A little later, Elder Syen summoned the spider engraved array to descend again.
The platform dropped swiftly, gliding down the trunk in a controlled fall of humming qi threads. They paused midway through the tree crown — the array dissipating in a shimmer of silk thin light.
The final stretch had to be walked.
Elder Syen didn't linger.
He stepped off the platform immediately, robes swaying like a shadow in motion, cutting straight down the winding bark carved path. He didn't even stop by the inn they'd stayed at. The message was clear:
We're leaving. Now.
The disciples followed behind him.
Riven, walking near the back of the group, slid a hand into his robe and brushed his fingers against the simple pouch hidden there.
The soft weight of the folded map pressed back against his touch.
The map he'd gotten from the store — of the Southern Provinces only — but still more than he'd had before.
His jaw tightened a fraction.
It was a start, but...
It wasn't enough.
If he returned to the sect now…
He might get stronger.
Break through to the Inner Condensation Realm soon and learn the sects poison arts.
But...
He wouldn't earn coins. At least not enough to buy anything meaningful. Not the long distance treasure Bosu mentioned. Probably not even the cross regional maps.
If he wanted those, he'd have to work with Bosu.
That was the only chance he saw.
I can't leave.
With his mind made up, he stopped hesitating and stepped forward next to Elder Syen.
He stopped mid stride.
The other disciples paused behind him.
Riven straightened his back and spoke clearly, because if he sounded hesitant now, he'd refuse instantly.
"I would like to remain in Verdance."
Elder Syen turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as they landed on him.
The air grew noticeably colder.
"You would like to?" he repeated, voice cool.
The others stayed quiet. Even Mei.
Riven met his gaze. "Yes."
Silence stretched.
"I would like to remain in Verdance," Riven repeated, voice steady.
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then Elder Syen lifted a hand dismissively.
"That is fine."
Riven blinked. "…It is?"
"You are a Core Disciple," he said calmly. "By sect rules, you may leave the sect for up to six months without prior notice."
A pause — his eyes sharpened.
"But you have very low cultivation. Staying here now would be dangerous. You would benefit far more by returning first, breaking through to the Inner Condensation Realm, and learning our poison arts."
Riven's jaw tightened.
So he was going to reject him.
But he didn't back down.
"I'd prefer to temper myself now," Riven said. "How about this—"
He kept his tone respectful but firm.
"I'll return together with you after the auction in six months."
Elder Syen's expression didn't shift, but Riven felt the weight of his gaze evaluating him — measuring something.
He held it without flinching.
Inside, his thoughts were far less cooperative.
Once I get the map and that long-distance item… I'll just leave.
What can he do to me then?
He kept his face blank.
Then Elden Syens face twitched for a second.
Quickly after, as if convinced by Riven, he let out a soft sigh.
"…Very well."
Riven felt a subtle tension release from his shoulders.
"You may stay until the auction," he confirmed. "But afterwards, you will return to the sect. You will begin learning the poison arts properly. That is not negotiable."
He bowed his head slightly. "Understood."
Even though he had no intention of fully keeping that promise if he found what needed.
"Good."
Elder Syen reached into his sleeve and produced a small silver disc, the pointer pinned toward an unseen direction with a steady green glow.
"This will always point toward the Venomthread Sect," he said. "Use it if you need to return early."
Riven accepted it with both hands.
"And this," he added, handing him a small weighty pouch, "is for your expenses. Ten more halfmoon coins. Use them wisely."
Then he turned and continued walking toward the city gates, his robe sweeping behind him like a shadow.
Mei, Ziren, Lara, and Talia followed.
There was no big goodbye.
Their relationship seemed more shallow than Riven had expected.
Maybe that was just what it was like in their sect though.
As their figures grew smaller, he allowed himself the smallest breath of relief.
He hadn't expected it to go so smoothly.
The only sad thing was, that he wouldn't be seeing Lumi anytime soon.
Even with everything else going on — cultivation, auctions, maps, money — a small part of him still wanted to know how she was doing.
Her and Vaern were only ones who'd really been nice to him in the sect.
She'd even helped him pick out clothes for this trip.
He shook his head.
He shouldn't be too trusting.
It might not mean anything. Not in a sect like that.
Anyway. Right now, he had a goal.
He turned away from the gate, slipping back into the bustle of the city. The massive tree stretched endlessly above him, branches overlapping like woven roads. He moved quickly, navigating through crowds of cultivators, merchants, and locals without stopping once.
The tree Bosu had mentioned wasn't one of the inn-bearing ones, filled with sleek balconies and fluttering banners.
It was one of the orange-leafed shopping trees — smaller, busier, louder. More opportunity.
He hadn't noticed it before, but now that he looked, each shopping tree had a number carved in decorative script at the base.
Shopping Tree No. 12.
That was the one.
He made his way up the winding spiral staircase that circled its trunk, moving past street vendors, storage rooms, open stalls, and cramped alchemy shops. The smell of spice, medicine, and sweat thickened the higher he went.
Finally, he stopped in front of a small storefront tucked beneath a low arch of woven wood.
The sign overhead was painted by hand — a little crooked — with peeling golden letters that read:
"Bosu's Bargain Burrow"
Seriously?
A faded silk curtain hung in place of a proper door. Behind it, he could hear someone humming — slightly off-key.
It wasn't exactly impressive.
But the voice was familiar.
It was Bosu.
Riven squared his shoulders.
With his mind made up, he pushed open the curtain and stepped inside.
The curtain brushed against his shoulder as he stepped through and low bell rang.
Inside, the shop smelled faintly of dried herbs, old wood, and ink — the scent of contracts, perhaps. Lantern light cast a soft amber glow across the cramped space, revealing rows of empty shelves. The floor creaked as he moved, and the far wall was draped in fabric covered with hastily scribbled notes, half-finished maps, and wildly optimistic price tags.
At the center of it all sat Bosu — cross-legged behind a squat lacquered desk stacked with parchment and cookies on a plate, holding a magnifying glass up to a shimmering crystal.
"Ah!" Bosu looked up and beamed. "Customer, business partner, or savior of my financial future—take your pick!"
Riven raised an eyebrow.
Bosu waved Riven over enthusiastically, gesturing to an empty stool in front of the cluttered desk.
"I've got everything," he declared with proud confidence. "Monster cores. Spirit balms. A map with only two rivers mislabeled. I've even got a half broken formation plate that probably doesn't explode anymore."
Riven's eyes drifted slowly across the empty shelves.
"…Doesn't look like you have all that," Riven said flatly.
Bosu puffed up indignantly. "Hey! I'm practicing my sales pitch for when I do have all that."
He tapped the desk triumphantly. "Preparation is half of success," he said, before adding more seriously, "The other half is luck, connections, and only slightly bending trade laws."
Riven opened his mouth to reply—
ting.
The bell above the front curtain chimed softly again.
Someone else had just entered the shop.
Riven turned.
A slender figure stepped through the door, red robes flowing like liquid shadow. Her posture was poised, movements quiet, almost too controlled.
Her white hair swayed as she stepped in.
Riven glanced at Bosu.
He knew who that was.