Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting alternating bands of light and shadow across the living-room floor. Lu Chen opened his eyes and first took stock of his physical condition.
His fractured bones were still knitting, the wounds had scabbed over, but none of it hindered basic movement anymore. The basic healing pill had worked better than expected; combined with the regenerative strength of a level-19 martial artist, he was now roughly seventy percent recovered.
He sat up and rolled his left shoulder—there was still a dull ache deep in the wound, but lifting his arm or rotating his wrist posed no trouble.
On the coffee table lay the fragment of the Demon-Suppressing Stele; its nurturing progress should be nearly complete.
Lu Chen picked up the stone slab. It was warm to the touch, and the once-blurred engravings appeared a shade clearer than yesterday. At the edges, faint twisted symbols surfaced—half like ancient script, half like runic sigils.
"One more nurturing session today should be enough to trigger the resonance," Li Xuan's timely voice rang out. "The nine fragments of the Demon-Suppressing Stele share a faint connection. As long as another piece lies within ten kilometers, it will point the way."
"Ten kilometers isn't much," Lu Chen murmured.
"For a complete heaven-grade artifact, such a limited sensing range would be pitiful. But remember—this stele shattered over a thousand years ago. The pieces scattered across the world. Having even a single fragment nearby is already a heaven-sent stroke of luck." Li Xuan paused. "Besides… I suspect this fragment is somewhat unusual."
"Unusual?"
"Hard to say. After absorbing Chen Feng's baleful blood-qi, something within it changed. It no longer feels like pure suppressive power. It's as though… after devouring that malignant energy, it developed a new property entirely."
Lu Chen slipped the slab back into his inner pocket. Once tonight's nurturing was done, the truth would reveal itself.
At nine in the morning, he drove to the Martial Artist Service Association.
His certification had been approved. The clerk handed him a black case containing a silver badge engraved with the characters "Martial Artist." The reverse side bore the number "19" and a verification code. He also received a sturdy identification card with his photo, rank, and registration number.
"We recommend carrying your badge at all times," the female staffer reminded him mechanically. "Many locations require identity verification. Also, your profile has been uploaded to the Association's internal system—you can use the app to view missions, exchange resources, or submit requests."
Lu Chen downloaded the app and registered. The interface was clean, divided into sections: Mission Hall, Resource Exchange, Intelligence Market, and Martial Forum.
He opened the Mission Hall. The list was arranged by difficulty and reward:
[C-Rank Mission: Escort Jiangcheng University's archaeology team to the northern ruins. Requires level 20+. Duration: 3 days. Reward: 200,000 + 50 points.]
[D-Rank Mission: Clear mutated rat infestation in the West District sewers. Requires level 15+. Reward: 50,000 + 20 points.]
[B-Rank Mission: Investigate recent "Blood-Drinker" attacks near Linjiang. Requires level 30+ or team. Reward: 800,000 + 200 points.]
[A-Rank Mission: Assist the military in hunting fugitive 'Blood Butcher' in Yunling Mountains. Requires level 40+. Reward: 3 million + 800 points.]
Most missions required a minimum rank of level 15. Rewards included money and Association points, redeemable for items.
Lu Chen browsed the Resource Exchange: cultivation manuals, martial techniques, medicinal pills, materials, weapons, and special items.
Even the cheapest yellow-grade manual cost several hundred points; profound-grade techniques required thousands. Healing pills, cultivation boosters, and burst-type elixirs were all expensive.
With his 1300 points, he could redeem a handful of high-quality pills or a decent weapon.
But there was no need to rush.
Exiting the app, he drove to the old-goods market in the west of the city. The daytime crowd was livelier than yesterday—vendors shouting, customers haggling, the air thick with dust and the scent of cheap incense.
He headed straight for the western section.
Activating Aura Sense, he scanned fifty meters around him. Weak traces of ordinary blood-energy filled his mind, along with the stale remnants lingering on old objects—nothing noteworthy.
Arriving at the stall where he bought the slab yesterday, he found the skinny old man still there, squatting and eating breakfast: soy milk and fried dough.
"Boss, got anything like that stone slab from yesterday?" Lu Chen crouched and asked.
