Meanwhile in a restaurant that belonged to the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan Alaric was enjoying himself.
After paying an honestly absurd amount of money, Alaric got to eat on the 3rd floor of the restaurant. That being the most expensive and most exquisite level of the restaurant.
Spirit beast meat, carefully treated rice and a decent amount of medical ingredients that strengthen cultivation. Usually, a luxury to most people on this continent.
To Alaric it tasted decent but not overwhelming. Good because the ingredient were of the highest quality, bad because this place had apparently not yet realized the importance of multitude of spices – though the tea was miles ahead of what Alaric had ever tasted before in his life.
"I definitely need to organize myself some for the future." He muttered satisfied.
Meanwhile in the bureau of the building that only the manager was in, in order to calculate profit and organize ingredients, a small meeting had begun.
"Are you sure that's him?"
"Yes sect master, he gives off the same feeling that I had in the auction house." The manager answered.
Indeed, Ning Fengzhi was here because of a report of one of his subordinates.
It was pure chance; the manager was in the auction house to gauge powerful soul masters to maybe exchange some rare spirit beast meat. Later on, as he heard that the kid who passed him on his way out was the owner of something truly precious, he couldn't get the weird feeling of his mind that he had when he passed Alaric.
By pure luck he barely associated the figure of Alaric with that feeling when he entered in order to try the local specialties.
It wasn't anything definite.
No face, no spirit pressure, no confirmed martial soul.
Just a vague... discomfort. A chill behind the eyes. Like a whisper you couldn't quite catch — and shouldn't try to.
Ning Fengzhi sat at the table, fingertips steepled. He didn't look tense, but both Sword and Bone Douluo standing quietly to his left and right told another story entirely.
"You said he's on the third floor?" Fengzhi asked.
"Yes," the manager replied with a respectful bow. "Alone. No guards. Ordered the 'Dragon Bone Five Star Set' and an entire pot of Snow Root Jade Tea. Paid up front with Heaven Gold ingots."
Chen Xin raised an eyebrow. "So either a rich brat playing games…"
"Or a cautious genius who doesn't like debt," Gu Rong finished for him.
Fengzhi nodded slowly. "And he hasn't shown any spirit rings?"
"No, Sect Master. He's quiet. Wears black. Hood up the entire time. Doesn't interact with the staff beyond what's necessary. But… he asked for more of the tea."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Fengzhi smiled faintly. "So he has taste."
Chen Xin's hand lightly rested on the hilt of his sword, not out of threat — but out of habit. "Should we approach?"
Fengzhi shook his head. "Not yet."
He looked toward the window, where the sun filtered through clouded glass over the golden-tiled roofs of the district.
"If he's truly the one from the auction… we can't afford to scare him. If he isn't, we gain nothing from disturbing a guest of our clan."
"And if he runs?" Gu Rong asked.
"Then we'll know for sure," Fengzhi said quietly. "And we'll see what direction his shadow bends."
Meanwhile, Alaric had just taken his third sip of the Snow Root Jade Tea. The flavor was light, smooth, with the faintest bitterness that grounded it perfectly. It had an aftertaste that reminded him of bitter orange and mint leaf.
He let the warmth slide down his throat and sighed, content.
"Definitely need to smuggle a seedling of this into the Dune world," he muttered.
His spoon tapped the edge of the porcelain bowl as he idly stirred a final bite of glazed lotus root.
The Axiom Vault flickered inside his awareness.
Not a warning.
Not a threat.
Just… attention.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
A presence had entered the second floor.
Not spiritual pressure.
Weight.
The kind of presence that didn't need to be felt in energy — but in how people instinctively avoided glancing toward it. A silence followed it like polite fear. No footsteps, but movement. No threats, but pressure.
Alaric chewed slowly and finished the bite.
"Well, I was wondering when the observers would show up."
He set down the chopsticks.
Took another sip of tea.
And waited.
Calm.
Composed.
Completely relaxed — like a boy who had all the time in the world, and no need to run.
A quiet pulse shimmered at the edge of Alaric's perception — not from outside, but within.
The Axiom Vault had begun rotating. Slowly. Patiently. One of the outer segments had aligned, like a lock preparing to release its latch. He didn't force it. He never forced the Vault. It revealed what it wanted, when it was ready — when he was ready.
Instead, he reached into his side satchel and withdrew a folded slip of blank paper. To any observer, it looked like a child's idle notepad. But as he slid it under the base of his teacup, a barely visible glyph etched itself into the paper with soft blue light.
It was not a ward. Not a defense.
Just a listener.
If anyone tampered with the space around him, probed it, twisted the light or the sound or even the emotional flow — he'd know. The rune activated simply based on energy fluctuations that didn't originate from himself. It virtually reacted to anything – but in a serene place there was nothing it should react to.
For now, he let the trap sit, passive.
Then he leaned back again and refilled his tea.
Two floors below, Ning Fengzhi tapped the table gently, once.
"I'd like to send someone up."
Chen Xin glanced over. "You said not yet."
"I still mean not directly," Fengzhi said. "I want him tested, not approached."
He turned his head toward the side door. "Call Ling."
A moment later, a young girl entered the room. No older than fifteen. Dressed plainly, face soft, demeanor unremarkable.
A servant by all appearances.
But her eyes… sharp. Calculating. A junior mental-type spirit master raised within the clan's inner guard.
"You called, Sect Leader?"
"Yes. There's a guest on the third floor. Deliver him this." He handed her a small porcelain box — nothing magical. Just a gesture.
"But," he added with a small smile, "make sure to accidentally trigger a basic spiritual sensing pulse while you're near him. Weak. Unfocused. The kind a new spirit master wouldn't even notice. Try to get a feel for his level."
Ling bowed. "As you wish."
As she left, Gu Rong sighed. "We're baiting a tiger with rice crackers now?"
Silence.
"No," Fengzhi replied. "We're checking if the tiger even looks up."
Upstairs, Alaric caught it the moment she passed the doorway.
The pulse was weak. Almost innocent. Like a baby bird poking at the walls of an egg.
It barely even scraped the outer edge of his passive field.
But the Vault pulsed anyway — with mild curiosity.
Alaric didn't react.
He let his expression remain soft, blank, slightly disinterested. But he did flick a finger beneath the table. The glyph on the paper brightened for a moment, invisible to everyone but him.
Then he reached forward and accepted the box from the girl without a word.
She gave a small bow and turned to leave.
That's when he spoke — voice soft, almost idle.
"Next time, don't let the pulse linger after you turn away. Makes it obvious who cast it."
She froze.
Her spine stiffened, just slightly.
Then, without turning back, she exited the floor.
Two floors below, a servant whispered something into Fengzhi's ear.
The sect master smiled quietly.
"So," he murmured, "the tiger does look up."
Chen Xin's eyes narrowed. "And he didn't pounce."
"Which means," Gu Rong added, "he's not afraid. Or very, very polite."
"Or both," Fengzhi said.
He rose to his feet and clasped his hands behind his back.
"We'll continue watching. But prepare a gift."
Chen Xin raised a brow. "Already?"
"If this boy sells another vial… I want it. And I want him to know we pay better than Spirit Hall ever could."