When he reached the trapdoor that led back to the alchemic room, he reminded himself this was not the time to stir trouble.
He did not want the whole cult snapping to high alert. So he chose the quiet path. He slapped the man at the base of the neck.
The cultist jolted and blinked, rousing as if from a heavy stupor.
"Disappear," he murmured.
The youngest cleaner blinked. His frown pulled tight as he looked around the room, eyes flicking to corners and door seams, hunting for what his senses had just brushed.
Then he saw Radeon. Not his true face. Sail Knife's. Old skin creased with wrinkles, broken teeth bared in a grin that did not fit a man's face.
The figure drifted closer in two soundless steps, close enough for the boy to smell sour breath that was not there, then vanished.
A cackle snapped right into his ear. The boy shivered so hard his knees knocked. His eyes went wide, whites showing.
He lurched backward, spun, and bolted, shouting with everything in his lungs as if noise could keep the thing from following.
"Ghost! There's a ghost, Senior, help me!" the youngest boy cried.
No one dared joke in the Ashlime Crag.
The gilded core cultists patrolling in the distance paused, unwilling to let talk of disturbances pass so easily.
A tide of spiritual sense rolled out from them and swept through the alchemic rooms as they pushed in.
By the time the patrolling cultists arrived, Radeon was already well beyond their reach.
The gilded core cultists found nothing out of place. They clicked their tongues and scoffed.
To them it was only a junior with a weak Dao heart, spooked by his own shadow and crying about ghosts.
Instead of a reprimand, they looked the kid in the face, laughed it off, and traded low jokes at his expense.
"Behind you, boy. Buddha's right at your back," one of the gilded core cultists hissed.
"Aye, the Celestial Emperor's haunting you, lad," another cackled. "Come to grant you a peerless inheritance, he has."
The eldest of the errand boys wore a mask of anger. He had only just gotten his second roll lit when another commotion came.
Cursing under his breath, he strode out and saw seniors wiping tears from laughing, while the youngest was still shouting himself hoarse.
The boy's face was flushed a sick pink, his eyes bloodshot. His fingers were locked tight around a crushed sprig of some herb.
Too ashamed to be seen with such a child, the eldest cleaner stepped in and slapped him across the cheek.
Then again. Then again. He did it till the hysteria broke. The boy's legs gave, and he toppled to the floor in a dazed heap.
While tempers and rumors churned in that alchemic chamber, Radeon was already slipping away, bound for the old quarters where Giovanni had stayed.
'What's worth this on a dead peak with thin qi? Something under it. Or above. Either way, I'm finding out,' he thought.
Out of sight of everyone, he slowly absorbed back the old skin of the sky sailor, letting his features smooth back into the youthful face of Giovanni.
Now, He meant to learn what this siege was truly for and what kind of treasure could drag a great sect into such a reckless mobilization.
After half an hour, Radeon arrived at the living quarters, a broad chamber spread before him, its walls bitten deep with smaller caves of uneven size.
A curtain hung at the mouth of each hollow, thin fabric guarding what little privacy could be had.
Disciples in plain robes drifted between the cave mouths, but no one spoke.
Footfalls were soft. Breathing was kept close. This was a cultivation ground and silence ruled here.
Radeon entered Giovanni's seclusion cave. The things were unorganized typical of a young man of his years.
Radeon felt no remorse. Both he and Giovanni went after riches.
The young man, Giovanni, was simply unfortunate for Radeon at the time.
Radeon took out what was valuable such as spirit stones, blood pills, and a spare sword.
Before he went out the small abode. He gave each wall of a cavern a stare of his divine eye.
He looked through the immaterial and found golden flickers set against pitch black.
A sign that the treasure or artifact, coveted even by the Skyflight Sword Court, might offer a chance at fortune with calamitous consequence.
Radeon was about to follow the dust of fate when the three seconds ran out. His head buzzed with pain from the strain of using it.
He gulped down some water until his throat stopped scraping and the tremor eased out of his hands. When he could breathe like a person again, he went out.
His job now was to watch. People moving to their posts. Faces sliding past.
Radeon knew someone would greet him.
Giovanni was good at that, good enough to remember every face, each man's petty enmity, each small kindness.
Giovanni remembered competence too. He remembered who was always late, who cut corners, who got assigned where and why.
Radeon let the corridor's rhythm carry him. More than an hour crawled by on soft footsteps and murmured orders.
Then a fresh batch of youngsters came through.
Among them he spotted two Breath Tempering cultists he recognized.
Their gazes caught on him and turned wary, measuring the status his recent reward had bought.
Radeon, now wearing Giovanni, stood and stepped close enough to clap each man on the shoulder. The simple touch loosened their faces.
They traded quick, relieved grins, as if deciding Giovanni's breakthrough had not gone straight to his head.
"Piero. Luca." Radeon drawled, his gaze flicking between them. "What have you two been up to now?"
"Thought you were dead, Giovanni," Piero called, grinning. "We were already picking through your things for the burial. I'm all for honoring the dead."
"Bury it, is that it. You mean bury it in your pockets?" Radeon scoffed. "Who do you think you're fooling. Where are you headed?"
At his light question, the brief joy on their faces drained away. Gloom settled over them, a dull tiredness hitting as if someone had slapped it on.
From their sour faces, Radeon could guess it. Punishment work, most likely.
Payment for rifling through Giovanni's things before the cult had even confirmed him dead.
"It was farther east," Luca muttered, "where they were draining the prisoners."
"I never thought that cult was this... dark," Piero said quietly.
"Shut that mouth of yours," Luca snapped. "You'll get us all in trouble, talking like that."
The work they had ever trusted Giovanni with was drilling fresh disciples, his hands setting stances instead of scrubbing pots.
This new assignment lay far outside anything Giovanni had done. That was why Radeon chose to go with the two men.
He wanted to see this strange ground for himself.
"Why don't I come along with you?" Radeon suggested, a touch too lightly. "I'm only curious, that's all."
The two men's faces lit at once. Their shoulders drew back and their chins tipped up, a new air of superiority creeping in.
They both knew Radeon had never set foot in that place before. For once, they would be the ones to lead him.
"Listen well, Senior Radeon," Luca said. "That place is no jest. First thing you'll need is a scarf. And something to cover your ears."
"Best you listen to us, just this once," Piero put in, voice low. "Even gilded core experts dare not forget a scarf and ear cloths."