By the time dawn crept over the jagged cliffs behind the Earthfire Courtyard, Jiang Muchen had already been sitting beside the Bone-Forging Crag for half an hour.
Below him, Lu Hanshan was submerged in the crimson spring pooling at the base of the rock. But the mist rising from the surface wasn't steam—it was a thin, yellow haze of earth-aligned spiritual essence. His eyes were shut tight, veins bulging at his temples; every breath made his ribs rise and fall like a slumbering mountain slowly gathering strength.
Three yards away, Jiang sat cross-legged on a slab of cold blue stone, a rough piece of beast-hide parchment unfolded across his knees. His charcoal pencil scratched softly across the page.
But he wasn't drawing the "Flame-Heart Grass Collection Map" Elder Huoyun had assigned.
The entire upper left corner was a clean, precise topographical sketch of the Flame Abyss Inner Sanctum—perfect for handing in.
The real work, however, hid in the lower right corner: a cluster of tiny cipher-like notes written in razor-fine strokes.
* *Illusory Color Flowerfield – Seven-Hue Lotus (ripens at solar zenith)*
* *Qingming Valley – Soul-Return Herb (in 37 days? Ghost Palace aware)*
* *Qian Shoucai → Lin Tianying → Abyssal Demon Cavern (20 Breaking-Seal Thunder Pearls)*
* *Shadow-Sand purchase volume ↑300% (aiming to forge Ten-Thousand-Soul Banner?)*
Only he could decipher those marks. Some came from the secrets Wang Duobao spilled last night when he defected; others he gathered while "mopping floors" outside the Scripture Hall, listening to idle chatter from inner disciples.
The *Insight Sense* of the **Resonance of Ten Thousand Spirits** was evolving—
No longer merely revealing what someone lacked…
but assembling the entire **board**, mapping each **piece's hunger**.
"Junior Brother Jiang."
Lu Hanshan's voice floated from the spring, thick with restrained pain. He opened his eyes—gold gleam flickering in and out.
"The third vertebra… It's sealed shut. When I push my qi through, it feels like knives."
Jiang set down his charcoal and moved to the water's edge. A sweep of his inner sense revealed the truth beneath the blockage—
Not a simple injury.
Three years of improper training had twisted the bone structure, cold damp from years of chopping wood had seeped deep, forming a stubborn "bone-rust."
"Senior Brother," Jiang said quietly, tapping three points along Lu Hanshan's spine, "circulate your qi again. But don't try to *break* through it."
Lu Hanshan froze. "…Then think what?"
"Think that it belongs there."
Jiang's tone was calm, almost casual.
"Mountains have ashen cliffs. Rivers bend where they must. That knot isn't an obstacle—it's the natural gate of your body. Your qi isn't being blocked… it's being *held*."
As he spoke, he sent a faint thread of **Resonance** into Lu Hanshan's meridians.
It wasn't quite spiritual qi—
More like an *invitation to harmonize.*
Lu Hanshan convulsed.
And suddenly—he felt it.
The knot was no longer a hostile lump but the central brace of a bow—the point where strength gathers before it's unleashed.
"Rrraaah—!!"
A roar burst from his chest, three years of suffocation tearing free.
The spring exploded in concentric rings; water blasted three yards high. Earthen light flared around him like the first blaze of sunrise. His spine crackled as bone segments realigned in a chain of sharp snaps—like firecrackers going off in a tight alley.
His old scars—weathered, pale, puckered—peeled away layer by layer, revealing new skin faintly glowing with metallic luster. Beneath his palms, stone-like patterns rippled faintly.
Three breaths later, the glow faded.
Lu Hanshan exhaled a long, heavy plume of earthy qi that lingered like a rising pillar of dust. He stared at his hands, stunned, as though they belonged to someone else.
"This is…" His voice cracked.
"Congratulations, Senior Brother," Jiang said with a small smile.
"You've passed the first stage of the Diamond-Forged Body—*Ironbone Awakening*."
Lu Hanshan's eyes reddened. Gratitude, disbelief, relief—all choked him silent. Finally, he dropped into a deep, trembling bow, fist pressed to palm.
Jiang helped him back up. "The road is long."
Just then, the barrier at the Crag's entrance rippled.
A thin, quick-footed figure slipped inside—Wang Duobao, now dressed in the soot-stained gray of the lowest courtyard laborers. His sharp little eyes, however, were as bright as ever.
"Brother Jiang!" He half-ran over, breath hitching.
"I—I found it!"
Jiang gestured for him to sit. "Catch your breath."
Duobao puffed air three times, then pulled out a sliver of translucent jade—an internal **Nine Provinces Merchant Guild** intelligence-relay "Memory Jade." He infused it with qi, and lines of text and diagrams floated into the air, marked in alarming red.
"Qian Shoucai," Duobao whispered rapidly. "One of the three chief stewards. In charge of secret-realm materials. In the last three months, his purchases of Shadow-Sand from the Ghost Palace have **tripled**. But sales of Soul-Gauge Jade—used to stabilize backlash—have dropped by **eighty percent**."
Jiang's eyes narrowed.
Shadow-Sand in bulk…
Soul-Gauge Jade withheld…
Someone was preparing something dark. Very dark.
"And the craziest part," Duobao said, pulling up another record, "Last month Qian requested twenty Breaking-Seal Thunder Pearls—claimed it was for exploring the Cold-Ice Mirage. But the team he sent never went there. They diverted… to the outer ring of the Abyssal Demon Cavern."
Cold-Ice Mirage. Abyssal Demon Cavern.
The moment the two names collided, sparks leapt in Jiang's mind.
The Mirage belonged to Murong Xueli's lineage.
