The "Silent Stone District" at the north corner of the stockade lived up to its name. It was as quiet as a stone sunk to the bottom of a lake.
Clinging to the shady side of the back mountain, sunlight never touched this place.
Moss crawled over the walls of the stone houses, and the air was thick with a damp, cold, moldy smell.
Although the environment was harsh, the walls were thick, and it was far from the clamor.
On the first day he moved in, Lin Mu scattered a circle of warning powder bought from the black market at the door and window cracks. He also set up a simple alarm system using gravel in the courtyard.
Only after doing all this did he finally relax. Lying on the stone slab bed, he didn't cultivate or think.
In this danger-ridden world, he intended to sleep a peaceful sleep.
For the next seven days, his life returned to a dull, regular norm.
Aside from necessary eating and excretion, he barely stepped out. Of the twelve two-hour periods in a day, he spent eight in seated cultivation.
Inside the dim stone house, Lin Mu sat cross-legged.
In his aperture, the white, plump Liquor Worm swallowed and spit tirelessly. Under its refinement, the already abundant dark green Primeval Sea rose at a heart-palpitating speed.
"Is this the joy of a 'Pseudo-A Grade'?"
Lin Mu opened his eyes. Feeling the power almost overflowing within his body, a sharp light flashed in his eyes.
Although his aptitude was graded B, with the refinement boost of the Liquor Worm, his Primeval Essence recovery speed and quality were actually infinitely approaching an A-grade genius.
That pleasure of watching his essence surge made him both addicted and vigilant.
"Fast. I've already faintly touched the barrier of Rank 1 Upper Stage. Give me a few more months, and I can attempt to charge at the Upper Stage."
If this rocket-like cultivation speed were leaked, he would probably be sliced up for research the next day.
"Must hide my clumsiness. Before I have absolute self-preservation ability, I must never expose myself casually."
Lin Mu suppressed the restlessness in his heart. He stood up, moving his somewhat stiff limbs, and pushed open the door.
Although in "seclusion," he wasn't truly isolated from the world.
Every mealtime, he would appear at the academy cafeteria without fail. That was where the flow of people was densest, and the window where news was most agile.
But these past few days, the atmosphere in the cafeteria grew more oppressive by the day.
The laughter of the past was gone, replaced by low whispers and the sound of hurried eating.
Staff from the Medicine Hall rushed in and out, carrying the heavy stench of blood and herbs. The number of wounded on stretchers increased.
Until noon on the seventh day.
A clan scout, covered in bloodstains with half a broken spear stuck in his back, stumbled into the stockade gate, shattering the final calm.
"White Bone Stockade... has gone mad!"
That shrill scream spread through half the stockade. "They are killing everyone in the No-Man's Gulch! Our collection team... wiped out!"
Boom—
The news was like a boulder thrown into stagnant water, kicking up a thousand waves.
Lin Mu put down his bowl and chopsticks. He looked at the crowd instantly exploding around him, his eyes cold.
"Finally here."
He showed no panic. He left the cafeteria quietly and returned to his stone house.
He had intended to keep lying low, perhaps taking a fringe mission like repairing stockade walls to drift through the days and avoid the spearhead.
But the clan didn't give him this chance.
Mere half an hour later.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Urgent, heavy knocking shook dust from the door frame.
Lin Mu opened the door. Two clan deacons with grim faces stood there, tokens of the Punishment Hall hanging at their waists.
"Lin Mu?"
The leading deacon looked him up and down. Without nonsense, he flashed a scroll of black and red documents:
"Clan Level 1 Alert Order. All Rank 1 Gu Masters who participated in last month's hunting trial and were rated 'Qualified' are forcibly conscripted."
"No absence. No delay."
This wasn't a discussion. It was an order.
In this special period, it was the clan's ruthless requisition of bottom-tier cannon fodder.
"Yes."
Lin Mu didn't resist, nor did he ask a single question. He simply responded calmly.
He turned back into the house, packing his bags with agile movements.
The refined iron combat blade bought from the market again was strapped to his back. All living supplies were tied to his waist.
