak.
Lin Mu changed into his deacon's blue robes, blended into the dense flow of people, and made his way once again to the clan plaza — that ground which had witnessed countless lives, deaths, and moments of glory.
On the high platform, Rank 4 Patriarch Lin Cang sat with the ease of absolute authority.
That aura of black iron — commanding without anger — was even deeper and more restrained than it had been during the grand tournament.
He looked down over the dense mass of clansmen below, his voice ringing out like a great bell.
"The caravan has passed. Our clan's foundations are stronger than ever before!"
"Three days hence, Black Blood Stockade will open its gates to receive the White Bone Stockade delegation — and formally commence the long-prepared Friendship Tournament between the younger generations of our two stockades!"
"This contest concerns our clan's century-long reputation. Every son of the Lin family must give everything they have and carry our clan's name with honor!"
Amid Lin Cang's rousing declaration, Lin Feng — currently the clan's undisputed standard-bearer and now formally established as a Grand Elder's personal disciple — stepped to the edge of the high platform.
"Lin Feng stands ready. I will cut down the enemy's finest and bring no shame upon this mission!"
Lin Feng drew the sword at his waist and angled it toward the sky.
And in the instant he drew that blade, he made no effort to conceal it — he released the surging, newly broken-through Primeval Essence within him without reservation.
It was no longer the shallow crimson of someone who had just entered Rank 2.
What radiated outward was a deep, richly lustrous crimson brilliance — dense, powerful, carrying a pressure that bore down on all who felt it.
"Rank 2 middle stage!!"
"Gods above — Young Master Lin Feng broke through to Rank 2 middle stage?!"
The plaza fell into a deathly silence — and then erupted in a wave of stunned uproar loud enough to shake the rafters. Everyone present was shaken to their core by that terrifying speed of cultivation.
After all, it had been barely over a week since Lin Feng first broke through to Rank 2. A pace like this defied all common sense of cultivation.
But after the initial shock subsided, those elders and deacons with sharper ears and better connections felt a bolt of lightning strike through their minds — and understood in an instant.
"The Red Iron Relic Gu! It must be that divine object that fetched an astronomical price at the sealed bid!"
"So that's how it is! I'd been wondering who walked away with that priceless Gu worm — even that arrogant Demonic Path cultivator Dustlord came away empty-handed."
"It turns out the Grand Elder's lineage moved in secret and secured that treasure for Young Master Lin Feng!"
"What staggering wealth and depth! With foundations like these, what do those White Bone Stockade brats have to fight back with in this tournament?"
Standing on the high platform, listening to the waves of admiration, awe, and barely concealed envy rising from below, Lin Feng let a deeply satisfied, imperious smile curl at the corner of his mouth.
This was exactly the effect he had wanted.
Yes, purchasing that Gu worm had nearly hollowed out every last resource he possessed.
But this rocket-like leap in power, and the glory of standing at the center of ten thousand gazes in this moment, made it all feel worth it.
And in the shadows at the outermost edge of the plaza —
Lin Mu watched Lin Feng on the high platform — preening like a proud peacock, drinking in the endless adulation with open greed — and felt not the faintest trace of envy. He nearly couldn't hold back a laugh.
"Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
Lin Mu applauded Lin Feng furiously in his heart. This was the true art of the cicada shedding its shell.
His sleight of hand had been seamless. He had hidden himself completely within the vast shadow cast by Lin Feng's blinding light.
And yet —
As the celebration on the plaza gradually dispersed, and Lin Mu walked alone down the path back to the Silent Stone District, the ease and amusement on his face receded like a withdrawing tide — cleanly, completely, without a trace remaining.
He pushed open the door of the underground chamber. He did not light a lamp. He simply sat in the darkness, his brow locked in a deep, rigid furrow.
"The caravan is gone. The greatest buffer standing between Black Blood Stockade and White Bone Stockade has been removed."
