Lin Shu left for his tent, humiliated, enraged—but unrelenting. His hands trembled not from fear, but from restraint.
"I cannot let rage, pride, or pain blind me into doing something stupid. I'll get revenge—but only when the time is right."
Inside the tent, shadows swayed with the flicker of the small lantern as he sat cross-legged, forcing his breath to calm. He activated the Burning Vein Art, feeling the familiar heat crawl through his meridians like a serpent made of fire and iron. Time passed. Hours burned away in silence. When the pain of his torn muscles faded and the cold numbness in his limbs receded, he let out a low exhale.
Now that his body had returned to a stable condition, he began to cultivate.
"I haven't been able to cultivate properly these past few days. Missions, injuries, recovery… everything has stolen time from me."
He clenched his fists.
"With my talent, even five years might not be enough to reach the high stage of Rank 1. And if this keeps up—if I'm constantly forced into the field, constantly dancing around death—it could take even longer. Years of effort wasted, days stolen by survival."
His expression darkened, and a quiet laugh slipped from his lips—bitter, without humor.
"People like me—low talent, no backers, no bloodline—they use us like kindling. Tossed into the fire to make their geniuses shine brighter. I bet they already think I've peaked in usefulness. So why not drain me dry?"
He remembered the glint in Tao Mu's eyes. he saw the calculation of someone looking at his tool and weighing how long does it have before it broke.
"They'll use me as bait. It's obvious. I'm marked by the Jiang Clan now. They'll probably tie me to some mission, use me to lure in someone valuable, then act surprised when I die in the process. Who would care? Another disposable dog of the Institute."
He closed his eyes, and a ruthless thought emerged like a blade in the dark.
"If I'm bound to be bait anyway… then I'll take the leash first. I'll ask for a mission myself before they can craft a trap around me. If I move fast, I'll force their hand. They'll be stuck with whatever assignments are left, not the ones they designed to kill me."
Lin Shu's lips curved into a cold smirk.
"Let them try to box me in. I'll walk ahead of their schemes. I'll be the pawn that moves itself, dodges the board, and someday—crushes the hand that tried to play me."
In another part of the mine—where the tents weren't ragged or patched, but taut and neatly arranged—sat Han Yi, her presence calm and precise as ever. Her tent was large and well-maintained, stitched from reinforced azure silk that matched the deep blue of her robes and hair. She held a letter in her hand, its parchment smooth and unblemished, its words written with graceful strokes—distinctive, disciplined, and familiar.
It was from Lu Zhenhai—her master.
She read silently, her eyes scanning each line with measured attention.
" Han Yi, I hope you're doing well and that your training is progressing without any issues. I'm writing to inform you that your mother has returned from her mission and is currently at the Institute. But that's not all—"
Her eyes paused, lips parting slightly as she read on.
" In a bit over a month, the monthly tournament for a place at the Stormbreak Sect will be held. Your brother will be arriving as one of the sect's representatives to retrieve the victors. He'll be coming a week early to coordinate with us."
A soft breath escaped her. Her fingers pressed lightly on the paper as if to still a stirring in her heart.
" Your mother misses you deeply. She told me to remind you to take care of yourself and not push so hard. Your brother wanted to write, but was caught in training—though he insists I tell you he's proud, and that he can't wait to see you."
Han Yi's gaze softened. The words weren't overly flowery, but they carried weight. Warmth. Presence. She rarely allowed herself to think about home while stationed in the mine. Her discipline, her position, required constant control. But now, a rare and quiet smile formed—gentle and bright in its restraint.
Then, Lu Zhenhai's final message came, as firm as it was affectionate:
" Han Yi, I allowed you into the mine at your request. But the moment I sense danger too great for you to handle, I will have Lu Heng bring you back—no discussion. I hope you understand, my dear disciple. Take care of yourself. Don't slack in your training—but then again, I suppose I don't need to tell you that."
The letter ended there. But for a moment, Han Yi didn't move. She folded the letter slowly, reverently, and placed it inside her spatial ring like one might store a precious jewel.
She whispered, "Thank you… Mother. Brother. Master."
The smile faded—not from sorrow, but from resolve. That warm moment was sealed away, tucked behind the walls she always wore in public.
Han Yi closed her eyes and returned to the cross-legged posture of cultivation. Her breathing deepened, her Qi flowed steady and sharp.
Her master's words echoed in her mind.
She would not slack.
She would not fail.
She would meet them with pride—and strength.
Back at the mine headquarters.
Tao Mu sat calmly across from Lu Heng, his expression attentive but unreadable. The firelight danced across the vice dean's face as he leaned forward slightly, his voice low and firm.
"Vice Dean, what did you call me here for?" he asked, showing due respect to the man who, despite being in his late twenties, had already climbed to such a formidable level of strength and authority.
Lu Heng didn't answer right away. Instead, he tapped his fingers once on the desk before speaking.
"Tao Mu… the constant back-and-forth with the Jiang Clan has cost us more than most realize. While we're currently in a slightly stronger position than them, we're not a clan—we're an institute. That difference matters. Their members are bound by blood and name. Ours?" He scoffed faintly. "Ours are only loyal so long as it serves them."
He paused a moment, his sharp gaze meeting Tao Mu's. "That's why I introduced the merit system."
