The afternoon lull had settled over the Liang Family compound, the kind of quiet that came after meals when guards grew lazy and apprentices wandered off to their training grounds. Lin Feng carried his broom as usual, sweeping slowly, but his eyes were sharper than his motions. He had been waiting for this moment all week, watching the rhythms of the compound, memorizing the careless habits of others, and now the chance had finally arrived.
The herb storage room door was slightly ajar. He glanced around, his chest tightening, heart pounding, but no one was nearby. He stepped inside quickly, trying to look casual, though every nerve in his body screamed that he was crossing a line. The air inside was thick with earthy fragrance, shelves stacked high with baskets of dried leaves, roots, and powders. His fingers trembled as he reached for a handful of low‑grade herbs, scooping them into his Inventory. The system swallowed them silently, leaving no trace, no weight, no evidence.
For a moment exhilaration surged through him, his chest felt light, his lips almost curved into a smile. He had done it. He had stolen, and no one had seen. The herbs were his now, hidden beyond suspicion, tucked away in the invisible space of the system. He imagined what they might mean for his cultivation, how even scraps could push him forward, how the Chaos Shop might flicker more strongly if fed.
But as he stepped outside, the thrill twisted into fear. His heart raced, his palms damp, his breath uneven. He felt both happy and terrified, as if the world itself might collapse on him. He tried to calm himself, to walk slowly, to look like he had only been sweeping, but the pounding in his chest betrayed him.
Then a voice cut through the quiet, strong and cold, mature enough to pierce his bones.
"What are you doing here alone?"
Lin Feng froze. His heart leapt into his throat, his breath caught, the broom nearly slipped from his hands. He turned slowly, dread crawling up his spine, and saw her.
A woman stood a few paces away. Her posture was straight, her eyes sharp, her presence heavy. She looked older than the apprentices, her aura steadier, her tone commanding. She was not someone he could dismiss.
Lin Feng's mouth opened, but no words came. He stuttered, trying to reply, but then her cultivation pressure descended. It crashed down on him like a mountain, suffocating, forcing his knees to buckle. He knelt involuntarily, sweat dripping, heart pounding, his body trembling under the weight of her aura.
"I… I was just handling the spirit herbs to the storage room," he blurted, voice weak and uneven. The excuse was clumsy, but it was all he had, the only words that came to him in his panic.
Her eyes narrowed, colder than before. She stepped closer, aura heavy, examining him like prey. "Show me your pouch."
Lin Feng's heart leapt again. His pouch was empty—thanks to Inventory—but the demand terrified him. He fumbled with the pouch, showing its hollow insides, praying she would be satisfied.
Her gaze remained sharp, suspicion unbroken. "Strip," she commanded.
Lin Feng's mind raced. Inventory concealed everything, but humiliation and fear overwhelmed him. He trembled under her gaze, forced to obey, unsure if his secret would remain safe. He felt the herbs hidden in the system like a burning weight, invisible yet dangerous, and every second under her eyes felt like a blade pressed against his throat.
The herbs were hidden, but the weight of her suspicion pressed down harder than any stone. His survival now depended not on honesty or flattery, not even on theft, but on whether the system's secret could withstand the scrutiny of someone far stronger than him.