Lin Mu stripped away every layer of false prosperity with cold clarity and faced the most frigid reality head-on.
"Three days from now, that old monster Li Mang will have every right to walk through Black Blood Stockade's gates."
A friendship tournament between the two stockades? That was nothing but a pretext.
Li Mang — that old wolf driven into a corner — would absolutely use these few days to grip that bone scepter capable of sensing the Black Bone King's inheritance and conduct a frenzied, exhaustive sweep of every core area of Black Blood Stockade.
Every clan member who crossed his path would be scrutinized.
"Once he gets close to me... once the scepter resonates..."
Lin Mu closed his eyes and ran the most brutal combat assessment he could through his mind with absolute calm.
His current strength was genuinely formidable.
Under the Four-Flavor Liquor Worm's transcendent refinement, he possessed rose-crimson Primeval Essence comparable to Rank 2 upper stage.
Combined with the Mud-Dust Blood Prison Killer Move and the Metal Rend Leaf Gu, he had every confidence he could walk sideways through the Rank 2 and even ordinary Rank 3 circles.
But who was Li Mang?
A true, genuine Rank 3 peak cultivator.
A supreme Demonic Path overlord capable of going toe-to-toe with Lin Cang on his own turf, with the mountain-protection formation at his back.
The gulf between major cultivation tiers could not be bridged by clever micro-management and a handful of low-rank Gu worms.
Against a Rank 3 peak powerhouse, his Dust Escape Gu would be seen through in an instant. His red mud would be torn apart with ease. His Metal Rend Leaf couldn't even pierce the man's protective Primeval Essence.
Fight head-on? Challenge someone far above my rank?
A cold, mocking laugh sounded in the depths of Lin Mu's mind. "In the face of absolute crushing power, any unrealistic fantasy is nothing but suicide."
He turned his gaze inward toward his Aperture and looked at the White Silver Relic Gu resting quietly in its deepest reaches.
It was indeed a heaven-defying treasure — but it required a Rank 3 Gu Master to use.
For him as he was now, it was water too distant to quench a nearby fire. A beautiful, useless lump of iron.
"If I can't win..."
Lin Mu's eyes snapped open. In the darkness, a flash of absolute, decisive resolve crossed his face.
"Then I run."
If he couldn't afford to provoke someone, surely he could afford to avoid them.
In the coming days, the entire focus of Black Blood Stockade will be on that high-profile tournament. Every senior figure, every guard's eyes will be locked onto the martial arena.
That kind of tight-outside, loose-inside situation will inevitably create gaps and disorder in the internal defenses.
I'm only a deacon in the External Affairs Hall — not a core direct-line member competing in the tournament. At a time like this, I can make up any excuse, disappear for a few days, and the upper echelons won't spare me a second thought.
Rational retreat was the law by which Demonic Path practitioners lived the longest.
Decided. Move immediately.
Lin Mu rose without hesitation and began packing at once.
Half an hour later —
Under the cover of darkness, Lin Mu moved like a drop of ink dissolving into the sea.
He slipped past the patrolling sentinels with fluid ease, left the Silent Stone District without a sound, and departed Black Blood Stockade.
Once outside the stockade, however, the question of where to go presented itself.
"The wilderness isn't safe. Demonic beasts could grind me down. And worse — without terrain to provide cover, out in the open, I'd be an easy target for Li Mang's unreasonable detection sweeps."
Lin Mu stood on a slope at the outer edge of Black Wind Ridge, looked back at the blazing lights of Black Blood Stockade, and let his mind run at full speed.
Hiding in plain sight...
A perfect destination surfaced in his mind.
"In a place seething with hidden currents like this, the most dangerous location is often the safest harbor."
Lin Mu pulled his bamboo hat low over his face, turned on his heel, and walked without hesitation toward that underground market perpetually shrouded in grey mist.
After all his wandering, he pushed open the door of Old Ma's dilapidated shop on the Grey Street once more.