"Sir… your garments are finished."
The fat merchant presented the garments as though he were cradling a newborn baby. He was clearly worried that he had kept his customer waiting too long.
"Hmm…" Fall Night rubbed his chin as he examined the finished items.
"They look good. What runes did you engrave into the shirt?"
"Sir, we engraved two sets of runes. The first is called [Deflect], while the second is known as [Reflect]. Both are passive rune sets. [Deflect] helps deflect incoming attacks, while [Reflect] absorbs a portion of the incoming damage and sends some of it back toward the attacking cultivator."
"That's good to know. Should I wear the chainmail underneath my current shirt?"
"Umm… that is entirely up to you, sir. However, if you want to keep it hidden from others, then yes."
The fat merchant remained slightly nervous. One could never predict how a cultivator might behave. Their temperaments and peculiar habits often varied according to their cultivation methods, making it difficult for ordinary merchants to anticipate their reactions.
"What about the cloak?"
"We used most of the Dying Ember material you provided. As a result, the cloak turned out darker than its natural color, with a deep reddish hue. It should provide excellent insulation in cold climates while also helping regulate your temperature in extreme heat. We also added a button on each side, along with chains made from Emerald King Snake scales."
"Perfect."
Fall Night slipped on the chainmail shirt. A cool sensation spread across his skin as the metal settled against his body.
He then pulled on the black shirt he had received from the Elder, its small runes embedded discreetly within the fabric. Afterward, he draped the black cloak over his shoulders before placing his newly crafted cloak on top of it.
Anyone watching might have assumed that Fall Night would be unbearably hot wearing so many layers. Yet, just as the fat merchant had promised, the new cloak gradually absorbed the surrounding heat and regulated his body's temperature, keeping him comfortably cool.
"Here are thirty thousand purple coins."
Fall Night produced a silver card and a pouch of coins.
The fat merchant stared at the payment in surprise.
"Sir, we only quoted you fifteen thousand purple coins."
"You did. But you also had to use materials from your own inventory to complete my order. I can't let you suffer a loss because of me."
"Thank you, sir! The next time you visit, I'll give you a fifteen percent discount on your next order."
Fall Night merely nodded before turning and leaving without another word.
Behind him, the fat merchant could barely contain his happiness. He might have just established a connection with someone important—or, at the very least, a customer generous enough to pay more than the agreed price.
Either way, it was a profitable encounter.
---
By noon, Fall Night was making his way toward the northern gate, where he was supposed to meet Purple Night.
She was already there, engrossed in the old book she had taken from him.
When she noticed someone approaching, she glanced up. Recognizing Fall Night, she said nothing and returned to reading.
Fall Night stopped behind her without a word. He stood quietly, his breathing steady and relaxed, waiting for her to acknowledge him.
Eventually, Purple Night glanced over her shoulder.
She slowly closed the book, tucked it into her large pouch, and turned to face him.
Her gaze lingered on Fall Night longer than necessary.
Not on his mask.
On his new cloak.
The garment draped over his shoulders was unmistakable. Golden Bear cub fur, thick and luxurious, with its natural brown interwoven with faint golden strands. Yet the addition of Dying Ember had transformed its appearance, giving the fur a deep crimson sheen, as though it had been steeped in shadowed blood light.
The color did not diminish the fur's natural beauty. Instead, it deepened the shade, making the material appear to swallow light rather than reflect it.
Purple Night's attention shifted toward the edge of the cloak, where a slight metallic sheen was visible along its inner lining.
Then she noticed the crimson chainmail peeking out from beneath his black shirt.
Crimson. Immaculate. Far too immaculate for someone who had spent so much time traveling through the wilderness.
Purple Night narrowed her eyes and extended her perception just enough to probe his aura without making her intentions obvious.
What she discovered—or, more accurately, what she failed to discover—made her pause.
Almost nothing.
Only the faintest trace of Fall Night's bloodline aura escaped his clothing, as thin as a breath against cold glass.
*So the new garments aren't merely for protection,* she thought. *They're concealing his aura, too.*
She raised a finger to her chin, studying him in silence.
*What else are you hiding, Fall Night?*
"When did you get that cloak and shirt?" she finally asked. Her tone was indifferent, as though she were asking about the weather.
"Tailor's shop," Fall Night replied flatly. "Across the third street, near the low-grade material vendors."
No inflection. No further explanation.
Purple Night caught the deliberate restraint in his voice and smiled beneath her mask.
"Interesting."
She produced two talismans in one smooth motion. Pale symbols shimmered across their surfaces.
"Low-grade Swift Talismans," she explained, tossing one to Fall Night while keeping the other. "They'll shorten our travel time to the mountain range. Any questions?"
"No."
"Good. Let's move."
Purple Night activated her talisman and shot through the northern gate like a streak of purple light, her figure blurring into a trail of afterimages.
Fall Night activated his own talisman and followed immediately.
---
Hours later, Death Sword and Jagged departed in the same direction.
The northern territories of the Midnight Clan stretched out before them, vast and unforgiving.
As Fall Night and Purple Night crossed forests, skirted lakes, and leaped over rivers, their pace never faltered. The open plains proved more dangerous than the forested terrain, but even that did little to hinder their progress.
Bandit groups occasionally appeared along their route.
They died just as quickly.
Neither cultivator wasted much time on such insignificant obstacles.
