Next day Marcus sat alone in the small side room Sarah had given him. Morning light slipped through the lattice window in thin golden blades, slicing across the wooden floor and catching floating motes of dust that drifted like tiny stars in slow motion. The air still carried the faint orchid fragrance of her skin from last night, sweet and lingering, wrapping around him like a cruel reminder that he was still alive, still breathing, still here despite everything.
He held the jade slip between thumb and forefinger. The cool jade kissed his skin with a gentle chill that spread upward like morning dew. He pressed it softly to his forehead. Closed his eyes. The instant his spiritual consciousness brushed the surface it felt like stepping through a quiet door inside his own mind. A silent library unfolded. Memories. Sentences. Entire chapters flowed out in a smooth, effortless river. No resistance. No friction. Just release.
It was beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful.
He had spent hours hunched over paper like some mortal fool, ink bleeding from his fingers, guilt bleeding from his heart. Now the same words moved without struggle. Without pain. He watched the transfer in his mind's eye, chapter titles glowing faintly, dialogue spilling like water, the raw ache he had carved into every line, and something cracked open inside his chest.
Not guilt this time.
Wonder.
This world could steal so much from a man, freedom, safety, innocence, but it could also hand him miracles like this. A small jade stone that remembered everything. A piece of magic that made the impossible feel effortless. He let the last sentence slide free. Felt the connection sever with a soft mental sigh.
The flow stopped.
One minute. That was all it took.
He lowered the slip. Turned it over in his palm. Squeezed it once. Felt the cool hardness press back against his skin like a quiet promise. His thumb traced the faint carvings along the edge. So small. So powerful.
He exhaled slowly. The breath trembled at the end.
Last night's explosion kept replaying behind his eyes. Not the flash. Not the crater. The faces he never saw. The old woman selling steamed buns at the corner stall, hands wrinkled and steady. The child tugging his mother's sleeve, laughing at something only he understood. The young couple leaning close over tea, sharing a secret smile. Gone. Because he panicked. Because he chose survival over everything else. The guilt sat heavy in his chest like wet stone. He could still taste the smoke.
He stood up. Chair legs scraped the floorboards with a low mournful groan. Each step toward the door felt heavier than the last. Wood creaked under his weight. He reached the knob. Twisted. Pulled.
The hallway opened before him.
He walked toward the main hall of the auction house. Lanterns still glowed softly even in daylight, casting warm pools across polished wood. The scent of incense, sandalwood and faint lotus, drifted past, mingling with the distant murmur of voices and the clink of coins. And then he saw her.
Sarah.
Behind the reception desk. Silhouette framed by morning light pouring through tall windows. She noticed him instantly. Her head lifted. Eyes found his across the room. Employees glanced up too. Followed her gaze. Saw him. Suddenly every pair of eyes in the hall was on Marcus.
He froze mid-step.
"Why are they staring?"
The dark sinister voice purred inside his skull.
"Stupid pig. They probably heard your pathetic cries echoing through the rafters all night. Look at their faces. So much pity. So much second-hand embarrassment. They are wondering how many times she broke you before breakfast."
Heat crawled up Marcus neck. Forehead vein throbbed. He wanted to strangle the voice. Wanted to strangle himself for blushing like a boy caught with his robes down.
Deep breath.
He forced a gentle smile. Locked eyes with Sarah. Walked the rest of the way.
Employees bowed slightly as he passed. "Young master." "Sir." Quiet greetings. Respectful. But he could feel the curiosity burning behind every polite nod. Whispers followed him like smoke.
He reached the desk. Slid the jade slip across the polished wood toward Sarah.
"I finished the novel. I need your help to publish it."
She looked at the slip. Then at him. Something soft flickered in her eyes. Pride. Maybe. Worry. Definitely.
Even if he wanted to do this alone he could not. Not now. City guards were tearing Flame Phoenix City apart looking for the man who turned a market into a graveyard. He needed her network. Her protection. Her name.
Sarah nodded once.
"Come with me."
She gestured toward a private room at the back. Marcus followed. The moment the door closed behind them the noise of the auction house dulled to a distant hum.
Inside only them.
She turned to face him. Voice gentle.
"I will support your endeavours but"
Marcus braced. Knew what was coming. She was still a businesswoman. Profit came before sentiment. Even for him.
