Sun Bo was jolted out of his stunned daze by a sharp knock at the door. He drew a shaky breath, straightened his robes, and remained standing. Sitting again felt… inappropriate.

  Before he could speak, Chen Mo’s voice drifted lazily across the room. “Come in.”

  The door opened. Steward Lui entered with his head lowered, hands cupped respectfully. “This humble one greets Master Sun…”

  “Steward Lui,” Chen Mo said lightly, swirling the wine in his cup. “Long time no see.”

  The voice struck like a thunderclap.

  Steward Lui’s body stiffened. His heart nearly stopped. Slowly, unwillingly, his eyes lifted. What he saw made the blood drain from his face. Chen Mo sat there at ease, sipping wine as if attending a casual gathering, while Master Sun stood to the side with an expression of rigid restraint.

  Memories flooded back. Fear, humiliation, sleepless nights.

  Steward Lui began to tremble violently. His knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor with a dull thud. “M-my lord! Please spare this humble one!” he cried, forehead slamming against the ground. “I swear on my life, I never betrayed you! I never dared, not even once!”

  Chen Mo watched the scene with mild curiosity, then let out a soft chuckle. There was no cruelty in it, only faint amusement.

  “It seems,” he said calmly, “you’ve had a rather difficult time these past months.”

  The words were gentle.

  Steward Lui felt as if a blade had brushed past his throat.

  Sun Bo blinked, still struggling to process everything, and finally found his voice: “Lord… you knew Steward Lui?”

  Chen Mo sipped his wine, eyes glinting faintly. “Mm. Steward Lui is an old friend. He helped me a great deal before. Isn’t that right, Steward Lui?”

  Steward Lui’s trembling hands tightened nervously. “Y-yes… yes, my lord… I—I dare not call myself your friend. I am but a humble servant, honored to serve and aid you with whatever meager skills I possess…”

  Sun Bo, watching the flustered steward, momentarily forgot his own shock, utterly captivated by the display.

  Chen Mo rose from his seat, stretching casually. “Don’t worry. This lord is in a good mood today. And since fate has brought you here…” He paused, letting the words sink in. “…I’ve decided to reward you.”

  Steward Lui rose unsteadily, bowing deeply, his voice still quivering despite his efforts. “Th-thank you, my lord… this humble one is truly grateful. I am honored beyond words that the lord is satisfied…”

  Chen Mo’s faint smile lingered as Steward Lui’s relief seemed to hang in the air like a tangible weight.

  Chen Mo leaned back slightly, the corner of his lips curling with quiet amusement. “Master Sun, I want you to take care of Steward Lui… perhaps bring him with you when you return to the capital.”

  Sun Bo straightened immediately, bowing respectfully. “Certainly, my lord. Since Steward Lui is a friend of Master, he shall be treated as an honorable guest of the Sun family.”

  Steward Lui hesitated, unsure whether to feel joy or lingering fear, but he lowered himself into a deep bow nonetheless. “This one is forever grateful to the lord and the Sun family.”

  Chen Mo nodded once, decisive. “Good. You may return now and await further news from Master Sun.”

  As if granted a second life, Steward Lui’s voice quavered but firmed: “Yes… yes, thank you, my lord.” He retreated slowly, still maintaining his bowed posture, each step measured in awe and relief.

  Chen Mo leaned back, fingers tapping the armrest, his tone calm yet carrying an invisible weight.

  “Master Sun, is that Commander Qi still in the city?”

  Sun Bo answered without hesitation, “Yes, my lord. He has not left Jian City.”

  A faint smile traced Chen Mo’s lips. “Good. I’ll pay him a visit. From him, gathering information about Xu Haoran will be far easier.”

  Sun Bo’s heart skipped, but he bowed deeply. “This subordinate understands. I will remain here and await my lord’s good news.”

  Chen Mo rose, his figure already seeming a shade lighter, as if the world itself had grown slower around him. With a single step, he moved toward the door, leaving behind only the lingering scent of wine

  In a luxurious courtyard, Commander Qi reclined in his chair, a faint breeze rustling the silk curtains around him. Since Lord Xu had ordered him to halt the relentless pursuit of that elusive boy, the constant pressure had eased considerably. Yet even in these calmer days, his subordinates worked tirelessly in the shadows, sending back scraps of intelligence whenever they could.

