Morning light washed once more over the gray tiles of the Servants' Court.
By the time the first beams reached the Ground-Fire Courtyard, Jiang Muchen was already seated beside the Bone-Forging Rock. Behind him, the crimson earth-fire spring pulsed with heat like a slumbering volcano.
Lu Hanshan sat waist-deep in the spring, bare-chested, his thickly corded muscles wreathed in drifting yellow earth-element haze. Eyes shut, he followed the breathing pattern Jiang had taught him the previous night, pulling the molten warmth into his bones. Each inhale rumbled like the heartbeat of the earth itself.
Three yards away, Jiang Muchen sat cross-legged on a smooth blue slate, a roll of beast-hide across his lap. Elder Huoyun had asked for a "Flame-Heart Grass Gathering Simulation," but Jiang's crude map held far more than that.
In the upper left corner, he sketched the southeastern fissures of the Inferno-Core Secret Realm—geomagnetic pulse cycles, lava-beast migration routes, three safe-entry windows. That part was for official use.
But the bottom right corner… that was something else entirely. Thin charcoal markings, precise to the point of obsession:
Rainbow Illusory Flowerfield → Seven-Color Lotus (matures next full moon)
Azure Nether Herb Valley → Soul-Return Grass (key to the Nine-Turn Soul-Reviving Pill) – outer valley opens in ~37 days?
Nether Ghost Palace procurement: Soul-Sand ↑300%, Soul-Calming Jade ↓80%
Abyssal Demon Pit activity expanding northward (~100 miles)
Half of this came from Wang Duobao's confession the night he swore allegiance. The rest he'd pieced together from three days of "mopping floors" outside the Scripture Pavilion—listening more than cleaning.
The Insight Art of the Myriad-Spirits Resonance Manual was beginning to show its true shape. Not just sensing personal desires—mapping the hidden needs of entire factions.
"Junior Brother Jiang."
Lu Hanshan's voice floated from the spring. When he opened his eyes, gold flickered deep inside them.
"My third vertebra… something's stuck. When the qi passes through it, it drags and aches."
Jiang set down the charcoal and approached. A sweep of spiritual sense revealed a clump of dark red—a long-standing injury from years of chopping wood with crooked posture, a slight twist in the bone.
"When you circulate qi," Jiang said, kneeling beside him, "don't imagine yourself as a person. Think of yourself as a mountain. Your qi isn't 'flowing' through you—it's earth-energy rising from deep roots, climbing the mountain's spine. That 'blockage' isn't an obstacle. It's rugged stone—where earth-energy gathers before it surges."
As he spoke, a faint pulse of Myriad-Spirits Resonance rippled through his fingertips.
Lu Hanshan jolted. The knot in his spine seemed to stir, no longer resisting but anchoring his entire back. Power rose through his bones.
A roar ripped from his throat.
Yellow earth-light burst around him; steam exploded off the spring in violent ripples. His spine popped like crackling firewood.
Three breaths later, the glow faded.
Lu Hanshan exhaled a stream of turbid qi that condensed into yellow mist mid-air.
He stared at his hands in disbelief—the long split scar between his thumb and forefinger was fading. Under his skin, a faint metal sheen flickered.
"This…" His voice shook.
"Congratulations, Senior Brother." Jiang smiled. "You've crossed the first threshold of the Diamond-Body Art—Iron-Bone Awakening."
Lu Hanshan swallowed hard and bowed deeply, wordless.
The restriction at the entrance shimmered lightly.
A small figure slipped inside—Wang Duobao. He'd changed into a servant's drab gray robe, cheeks smeared with coal dust, but his squirrel-sharp eyes were just as restless.
"Brother Jiang!" he whispered, hurrying over. "I found it!"
"Sit," Jiang said. "Slow down, speak clearly."
Panting, Wang Duobao pulled out a thin jade slip—the Nine Provinces Commerce Guild used them for internal intel. He poured qi into it, releasing lines of tiny script and diagrams.
"The one who sent killers after me—Deacon Qian Shoucai. One of the three guild deacons stationed here. I dug into his last three months of ledger logs. Found… a problem."
He pointed to a red-marked line.
"Seven consecutive bulk purchases of Soul-Sand from the Nether Ghost Palace—each batch bigger than the last. Final purchase is triple what it used to be. Meanwhile, he's selling them eighty percent less Soul-Calming Jade."
Jiang's eyes sharpened.
"What would the Nether Ghost Palace want with that much Soul-Sand?"
Soul-Sand was essential for ghost-path artifacts and soul-binding arrays—something that would raise alarms if stockpiled. Soul-Calming Jade was the only safe counter-agent for soul backlash. The Ghost Palace never had enough, let alone sold less of it.
"And this," Wang Duobao said, sliding to another page.
"Last month, Deacon Qian requisitioned twenty Ban-Seal Thunder Orbs—claimed they were for probing the Ice-Frost Illusion Realm. That team never went there. They detoured straight toward… the Abyssal Demon Pit."
Ice-Frost Illusion Realm. Abyssal Demon Pit.
The names collided in Jiang's mind like flint on steel.
The Illusion Realm belonged to Murong Xueli's Ice Palace—home of the Frost-Petal Sword and Frost-Marrow Technique. The Demon Pit… would later become a hidden stronghold of ancient fiends.
Was Qian aiding the Demon Pit?