"But you need to sell me those weapons you used yesterday."
Silence stretched between them.
Marcus exhaled slowly.
"Right now I do not have any bombs ready. I need to make new ones."
He would never hand over the two cluster bombs still hidden in his storage bag. Not even to her. He was not naive anymore.
The dark voice purred approval.
"Good boy. Finally learning."
Marcus continued.
"I need parts."
He took out the schematic. Spread it on the table. She recognized the designs immediately. She had followed him to the blacksmith that day.
He added his second condition.
"And I need a secure location. Any accident can lead to explosion."
Sarah studied the paper. Then him. A slow smile curved her lips.
"Any other request?"
She was pleased. No haggling. No games. Straightforward. She liked that in a man.
The deal was struck.
Marcus would craft her two cluster bombs. In exchange she would handle publication. Distribution. Promotion. Protection. Normally he would never agree. She was his woman. His life was already hanging by a thread. But right now survival trumped pride.
After the terms were set Marcus leaned forward. Caught her off guard. Pressed his lips to hers.
She stiffened for half a heartbeat. Then melted. Soft exhale against his mouth. When he pulled back her cheeks were flushed. She tapped a light fist against his chest. Half reprimand. Half affection.
Then she leaned close. Lips brushed his ear.
"Wait until tonight. I will suck you dry."
Marcus soul left his body.
He felt the shiver race down his spine. Imagined her mouth already. Warm. Wet. Merciless. His knees almost buckled.
Shadow Step.
He vanished like smoke.
Sarah stood alone in the room. Mocking smile on her lips.
Inside his head the dark sinister voice laughed until it choked.
"The rope burned but the balls stayed intact."
Marcus clenched his fist so hard his knuckles cracked. Helpless. Furious. Why did he kiss her? Why did he always give in to impulse? Now tonight would be punishment. Again.
He sighed.
Opened the system panel.
Name: Marcus Rhineheart
Age: 27
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment 6th Stage Peak
Spirit Root: None
Physique: Supreme Yang Physique – Evolution 100%
Skills: Shadow Steps (Perfected Level), Spirit Tech Master 1 Star
Kama Points: 10320
When he saw the number crest ten thousand the corner of his mouth lifted. A small victory.
He opened the system mall. Scrolled. Found it.
Mysterious Heavenly Cloning Technique.
Even demons would be jealous.
He tapped to buy.
Information slammed into his brain like a tidal wave. Too much. Too fast. Consciousness buckled. Darkness swallowed him.
An hour later he woke. Head throbbing like someone had used it as a drum. The dark voice rang inside him. Excited. Almost giddy.
"Finally you will fulfill your promise."
Marcus ignored it. Closed his eyes. Focused on the technique.
Hands moved. Seals formed. Heaven and earth answered. Colorful lights danced along his fingers. Violet. Gold. Crimson. Like tiny auroras.
Half an hour later a black shadow rose from the floor like ink poured upward. A silhouette took shape. A perfect shadow of himself. Featureless. Waiting.
Marcus cut his finger. Blood welled. Dropped onto the shadow's forehead.
Multicolored light exploded from the point of contact.
Qi poured out of him in a torrent. Dantian emptied. Meridians burned. Body became a husk. Skin pale. Breath shallow.
In front of him the clone materialized. Flesh. Bone. Exact copy. Qi Gathering Stage 3.
Disappointing.
But then he felt it. His spiritual sea had doubled in size. Pressure in his skull eased. Headache faded. Body relaxed like he had soaked in a hot spring for days.
He waited for the dark voice to seize the clone. Nothing happened.
Waited longer. Probed with consciousness. Still nothing.
Finally he took control.
Circulated qi. Watched it gather toward the clone in a furious vortex. Speed several times faster than any normal cultivator at that realm.
Hands formed seals again. Array bloomed beneath the clone. Portal opened. Shadow sank into the ground. Vanished toward the pocket plane he had created.
Gone.
Marcus exhaled. Relief flooded him. No incident. No betrayal. Strain on his consciousness had nearly broken him mid-process. But it worked.
The dark side remained silent. Deep slumber.
Marcus sighed. Started planning.
First. Return to Tianluo City. His women were waiting. Searching. Hurting.
He needed to go home.
One step closer.