Yuming returned to Far Lantern Peak as the afternoon sun hung behind the greater peaks of Zhenyuan. He stepped onto a familiar stone, returning to his dormitory for the first time in a month.

  Reed Harbor, the Shen attack, and now Qinglu Market to worry about—his mind was tired.

  The dormitory courtyard was quieter than he remembered. It seemed like more of his cohort had started secluding at the meditation pond. He walked past empty benches and silent doorways, making his way to his room.

  Liu Yiyi and Liu Yufeng have already reached Dantian Awakening, and Liu Yujin is close. I can't catch up for now—I have mortal threads dragging my cultivation, and I'm being reassigned to the market to slow me down.

  His mind shifted to the cave encounter, to nearly dying, and to Yujin appearing at the opportune moment.

  The only way forward now is to get stronger within my realm. Quickly.

  He stood, checked his updated mission point balance, and walked towards the Far Lantern Library.

  The library was quiet in the late afternoon. Old Ye sat behind his counter as always, with a brush in hand, maintaining some ledger or another. He looked up as Yuming entered.

  "Liu Yuming, back from your travels, I see."

  Yuming wasn't 'Baby Ming' anymore, just Liu Yuming. Old Ye had reverted to Librarian Ye.

  It had been three years since the Liu Renshu incident—since Yuming had tried to show mercy to a desperate boy stealing techniques. That mercy had led to his probation, and to his deepening karma with the Zhan Branch. Yuming doubted that Old Ye was directly involved with the Zhan, but one thing was obvious: Old Ye had known that Liu Renshu was the culprit before he asked Yuming to investigate. Yuming had been wary of the man ever since.

  They'd maintained a cordial distance since then.

  "Librarian Ye," Yuming said formally, "I need to access the auxiliary technique section."

  Old Ye set down his brush. "Oh, auxiliary? Nothing from our Liu Family's Abyss Water or Ember Fire sections?"

  Yuming responded flatly. "Something less direct, more suited to my current situation."

  "And what situation would that be?"

  "My cultivation is lower than some of my peers. I need techniques that can supplement my cultivation deficiencies."

  Old Ye studied him for a moment. Yuming's eyes were unreadable as ever. His cultivation has slowed greatly, it seems the probation really set him back.

  Old Ye decided to offer some words of guidance. "No matter the technique, it would be almost impossible to defeat a Dantian Awakening cultivator. The gap is vast. Why don't you focus on improving your realm?"

  Yuming shook his head, not offering any response.

  Old Ye sighed. "Back corner, third shelf." He thought for a moment before adding: "They shouldn't be too expensive."

  Yuming walked towards the corner without looking back.

  The auxiliary section was quite neglected. The Liu Family's primary inheritances were Ember Fire and Abyss Water—both refined over generations into numerous techniques. Many of Yuming's peers, even if they didn't cultivate either lineage directly, chose combat techniques from them.

  Yuming didn't know if cultivating these techniques would allow powerful cultivators from the Zhan Branch to track or suppress him more directly. He decided to be safe and avoid them.

  His fingers traced along faded titles. Breath-Counting Meditation, Merchant's Memory Palace, Ninefold Stake Placement.

  Then his fingers stopped.

  Thread-Needle Technique.

  The manual was thin, barely thirty pages, written in a cramped hand that suggested the original author hadn't expected anyone important to read it.

  Yuming opened the book and read the introduction.

  "The Twelve Meridians receive, but what is received need not be kept.

  Draw in the scattered, condense the formless, release the thread.

  A needle is not a sword, it does not kill with force. Mark the target, remind the flesh that it can be pierced."

  Yuming read further. The technique used the receptive nature of the Twelve Meridians to gather ambient qi, compress it into hair-thin needles, and project them with a flicking motion.

  The needles were nearly invisible, and they carried a faint resonance that allowed the user to track stuck targets for several minutes.

  Marking, tracking, information.

  The technique was not strictly offensive. But it was also designed for cultivators who unblocked their twelve meridians before their Ren and Du.

  He'd unblocked Ren directly, and his Ren was a receptive gate due to the Unbroken Ledger True Sutra. He felt confident that he could modify the technique slightly and increase its offensive capabilities as well.

  He returned to the front counter.

  "Thread-Needle Technique," Yuming said. "I'd like to copy it."

