A full day had slipped by since he outplayed the three juniors. Twenty contribution tokens weighed pleasantly in his pocket, a quiet promise of a breathing room.
For someone like him, who earned barely two to three a day breaking rocks in the mines, it felt like the beginning of something wider than hunger and routine.
Morning light spilled across the settlement, the sun struck Lyns eyes, Lyn squinted and lifted a hand to block it, blinking the sleep away as he pushed himself upright from the patch of ground where he had rested.
"Not rich, huh," he muttered, a dry curl of amusement tugging at his mouth.
He drifted into motion without a destination, letting his feet wander while his mind worked.
Dust whispered beneath his boots while his thoughts marched ahead of him.
Twenty contribution points...
Five contribution points for food. That leaves fifteen. Shelter would be next... Cold weather creeps closer each night... A decent place would probably cost a point per day depending on how miserable I am willing to live. hmm lets say..Seven days. That narrows it down to eight points.. for security I should keep 4 contribution points, now for the other 4 hmm
He imagined tavern doors, warm noise, spilled drink, and careless mouths. Not so much for the meals, though his stomach certainly would not complain, but for the people, intel and connections.
"Excuse me, senior." Lyn stopped a passing elder. The man carried age like a gentle cloak, with hair turned silver and a beard to match. His eyes softened when he looked at Lyn.
"Yes, junior?" The elder's smile warmed instantly. "Do you need any help?"
Lyn swallowed, his voice unsteady. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, elder. Do you know any taverns that are… peaceful? ...Somewhere without constant fighting."
The elder chuckled and looked at the sky as if recalling old memories, amused by the request.
He said warmly, "I know only one worth mentioning. I have been going there for ten years. A family place, good people, good hearts. They call it 'Bamboo Delight.' " His expression brightened as if the name itself tasted pleasant.
He bowed deeply. "Thank you, elder. Could you also tell me where it's at?"
"Of course, of course! Go right from here, then take the first left. You will see a line. Its always full."
Lyn thanked him again. The elder walked away with a satisfied smile, pleased with the simple gift of guidance.
People loved to help when it cost nothing and made them feel good and look like saints; this world was no different.
Just as promised, a building rose ahead with a wooden sign that read 'Bamboo Delight'. Despite the early hour, a line stretched along the front.
People filled tables outside, mugs lifted, plates steaming. Laughter drifted under the morning sun, while deeper voices rumbled from inside.
There was an outer seating area, a bustling inner hall, and even a second floor.
Common folk naturally trusted places built by other commoners
Lyn slipped inside and chose a corner table
The inner hall was nearly full. Warmth pressed against him, soaked with the scent of strong alcohol and rich food.
His stomach tightened, hopeful and hungry, but he forced it quiet. He would keep his spending small. Tea should do.
A girl approached his table. She looked barely older than him, dark hair falling down her back, silver eyes bright with life.
Beneath that gentleness, her aura revealed something that made Lyn freeze for a moment
The reason Lyn froze for a moment had nothing to do with her smile or her beauty. He felt nothing for flesh; it was about something else.
Rank four, second stage was never something to dismiss lightly.
Rank four, second stage was someone strong enough to survive alone beyond familiar roads, someone a few steps away from becoming truly formidable. Seeing her here as a barmaid tightened his chest for a heartbeat.
Why would someone at that level serve drinks?
He brushed the thought aside and offered a soft, reassuring smile instead.
"Hello, sister. A cup of tea, please."
She returned the smile with quiet warmth and moved gracefully toward the other tables, sunlight catching in her hair while the tavern continued to breathe around him.
Advancing that far meant walking through Heaven's blockades. Three stood between every cultivator and true strength, each one designed to break a different part of the soul.
He steadied himself with a quiet breath.
He was only rank three, first stage. That alone reminded him to stay cautious.
Advancement sounded glorious when spoken aloud, yet reality was far less forgiving. He had no intention of pushing forward any time soon, especially with the second blockade looming like a silent beast waiting in the dark.
Lyn sighed inwardly and let the thoughts fade before they spiraled deeper than necessary.
His gaze drifted through the tavern instead. People filled nearly every table, laughter and idle talk weaving together into a living hum.
Most of them seemed ordinary, wrapped in the quiet comfort of stable lives. Middle-class workers, modest merchants, a few cultivators who looked capable enough to walk safely but nowhere near the kind of heights that bent the world.
At most, he counted four or five who might hold something resembling real authority, and even that rested more in posture than overwhelming presence.
It felt like a place built on warmth, habit, and community.
Which made it the perfect place for someone like him to quietly move unseen.
A few quiet minutes slipped by before the girl returned with a simple porcelain cup. Steam curled upward, carrying the scent of warmth and calm.
Lyn thanked her politely and slid a single contribution point across the table.
She accepted it with a nod, then disappeared back into the rhythm of work.
He lifted the cup but didn't drink immediately. Instead, he listened.
Chairs scraping across wooden floors. Laughter. Whispers lowered just enough to feel secret.