As they continued traveling, Purple Night unfolded a detailed map and studied their position relative to the Seven Elements Peak Mountain Range.
"We're getting close," she said. "Here. Take a few more talismans."
She passed several to Fall Night without breaking stride.
"To keep up," she added coolly. "One won't be enough."
Fall Night accepted them without complaint.
They adjusted their course slightly to the east.
The air grew heavier as the landscape became increasingly wild. Ferocious beasts appeared more frequently, most of them Tier 1 creatures at the peak of the Awakening Plane.
Fall Night dealt with them efficiently, showing little interest in anything beyond their beast cores. Once he had collected what he wanted, he left the remaining carcasses behind.
By the time the sun began to descend, the terrain had grown rougher, and the first peak of the mountain range was drawing near.
"We'll rest here tonight," Purple Night announced. "We can reach the first peak tomorrow."
"Anything I need to prepare?" Fall Night asked.
"Yes."
She answered without hesitation.
"You're cooking."
Fall Night turned toward her, his expression hidden behind his mask. Even so, the awkward silence that followed spoke volumes.
"With what meat?"
Purple Night slowly turned her head to look at him.
For a moment, the two stared at each other in mutual disbelief.
"Damn…"
Fall Night let out a quiet sigh.
"I'll go hunting, then."
Without waiting for a response, he walked off into the surrounding forest to find something suitable for dinner.
---
Night settled over their campsite.
The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the surrounding trees. After Fall Night and Purple Night finished their meal, the sound of approaching footsteps announced the arrival of Death Sword and Jagged.
Death Sword surveyed the campsite before choosing a position that offered a clear view of the surrounding terrain. Jagged settled farther away, remaining silent as he watched Fall Night with thinly veiled hostility.
His journey had been far from pleasant.
Death Sword had corrected his behavior several times along the way.
Unfortunately for Jagged, those corrections had been considerably more physical than verbal.
His bruised body was a testament to the experience.
Death Sword's attention eventually shifted toward Purple Night, who was absorbed in the small, tattered book resting in her hands.
"Reading?" he asked.
"Oh?" Purple Night glanced up, as though she had only just remembered the others were there. "This old thing? Fall Night gave it to me."
Death Sword let out a soft laugh.
"Fall Night?"
"It's true," she replied lightly. "Though whether he gave it to me willingly is another matter."
"I didn't give her anything," Fall Night said dryly. "She took it."
Death Sword's eyes sharpened with amusement.
"So you suffered a loss?"
Purple Night chuckled.
"I may have forced the trade, but he didn't suffer a loss. After all, he was in my company."
Fall Night remained silent.
There was little point arguing with someone who could turn almost anything into an advantage for herself.
Nearby, Jagged said nothing. He sat nursing wounds that ran far deeper than bruised flesh, his resentment simmering beneath the surface.
Fall Night, meanwhile, opened *[Learning the Way]* and resumed his study.
His thoughts returned to the dangers of advancing too quickly—or progressing too slowly.
Power gained too quickly could dull a cultivator's combat instincts, leaving them with strength they did not fully understand. On the other hand, power tempered through experience demanded patience, insight, and a deeper understanding of one's own abilities.
Neither path was without its dangers.
The key was finding the right balance between cultivation and practical experience.
Fall Night was pleased with what he had learned.
He kept his thoughts to himself.
No one noticed.
"We leave at dawn," Death Sword announced. "Once we reach the mountain range, we move as a unit. No nonsense. That means you, Jagged. And you, Fall Night."
Both men nodded.
Purple Night's gaze drifted toward Fall Night, lingering on him thoughtfully.
For reasons she could not quite explain, the man seemed to become more mysterious the longer she observed him.
---
The following morning, something was wrong.
Fall Night had not moved.
Purple Night frowned.
He usually went hunting in the morning, often returning before the others had fully awakened. Yet today, he remained perfectly still, apparently content to sit where he was.
She studied him for a moment but said nothing.
Across the campsite, Jagged watched everyone carefully, his fists tightening behind Death Sword.
He had not forgotten his humiliation, nor had he forgiven Fall Night for the part he believed him to have played in it.
Eventually, Fall Night opened his eyes.
He rose to his feet and moved around behind Purple Night, seemingly unconcerned by the atmosphere surrounding the group.
Yet he could feel it.
Jagged's hostile stare.
Purple Night's quiet curiosity.
Death Sword's watchful presence.
Death Sword broke the silence.
"Purple Night and Fall Night will handle the first peak. Jagged and I will take the second. After that, Fall Night and I will deal with the third. Anyone not currently engaged will provide support where needed."
"Unwelcome guests?" Purple Night asked pleasantly.
"We kill them," Death Sword replied without hesitation. "Or leave them to Jagged."
"Perfect."
Purple Night turned toward Fall Night.
"Anything to add?"
"No, Purple."
Her eyes flashed.
"Since when are we familiar?"
"We're not," Fall Night replied mildly. "I just knew it would annoy you."
For a moment, Purple Night stared at him.
Then she let out a soft laugh, though the amusement in her voice carried a distinct edge of irritation.
"You're getting bolder."
Fall Night offered no response.
"Move out!" Death Sword barked.
The group finally set off toward the Seven Elements Peak Mountain Range, leaving their campsite behind as the morning sun rose over the wilderness.