Li Mang's words fell like a bucket of cold water, dousing the flames of war that had been crackling across the plaza.
The urge to strike then and there slowly subsided within Lin Cang's heart.
That moment of being suppressed had left this newly advanced Rank 4 cultivator deeply shaken.
Though Li Mang had now taken the initiative to show weakness, adopting a posture of humble submission, this only made Lin Cang more wary.
Within this turtle shell that the old ghost had fortified over a century, he truly could not kill Li Mang.
If he pushed the old devil too far and forced him to detonate the formation in mutual destruction, his own freshly achieved breakthrough might destabilize, and the clan elites he'd brought would likely suffer catastrophic losses.
"I need both face and substance."
Lin Cang was a seasoned political operator. He understood clearly that once "military conquest" was crossed off the list, what remained was naked exchange of interests.
Killing wasn't the goal. Plundering resources was the true objective.
"Hmph."
Lin Cang withdrew his suffocating aura. The oppressive weight that had blanketed the plaza vanished instantly, as though that world-ending pressure had never existed.
He regarded Li Mang coldly. His voice no longer boomed like thunder, yet it still carried an authority that brooked no argument. Each word fell like an iron nail hammered into the ground.
"Old Ghost Li, you've been rather brazen while I was in seclusion."
He gestured toward the dust-covered Black Blood Stockade elites behind him, bristling with killing intent, then pointed westward toward the border that had been thrown into chaos by the so-called "death by a thousand cuts" strategy. His tone turned frigid.
"Colluding with demonic cultivators, ambushing my clan's direct lineage—that breaks the rules."
"Allowing your subordinates to encroach on our mineral veins—that cuts off my livelihood."
"You'd better give me a satisfactory explanation for this debt. Otherwise, no matter how hard this formation is, I'll tear apart your old bones and feed them to the dogs."
"Then we'll see if you have any life left to guard this wretched mountain!"
Facing this naked threat, Li Mang showed no anger. That withered face, like dried bark, betrayed not the slightest emotional ripple, as though he had long anticipated this moment.
He merely turned slightly, his Bone Spine Staff tapping the ground with a crisp thock.
The gates to the depths of the White Bone Hall swung fully open, revealing a shadowed passage. He made an impeccably formal gesture of invitation—humble in posture yet composed in bearing.
"Explanations I certainly have. The tea is ready. Patriarch Lin, please."
Lin Cang studied him deeply, as if trying to divine what medicine this old ghost was selling in his gourd. Then with a sweep of his sleeve, he strode toward the hall, steps firm, showing no fear.
"Lin Feng, Elder Kuangxu, come with me. The rest of you, wait outside."
"Yes, sir!"
As the figures of these powerful men vanished into the gloomy entrance, the heavy doors did not fully close. A gap remained, through which flickering ghost-flames could be glimpsed, lending the scene an air of unfathomable mystery.
The Black Blood Stockade members left outside finally let their taut nerves relax.
In their view, the Patriarch had used his Rank 4 might not only to cow White Bone Stockade but to force Li Mang into apologetic submission. This was undoubtedly a resounding victory.
"We won!"
Many young Rank 2 Gu Masters wore expressions of joy, murmuring to each other about their Patriarch's divine prowess, already envisioning White Bone Stockade ceding territory and paying reparations.
Only Lin Mu, lurking in the shadows of the crowd, showed no sign of relief.
He hunched his shoulders, half-concealing himself behind a thick bone-spike totem. Using the shadows for cover, his gaze fixed intently on the figures disappearing through the hall's entrance.
More precisely, on that unremarkable, pallid bone staff in Li Mang's hand.
That bone staff...
A strong sense of wrongness stirred in Lin Mu's heart.
In that instant when the two auras had collided, fragments from that copy of "Records of Strange Figures and Unusual Tales" he'd read days ago surfaced unbidden in his mind:
"...In ages past, there was a Black Bone King who wielded a spine as his staff, commanding ten thousand bones, making soldiers of earth and stone..."
Though it was merely a hazy legend with no description of the artifact's actual appearance, the way Li Mang had borrowed the terrain's power—controlling it as naturally as moving his own arm—forced Lin Mu to wonder.
"Li Mang is only peak Rank 3. How could he possibly wield a Mountain-Guarding Formation to the point of contending with Rank 4?"
"Unless... he holds the formation's 'key,' or some kind of inheritance token."
Lin Mu licked his parched lips and buried this terrifying speculation deep in his heart. Someone of his insignificant status had no business with secrets at this level. Seeing through something without speaking of it was the way to stay alive.
He withdrew his gaze and began idly surveying his surroundings.
The interior of White Bone Stockade was utterly different from Black Blood Stockade's atmosphere of familial warmth layered over rigid hierarchy.
Here, the architectural style was cold, hard, and severe. There were no superfluous decorations—only countless pale bones stacked into defensive fortifications.
The guards stationed around the plaza stood expressionless, their skin paper-white, postures straight as spears. They exchanged no words with one another, not even a glance, as though all emotion had been drained from them.
"This doesn't feel like a clan. More like a military barracks. Or a mass grave."
Lin Mu silently assessed the scene.
Harsh militarized management wearing the shell of a family structure. Gu Masters trained in this system would have exceptional execution and no fear of death—but they'd lack any trace of humanity.
In a real fight, they'd probably be even harder to deal with than Black Blood's people.
And then there was the air itself...
Lin Mu drew a shallow breath. Unlike Black Blood Stockade's Wood Path atmosphere—that mingling of vitality and rot—the air here was dry and heavy, thick with the smell of earth and death. It pressed against his chest.
"Earth Path resources are extremely concentrated here. No wonder they've been eyeing our Black Blood Timber Forest so hungrily."
While Lin Mu quietly gathered intelligence and assembled the puzzle pieces of his understanding, inside the great hall, negotiations had begun.
At a long table constructed from countless skulls, Lin Cang and Li Mang sat facing each other. Between them rested two cups of tea steaming with green vapor. Neither man touched them. The air crackled with silent hostility.
Slap!
Lin Cang wasted no words. He slammed the warped metal fragments and the snake-bone token belonging to "Green Snake" onto the table, making the bone surface hum with the impact.
"Old Ghost Li, I won't mince words with you."
Lin Cang pointed at the damning evidence, his gaze sharp as a blade aimed straight at Li Mang's eyes. His tone was aggressive and unyielding.
"This is your so-called 'misunderstanding'?"
"Colluding with a Rank 2 demonic cultivator to ambush my clan's direct lineage? If this gets brought before Shang Clan City, if it reaches the Righteous Path Alliance—what face will White Bone Stockade have left to stand in the Southern Border?"
"Colluding with demonic cultivators makes you a public enemy of the Righteous Path! When that happens, I won't even need to lift a finger. Others will come to flatten your mountain!"
He leaned forward. Though his Rank 4 pressure remained unreleased, it loomed like a volcano on the verge of eruption, pressing down on the negotiating table, giving his opponent no room to breathe.
"Today, you either give me an explanation—or I tear apart your old bones."
"Even if I have to suffer the formation's backlash, I'll make White Bone Stockade run red with blood!"
"Let's see which is harder: your turtle shell or my fists!"
This was the final ultimatum—and the perfect setup for the lion's share he was about to demand.