Eventually, a conversation drifted clearly enough for him to catch. Two tables ahead, a group of middle-aged men leaned in together.
"Vilen? I heard of him," one murmured.
"The merchant?" another asked.
A bald man grinned as if preparing to boast. "They say he's a prophet."
"That rumor again?"
"It's true. He told me yesterday would bring Frozen Nova rain. And it did!"
A wave of impressed murmurs followed.
Then someone pointed. "Look. He's here!"
The tavern door opened, and a man stepped inside.
Long silver hair fell past his back, almost reaching his waist, sleek and well-kept.
A silk robe of deep blue wrapped his frame, the sect's crescent symbol stitched proudly across the chest. His posture was rigid and proud, back straight, hands folded calmly behind him.
His face lacked beauty, features harsh and almost unpleasant, yet people's gazes softened with respect the moment they saw him. Authority clung to him like a mantle.
The moment he entered, all conversation fractured. Then silence swallowed the hall.
He paused only a heartbeat before smiling, voice light and playful. "Friends, why are you all silent all of a sudden? I just came to enjoy some tea!"
A ripple of awkward laughter followed, tension easing, but the atmosphere didn't return to what it had been. People spoke again, only softer, more careful.
Lyn narrowed his eyes slightly.
Inner sect perhaps?
He sensed no Essence leaking, no clear sign of rank. That alone felt dangerous to him.
And he had every right to feel danger. In this world, the amount of natural Essence leakage could say what words couldn't.
He himself had a natural ability to conceal his Essence completely, an anomaly not achieved through rank or training.
Then the man moved.
Straight towards him!
Lyn's fingers tightened around his cup. The silver-haired Dao Chosen stopped at his table and sat down without asking, posture perfect, gaze unreadable.
This was bad.
Thoughts flared. Had someone traced the scam back to him? Did those three juniors belong to this man somehow?
Had the sect already noticed? Why him? He was just another scammer—why him, why now?!
His pulse settled into a slow, guarded rhythm as he lifted his gaze to meet the stranger's eyes. Whatever this was about, it wouldn't be simple.
The barista returned a moment later, but this time her confidence had slipped away.
The warmth in her eyes trembled beneath a layer of caution as she stood beside the silver-haired man, paling for a second.
Her hands tightened around the tray she carried, and when she spoke, her voice wavered.
"What… what can I get you, honored guest?"
He didn't even look at her.
"Light-Fire Whirl tea," he said, tone flat and dismissive.
"Yes, sir!" she replied quickly, bowing before hurrying away, relief almost visible in the way her shoulders loosened as soon as she turned her back.
For a heartbeat, the tavern lingered in silence.
Then, slowly, it breathed again.
People laughed, yet no one truly relaxed.
The man sat with hands folded behind his back, gaze drifting without warmth, presence pressing quietly across the hall like an unseen weight.
Lyn watched him from the corner of his eye, heartbeat steady but alert.
These kinds of people are not the kind who would go to taverns just to drink. Why is he here?
Vilen's gaze finally shifted, settling on Lyn with a stern, piercing sharpness that lasted only a breath. Then his expression softened, friendly and easy, as if the seriousness never existed.
"Friend," he said lightly, "are you new to Emberbar?"
I need to be very, very careful with what I say and the way I say it. Shit
Lyn didn't answer immediately. His smile remained, but his mind moved fast.
The calm authority in Vilen's posture, the subtle weight he carried, the way the entire tavern adjusted around him—this was someone anchored deep within the sect. Perhaps even from the Inner Circle.
The kind of man who touched politics, trade, or military command. Influence disguised as casual conversation.
The sect's structure flickered through Lyn's thoughts like a quiet reminder. Outer disciples worked. Sect disciples survived. Inner disciples shaped everything beneath them.
Lyn kept his tone warm and harmless before replying.
"Ah, so obvious already?" He laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, I'm new. May I have the honor of knowing the senior's name?"
Vilen's sternness melted fully into polite charm. "Vilen. And you, junior? What should I call you?"
For a heartbeat, Lyn hesitated.
Names could become chains. I could be traced back. This is dangerous. I am not protected by anyone or any organization; if the sect were to find trouble with me…
"My name is Ryn, sir," he replied, letting a nervous edge creep into his voice.
Vilen nodded thoughtfully. "Ryn, hm. Simple, steady. Then tell me, 'Ryn'… where are you from?"
'Ryn' opened his mouth to answer.
The barista arrived first.
She placed Vilen's tea down a little too quickly, then moved off, acting as though she had something else to attend to.
Steam curled upward between them, and for a moment the tavern quieted again, as if waiting to see what the silver-haired "prophet" would say next.
"You hide your Essence perfectly. Even though you are a rank three, stage one of the Light Path," he said plainly, sipping his tea.
Lyn stared in disbelief. He had indeed concealed his rank the entire time he was in the tavern. Yet this person had identified it without any apparent effort.
Acting won't help me here, will it?
"True," he paused, looking Vilen dead in the eyes. "What of it?"