Finally, he looked back at this "home" he had only lived in for seven days, and blew out the oil lamp on the table.
Fifteen minutes later. The Martial Arts Field.
Hundreds of conscripted Gu Masters had assembled. The cold wind was biting, blowing banners until they snapped. The air was filled with a solemn killing intent.
Lin Mu stood in the crowd, inconspicuous.
Soon, the squad lists came down.
"Third Elite Squad, step out!"
With a loud shout, Lin Mu was assigned to the east side of the martial arts field.
And there, he saw an acquaintance—unexpected, yet within reason.
Lin Feng.
This former "financial backer" was now clad in bright silver refined iron armor, a long sword at his waist, long hair tied high, looking high-spirited.
As a main line descendant heavily groomed by the clan, he was directly appointed as a Squad Leader in this conscription.
Seeing Lin Mu walk over, a meaningful arc curled at the corner of Lin Feng's mouth.
He didn't show the disdain of the past. Instead, under the gaze of the crowd, he actively nodded to Lin Mu. His tone was peaceful but revealed the reserve of a superior:
"Lin Mu? Didn't expect it to be you. Although your cultivation is a bit low, you handle things steadily. Assigned by the clan this time, let us cooperate fully. For Black Blood Stockade."
Polite talk.
But Lin Mu understood.
If guarding an ordinary mine pit, any cannon fodder would do. But this mission was clearly not simple.
Lin Feng needed a tool that could do dirty work, was "sensible and obedient," and had actual combat experience (killing boars).
And Lin Mu was that most useful tool.
"Yes, Leader." Lin Mu bowed, putting his posture very low.
Besides Lin Feng, there were four other people in the squad.
Two Rank 1 Upper Stage Gu Masters wearing standard leather armor, looking arrogant. Clearly Lin Feng's main line lackeys, fighters specifically for doing the dirty work.
A girl in a pale green dress with delicate features, named Lin Wan'er.
She was a Rank 1 Middle Stage Wood Path Gu Master. Though looking somewhat nervous, she forced herself to stay calm and comfort those around her. She was the team's healer, appearing to lack combat experience.
And the last person was a branch family youth shrinking in the corner, shivering. Zhao Yuze.
This person only had Rank 1 Initial Stage cultivation. Clearly an unlucky bastard used to make up the numbers. His face was pale as a sheet, legs shaking.
"Everyone is here."
Lin Feng swept his gaze around, pausing for an instant on Lin Mu and Zhao Yuze, then ordered coldly:
"Our mission is to garrison the 'Blood Forest' resource point in the back mountain, countering the infiltration of White Bone Stockade."
Blood Forest.
Hearing these two words, Lin Mu's heart moved slightly.
That was the core area producing Black Blood Wood and Gu materials, and also the meat grinder where the two stockades fought most fiercely.
"The terrain of the Blood Forest is complex. Someone must scout the path."
Lin Feng's voice held no warmth. His finger pointed directly at the weakest youth:
"Zhao Yuze, your cultivation is the lowest. Scout ahead. If you find anomalies, signal immediately."
"I..." Zhao Yuze's legs went soft, nearly kneeling.
But under Lin Feng's gaze filled with killing intent, he didn't dare say the word "no." He could only agree tremblingly.
"As for Lin Mu..."
Lin Feng turned his head, looking at this former "white glove," a glint flashing in his eyes:
"You have great strength and work steadily. You are responsible for the rear guard and carrying the squad's supplies."
Scouting was sending oneself to death. Rear guard was coolie work.
This was their positioning in Lin Feng's eyes—cannon fodder and beasts of burden.
"Understood."
Lin Mu's expression was calm, without a shred of complaint. He walked over silently and shouldered the two heavy marching packs.
He looked at Zhao Yuze's trembling back ahead, then at the high-spirited Lin Feng surrounded by the crowd. No waves stirred in his heart.
He simply silently tightened his grip on the blade handle, adjusted his breathing, and let himself blend into the dust of the marching column like an unremarkable shadow.