The feeling of being watched clung to Lin Yan like a festering wound that refused to heal.
For days, it shadowed his every step—silent, invisible, relentless.
He became quieter, his movements more guarded.
Every time he stepped outside, it felt as if unseen eyes followed him from the dark.
He no longer dared to pass near Qingshi Alley. He deliberately avoided that part of town altogether.
Yet life in Sishui Town continued to churn forward with its usual rhythm.
Innkeeper Wang seemed unaware of the storm that raged within his lowly servant.
On the contrary, he gave Lin Yan more work involving ledgers and writing—checking cargo manifests, recording traveler documents, even copying simple correspondence for the inn's business partners.
These tasks allowed Lin Yan to glimpse streams of information.
Like a patient hunter, he sifted through the words and whispers of merchants and messengers, searching for the faintest thread that might lead to "Mute Uncle"… or to the truth behind the Ling family's destruction.
That afternoon, a caravan arrived at the inn—dust-covered wagons, drivers shouting, wheels groaning under the weight of heavy wooden crates.
Their leader, a burly man with a weathered face, was loudly arranging rooms with Innkeeper Wang.
"Same deal as before, Wang!" he barked, thumping the counter. "Give my men a corner in the common room and enough feed for the horses! Damn this road from the west—it's been hell this time!"
"Oh?" Wang asked casually, working his abacus. "Something happened out west again?"
Lin Yan, standing nearby sorting documents, slowed his hand ever so slightly.
"Bandits," the caravan leader spat. "The Blackwind Gorge is crawling with them. But it's not just robbery this time… They're searching for something—or someone." His voice dropped to a murmur. "When we passed through, the soldiers had the whole road blocked. They were searching every wagon, even prying open false bottoms. Said they were hunting accomplices of a royal criminal wanted by the court…"
A royal criminal.Accomplices.
The words stabbed into Lin Yan's mind like needles. His grip on the brush tightened, knuckles whitening, though his expression remained calm—his eyes fixed on the page as though nothing around him mattered.
Innkeeper Wang lifted an eyebrow and chuckled lightly. "Then you're lucky to have made it through in one piece."
"No kidding!" the man exhaled. "Oh—and Wang, rumor has it your Sishui Town hasn't been all that peaceful either, eh?"
The abacus paused. Wang's smile did not waver. "Oh? And what sort of rumors are those?"
"I only heard scraps on the road." The caravan man leaned closer. "They say some nobleman from the capital is here on a secret errand—looking for something… or someone. Something to do with a blacksmith. Strange, isn't it? You'd think if a noble wanted a smith, he'd hire one in the capital, not come poking around this backwater."
Clatter!
The inkstone by Lin Yan's hand toppled, spilling dark ink across the table. He bent quickly to clean it, masking his momentary shock beneath frantic wiping.
A blacksmith. A noble from the capital.
His heartbeat thundered.
So it wasn't just his imagination—someone was watching Qingshi Alley.
And their target wasn't only him… They were after Mute Uncle as well.
Gao Wenchang's reach had extended all the way here. Were they silencing witnesses—or searching for something the old smith possessed?
Innkeeper Wang's eyes flicked toward Lin Yan—calm, unreadable, a rippleless pond that somehow made the air grow cold.
But he said nothing of the spilled ink. Instead, he smiled at the caravan leader.
"Ah, mere tavern gossip. This inn sees hundreds of travelers every month—I've yet to meet any 'noblemen from the capital.' Probably just idle tongues wagging."
He deftly shifted the conversation, and the merchant soon lost interest, calling his men to unload the wagons.
The hall returned to its noisy rhythm, yet Lin Yan felt as though the very air had turned to stone. He forced himself to finish cleaning, to resume his work, though his thoughts surged like a storm beneath a calm surface.
Gao Wenchang's men were already in Sishui Town—searching for Mute Uncle.
Then Uncle's disappearance was no coincidence.
The old man must have held something—evidence, a secret, something powerful enough to threaten Gao's position.
And Lin Yan himself was now in mortal danger.
If they discovered his connection to the Ling family—or realized he, too, sought the mute blacksmith—it would mean certain death.
That night, after finishing his chores, he returned to the dormitory.
The room was empty, dimly lit. He leaned against the cold wall, pulling from his chest the iron token. Its etched patterns gleamed faintly in the half-light—cold, intricate, unfathomable.
This token was his only lead to Mute Uncle…
and perhaps his death warrant.
Outside, night fell. The lanterns of Sishui flickered awake, and the town seemed peaceful as ever. Yet beneath that calm, the undercurrents churned:
the hidden hand of the capital,
the vanished blacksmith,
and a lone fugitive balancing between vengeance and survival.
Lin Yan clenched the iron token until it bit into his palm. The pain steadied his breath, sharpened his thoughts. Fear would serve no purpose now.
He had to act—and fast—before Gao Wenchang's men found the blacksmith… or whatever he'd left behind.
But how? He was outnumbered, outmatched, a single spark surrounded by storm. One misstep, and he'd vanish into the same darkness as the rest of his family.
Then—creak.
The door eased open.
Innkeeper Wang stood at the threshold, a dim oil lamp in his hand. Its glow carved deep shadows into the lines of his weathered face.
He did not look directly at Lin Yan, yet his gaze brushed the iron token still half-hidden in Lin Yan's hand.
"The firewood out back's running low," Wang said, tone mild. "Tomorrow morning, go to the wood market on the west side. Find Old Xu and order another batch."
He paused, his next words seemingly casual—almost too casual.
"Old Xu lives at the end of Qingshi Alley. It's a quiet place. Be careful on the road—don't knock on the wrong door."
With that, he turned and left.
The door creaked shut.
Lin Yan sat motionless, eyes wide, the faint flame trembling in his pupils.
Innkeeper Wang…
What did he know?
Was it merely an errand—
or an invitation into the very shadows he feared most?