  Qi’s mind, however, was far from idle. The legacy—the mysterious, coveted inheritance—occupied his every thought. Securing it would mean Lord Xu would achieve his ambitions, and Qi would not be left behind: influence, authority, wealth, perhaps even a chance to break through to Innate. A long, measured sigh escaped him. As a Mid-stage Organ Refinement cultivator still grappling with the ceiling of his realm, progress was slow, but loyalty to Lord Xu promised a brighter path—not just for him, but for his descendants, a future gilded in power and opportunity.

  Even as he sipped his tea, Qi’s eyes flickered with resolve. The game was still far from over, but he intended to make every move count.

  As Qi lounged in the courtyard, lost in thought, a sudden shift in the air prickled the edges of his awareness. Before he could turn, an immense, suffocating pressure slammed into him like a tidal wave. His body stiffened involuntarily, every breath seized, and his limbs felt as though they were suddenly submerged in molten iron. Qi’s heart raced, a cold sweat breaking out along his spine, and for the first time, he was utterly paralyzed—unable to move, speak, or even draw in air properly.

  Panic flashed in his eyes as he realized the aura wasn’t just strong—it was overwhelming, crushing, and utterly alien. He had faced countless cultivators in his years, but this… this was beyond anything he had ever felt. His senses screamed, yet he could not identify the source. Not even a glimpse of the figure before him registered—he didn’t know which Innate master had appeared, only that his life, his strength, and his very will were being held in absolute, instantaneous submission.

  Qi’s mind spun helplessly, every instinct screaming retreat, yet no action could be taken. He had been subdued before even understanding who—or what—was pressing down on him. Fear, raw and unfiltered, settled in his chest: for the first time in his life, Commander Qi, Mid-stage Organ Refinement powerhouse of Jian City, felt completely powerless.

  Qi’s voice caught in his throat, trembling with disbelief and fury. “Chen… Mo…? Impossible… how—how could you—”

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  Chen Mo leaned back casually, one hand resting on his knee, the other swirling the faintly glowing qi around him like a living aura. “In the flesh,” he repeated, the corners of his mouth curling into a calm, almost playful smile. “You’ve been hunting shadows for two years, Commander Qi, and suddenly you stop. I admit, I was worried you might’ve… gotten yourself into trouble. So I thought I’d come see for myself.”

  Qi’s knees threatened to buckle under the weight of the oppressive aura pressing down on him. His eyes darted, searching for a trick, an illusion, some explanation—but there was nothing. The man in front of him radiated a presence far beyond Mid-stage Organ Refinement, and every instinct screamed that this was no ordinary cultivator. “N-no… this… you… how—” he stammered, panic rising, yet his voice barely pierced the oppressive quiet of Chen Mo’s presence.

  Chen Mo chuckled softly, a sound that made the very air tremble. “Relax, Commander. I’m here to check on you… but I think we both know who holds the upper hand now.” The true qi around him pulsed subtly, a quiet warning that even speaking defiance was dangerous. Qi’s mind spun: he had faced Innate experts before, but this… this was unlike anything he could have imagined.

  Chen Mo finally restrained his aura, letting the sweating Commander Qi catch his breath. His piercing eyes studied the middle-stage expert carefully.

  “So… tell me,” Chen Mo said calmly, “why did you stop?”

  Qi’s voice trembled. “Lord Xu… orders…”

  Chen Mo leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. “And?”

  “They… they are waiting for you to finally arrive at the capital,” Qi admitted, unable to hide a trace of fear.

  Chen Mo nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “I see… very clever. The Immortal Recruitment is in a few months. I do plan to go myself.”

  Qi, as if under a spell, began to speak without hesitation, his mind completely subdued by the overwhelming presence of this young Innate master. “In three months, the court issued a decree… all youths between fifteen and twenty are to gather in the capital, to welcome the immortals and participate in the Immortal Recruitment.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes darkened with thought. The entire empire… such a scale… He frowned slightly. Only those capable, only families and sects with resources… the distant provinces… most mortals won’t even have the chance to step foot in the capital.

  He exhaled softly, feeling the enormity of the event. “So it’s a stage not just for skill, but for influence and opportunity… and for those who survive, power beyond imagination.”

  Qi nodded rapidly, his gaze fixed on Chen Mo. “Yes, my lord… only registered youths from prominent families and recognized sects can make the journey. Others… they remain behind.”

  Chen Mo’s gaze was steady, cold, and unyielding. “Commander Qi, I will need your help this time. If you are sincere… perhaps keeping your life could be considered a reward. What do you think?”