The old man looked up mid-bite, speaking through a mouthful of dough. "Nope. Only had that one. If you want stone scraps, try Old Zhang ahead—he's got broken gravestones."
"No need. Thanks."
Lu Chen wandered through the market once more. He bought a corroded bronze-mirror shard and a Republican-era handwritten medical booklet—worthless trinkets, but good enough to conceal his true aim.
Before leaving, he noticed a freshly posted notice on the bulletin board:
"Jiangcheng Martial Artist Association Reminder: Multiple violent attacks recently occurred in the northern docks. Suspected involvement of renegade martial practitioners. Martial artists are advised not to travel alone at night. Report suspicious individuals immediately. Valid leads earn 50 points."
Two grainy surveillance images accompanied the notice—blurry silhouettes moving between warehouse shadows.
From the outline… it vaguely resembled Chen Feng.
Lu Chen photographed the posting and left the market.
After a simple lunch back at his apartment, he resumed cultivation in the afternoon.
He swallowed his second Body-Tempering Pill and ran the Basic Tempering Art. The medicinal warmth spread, nourishing his meridians. The pain was far milder than the first time—more like soaking in a hot spring. His blood-energy circulated briskly, and power slowly accumulated in his dantian.
Two hours later, the pill's effects fully absorbed.
[Body-Tempering Pill consumed]
[Physical foundation strengthened]
[Current Strength: level 20]
[Note: Initial bottleneck surpassed. Recommend stabilizing foundation before consuming further pills.]
Level 20 at last.
Lu Chen stood and clenched his fists. His strength had grown markedly; energy flowed more smoothly. He punched forward—air cracked sharply, and the force left faint marks on the wall five meters ahead.
This was the gulf between the initial and middle phase—though only one level apart, level 20 marked the first true threshold.
He opened his system interface.
[Level 20 reached. Passive Skill acquired: Internal Energy Circulation.]
[Description: Energy flows automatically through the meridians, continuously toughening the body. Slightly increases recovery rate during combat.]
A fine auxiliary ability.
At six, Huang Mao messaged: "Lin-shao, seller confirmed. Tonight, 8 p.m., Fisherlight Bar. He'll wait ten minutes only."
"Got it."
Lu Chen donned dark casual wear, armed himself with a pistol and dagger, then added a thin anti-stab vest—yesterday's wound had reminded him that martial artists were often deadlier than bullets.
He left at seven-thirty.
The Fisherlight Bar sat on the outskirts of the dock district, a repurposed two-story building, its walls painted blue and its neon sign flickering. A few motorcycles lined the entrance; muffled music throbbed inside.
Lu Chen parked, entered.
Inside, smoke billowed under dim lighting. Rough-looking men drank at the bar, others played dice in booths, and two tattooed youths played pool in the corner.
He headed to the bar.
The bald bartender wiped glasses without looking up. Lu Chen ordered a beer.
"Looking for someone?" the bartender asked casually.
"Old Zhou."
A brief pause. The man lifted his eyes, gave Lu Chen a quick glance. "Second floor. Last room."
Lu Chen took his beer upstairs.
The second-floor corridor was narrow, walls lined with faded nautical charts. The last room's door was ajar, light spilling through.
He entered.
A small private room: round table, several chairs. Three men sat inside.
At the head was a weathered man in his fifties, skin dark and coarse, wearing a sailor's jacket, cigarette dangling from his lips—this must be Old Zhou.
To his left sat a sharp-featured man around thirty, temples bulging—about level 18. To his right sat a lanky youth, level 12, fiddling with his phone.
"Lin-shao?" Old Zhou rasped.
Lu Chen nodded and sat opposite. "The item?"
Old Zhou lifted a canvas bag from the floor and unzipped it. Inside was a wooden box containing a silver metal shard.
Palm-sized, irregular edges, corroded surface but largely intact. Under the light, it emitted a cold, muted sheen.
Lu Chen reached for it.
"Hold up." The sharp-featured man pressed down on the box, glaring. "Show the money first."
Lu Chen tossed a brown envelope onto the table: fifty thousand in cash—his deposit; the remaining 450,000 would be wired.
Old Zhou signaled his man to release the box.