Tao Mu gave a slight nod. "I thought that might be the reason."
"It's something the empire and many sects use," Lu Heng continued. "And for good reason. It turns ambition and greed into fuel—something we can control. But it won't last forever. The more the conflict escalates, the more it becomes obvious what's really happening here."
He leaned back in his seat. "The Yun and Wu Clans have already caught wind of the situation. They demanded the return of their young masters. Unfortunately—or rather, fortunately—those arrogant brats are too prideful to leave."
Tao Mu raised a brow, intrigued.
"I made sure of that," Lu Heng said with a smirk. "I spread just enough whispers to paint them as cowards compared to Zeng Shiyang, Xie Lang, and Han Yi—all of whom remained behind without complaint. You know how these clan heirs are. They'll swallow poison before swallowing their pride."
"And Wu Jian?" Tao Mu asked.
Lu Heng's smirk thinned. "He almost backed out. He's more level-headed than Yun Qiu, but I used Lin Shu's rise against him. The moment Lin Shu overtook him in merit ranking, I made sure to fan the flames—whispers here, doubts there. Now he's too furious to walk away."
Tao Mu's eyes narrowed slightly. "So you're feeding their egos just to keep them fighting."
"Exactly," Lu Heng said with no shame. "They see Xie Lang and Zeng Shiyang as rivals. But someone like Lin Shu? A mere rank 1 talent?" He let out a soft, amused breath. "That's unbearable. Someone like Lin Shu, who clawed his way up from nothing, who isn't backed by bloodlines or heritage? Being seen as better than them—it eats at them. Especially since we made sure his low talent is well known."
Tao Mu exhaled slowly, folding his arms. " please excuse my words vice dean but You're playing a dangerous game."
Lu Heng's smile was thin and cold, like a knife pressed just beneath the skin. He rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers together, his gaze unblinking.
"Tao Mu… it's obvious Lin Shu will most likely die because of the Jiang Clan—especially since I've been spreading a few rumors about him, Ren Hao, and Yan Qing being our 'top students,' even branding them as prodigies." He let out a quiet chuckle, one that held no real humor. "Can you imagine? A rank one with no background... a prodigy."
He laughed louder now, low and cruel.
Tao Mu didn't share the mirth. He simply stood there, arms crossed, expression hard. He gave a slow nod nonetheless. "I was actually going to suggest using him as bait... but I see you've already planned for that and more. You're not just using him—you've turned him into a lion in the Jiang Clan's eyes."
His brows drew together slightly as he added, "They might send a peak-stage cultivator after him."
"They might," Lu Heng agreed smoothly. "That's the goal."
Tao Mu tilted his head. "But how? How are you feeding this false information? And more importantly, how do you know they'll believe it?"
A glint sparked in Lu Heng's eyes. With the faintest smirk, he pulled a worn black file from his spatial ring and tossed it lightly across the desk. Tao Mu caught it with one hand.
"You remember Ya Fen?" Lu Heng asked. "That little cockroach who thought he could spy on us?" His voice dropped into a quiet menace. "Well, let's just say I've been... generous."
Tao Mu flipped open the file, scanning through it as Lu Heng continued.
"I fed him a few breadcrumbs. Minor slips. Just enough to make him think he was outsmarting me. Then I let him escape."
Tao Mu's eyes flickered up. "So you let him report back?"
Lu Heng nodded. "Exactly. And his superiors bit. They've started acting on the information. I even ensured some of it lined up with truth—enough to give my lies weight."
He leaned back in his chair, hands resting in his lap. "And here's the genius of it: I've treated that organization like garbage in every formal and informal interaction. Their people were humiliated, denied information, even blackmailed once or twice. The Jiang Clan sees them as enemies of mine—so why would they ever believe I planted a lie through someone I supposedly hate?"
Tao Mu exhaled, then said in a quiet voice, "You're making them think they're intercepting something we didn't want them to know."
"Exactly." Lu Heng's grin widened. "And once they believe Lin Shu is some secret weapon—some monstrous, hidden genius, or perhaps the vessel for an ancient art—they'll send someone powerful. Someone worth removing. That's when we strike."
He paused.
"Of course," he added lightly, "I'll still need Lin Shu to appear worth the trouble. That means he needs to beat another young master in public, maybe during a duel, or leak that he possesses a lost bloodline, or some ancient, forbidden talent."
Tao Mu felt his spine stiffen slightly. His instincts, trained from years of war and subtle politics, were sounding alarms.
He'd always known Lu Heng was sharp—intelligent, yes, perhaps even brilliant. But this… this was something else. It wasn't mere cunning. It was weaponized malice—cold, precise, and far-reaching.
Lu Zhenhai's warnings echoed now in Tao Mu's mind:
"He's like a serpent, coiled and smiling. Don't ever assume you know where his fangs are pointed."
And now Tao Mu finally understood.
Lu Heng wasn't just scheming. He was orchestrating a battlefield with the precision of a surgeon and the cruelty of a butcher. Turning a mid-stage, rank 1 cultivator with no background into a trap capable of crippling two powers led by rank 2 cultivators.
as if Lu Heng is a puppeteer and everyone else are his lifeless puppets.
That wasn't just intelligence.
It was terrifying, unflinching talent.