Lin Yu finishes absorbing the two shadow crystals and rises to prepare for the university.
Isolde's voice stirs in his mind. "You are ambitious—and also a genius."
Lin Yu thinks, "I am a stage four being; by very nature, I will be ambitious and a genius." He asks aloud, "What makes you say that?"
While removing his clothes, he feels no shyness at her presence. Even without Merin's life experience, he has lived for a thousand years. A few things remain that could embarrass him.
Isolde says, "You chose to create your own extraordinary path, and not even within the true way. From the beginning, you have thought of becoming one of them."
Lin Yu thinks that if not for his injury, he is confident he could fight all thirteen of them together, so long as they are in the same realm. He replies, "Why shouldn't I? Didn't you ever think about it?"
Isolde says, "I only considered it when I reached the upper tiers."
Lin Yu asks, "What is your tier?"
He lowers himself into water mixed with a veil of body-refining liquid.
Isolde answers with pride. "Tier seven."
Lin Yu reflects. Six to nine are called the upper tiers. In that realm, killing is easy, but sealing is hard. Who was able to seal her?
He asks, "Who sealed you?"
Anger rolls from the tablet like a storm.
Isolde's voice sharpens. "It doesn't concern you."
Then silence.
A few minutes later, Lin Yu walks out of his home.
At night, after evening, Lin Yu is on the way to his home from the extraordinary market with the bodies of three Tier-1 shadow ravens, and while meditating inside the carriage, his eyes suddenly open.
He hears Isolde's voice asking if he needs help, but as the carriage slows, Lin Yu replies that he will take care of it.
The driver's nervous voice follows, saying that the road ahead is suddenly covered in fog and nothing is visible, so Lin Yu orders the carriage to stop.
Stepping out, he warns the driver not to move from his spot under any circumstance, then vanishes from sight, heading deeper into the fog.
He calmly says they can start, and shadows surge in waves to form a wall at his right side just as sharp objects strike against it.
The fog thickens and bursts open as figures rush out, blades and claws flashing toward Lin Yu.
His eyes narrow for a brief instant, already recognising the shimmer of illusion around their forms, but his expression remains calm, betraying nothing.
He twists his body sideways as a sword slices down, his steps precise and sharp, making it appear as though he narrowly avoided a fatal blow.
Another figure lunges with a spear, and Lin Yu rolls across the damp ground, rising fluidly as if his life truly depended on the motion.
Shadows flicker past his face, cold steel glinting inches from his throat, and he bends his back, letting the strike whistle harmlessly above him.
Each dodge looks desperate, each movement flawless, yet his gaze stays steady, pretending to see enemies of flesh and blood instead of false projections.
More attackers pour from the fog, surrounding him with deadly intent, and Lin Yu keeps weaving through them like water slipping past stone, never striking back, only evading.
Every breath is controlled, every step calculated, as he maintains the illusion that he is trapped within theirs.
Lin Yu hides a smirk when he feels the enemy step into his true range, their confidence making them careless.
He opens his palm, and from the swirling darkness a whip handle of pure shadow solidifies into his grip.
With a sharp crack, he swings it forward, the whip slicing through the fog like a living serpent.
The illusions in its path shatter instantly, collapsing into nothingness, and the sudden strike lashes across hidden flesh.
A muffled grunt breaks through the silence, proof that his whip found its mark, and the fog trembles as the enemy falters.
The illusion shatters like broken glass, and the fog thins under Lin Yu's relentless pressure.
His whip snaps again and again, shadows lashing without pause, denying the enemy even a heartbeat to regain balance.
Step by step, he drives the figure back until the mist finally peels away, revealing the pale face of a young man caught in panic.
With a flick of his wrist, the whip coils around the youth's neck like a serpent tightening for the kill.
Just as the shadows constrict, a sharp voice cuts through the night.
"Stop!"
Lin Yu's eyes narrow, his head turning toward the sound.
On the street a few meters from his own carriage, another carriage has appeared, its presence concealed until now.
Lin Yu's tone is cold, amused. "You can come and stop me."
In the same breath, a streak of silver-white light erupts from the carriage, an arrow of pure energy screaming toward him.
The arrow tears through the night, its glow piercing the fog like a spear of judgment.
Lin Yu's eyes gleam with cruel amusement, as though this outcome had been carved long before the arrow left its bowstring.
