She followed the talisman without pause.
Through forest paths.
Across shallow streams.
Over uneven stone ridges.
She did not fly high. She did not release her aura. She moved at a measured, controlled pace, keeping the talisman's signal stable. Several times along the way it wavered faintly—but each time it corrected itself after a subtle adjustment of qi.
By the time the sky began to dim, the air had cooled.
Night settled fully over the land.
The talisman's surface grew quieter as the hours passed—less reactive, more precise—as though proximity sharpened its response.
Then, just as the darkness deepened—
It shifted sharply.
Not violently.
But decisively.
Lianhua slowed.
Ahead, beyond a low rise in the road, faint lantern lights flickered in the distance.
A settlement.
Wooden structures.
Low walls.
Dim torchlight lining the perimeter.
She stepped forward.
In the next breath—
She stood just outside Rivermarch Town.
The gates remained open despite the late hour. A few guards lingered near the entrance, speaking quietly among themselves. The atmosphere was neither festive nor tense.
Ordinary.
Too ordinary.
The talisman hovered at her side, its lower edge angled unmistakably toward the town's interior.
The response was stronger here.
More consistent.
Lianhua's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…The signal is recent," she murmured. "Not residual."
She reduced her qi output to avoid drawing attention. The talisman dimmed but maintained its orientation.
Inside the town, lanterns swayed gently in the night breeze. A few windows still glowed. Somewhere deeper within, a dog barked once, then fell silent.
Nothing appeared unusual on the surface.
Lianhua stepped forward and passed through the gates without incident.
The talisman followed.
Once inside, she paused.
The orientation shifted again—more precise now.
Not merely toward the town.
Toward a specific quarter.
Her gaze lifted toward the darker end of Rivermarch, where fewer lights burned and the streets narrowed into tighter corridors.
The talisman tilted again.
Sharper this time.
No longer a general direction—but exact.
Lianhua slowed her steps.
"It's here," she said quietly.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Simply certain.
The streets of Rivermarch Town were nearly empty at this hour. A few lanterns burned low along the roadside. Somewhere in the distance, muted laughter drifted briefly before fading into silence.
The talisman guided her down a narrow side street.
Then it stopped.
Hovering.
Angled toward a modest two-story inn built of wood and stone. The paint was worn. The lantern above the entrance flickered weakly. Nothing about it distinguished it from any other roadside lodging.
Ordinary.
Too ordinary.
Lianhua lifted her gaze to the signboard swaying gently above the door.
The talisman steadied, its runes faintly aglow.
"This is the point of convergence," she murmured.
She did not enter.
Instead, she extended her divine sense.
Not explosively.
Not forcefully.
It unfolded in a controlled sphere—thin, refined—slipping through wood, stone, and empty air like mist through unseen cracks.
She scanned the entire structure.
The common room—dim and nearly empty. An innkeeper behind the counter, half-asleep.
Two occupied guest rooms on the second floor.
A storage area in the back.
A stable in the rear courtyard.
Nothing unusual.
But—
Her divine sense brushed against something.
And stopped.
"…Hm."
She narrowed her focus.
There.
Second floor.
Third room from the stairs.
Her perception met resistance.
Not a barrier of force.
Not something that pushed back.
But something that absorbed.
Muted.
Blurred.
Her divine sense did not rebound—it thinned, as though passing through dense fog.
"Concealment," she said softly.
Not elaborate.
Not high-tier.
But deliberate.
The talisman reacted faintly, its edge angling directly toward that same room.
"The signal stabilizes at that location," she continued calmly.
She withdrew her divine sense slightly to avoid detection and observed more carefully.
The concealment was layered.
Thin.
Carefully distributed throughout the room's interior rather than forming a visible barrier.
"…Not meant to withstand force," she noted. "Only to avoid notice."
Her gaze lowered slightly.
"Which means whoever is inside does not want attention—or is hiding something."
She did not release killing intent.
She did not increase pressure.
She simply stood in the dim street outside the inn, the talisman hovering at her side, her divine sense restrained but poised.
"It's here," she repeated softly.
And this time—
There was no doubt.
Lianhua did not enter through the front.
Her figure lightened.
Without a sound—without disturbing even the dust beneath her feet—she rose from the ground and drifted upward along the outer wall of the inn.
The activated talisman floated beside her, its edge fixed steadily toward the second floor.
Third room from the stairs.
As she neared the window, her divine sense narrowed once more—thin and precise.
And there—
A faint structure revealed itself.
Invisible to the eye.
But present.
Lines of qi layered along the window frame. Anchoring nodes at each of the four corners. A thin lattice stretched across the interior wall.
She stopped just outside the window.
"…A defensive formation," she said quietly.
Not complex.
But deliberate.
It was built to alert, not to withstand a siege—a contact-trigger array, likely designed to activate if the window or door were breached directly.
She studied its structure for a moment.
"The energy flow is uneven," she observed. "Primary node at the upper right corner. Secondary along the base."
Her eyes sharpened slightly.
"It wasn't constructed by a master."
She did not summon a weapon.
She did not unleash a surge of power.
Instead, she extended one hand.
Her fingers moved once—subtle and controlled.
A thin thread of qi slipped forward, sliding between the outer layer of the formation and its primary anchor. She did not strike it.
She disrupted the flow.
The primary node flickered.
The lattice dimmed.
Before the formation could redirect, she pressed lightly.
A controlled pulse.
The runic lines fractured—not explosively, not loudly—but with a quiet internal collapse. They dissolved into stray wisps of qi that dispersed harmlessly into the night air.
No flare.
No alarm.
Silence.
The window remained intact.
The room inside undisturbed.
The defensive formation was gone.
Lianhua lowered her hand.
"…Basic," she said calmly.
The talisman hovered steadily beside her, still angled toward the interior of the room.
She shifted closer to the window.
Now—
Nothing stood between her and whatever awaited inside.