Running as if Yama himself were chasing him with a scythe in hand, Lin Mo Chen kept going at full speed.
He even used his qi, forcing every fragment of his pseudo spirit ring until his muscles ached. The four and a half fragments he had vibrated as if they might shatter, shoving energy into his legs in a clumsy, desperate surge. Never in either of his two lives had he run this fast.
After running several li, cutting across courtyards, dodging servants, and vaulting a low hedge, he reached his house and burst inside, sliding the wooden door open abruptly.
His mother was in the kitchen stirring a pot. She was startled to see her normally calm son rush in so full of energy, hair loose, robe crooked, eyes wide as plates.
She was about to ask if he was alright, but he shot past her like a gale, clutching a fat hen to his chest as if it were a national treasure.
"Mother! I'm going to cultivate! It's important! Don't interrupt me for anything!" he shouted without slowing.
His mother stood stunned in the middle of the kitchen, ladle in hand, her face full of pure confusion.
Lin Mo Chen rushed into his room, slammed the door shut, and threw the bolt with trembling hands. With General Fatty still clutched to his chest, he slid to the farthest corner from the bed and dropped down there, back against the wall.
His gaze was sharp and alert while his brain worked at full speed analyzing what had just happened.
This was undoubtedly bad news for him. Very bad. He had just seen the old man in Lin Xuan's ring. Well, the old woman. The classic cheat-awakening scene. And that is never, ever good for the side character spying from the bushes.
He prayed to himself with a sincerity he hadn't used even for final exams in his past life.
Please… let it have just been paranoia. Let it have been my imagination running wild… let that figure not have seen me, not have marked me.
Carefully, he set General Fatty on the floor. The hen stared at him for a long second with her big, round, bright eye, tilted her head, and let out a short cluck.
It was such a perfectly condescending sound that Lin Mo Chen swore she was mocking him.
Then, as if he were no more interesting than a rock, she ignored him completely. Waddling to the patch of sunlight coming through the window, she settled in, fluffed her feathers, and promptly lay down to sleep, deeply carefree.
Watching that, Lin Mo Chen let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. All the tension left his shoulders in a long, defeated sigh.
He slumped against the wall and muttered, looking at his first and only follower snoring on the floor.
"I wish my life were as carefree as a chicken's."
After thinking for a long time, with a determined look and an iron will he didn't know he had, Lin Mo Chen made a decision sitting on the cold floor of his room: he would become a ghost in the truest sense
He wouldn't leave his house, wouldn't talk to anyone, wouldn't go to the training pavilions, and wouldn't pass through the main dining hall. His existence would be like a speck of dust in the corner of his room.
With the decision made, he jumped to his feet, brushed the dust from his robe, and smiled at General Fatty, who was still softly snoring in her patch of sun.
"Did you hear that, General?" he said in a low but solemn voice. "From today on, you and I are entering hermit mode. We will never run into Lin Xuan again. Not by accident, not by fate, and not even if the heavens will it."
The hen opened one eye, looked at him, and closed it again, completely carefree.
He spent the rest of the first day doing physical exercise in the small backyard of his house. He carried two large rocks until his arms trembled, held horse stance until his legs burned, and ran in circles around General Fatty's improvised coop while his mother watched from the window with a mixture of pride and worry.
At night, with the door closed and the lamp low, he sat in lotus and guided his qi again and again toward his core. He poured the energy into his spirit ring with obsessive focus, making the fifth fragment turn a little more solid.
The second day he repeated the routine. General Fatty supervised from a rock, occasionally pecking at an ant.
The third day was the same. Lin Mo Chen started to feel proud of himself. For the first time, his survival plan seemed to be working… until the problem came on the fourth day.
His mother called him at dusk, after dinner. She had him sit on the low stool in the kitchen and, with a tenderness that made Lin Mo Chen's chest tighten, placed a small, heavy cloth bag that jingled into his hands.
"I talked to your father," she said softly, smoothing a loose strand of his hair. "We've seen how hard you've been training these days. At first we thought you weren't interested in cultivation, but you're finally taking it seriously."
She closed his fingers around the bag.
"It's everything we had saved. Use it in the city. Go to the Han Family Pavilion and buy yourself a couple of pills to help with your cultivation, son."
Lin Mo Chen looked at the bag in his hands, which weighed more than any rock he had carried these past days.
He wanted to cry, and for two completely different reasons that collided in his throat.
The first was his parents' unconditional, silent love, willing to empty their savings because they believed in him.
The second, far more selfish, was that to use that money he had to leave his house and break his ghost vow, cross half the clan, go out the main gate, and head to the city center to buy pills.
Right after he had sworn never to cross paths with Lin Xuan again in his life.
He wanted to let out the long, dramatic sigh of a misunderstood martyr that was stuck in his chest.
But instead, Lin Mo Chen tightened his grip on the coin pouch and forced the biggest, most filial smile he had ever made in his life. A smile so bright his cheeks hurt.
He accepted the bag with both hands, as if it were an imperial edict, and looked his mother in the eyes.
"Thank you, Mother," he said in afirm, warm voice. "Talk to Father and tell him not to worry. I promise I'll show you that your son won't disappoint you. I'll use every coin well."
His mother smiled at him, with that soft pride only mothers have, and patted him on the shoulder.
With that said, Lin Mo Chen stood, gave a small perfect bow, and headed to his room with calm, measured steps, the very picture of an obedient son.
Once inside, he closed the door, leaned against the wall, and finally let out the sigh he'd been holding. It was a long, trembling sound full of panic.
"I'm finished," he murmured to the ceiling.
He glanced toward his bed and froze. General Fatty was sleeping placidly right in the exact center of his pillow, legs tucked in, feathers puffed up, snoring softly like a little ball of fat with divine right.
A little annoyed by the territorial invasion, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, the bag of gold still in his hand.
"Perfect. Just perfect," he muttered under his breath, glancing at his feathered commander. "Tomorrow I have to break my hermit vow and go into the city just to buy materials…" I just hope tomorrow will be a quiet day.without any incidents.
General Fatty opened one sleepy eye, assessed him for half a second, decided he wasn't worth it, and closed her eye again. She ignored him completely and nestled deeper into her stolen pillow.
Lin Mo Chen stared at her, indignant, unable to believe the chicken was ignoring him
"See? This is disrespect to your superior," he grumbled to himself, flopping onto his back beside the hen. "You sleep in my bed and you don't even give me strategic advice."