The whip yanks tight, and with a savage pull, he drags the bound youth into the arrow's path.
A scream never escapes—the body is impaled cleanly, the light bursting through his chest as life drains in an instant.
Before the corpse even collapses, Lin Yu melts into shadow, reappearing within his carriage as if he had never left.
"Let's go," he orders coolly.
The driver, tense but obedient, snaps the reins, the horses jerking the carriage into motion.
As the wheels clatter forward, the carriage draws level with the other.
Lin Yu's voice cuts through the wooden walls, low and sharp as a blade.
"You are our dog. Remain as a dog. Don't try to climb higher, or your fate will be no different from his."
The carriage doesn't slow. It rolls past without pause, vanishing into the darkness of the street.
From the halted carriage, a silver-haired man steps down, his features carved in calm, almost serene composure, though his eyes remain locked on Lin Yu's fading silhouette.
A man and woman rush to his side, breath quick and faces tense.
The brunette woman, lips pressed tight with anger, Lilian, speaks first.
"Atlas, why let him go?"
Atlas's silver eyes glint faintly in the dim light as he answers flatly, "If I don't let him go, what can I do?"
Marcus, black-haired with a pale, drawn face, clenches his fists. "He killed Chris, and we're letting him go as if nothing happened."
Atlas turns to him, voice steady. "He spoke one truth—we are still their dogs. As long as we remain dogs, we cannot touch them."
Lilian's eyes widen, realisation dawning. "Are you certain? One mistake, and we're dead."
Atlas's tone sharpens. "We do all their work, but what do we gain? Nothing. If we remain obedient, they will starve us of resources. We will stay chained at this tier, never advancing."
Marcus's anger cools into steel. Determination burns in his gaze. "Tell us, Atlas. What is your plan?"
Lilian hesitates, biting her lip, then says softly, "I will support you, Atlas."
Atlas studies her but offers little in return. His voice lowers. "Connect with the messenger of the Holy Church."
Marcus bows his head slightly, resolute. "Consider it done."
After a moment, he adds, "But I need a reason to entice him to meet us."
Atlas's lips curve faintly. "Five days from now, every noble in the region will gather in this city for Ravensworth's party."
Marcus nods sharply and walks off into the night.
Lilian lingers, her uncertainty plain. "What about me?"
Atlas's gaze rests on her, cool and unreadable. Her hesitation has already marked her. He withholds his true intentions and instead says, "Send Chris's body back to his family. Pay them a pension."
With that, Atlas steps back into his carriage. The wheels creak, and the horses pull it into the shadows.
Meanwhile, Lin Yu returns home. He calmly cleans the corpses of the three Shadow Ravens, prepares their flesh, and roasts it into jerky.
He consumes the dark meat slowly, his body absorbing its essence, his cultivation threading deeper into shadow.
Three days pass in steady silence, each moment filled with the rhythm of jerky consumption and the absorption of extraordinary particles.
Shadow energy swells within him, dense and unyielding, refined and tempered until it feels like steel coursing through his veins.
Lin Yu's eyes glimmer coldly as the thought takes root— the time has come.
He gathers the shadow energy, shaping it into a heart, weaving into it every fragment of knowledge he holds of the shadow element.
The effort gnaws at his reserves, his energy draining with alarming speed, yet he remains utterly calm.
Where others would panic at the rapid depletion, he shows no fear—Tier One is no obstacle, no uncertainty.
For him, it is fate itself, a certainty that cannot be denied.
When his reserves run dry, the extraordinary heart finally beats, thundering with life as it draws the extraordinary particles from the very air into its form.
He pulls it into his body, overlapping his own heart, merging essence and shadow into one.
The heart pulses again, shadow energy surging outward, stronger, sharper, more complete.
It races through his meridians, nourishing muscle, bone, and spirit, refining him anew.
Then, settling in his dantian, the extraordinary heart beats with a steady rhythm, each thrum strengthening, evolving, until at last it stabilises.
He opens his eyes at the peak of Tier One, only a step away from the next realm, yet the energy to ascend remains out of reach.
Isolde's voice slips into his mind, silky and enticing. "You should go to Shadow Valley. With the resources there, you would reach Tier Five within a year."
Lin Yu's lips curl faintly as he rises to his feet. "I can do it here."
His shadow stretches long across the floor as he stands, power radiating silently from within.