Lu Chen lifted the metal shard. It was heavier than steel of the same size. Its surface was icy, and the moment his fingers touched it, an extremely faint yet razor-like energy pulsed from within.
Not the ancient solemnity of the Demon-Suppressing Stele—something sharper, more modern.
"Where did this come from?" he asked.
"Fished out of the river." Old Zhou exhaled smoke. "Can't tell you the exact spot—that's the rule. But I can say this: that place has more pieces. Bigger ones. Water's too deep to retrieve."
"Tested it?"
"Tried. Welding torches don't melt it; hydraulic cutters can't shear it. A materials expert said it might not be from Earth at all." Old Zhou grinned, showing yellow teeth. "That's why I dared ask fifty thousand. If you're interested, I'll contact you when we haul up more."
Lu Chen returned the piece to the box.
"I'll take it. Give me your account."
The transaction proceeded smoothly. After receiving the money, Old Zhou slid the box to him and passed a business card.
Lu Chen pocketed the box and rose.
The door flew open.
Three people entered.
A short-haired woman in a black leather jacket led them—around thirty, cold expression, piercing gaze. Behind her stood a buzz-cut brute and a bespectacled youth.
All three had strong auras: the woman around level 25, the brute 22, the youth 20. Their bearing wasn't that of freelance martial artists—they felt trained, organized.
"Old Zhou. Is the item still here?" the woman asked coolly.
Old Zhou's face drained of color. "Officer Chen… you… why are you—"
"Answer."
"It—it's already sold." He pointed at Lu Chen. "Just now."
The woman turned to Lu Chen, eyeing him. "Who are you? Which family?"
Lu Chen replied with a question: "Who are you?"
"Martial Artist Association. Special Operations Unit." She flashed a silver badge engraved with "Special Ops." "We are investigating a smuggling case involving prohibited materials. That metal shard is critical evidence. You will cooperate."
The atmosphere tightened at once.
Old Zhou broke into a sweat. His men stood, tense.
Lu Chen paused, then placed the box on the table. "The item is here. But I paid. It is legally mine."
"We will compensate you at market value," the woman said flatly. "But the object must come with us."
"On what grounds?"
"Because it may be linked to activity from an extraterritorial anomalous organization." Her gaze sharpened. "You don't want ties to them."
Extraterritorial… anomalous organization.
Lu Chen found the memory: in recent years, foreign ability-users had formed covert groups, infiltrating the nation, smuggling contraband, recruiting locals, and carrying out attacks. The authorities and the Association were cracking down, but with limited success.
If this metal shard was tied to them…
"I'll need proof," Lu Chen said.
The woman retrieved a small scanner and held it over the shard.
It beeped softly; data filled the screen:
[Material Analysis: Unknown alloy (non-terrestrial composition)]
[Energy Reaction: Faint. Frequency matches 'Phantom' organization equipment—87% similarity.]
[Threat Level: Low (single unit).]
"Convinced?" she asked, pocketing the device.
Lu Chen studied the shard, then the trio blocking both door and window—ready to act on a moment's notice.
Fighting was unwise.
"Fine," he said, stepping back. "Take it. How will the compensation be processed?"
"You'll be contacted within three days," she said, taking the box. She glanced at Old Zhou. "You. With us."
Old Zhou paled further but did not resist.
Before leaving, the woman asked, "Name? Rank?"
"Lin Xiao. Level 20."
"Lin family?" A subtle trace of disdain flickered in her eyes. "Noted. And do not discuss tonight's events. You'll only invite trouble."
The trio left.
Silence returned.
Old Zhou's men stared at Lu Chen, conflicted.
"Lin-shao… I'm sorry…" Old Zhou stammered. "I didn't know this would drag in the Association—"
"It's fine," Lu Chen said coolly. "But you still owe me one piece of information."
"Anything!"
"You said there were more pieces where you found this. Tell me exactly where."
Old Zhou hesitated, then gritted his teeth. "Twenty li upstream—there's a place called Ghost-Leap Gorge. Underwater whirlpools. Seems to be a sunken ship down there. I found it nearby. But that place is cursed—several divers went down and never returned."
Ghost-Leap Gorge.
Lu Chen committed it to memory and left.
