Leading the Stone Tiger Li Clan toward the Jagged Ravine was more than strategy—it was a quiet rebellion. Until now, Lu Chenyuan had endured, absorbing pressure like a tree weathering storms. But now, something within him had shifted. No longer content with mere survival, he reached into the shadows with outstretched fingers, shaping them like weapons. He wasn't just protecting his people anymore. He was making a move—small, silent, but sharp.
It had to be subtle. An obvious lie would backfire. A clumsy rumor would return like a thrown blade, its source exposed. Worse still, the wrong ears might hear it too soon. So Chenyuan planned with the precision of a man threading a needle during an earthquake. Each detail was measured. Every implication finely tuned. Uncle Liu couldn't be involved directly; his connection to the Lin Clan was too deep, his earlier tales of 'ancestral protections' already whispered one too many times.
Instead, Chenyuan looked to Serpent's End Market. It was a place of noise and negligence, where names meant little and memory even less. Secrets didn't hide there—they were sold, traded, embellished. In this tangle of wandering cultivators and shady traders, truth was whatever someone was willing to believe.
Uncle Liu's new task seemed innocent. Over several days, he'd travel between mundane vendors, purchasing food and supplies. In passing, he'd mutter a story—half-remembered, casually dismissed. Just enough to tempt. Just enough to spread.
It was a lie Chenyuan had composed like a dirge. A bloodied cultivator, staggering out from the Jagged Ravine, had supposedly spoken of a strange Rock Ape. Crimson fur glimmering faintly in torchlight. A Crimsonmane, barely surviving after a skirmish—injured but not dead. Nothing too powerful, just rare. And its core? Said to resonate with fire-aligned Qi. A curious temptation for anyone greedy or reckless enough to chase it.
"The doubt is the bait," Chenyuan had told Uncle Liu. "Don't push it. Let them think they found it themselves. That's what makes them believe."
Though hesitant, Uncle Liu obeyed. He played his part with grim dedication, leaving behind murmurs in every market corner like a trail of dry leaves.
By week's end, the seeds had taken root. Whispers echoed in the breeze—light, uncertain, but consistent. Just enough for those who hunted profit to notice.
Chenyuan watched from a distance, his heart quiet but tense. There was no celebration, no swelling triumph. Only the hope that this time, calculation would outweigh strength.
At home, the Lin Clan's courtyard ticked on, steady as breath. The small hoard of thirty-five spirit stones remained untouched. Chenyuan locked them away like a winter reserve, resisting every impulse to spend. Now wasn't the time for comfort. It was a time for readiness.
His cultivation crept forward. The Fifth Layer no longer felt like a peak to climb, but a path he'd begun to walk with confidence. He pushed deeper into the Azurewood Art, sensing in its roots and rhythms a way to anchor more than just his Qi—it steadied his mind. His alchemy saw modest progress. With Shen Yue's steady harvest of Green Dew Grass and the final strands of the Earth Spirit Root, he crafted three more Qi Nourishing Pills. Four in total. Enough, perhaps, to tip a scale when it mattered.
Shen Yue's focus never wavered. Every morning, she knelt to cultivate, her presence quiet and deliberate. The Wood Spirit Qi she once struggled to channel now flowed through her like springwater—clean, strong, patient. The plants in their courtyard seemed to lean toward her, their leaves trembling at her touch. Even the air around her pulsed gently, as if the world were beginning to take notice.
And then, something changed.
It was a clear morning. The sun had only just spilled over the hills when a ripple of Qi pulsed through the courtyard. Not violent—gentle, but unmistakable. Lu Chenyuan felt it even before he understood what it meant.
He stood, heart thumping softly.
A moment later, Shen Yue stepped out. She was radiant, not in any outward glow, but in something more intimate. Her skin had a faint shimmer, her eyes held a depth he hadn't seen before.
"Chenyuan," she breathed. "I think... I advanced. Everything's clearer. The world feels alive."
A smile broke across his face before he could stop it. "You've reached the Second Layer."
[System Notification: Wife Shen Yue has reached Qi Refinement Stage 2. Wood Spirit Qi intensified. Innate ability control improved. Spiritual Root (Variant - Wood) awakening: 28%. Clan Vitality +3. Host gains further comprehension of Wood Element cultivation. Clan Prosperity Meter: 20/100.]
Knowledge flowed into Chenyuan's mind—not facts, but understanding. The kind that felt like memory, not instruction. He felt the pull of life energy, the subtle harmonies of growth and renewal. The Azurewood Art responded to this new current, revealing layers he hadn't known to look for.
"This is no small thing," he said softly, almost in awe. "You'll draw Qi faster. Heal better. And our crops—our future—they'll bloom under your hand."
Shen Yue looked down at her fingers, flexing them slowly, as if adjusting to some invisible weight. Her lips parted in a quiet smile.
"It feels like waking up," she whispered.
The breakthrough was more than a personal victory. It shifted the entire balance of their household. Two cultivators now stood at its heart. Lu Chenyuan at the Fifth Layer. Shen Yue, growing swiftly into her power. And Uncle Liu, ever faithful, holding on with the faded strength of a man who had once stood taller.
With her attunement deepening, their once-fragile cultivation field began to stabilize. Even the stubborn Iron Vigor Millet—so vital to their financial hopes—showed promise.
But peace never lasted long.
As the days passed, Uncle Liu brought back murmurs from the market. The story had spread. Discreet inquiries had surfaced. Li Clan scouts had been seen near the old ravine trail. And Li Hu—cruel, ambitious Li Hu—was said to have spent long nights poring over maps, eyes bright with hunger.
Chenyuan listened, stone-faced. Beneath his calm, his mind raced. Had the bait truly been taken?
The Jagged Ravine didn't forgive arrogance. The Rock Apes were deadly in packs, and the terrain alone could swallow the unprepared. Add Berserker Pills into that chaos—an edge that turned clarity into madness—and even skilled warriors might falter.
Still, it was a risk. A deadly one.
But what was the alternative? Wait? Hide? Let the Li Clan bleed them slowly, without ever raising a blade?
No. Better a dangerous move than no move at all.
The storm arrived three nights later.
The sky cracked open, pouring rain in sheets. Wind howled like grief through the hills. Chenyuan sat beneath the wooden eaves, soaked in thought, when Uncle Liu stumbled through the gates, dripping, breath jagged.
"They went," Liu said. "Three days ago. Li Hu led them—six, maybe seven. All armed. But… something was wrong. He was wild-eyed. Red-faced. Like a man too deep into Berserker Pills."
Chenyuan's pulse quickened.
"And now?"
"Only one came back," Liu rasped. "A disciple, barely alive. Raving. Said they were ambushed. Apes. Landslides. Blood. Said Li Hu charged ahead and never returned. None of them did."
The courtyard went still, the storm roaring beyond it. Chenyuan closed his eyes for a breath. Then another.
Li Hu—feral, unrelenting Li Hu—undone by a whisper. By the mirror of his own greed.
No satisfaction stirred in Chenyuan's chest. No sense of conquest. Only cold.
Outside, the rain fell harder. The wind shrieked like it mourned what hadn't yet died.
This wasn't a victory. Not yet.
It was a tremor. The board had shifted. A piece removed.
But others remained.
Li Jian would grieve. Then, he would rage.
And the real storm would begin.