The night stretched vast and silent, broken only by the rhythmic creaking of wooden wheels and the dull clatter of hooves against the hardened road.
A shared carriage moved steadily through the darkness, lanterns swaying faintly at its sides, casting flickering shadows within.
Inside, six figures sat in relative quiet.
Lin Xuan sat by the window, his posture relaxed, his robe loose yet neat. His gaze rested outside, watching the passing silhouettes of trees and distant hills, his expression calm, unreadable.
Ironcliff City…
His thoughts flowed in silence, structured, precise.
Gao Wen. Peak Qi Refining.
Corrupt. Greedy. Careless enough to be exposed.
Across from him, three men occupied one side of the carriage—an adventurer team by the looks of them. Their gear was worn but maintained, their bodies carrying the weight of experience.
The leader, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, spoke occasionally in a low voice. His aura hinted at Peak Foundation Establishment.
The other two, slightly less imposing, hovered around Mid to Late Foundation Establishment.
They spoke in hushed tones about beast routes, failed hunts, and shifting territories.
On the remaining side sat two common travelers—merchants, perhaps. Their conversation was mundane, revolving around profits, supply shortages, and rumors from nearby towns.
Lin Xuan paid none of it attention.
Or rather—he registered everything, but focused on nothing unnecessary.
Distance covered. Time remaining.
Entry strategy… exit routes…
His mind functioned like a machine.
Efficient.
Cold.
Precise.
The journey cost twenty bronze coins per person—cheap, given the risk of night travel. But Ironcliff City wasn't too far, and such routes were common.
Time passed.
Eventually, the carriage slowed.
Then stopped.
"We're here," the driver called out.
Lin Xuan stepped down without drawing attention, his robe shifting lightly with his movement. His landing was silent, controlled, almost as if the ground itself welcomed him without resistance. Around him, the other passengers began dispersing.
The trio of adventurers moved together, their voices low but steady, discussing routes, beasts, and profit margins as if danger was merely another commodity. The two other travelers lingered briefly before heading toward the inner parts of the city, their silhouettes fading into the dimly lit streets.
Lin Xuan did not follow any of them.
Instead, he paused.
Ironcliff City…
Smaller than Yunqing—perhaps three-fourths its size—but denser in atmosphere.
Rougher.
Sharper.
More… desperate.
The gates stood open, guarded lazily by a pair of Qi Refining cultivators.
Lantern light flickered across stone walls, worn and chipped.
Beyond them lay a city shaped by survival.
Lin Xuan entered without pause.
The streets were alive—even at night.
Shops lined the roads, many still open. Stalls displayed beast carcasses, blood still fresh, their scent thick in the air.
Armorers hammered metal into crude but sturdy protection.
Alchemists sold basic remedies—most low-grade, some barely effective.
People moved quickly.
Purposefully.
No one lingered without reason.
This wasn't a city of luxury.
It was a city of necessity.
Resource-driven economy.
High beast activity.
High mortality rate.
Weak governance.
His mind categorized everything instinctively.
Then—
He slowed.
Not physically.
But mentally.
A shift.
A disturbance — Voices — raised, harsh
His gaze drifted toward the source.
At the edge of a market street, near a checkpoint gate leading into a more regulated inner section, a small commotion had formed.
A guard.
And a child.
The guard wore standard city armor—dull, unremarkable. His cultivation was Early Qi Refining.
Yet his stance… arrogant.
Lazy.
Corrupt.
"You think this is a charity gate?" the guard sneered, his voice sharp as he shoved the boy back.
The child—no older than ten or eleven—stumbled, nearly falling before catching himself.
His clothes were worn, slightly torn.
His hands clenched tightly around a small pouch.
"I—I just need to get inside…" the boy said, voice trembling but persistent. "My mother… she needs medicine…"
The guard scoffed.
"Then pay the entry fee."
"I… I already gave what I had yesterday…"
"Then come back tomorrow."
"I can't! She—"
The guard stepped forward and pushed him again, harder this time.
The boy fell.
A few onlookers paused.
Watched.
Then looked away.
No one intervened.
Lin Xuan stood at a distance.
Silent.
Observing.
His expression did not change.
Common scenario.
Abuse of authority.
Low-level corruption.
Insignificant… in isolation.
The boy struggled to stand again, his hands trembling as he clutched the pouch tighter.
"There has to be another way… please…"
The guard's patience thinned.
"I said come back tomorrow."
"My mother might not—"
A kick.
Sharp.
Brutal.
The boy collapsed again, this time not getting up immediately.
Something spilled from the pouch.
A few copper coins.
Not enough.
Nowhere near enough.
The guard clicked his tongue.
"Worthless."
Lin Xuan watched.
Unmoving.
His thoughts remained steady.
Not my concern.
Objective: Gao Wen.
Mission efficiency over emotional interference.
That was how he had lived.
How he had survived.
In his previous life.
In this one.
But—
Corruption doesn't begin at the top.
It spreads from the bottom.
A thought.
Uninvited.
Kill Gao Wen… and another replaces him.
System remains.
Pattern continues.
His gaze remained fixed on the scene.
The boy tried to push himself up again.
Failed.
This time, slower.
Weaker.
"Please…" he whispered.
The guard exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed now.
"You're wasting my time."
His hand moved toward the boy again.
This time—not a shove.
Something worse.
Lin Xuan's eyes narrowed slightly.
Hydra.
The thought surfaced again.
Clearer.
Sharper.
Cut one head.
Two grow back.
His fingers twitched—barely.
Not out of emotion.
But calculation.
Eliminate root causes.
Establish control.
Create structure.
His gaze shifted briefly across the surroundings.
Guards.
Civilians.
Positions.
Angles.
Distances.
Everything mapped instantly.
Intervention risk: minimal.
Exposure: controllable.
Outcome: favorable.
Another pause.
A final moment of stillness.
I am not a hero.
The thought was firm, maybe to delude himself into thinking this is the best action. Maybe looking for reasons to save the kid instead of accepting that saving the kid is also a big factor.
Seeing that desparation of wanting to save a loved one.
But—
I also don't act without benefit.
And there it was.
The difference.
The evolution.
Not emotion.
Not morality.
But—
Strategy.
The guard raised his hand.
The boy flinched instinctively.
And in that exact moment—
Lin Xuan moved.
A single step forward.
Calm.
Unhurried.
Yet—
Decisive.