  Qi’s heart pounded violently. He knew there was no choice—no maneuvering, no bargaining. Yet, he was ambitious, and the chance to survive, to live another day, was worth any concession. Swallowing his fear, he nodded. “Yes… I will do as you say, my lord.”

  Chen Mo’s lips curved slightly, but inwardly he sneered. Fools who stand in my way… I will spare none. The moment any enemy becomes useful is the only time they live. Otherwise… they are liabilities waiting to ruin everything.

  He continued, his voice calm but sharp. “Who else knew about this legacy?”

  Qi hesitated, then answered cautiously, aware of how much he was revealing. “This… apart from Lord Xu… only His Highness, the Second Prince. He competed with Lord Xu for years, sparing no expense to locate it before us.”

  Chen Mo’s expression darkened slightly, a storm brewing behind his serene demeanor. So it’s been a game all along… Xu Haoran and the Second Prince, pawns and rivals alike. Good… I’ll make sure none of their schemes interfere with mine.

  Chen Mo nodded lightly. “Good. Since that’s the case, I want you to send an urgent letter to your master. Tell him you’ve finally located the legacy.”

  Commander Qi’s face drained of color. Still, he forced himself to remain composed. “Lord Xu is not someone easily deceived, my lord. I fear he may sense something amiss.”

  Chen Mo smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried no warmth. “He won’t. Just tell him you discovered the remains of Chen Mo in some remote cave in the wilderness. Leave the details vague… but make sure to hint at the legacy.”

  Qi’s breathing faltered. He understood immediately. A corpse, a cave, an unfinished trail. Enough truth to feel convincing, enough mystery to lure a predator out of hiding.

  “Yes,” Commander Qi said after a brief pause, bowing deeply. “I will do as the lord commands.”

  Suddenly, a knock echoed from the gate of the courtyard. Chen Mo glanced at Commander Qi and gave a slight nod. In the next breath, his figure melted into the shadows at the corner, presence erased as if he had never existed.

  “Come in,” Qi said.

  A guard entered, holding a stack of documents. He cupped his fists and bowed. “My lord, the latest intelligence reports.”

  Qi waved his hand impatiently. “Put them aside and leave.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The guard hesitated at the threshold, then added, “Commander, that boy Jia Tao has requested an audience. He’s waiting outside.”

  Qi’s expression darkened. His gaze flicked instinctively toward the corner of the courtyard, then he said coldly, “Let him in.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Moments later, a seventeen-year-old youth stepped inside. He looked thin but stubborn, his eyes carrying a suppressed fire. He bowed deeply. “This humble one greets the lord commander.”

  From the shadows, Chen Mo watched silently. Hearing that familiar name stirred a faint ripple in his otherwise calm mind. Curiosity stayed his hand, allowing the meeting to continue.

  Qi asked flatly, “What do you want?”

  Jia Tao clenched his fists and spoke with restrained urgency. “Commander, I have been loyal and diligent all this time. I beg you to grant me a chance and allow me to join the caravan to the capital.”

  Qi sneered inwardly. So that’s it. He decided to tear this boy apart right here, especially in front of that hidden specter watching from the dark.

  “You intend to participate in the Immortal Recruitment?” Qi asked.

  “Yes, my lord,” Jia Tao replied without hesitation. “If fate allows me to be chosen… then one day I will avenge my family and personally kill that traitor Chen Mo.”

  His fists trembled as he spoke, hatred pouring out unchecked.

  Qi laughed coldly. “Do you take me for a fool, boy? Even if I assume you have no chance of being selected, why should I take such a risk for you?”

  Jia Tao dropped to his knees with a dull thud. “Please, my lord. I swear I bear no resentment toward you. All my hatred is reserved for that wretched traitor who brought ruin upon my family.”

  Qi shook his head slowly.

  At that moment, Chen Mo stepped out from the shadows, his presence returning like a blade pressed silently against the throat. His gaze fixed on Jia Tao, unreadable.

  Chen Mo had long assumed this boy had perished along with the Silver Crane School. To think he had survived… and unknowingly nurtured such irreconcilable hatred.

  A seed I planted without realizing, Chen Mo thought calmly.

  His expression did not change, but his thoughts deepened. Jia Tao was not the danger itself. He was a reminder.

  There were others out there. Faces buried in memory. Names long forgotten. Shadows that might one day grow sharp enough to wound him.

  And unlike today, he might not always notice them in time.