The news arrived like a late winter frost—expected, but no less unwelcome.
Uncle Liu delivered it as he always did: with careful wording and the weary caution of someone used to bad tidings. Word had spread through the quieter corners of Serpent's End that Li Hu—first son of the Stone Tiger Li Clan and an arrogant thorn in Lu Chenyuan's side—had broken through to the Fifth Layer of Qi Refinement. He'd emerged from seclusion burning with a fierce new aura, striding through the clan like a young warlord fresh from conquest.
Lu Chenyuan had known it was coming. That didn't make hearing it easier.
"So, the young tiger's grown fangs," he murmured, voice flat as he stirred a cup of cold tea. Morning sunlight streamed in weakly through the patched paper windows, painting soft gold across the rough wooden floors of the Lin courtyard.
Across from him, Uncle Liu nodded grimly. "Patriarch Li Jian is overjoyed. There's already talk of a feast to celebrate. More than that—there are whispers Li Hu wants to... show off his new strength."
Chenyuan didn't need Uncle Liu to spell it out. In a place like the Serpent's Coil Hills, "showing off" meant exactly what it sounded like—duels, intimidation, humiliation. Blood, if needed.
A faint rustle interrupted them—Shen Yue, crouched near the hearth, paused in her careful sorting of dried Green Dew Grass. Her hands stilled, eyes lifting to Chenyuan's face, searching it for signs of worry.
He gave her none.
Let them celebrate, he thought. Let Li Hu strut like a cockerel in a henhouse. It made him easier to predict.
"A feast," Chenyuan said thoughtfully. "And an overconfident young master itching to prove himself. That kind of celebration... tends to loosen tongues. And tempers."
He glanced toward Uncle Liu. "What about the stories we started? The ones about our so-called ancestral protections?"
A flicker of satisfaction crossed Uncle Liu's face. "They're taking root. Old Man Hemlock was heard muttering about 'ancient forces stirring' near our lands. A few of the Li Clan's outer disciples were snooping around the foothills last night—asking locals if they'd seen strange lights or heard strange sounds."
Chenyuan allowed himself a small smile. "Good. Let uncertainty gnaw at them. The more they hesitate, the longer we breathe."
But breath alone wouldn't feed their clan. Nor protect it.
Their remaining twenty spirit stones felt pitiful against the backdrop of the Li Clan's coffers. Worse still, while Chenyuan had matched Li Hu in cultivation level, he lacked the brute resources, battle-hardened experience, and sheer influence the Li heir carried like a blade.
Their real asset lay in alchemy.
"I made another batch of pills," Chenyuan said aloud, his mind already moving three steps ahead. "Four Standard Grade Qi Nourishing Pills, plus the one leftover. Five in total. I used one to test. That leaves four we can use. But selling them in Serpent's End openly would be foolish. The Li Clan's eyes are everywhere."
"Then how?" Shen Yue asked quietly, brushing a few errant leaves back into her basket. Her progress in cultivation had been steady—she was nearing the Second Layer of Qi Refinement, and her control over Wood Spirit Qi had become more refined than ever.
"There's a man. A pawnbroker, of sorts. Operates out of a tea house in Serpent's End. Name's Silas."
Uncle Liu's face darkened. "Silas? That man's a jackal, Young Master. He deals in stolen goods, unregistered trades. Nobody trusts him."
"Exactly why he's perfect," Chenyuan said coolly. "He won't ask where the pills came from. He'll care about the quality—and his cut. Nothing more. He won't risk his shadowy little empire by reporting us to the Li Clan over a minor transaction."
It was a gamble. But then, every move they made lately was.
The next morning, Chenyuan left before dawn. He wore old robes, threadbare and dusted with grime, his hair mussed and face lightly dirtied to complete the disguise of a wandering rogue cultivator. Two Standard Grade pills rested in a linen pouch at his side. Shen Yue handed him another—her own pouch, filled with Green Dew Grass she'd dried herself. A quiet gesture. A silent blessing.
Uncle Liu watched him leave with the look of a man sending his son into a storm.
Navigating to Silas meant diving into the underbelly of Serpent's End—a mess of smoke-choked alleys, shoddy storefronts, and muttered deals. The tea house was no better. The smell of boiled leaves and sweat mingled into something vaguely sour. A few discreet words and a coin or two bought him passage through a curtain of cheap silk to the back room.
Silas looked exactly as Uncle Liu had described: thin, twitchy-eyed, with the nervous energy of a rat in a den of snakes. He didn't ask for names.
"You brought something?" the man rasped, eyeing Chenyuan like he could sniff secrets.
Chenyuan pulled out one pill, unwrapped it. "Standard Grade Qi Nourishing. Two in total."
Silas rolled it between long fingers, sniffing once, then twice. "Not bad. Some minor impurities. But decent enough. From someone I trust, I'd offer ten. You… seven each."
"Eight each," Chenyuan said flatly. "They're fresh. Potent. Fifteen for the pair, or I walk."
Silas considered. Then, with a shrug, pulled out a leather pouch and dropped fifteen spirit stones into Chenyuan's waiting hand.
"A pleasure," the pawnbroker murmured. "If you get more... alchemical trinkets, you know where to find me."
Chenyuan didn't respond. He was already halfway out the door.
He returned to the Lin courtyard before nightfall. The fifteen spirit stones felt heavier than their weight—every one a small victory. They had thirty-five now. Still nowhere near enough. But better than starving.
Over dinner, he relayed what happened. Shen Yue listened without comment, eyes steady. Uncle Liu breathed a soft sigh of relief, though it didn't reach his shoulders.
But Chenyuan's mind had already moved ahead again.
"The Li Clan's been sending hunting parties after spirit beasts lately, right?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
Uncle Liu nodded. "That's the talk. I also heard Li Hu visited that reclusive alchemist near the cliffs—the one who makes Berserker Pills."
A dangerous grin touched Chenyuan's lips.
"Berserker Pills are powerful... but unstable. Especially in the hands of someone as reckless as Li Hu. Spirit beast hunts are already risky. One wrong move and... well, even young tigers bleed."
He leaned back, thoughtful.
"There's a ravine in the deeper parts of the hills. Jagged Ravine. Steep cliffs, bad footing, narrow paths. I've heard of Rock Apes living there—strong, aggressive brutes. Not valuable enough to tempt the larger sects, but more than enough to cause havoc for a small, overconfident hunting party. Especially one under the effects of a Berserker Pill."
Uncle Liu's eyes widened. "You mean to send them there?"
"Not directly," Chenyuan replied calmly. "But a rumor... of a rare Rock Ape variant whose core enhances fire-based cultivation? One weakened by injury, lurking in Jagged Ravine? That might be enough to draw their attention."
"And if Li Hu charges in, half-maddened from a Berserker Pill..."
"Then maybe," Chenyuan said softly, "the wolves might just walk into the trap on their own."
He wasn't looking for open battle. Not yet. Not while the Li Clan could still crush them by force.
But he could turn their strength against them.
Let them chase whispers and shadows. Let them bleed chasing illusions.
It would buy time.
And time, he knew, was the one currency they could not afford to waste.