78. The Fading Glow of a Million Stolen Secrets

My stomach drops.

“Cultivation?”

“Foundation Establishment. One is stronger. Peak, I think.”

I curse under my breath.CShen Qiao’s face loses what little color it regained. Wei Zheng looks up from the stone, hand tightening around his chest.

‘Hollow Scale never cut their losses. Of course they didn’t.’

The failed probe proved value. A Foundation Establishment cultivator intervened. The mortal craftsman vanished. The shop emptied. The target left before sunset. Even if the fire muddied the details and stopped the two agents from revealing anything, the shape of the thing was already too interesting to ignore.

“How far?” I ask.

Ling’er closes her eyes for a moment.

“Ten minutes. Less if they hurry.”

We cannot outrun them while protecting Wei Zheng and Shen Qiao. I look at the drainage path. The slope of the hills. The trees clustered thickest toward the eastern side. The old stones half-buried near the ridge, perhaps remnants of a shrine road or boundary marker.

A bad battlefield.

Still better than being caught from behind.

“Move,” I say.

Shen Qiao stands immediately despite his shaking legs. Wei Zheng forces himself upright. I guide them off the drainage path and toward a narrow pocket between rocks where the brush grows thick enough to hide two mortals from casual sight. Not from a determined spiritual scan, but perhaps from a hurried one.

“Stay here,” I tell them.

Wei Zheng lowers his tool chest with a soft thud. His eyes move to my hand as I reach into my storage ring.

Frostbite appears.

The sword is cold in my grip. Colder than before. Its presence enters the air like winter pressing a hand against the back of my neck. The restoration is not complete. Not even close. But there is more life in it now than there was when I first brought it to Wei Zheng. With it, my capabilities rose to Foundation Establishment sixth or seventh.

I close my fingers around the hilt. A better weapon that made me a better lure.

I look at Ling’er.

“I will draw them away. You stay hidden until I signal.”

She steps backward. Then she is gone. One moment she stands in front of me. The next, my awareness slides past where she should be, unable to catch on anything. Even knowing she is there, even knowing what to look for, I cannot find her. A whisper touches the inside of my mind.

‘They are still following. They changed direction after you left the path.’

Sound transmission.

I cannot answer without knowing where she is. I can only listen. I step away from the hiding place and move toward the clearing at the end of the drainage path. I let my aura loosen. Enough for a Foundation Establishment cultivator searching the area to find me. Enough for Frostbite’s cold to leak into the air and leave a trail no greedy hunter could ignore.

Ling’er’s voice brushes my thoughts again.

‘They noticed.’

Good. I move into the clearing. Trees surround it on three sides, thin trunks and pale leaves shifting in the afternoon wind. The ground is uneven, marked by stones and old roots. A broken shrine marker leans at the far edge, its inscription worn away by time. I place three small formation flags as I walk. Basic traps. Crude. Hastily made. If they are careless, they will buy me a heartbeat.

My hopes are shattered quickly.

The first man enters from the left, finally within range of my senses. The second appears from the right, avoiding my traps entirely.

The left one is broad-shouldered, with a shaved head and a scar cutting through one eyebrow. His robe is plain brown, but the fabric moves too well to be cheap. The right one is thinner, older, his hair tied back with a strip of black cloth. His eyes go to Frostbite first.

I activate the Gaze.

The older one’s assessment follows a heartbeat later.

‘They do not know Coiling Dragon. They do not know Ling’er.’

Their eyes keep returning to Frostbite. I let my grip tighten around the sword, not like a man ready to fight, but like a man trying to hide fear behind a weapon too powerful for him.

“Seniors,” I say, forcing my voice to catch at the right places. “I am only a simple cultivator. If this is about money, I can pay. If it is about the weapon, we can discuss terms.”

Cheng Bao laughs first. It is a short, ugly sound.

“A simple cultivator,” he says. “With a sword that doesn’t belong to him.”

Bai Shuren smiles faintly.

“You did well in the city,” he says. “Won some stones. Hired a craftsman. Purchased a mortal’s debt from the Red Ledger Office. Left early through the grain gate as if choosing a boring exit makes a man invisible.”

My stomach tightens. They know that much.

“You followed me from the city?”

Cheng Bao’s eyes sweep the clearing, then the surrounding trees. He ignores my question and asks one of his own.

“You left with three others.” His grin widens. “Where did you hide them?”

I force myself not to react.

“Gone,” I say. “They are not involved.”

“Everyone is involved once they are useful,” Bai Shuren says.

“What do you want?”

“The sword,” Cheng Bao says immediately.

Frostbite still sits at the center of their greed. They are not uninterested in the others, but they have not understood what they saw. Not yet. I let my shoulders slump a fraction.

“If I give it to you?”

“You will live long enough to answer questions,” Bai Shuren says. I let my face twist into a grimace.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

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Cheng Bao snorts. “Still trying to calculate? What’s the point of asking these useless questions?”

Despite his insult, I stand firm with Frostbite in front of me. Bai Shuren lifts one finger and points upward. I follow the gesture, keeping my guard raised.

For a moment, I see nothing but pale sky and drifting cloud. Then a shape moves.

A bird, high above. Too high for a mortal to notice. Almost too high for me. Its wings barely shift as it circles, a small dark mark against the brightness.

My mouth goes dry.