Or already theirs?
"Anyone above him?" Jiang asked.
"Only the Elder Council," Wang said. "Far away. They don't care about day-to-day matters." He hesitated. "But this morning I heard… Deacon Qian met someone urgent last night."
"Who?"
"Inner Court. Discipline Hall's Deputy Enforcer… Lin Tianying."
Jiang's pupils tightened.
Lin Tianying—one of Young Master Xiao Chen's most vicious lapdogs. The kind who crushed people like Jiang in the original timeline.
And he had access to secret-realm intel.
"Where?" Jiang asked.
"Listening-Rain Pavilion. Third floor. Third quarter of the hour of the Goat." Wang glanced at the sky. "About an hour and a half."
Jiang was silent for a moment.
Then he asked softly,
"Manager Wang… in all your years with the Commerce Guild, what's your biggest wish?"
Wang blinked. A bitter smile tugged at his mouth.
"Don't laugh… but I want my own appraisal booth in the Ten-Thousand-Treasures Hall at headquarters. Doesn't need to be big—a three-foot counter is enough. I want those smug old fogeys to see I'm not just an errand boy."
The ache in his voice was so raw it felt like it could spill out of him.
Jiang nodded. He reached into his robe and pulled out the jade flute.
"Take this," he said. "Go to the Flavors Hall across from Listening-Rain Pavilion. Order a pot of Calming Tea. Sit by the window facing the street. You don't need to play—just place the flute on the table."
Wang looked confused.
"What for?"
"That private room faces your seat directly. The jade flute calms the mind… and distorts spiritual perception within three yards. If it warms, tap the table three times."
"And then?"
"That's it." Jiang rose. "Tomorrow, I'll give you a map of the Azure Nether Herb Valley outer zone and three safe gathering routes. Present it to Deacon Qian. Tell him you risked your life getting it."
Wang Duobao's lips parted, stunned.
"You're… letting me take the credit?"
"I'm letting you live—and rise," Jiang said.
"What does Qian need? Someone who delivers accurate, high-value intel before the Herb Valley opens. Give him this, and you stop being a loose end to be cut… and become a useful pawn."
His voice dropped.
"And what you need… is time to grow."
The jade flute trembled slightly in Wang's hands.
He understood. Jiang wasn't throwing him to the wolves—he was carving a dangerous path straight into Qian's trust. If he survived… he'd no longer be insignificant.
"But Brother Jiang…" His voice cracked.
"Why help me… so much?"
Jiang didn't answer.
He returned to the edge of the spring, watching earth-fire mist curl upward.
"Manager Wang… how many servants in this sect spend their whole lives saving spirit stones… for a single vial of real Qi-Gathering Powder?"
Wang froze.
Jiang turned back, meeting his eyes.
"I'm not just helping you. I'm looking for people who still dare to hope."
He tapped the lower right corner of his map.
A new line had appeared:
Muchen Society – Formation Phase
Intelligence Node One: Wang Duobao (Nine Provinces Commerce Guild)
**Hour of the Goat. Third Quarter.
Listening-Rain Pavilion – Third Floor**
Lin Tianying sat in black, hawk-eyed, fingers tapping the teacup. Across from him, Deacon Qian Shoucai wiped sweat from his brow for the third time.
"About those Thunder Orbs—" Qian began.
"They've been delivered to the Demon Pit's outer handoff," Lin cut in. "But your intel on Flame-Heart Grass was trash. Elder Huoyun nearly tore the table in half."
Qian bobbed his head nervously.
"Yes—yes, my subordinates failed me. But this time…" He leaned forward conspiratorially.
"I have the exact opening time of Azure Nether Herb Valley. Three days earlier than announced."
Lin's gaze sharpened.
"Accurate?"
"Dead accurate. The Nether Ghost Palace extracted it with Soul-Search from a herb gatherer." He offered a black jade slip. "Timing details. Outer-restriction weak points. If you arrange a discreet early team—"
He stopped.
An odd irritation brushed his mind—as if someone had tapped lightly at the edge of his senses.
He glanced out the window.
A servant in gray robes sat at the window across the street… a jade flute resting on the table.
The strange sensation vanished instantly.
Lin frowned but dismissed it, taking the slip.
"Good work. Same arrangement—seventy-thirty."
"Yes, yes—thank you, Deputy Enforcer!"
After more hushed exchanges, Lin Tianying left.
Qian exhaled hard. As he lifted his teacup, a talisman in his pocket flared with heat.
A message.
Wang Duobao's voice came through—breathless, excited, barely restrained:
"Deacon! I finally obtained the Azure Nether outer-zone map! Three safe routes—one may lead straight to Soul-Return Grass!"
Qian blinked—then grinned.
Perfect timing.
Fresh intel from above… and now a subordinate bringing exactly what he needed. Perhaps the little rat was useful.
"Bring it. Now," he replied.
Across the street, the sun dipped westward.
In Flavors Hall, Wang Duobao closed the jade flute and stared at the faint red imprint on his palm. He drew a steady breath and walked toward Listening-Rain Pavilion.
He knew the truth:
once he stepped through that door, he could never go back.
But he also knew something else:
To that young man waiting by the Bone-Forging Rock…
he was no longer disposable.
He had become a living piece on the board.
A piece that could move.
(The best investment? Giving the desperate a road only you can show them.)