  "No problem, you'll need to copy it here, that's the only original we have."

  By the time he finished, the afternoon light had faded, giving way to evening.

  "Finished?" Old Ye appeared beside the desk. He examined Yuming's copy with a critical eye, comparing it to the original, his eyes widening slightly. "Interesting modifications. You can take your copy."

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  "Thank you, Librarian Ye."

  Yuming gathered his papers and turned to leave. At the door, he paused.

  "Old Ye."

  The librarian looked up.

  "The Liu Renshu incident, three years ago," he kept his voice neutral. "Did you know what would happen when you asked me to find him?"

  A long silence.

  Old Ye finally spoke, his palms dampening with sweat.

  "A higher cultivator came to administer an audit, you remember this."

  Yuming nodded.

  "Before the audit, he came to me and told me to let you handle the Liu Renshu case. I knew they probably wanted to test your loyalty, I just didn't know what would happen."

  "I see."

  "Do you?" Old Ye's voice sharpened slightly. "You were a child playing at mercy in a place where mercy has costs. I was an old man maintaining a library. We both did what we were going to do. What happened after..." He shrugged. "The family decided. They always decide."

  Yuming questioned him. "What if I turned Liu Renshu in directly?"

  "Then they would've found another way to teach you a lesson," Old Ye picked up his brush again. "You can't escape being who you are, Yuming. You can only learn to be yourself more carefully."

  A flicker of Old Ye's former warmth appeared on his face. "Go practice your needle technique, and be careful in the future."

  Yuming nodded and left the library.

  That night, Yuming practiced his new Thread-Needle Technique in an empty corner of the training grounds.

  Yuming adjusted the gathering method, drawing ambient qi through his Ren gate rather than the twelve meridians. The compression was harder this way—Ren wanted to accept, not condense—but when he forced the qi into needle-form, the result was much denser than what the manual described.

  He practiced until his Ren Meridian ached, then returned to his room.

  Over the following days, he fell into a routine. Mornings at the meditation pond, trying to cycle qi through his blocked Du Meridian. Afternoons reviewing techniques and studying the Unbroken Ledger True Sutra, hoping to gain insights into karma. He hadn't had any yet. Nights practicing Thread-Needle until exhaustion forced him to stop.

  By the end of the week, he could form four needles reliably at once, projecting them with reasonable accuracy. The marking resonance lasted nearly five minutes.

  By the second week he could form six, and his accuracy had improved. He could hit moving targets in succession.

  Two weeks after he returned to Far Lantern Peak, Yuming was summoned by Instructor Zhao.

  "Liu Yuming. Your probation ends in four months."

  "Yes, Instructor."

  "You've completed the tribute collection satisfactorily. The Family has taken note." Zhao's face cracked into a slight smile. "You've been assigned to Qinglu Market for the autumn exchange. Administrative support. You'll be leaving tomorrow."

  Yuming kept his face neutral despite the cold spreading through his chest.

  So it came this early. They really give me no time to settle down.

  "This Junior accepts the assignment."

  "Good." Zhao slid a scroll across the desk. "Details are here. You'll report to Overseer Meng upon arrival. Questions?"

  "No, instructor."

  "Then you are dismissed."

  Three days later, a flying boat descended through gray afternoon clouds, and the Qinglu Market revealed itself below. The market sprawled across a valley floor and up surrounding hillsides, a maze of permanent buildings and temporary stalls connected by stone roads and wooden bridges.

  At the highest points, a few Liu Family members could be spotted, vermillion swaying against the autumn sky.

  The crowd below was much more diverse. There were cultivators from dozens of smaller clans and forces running stalls. There were loose cultivators in mismatched robes, planning ambushes to seize their next opportunity, and there were mortals hauling goods.

  Qinglu Market—although called a market—had truly transformed into a bustling city, with nearly two hundred thousand mortals carrying on with their lives.

  The boat landed on a stone platform near the administrative compound. Yuming stepped out, and the noise hit him—ten thousand transactions happening at once, voices haggling in three dialects, and the clatter of carts.

  Yuming touched the jade token at his chest—the gift from Liu Tianjue. A guard at the compound gate glanced at the token and immediately straightened. "Young Master, greetings. You're expected at Overseer Meng's office."