The Cavern… would one day become a node of ancient demon infiltration.
Qian Shoucai wasn't just skimming profits.
He was feeding information—or resources—to the enemy.
"Does he have someone above him?" Jiang asked.
Duobao shook his head.
"Only the Elder Council—but they're at Central Province Headquarters. Direct involvement is unlikely. But…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "I heard something this morning. Last night, Qian Shoucai met someone in secret."
"Who?"
"…Lin Tianying. Discipline Hall Vice-Adjudicator."
Jiang's pupils tightened.
Lin Tianying—one of Xiao Chen's direct loyalists. Later, he'd become one of the key suppressors targeting the protagonist. As Vice-Adjudicator, he held the authority to oversee secret-realm approvals.
If Qian was linked to **him**, then the rot ran deep.
"Where are they meeting?" Jiang asked.
"Third floor of Listening-Rain Pavilion. At the third quarter of the afternoon. About… an hour and a half from now."
Jiang fell silent.
Wind swept across the Crag, carrying the distant rumble of Earthfire furnaces. The spring's surface reflected a brightening sky… and the golden symbols slowly rotating in Jiang's pupils.
He suddenly asked, "Duobao, in all your years at the Merchant Guild… what have you wanted most?"
Duobao blinked. Then gave a bitter smile.
"You'll laugh… I want my own appraisal stall in the Headquarters' Treasure Hall. Doesn't have to be big. Just a three-foot counter. One lantern. I want those old foxes to see that I'm not just a peddler who flips goods for scraps."
For a moment, his eyes betrayed a raw, buried hunger—
*the hunger to be seen.*
Jiang nodded, then pulled out the **jade flute**.
"Take this." He placed it into Duobao's hands.
"This afternoon, go to Flavor Hall across from Listening-Rain Pavilion. Order a pot of Clear-Heart Tea. Sit by the window. Keep the flute on the table. Don't play it."
Duobao stared. "What does it do?"
"The flute calms the mind… and gently interferes with spiritual senses within three yards." Jiang's voice was calm.
"If the flute grows hot—tap the table three times."
"And after that?"
"Your task is finished."
Jiang turned back toward the spring.
"Tomorrow at this hour, I'll give you a detailed map of the Qingming Valley's outer herb distribution. Three safe routes. Bring it to Qian Shoucai. Tell him you fought through hell to obtain it."
Duobao's jaw dropped.
"You—You want me to present it as a merit?"
"I want you alive," Jiang replied.
"And I want you climbing."
"Qian Shoucai's greatest need right now is leverage. If you give him something useful before the Valley opens, he'll stop seeing you as a disposable liability… and start seeing you as a functional piece."
His voice dropped lower.
"And you… you need safety.
And a chance to prove your worth."
Duobao trembled violently.
He wasn't being sent to die.
He was being given a **path**—dangerous, sharp-edged, but leading straight into the steward's inner circle.
"Brother Jiang…" His voice broke. "Why… help me so much?"
Jiang didn't answer immediately.
He looked out over the misted springs, then spoke softly.
"Duobao, do you know how many outer disciples in this sect dream only of saving enough spirit stones… to buy a single vial of real Qi-Gathering Powder?"
Duobao froze.
Jiang turned back.
"I'm not just helping you.
I'm looking for those who can help me—
**overturn the entire board.**"
He tapped the lower corner of the parchment.
At some point, a new line had appeared:
**Muchen Society — Founding Stage
Intelligence Node One: Wang Duobao
(Nine Provinces Merchant Guild — Red-Dust Branch)**
---
**Later that afternoon — Listening-Rain Pavilion, Third Floor**
Lin Tianying sat still as iron, dressed in black, running a fingertip along the rim of his teacup. Opposite him, Steward Qian Shoucai dabbed sweat from his brow.
"About the Thunder Pearls—" Qian began.
"They've reached the handoff point near the Abyssal Cavern," Lin interrupted. "But your previous Flame-Heart Grass intel was garbage. Elder Huoyun almost crushed his talisman on the spot."
Qian winced. "Yes, yes—my underlings failed me. But this time…" He leaned forward, lowering his voice. From his sleeve, he took out a black jade slip. "Accurate timing of Qingming Valley's opening—three days earlier than the sect's announcement. Ripped from a gatherer's mind by Ghost Palace soul-search. Also includes weak points in the outer boundary."
Lin's eyes gleamed coldly.
He snatched the slip. "Reliable?"
"Absolutely! If you send an early team—"
Suddenly, Qian's mind jolted.
A faint agitation—something warping his senses.
He glanced toward the window.
Across the street, in Flavor Hall's window, sat a gray-clad figure. A jade flute rested on the table.
The sensation vanished just as fast.
Lin frowned but dismissed it.
"Good work. Same deal—seventy-thirty split."
"Yes, yes, thank you, Vice-Adjudicator!"
After a few more whispers, Lin left.
Qian stayed behind, breathing heavily. As he lifted his tea—
His transmission talisman flared.
Wang Duobao's voice burst through—trembling with forced composure:
"Steward! I've secured the **Qingming Valley Outer Herb Map**. Three routes. One might lead straight to Soul-Return Herb!"
Qian froze.
Then grinned.
A pillow delivered right as he dozed.
Maybe that little rat really did have value.
"Bring it at once," he replied.
Outside, sunset stained the sky.
In Flavor Hall, Duobao stood from his seat, palming the jade flute, a faint red brand marking where it had heated in his grip.
He walked toward Listening-Rain Pavilion—no turning back now.
But one thing burned steady in his chest:
To Jiang Muchen—
he was no longer a disposable piece.
He was a **living piece**.
A piece that could breathe.
A piece that could change the board.
---