Morning had fully settled over Clear River City.
Within its walls, daily life resumed in a familiar rhythm. Vendors opened their stalls along narrow streets, wheels groaned over stone, and apprentices hurried between workshops with bundles tucked under their arms. Farmers guided oxen toward the thawing fields beyond the gates, while hunters adjusted their bows and set out toward the jungle's shadowed edge.
The city drew its name from the river that sustained it—a clear, unwavering flow that nourished crops and supported trade caravans. It was not a name chosen for grandeur, but for function.
Much like the city itself.
Inside the city, the Lin family estate occupied the eastern district, close to the city's commercial spine, where most of the pill trade flowed. Their influence came not from military might, but from refinement and supply. To the north by the river stood the Zhao family, dominant in beast materials and the caravan trade. To the southwest, near the jungle, resided the Qiu family—reserved, rarely in the public eye, but indispensable in formation arrays and city infrastructure.
Three families stood in uneasy balance. They watched one another constantly—never openly hostile, because the world outside was far more dangerous.
Near the western gate within Qiu territory, two hunters strode side by side, bows and heavy quivers across their backs, blades at their hips, small leather pouches bouncing lightly against their waists. The jungle line shimmered in the distance.
"You hear about the formation failure the other day?" one of them said, adjusting the rope binding a beast carcass to his shoulder. "Whole perimeter flickered out. A bunch of starving creatures came sniffing around the city."
The other stiffened. "Don't tell me it was this gate."
"Relax. Southern side. Why d'you think I dragged you here instead?"
The second hunter let out a breath. "So that's why. Thought you finally grew a brain."
"Keep talking. I'll leave you to test the perimeter yourself."
The first spat to the side. "They brought in three Tier-3 formation masters and one Tier-4. The whole damn Qiu household scrambled to repair it. Heard a few poor souls got caught before it stabilized."
"That many?" The second whistled softly. "Must've hurt their pride."
Tier-3 formations required at least a Proto-Star Realm formation master to inscribe properly. Even then, the process demanded unwavering control, steady Void Essence circulation, and a spiritual sense sharp enough to perceive the slightest fluctuation in structural balance. As for Tier-4—those were not things small cities could casually produce.
If the Qiu family had truly dispatched a Tier-4 master and if it wasn't the family head, there was only one possibility.
Their Grand Elder. The retired family head.
The same went for pills. Any decent Void Mist Realm could refine a Tier-1 pill. Tier-2 required Radiant Sea Realm's control. Tier-3—that was Stellar Seed Realm territory. Higher than that, and even clans like the Lin family had to tread carefully.
"Pride don't matter when beasts smell blood."
They walked a few more steps before the second hunter spoke again. "You heard Zhao's offering decent coin for Tier-2 and Tier-3 corpses?"
"Don't get greedy. Last time you chased coin, you nearly lost your leg. The girl leaving was just a bonus."
"Shut up."
After a moment, the first hunter jerked his chin toward the city. "I'm stopping by the nearest Lin medicine hall before we head out."
The second frowned. "What? Your instincts acting up?"
"Not yet. But it never hurts to stock up." He adjusted the beast carcass again. "Precaution's cheaper than regret."
The second smirked. "Fine. If something does happen to you, I'll take care of your girl."
"Heh. With your stamina?" The first shot him a sideways look. "I doubt you could keep up."
"Bastard. Stop bringing that up."
They both laughed, tension thinning slightly as the city walls rose ahead.
Across Clear River City, the influence of the three families intertwined, whether they liked it or not. Lin medicine halls dotted nearly every major street, even within the Zhao and Qiu territory. Zhao trading houses handled caravans regardless of district boundaries. And Qiu formation arrays threaded invisibly beneath streets that did not belong to them on paper.
—————————————————————
Back inside the Lin estate, Lin Xue moved through the inner corridors with measured steps. Her heartbeat had not steadied since delivering food to Max's chamber.
He must suspect me. That had to be it. Why else would he choose humiliation over the usual punishment? She clenched her teeth. I would rather be whipped than treated like this.
Tomorrow—and the days after. He had told her to dispose of the whip. Her steps faltered slightly. If he no longer intended to whip me, what did that mean? A flicker of dread crossed her face. I want to die.
Inside the chamber, Max had no idea how badly his actions had been misread. He finished the meal Lin Xue had brought earlier and leaned back, releasing a slow breath.
He had spent nearly an hour cultivating while waiting for his meal earlier, and the progress was barely worth mentioning. Each attempt ended the same way—brief sensation, then collapse, excitement disrupting focus and breaking the rhythm of breath. His shoulders felt heavy now, not from Void Essence depletion, but from mental strain.
He lay back against the bed and stared up at the carved ceiling beams. "I should be able to do this," he murmured.
The memory of circulation patterns was intact. He didn't need to build skills from scratch. He only needed alignment—mind, body, and memory moving as one.
That, in theory, should make things easier. In practice, it was anything but.
He exhaled and closed his eyes."As long as I adjust… as long as I settle into this new self… it'll come."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Maxie, you're going to have your hands full," he muttered. "Can't wait."
Excitement still lingered beneath the fatigue. Sleep tugged at him unexpectedly. Between mental strain, inherited memory integration, and lingering weakness from the cauldron explosion, his body had limits.
A quiet yawn escaped him. "Tomorrow," he whispered. The Verdant Circulation Sutra would still be there. Cultivation cannot be won in a day.
With that final thought, his breathing gradually steadied. And within that quiet rhythm, Clear River City moved forward into a day he had yet to truly step into.
—————————————————————
Inside one of the city's grand estates, a man stood in a spacious hall lined with carved pillars and lacquered screens, his hands clasped behind his back. His presence filled the room with quiet authority.
Before him stood a younger man, features similar but sharpened by impatience. "So?" the older man asked.
The younger man's jaw tightened. "He woke up." Frustration edged his voice. "It was unexpected that he survived at all. And now—barely injured."
The older man remained impassive. "Learn. Don't repeat the same mistake."
The younger man lowered his head. "I understand."
"No trace leads back to us. I've already removed all loose connections."
The elder's gaze strayed toward the courtyard. "As long as nothing reaches them."
"It won't."
A pause. "What should we do next, Father?"
"The plan proceeds," the older man said quietly. His gaze turned cold. "The tides are changing. We will survive them."