  The token opened doors. People who would have ignored a junior clerk noticed the jade and made way. Yuming filed the observation away.

  ….

  Far away, to the northeast, in a ravine hidden by dying pines, firelight flickered against the walls.

  The camp had no name. Its inhabitants didn't intend to stay long enough for it to need one. Nearly fifty cultivators, most at Meridian Unblocking or below, lived in a scattered cluster of tents built against the ravine's eastern face.

  Zhou Meiling sat by the central fire. She was thirty-six years old and hollow-cheeked. She had been pretty once, happily married to a mortal of cultivator descent. She had three children, one of whom even had a spirit root.

  One day, she returned home to find her town flattened and her family turned into bloodstains.

  Across the fire, Gao Ping was loudly laughing about something. Twenty-five and bad-mouthed, he carried the easy confidence of someone who had been recognized as talented early. He had a high-grade spirit root, and reached Dantian Awakening at twenty-five. He was very impressive.

  To the left of Zhou Meiling sat the quiet Little Bai. He was only fifteen years old but already at the Meridian Unblocking stage, which displayed his exceptional talent. They'd found him as the sole survivor of Dustwood Village a few months ago. He was still nervous and shy around them.

  He carried a wooden carving on a cord around his neck. It was crude and childish but it was the only thing he had left from Dustwood Village.

  Footsteps approached from the ravine's entrance, and the camp quieted as Lord Chen emerged from the darkness.

  Chen Fang was not an imposing man. His height was average, his face was weathered. He had the bearing of someone who'd spent a lifetime doing unremarkable bureaucratic work—which wasn't inaccurate.

  He'd been an inspector once, fundamentally someone who believed in systems and trusted authority. He was a dignified member of the Chen Family, a prominent Foundation Establishment clan.

  But his faith in the system had died at Pinewood Hollow.

  Now, he moved through the camp with unspoken authority, nodding to those who met his eyes, pausing to exchange words with the wounded.

  When he reached Zhou Meiling and Gao Ping, he spoke.

  "I've made a decision," he said. "Qinglu Market, the Autumn Exchange."

  Murmurs rippled through the assembled cultivators. Qinglu was one of the Liu Family's largest trading hubs in western Xia Prefecture. It was tightly guarded.

  "The exchange begins in three weeks," Chen Fang continued. "A large concentration of goods and materials will be there. It's a sizable Liu Family investment."

  Gao Ping's grin widened. "Finally. A real target."

  "It's heavily guarded," Zhou Meiling said, not looking at him. "They should have multiple Qi Condensation experts."

  Gao Ping's eyes shone with a trace of fanaticism. "Who at the Qi Condensation realm can stop our Lord Chen? One, two, or three Qi Condensation cultivators, it doesn't matter. We just need to focus on ourselves."

  "But we haven't scouted it properly." Zhou Meiling met Chen Fang's eyes. "We've only passed by it once or twice recently. We don't know enough about their formations, or their trump cards.

  Chen Fang was quiet for a moment. The fire crackled.

  "I know," he said finally. "But the Autumn Exchange is the opportunity. Miss it, and we wait another year—if we survive that long."

  "Smaller losses cause minor damage. The kind of loss they file away and forget." Chen Fang's voice hardened. "I didn't gather us to be forgettable. We can't destroy the Liu Family, but we can assure them their actions have consequences"

  Zhou Meiling observed him. She'd followed him for two years—since he'd found her wandering the roads, half-starved and fully ready to die. He'd given her purpose when purpose seemed impossible. She had absolute trust in him.

  But something about him felt off tonight. A certainty in his voice that wasn't usually there.

  "What changed?" she asked. "Yesterday you discussed the mining outpost."

  Chen Fang's jaw tightened. "I've been thinking."

  He paused, his eyes sweeping across the ravine. He raised his voice.

  "I've been thinking about what we're actually trying to accomplish. We can scratch at the Liu Family's edges forever, but none of it will make them feel."

  "Qinglu Market is different. If we hurt them there, during a major event, people will notice. Other families will wonder if Liu can protect their interests. Even if it's dangerous, at least we're attempting something that matters."

  Chen Fang floated upwards, looking southwest in the direction of Qinglu Market. It seemed as if the path towards the market was carved by still air.

  His eyes flickered.

  Opportunity.

  He didn't question why it felt like destiny.