Descending the stairs, he overheard murmurs:
"…heard someone died at the docks again last night. The Night-Owl and three bodyguards—all slaughtered…"
"That's not all. Someone found half-dead at the riverbank this morning, chest stabbed with a stone. DOA at the hospital…"
"The Association's cracking down. Best keep our heads low…"
Lu Chen exited the bar.
Night had fallen completely; the docks were sparsely lit, the river a pitch-black void.
He sat in his car, but did not start it. He opened the Association app and searched the intelligence section:
"Phantom Organization," "metal shard."
A few encrypted reports appeared—each requiring points.
The cheapest cost 300 points: "Recent Activity Map of Phantom Organization + Partial Target List."
He bought it.
The report loaded:
> Phantom Organization: Extraterritorial anomalous group. Core members unknown. Specializes in spatial and psychic abilities. Their recent operations across East Asia involve seizing 'ancient relics' and 'special materials.'
> Recent Activity: Retrieved unknown artifact from a Tang-era shipwreck in the East Sea three months ago; raided a border tomb two months ago; conducted underwater scans near Jiangcheng one month ago—objective unknown.
> Target Traits: Non-terrestrial materials; special energy reactions; some with spatial attributes.
> Warning: Members typically above level 30. Avoid direct contact. Report immediately.
Jiangcheng waters.
Ghost-Leap Gorge.
Lu Chen closed the report and drove off.
Halfway down the road, the fragment in his inner pocket suddenly warmed.
Finished nurturing?
He parked, pulled out the slab.
Its once-pitch-black surface now shimmered faintly gold; the engravings were crisp, undeniably ancient runes. At its center, a spectral arrow surfaced—pointing northwest.
Northwest—toward Ghost-Leap Gorge.
"I've sensed it!" Li Xuan exclaimed. "At least two fragments lie in that direction—eight kilometers away!"
Lu Chen studied the arrow, remembering the report.
The Phantom Organization sought relics and special materials.
The Demon-Suppressing Stele fragments fit that description perfectly.
And the silver metal shard—whatever its purpose—was clearly one of their targets too.
The threads were weaving together.
Lu Chen drove home.
At ten, he researched Ghost-Leap Gorge: located upstream, steep cliffs, raging currents, numerous shipwrecks. Local fishermen spoke of "water ghosts" and nighttime wailing.
Every rumor had a root.
If a sunken vessel truly rested there—and carried relics or special materials—it was no surprise that the Phantom Organization had come.
But how much did the Association know?
The woman hadn't mentioned the organization at all. Was she unaware—or hiding it?
Lu Chen massaged his brow.
He had simply wanted the stele fragments. Now he was being pulled into a larger whirlpool.
But there was no turning back.
To survive in this world, strength was the only path. And a heaven-grade artifact like the Demon-Suppressing Stele was a shortcut to power.
He had to obtain the remaining fragments.
Even if it meant opposing the Phantom Organization.
Or the Association.
Lu Chen stood at the window.
Nighttime Jiangcheng shimmered—neon lights glowing, traffic weaving like streams of fire.
Beneath the brilliance, dark currents were already stirring.
He recalled Chen Feng's last warning: "You don't want to be involved with that kind of thing."
No—he was already entangled.
And he intended to dive deeper.
Turning away, he began assembling gear: wetsuit, oxygen tank, underwater lamps, waterproof pack—none of which his predecessor owned, but all available to purchase. The Association app sold professional diving equipment at steep prices—he now had the points.
He placed the order. Priority delivery: tomorrow morning.
Next, he needed detailed hydrological maps of Ghost-Leap Gorge and the probable wreck location.
He could buy that intelligence… or call Huang Mao.
He reached for his phone—but before dialing, a message flashed across the screen.
A text from an unknown number:
"Mr. Lin Xiao, regarding tonight's incident, we wish to speak with you. Tomorrow, 9 a.m., Association Building, 3rd-floor conference room. Attendance required. —Chen Jing"
The female officer.
The Association had set its sights on him.
Lu Chen deleted the message and set the phone aside.
Good.
He wanted to know how much they truly understood.
And whether they held information he could use.
Outside, clouds smothered the moon.
A storm was coming.