If those people I scammed are truly somehow connected to this guy, then truly my journey ends here
People around them were focused on their conversation, merely pretending to have their own. Vilen smirked before replying in a somewhat relaxed tone,
"I see, I see. Not bad. You are merely a rank three, yet you can conceal your presence to this extent. Kid, do you want a job?"
A job?
This could mean anything. He couldn't afford to say no; the most likely outcome of a refusal would be immediate execution.
Lyn recognized this type of person merely from his demeanor. Vilen was not someone who was shy about killing over tea.
Lyn felt his hands go cold, even while holding the warm cup.
"A job?"
He couldn't back out now. His luck had run out.
"Well, to be more precise, you would first need to become my student. The job I have in mind is currently impossible for you," Vilen said, watching a miniature fire tornado swirl inside his Light-Fire Whirl tea before finishing the cup.
Lyn was stunned. This was actually beneficial for him.
If he could grasp this situation well, he would not only achieve his goal of having enough food but also gain more than enough flexibility to learn about this world.
However, he did not get his hopes up. In this world, if something appeared good, it often was not. Good food had to be triple-checked before consumption.
"What job, exactly?" he said, relaxed, though his mind was racing.
Vilen then turned serious and asked, "Do you have an issue with kil—"
Before he could finish, Lyn replied, "No." before finishing his tea
There was a long silence when, suddenly, Vilen laughed. "Perfect, Perfect! In short, I will need you to kill an Expression of Heaven."
A what?
The people in the tavern suddenly stopped and dropped their act.
In unison, they whispered, "An Expression of Heaven?!"
Vilen sighed, raising his voice just enough for the whole tavern to hear, "You people just have to poke your noses into others' business. Yes, an Expression of Heaven."
Lyn was not surprised; perhaps in the entire tavern, he was the only one who had no idea what a Heavenly Expression was.
"What is a Heavenly Expression?" he asked plainly.
The crowd was speechless.
Vilen seemed mildly surprised that Lyn didn't know, but he answered anyway."A Heavenly Expression is someone whose rank exceeds twelve."
Above twelve…
Indeed, after rank twelve, the progression continued up to twenty. The divide between twelve and thirteen, however, was not a simple gap—it was a chasm. Mortals and immortals stood on opposite sides of that divide.
In this world, immortals had many names, but they called themselves Expressions of Heaven. An arrogant title, perhaps—but one earned by power.
Lyn kept his expression steady, feigning ignorance."So, in short, Senior, you want to mentor me… and in return, I kill someone? Why not do it yourself?"
He asked it calmly, but the real purpose was simple: to gauge Vilen's strength.
Vilen sighed and looked up at the ceiling
"Ugh, that person… he is a rank fifteen. I can't break through; I'm not ready, and I am growing older as the days pass. Not to mention this poison from my last blockade… I've been searching for a while for someone who could prove worthy. Not the soldiers or the high elders, but commoners. Someone with the right… foundation."
So he wants to throw mice at his enemy to find his weakness? Sigh.. he's basically asking me to become a sacrifice
Lyn naturally had to ask: "Why me? Is it because I can conceal my essence?"
Vilen leaned forward slightly, his playful demeanor giving way to an analytical sharpness. "Your concealment is flawless for your rank, yes. But that is not the true reason."
Vilen's gaze seemed to pierce through Lyn, not at his body, but at the space his soul occupied. "Beyond the technique, your soul has a faint... signature. A resonance of quiet oblivion. It is the same echo found in the Silent Hands—those hollow puppets left after failure of the Reflection Duel."
Lyn's blood ran cold. Silent Hands.
I remember reading about them, the third blockade! One becomes one of them if one fails, if I remember correctly, they are like mindlesspuppets..then-
Before he could continue his thought, he was interrupted
"But you are clearly whole. Your will is your own. This paradox…"
Vilen's eyes gleamed with a scholar's fervor.
"It makes you a unique specimen. My target's defenses are designed to reflect and shatter coherent wills and souls. But a will that carries the echo of a void? A soul that whispers of the silent end that awaits all reflections? I believe you may be the one type of arrow that can slip through his guard unnoticed and strike at the core."
He leaned back, his point made. "So you see, it is not merely that you can hide. It is what you are hiding. You are an uncarved piece of the darkest wood, boy. And I need a dagger made of shadow to kill a man of blinding light."
Lyn said nothing.
Vilen continued, "If I were not a Heavenly Expression myself, I wouldn't have sensed you!"
Indeed, when you stayed quiet, people just kept talking.
A Heavenly Expression.
With this person, he could soar through the skies.
"It's just hard work," Lyn replied.
Inwardly, he was unsettled. He had thought everyone could conceal their presence to this extent. Regarding the Silent Hands, he asked nothing further; he deemed it unimportant for now
"I also accept your proposal, Senior. How should I address you?"
The crowd was once more left speechless.
To them, Vilen was a powerful and wealthy merchant who could, for unknown reasons, predict events
"Perfect, perfect. You may call me simply by my title: Defying Sun." Pride showed on his face.
Before continuing, he added, "I will bring you to my training grounds in the Restless Mountains."
The Restless Mountains lay to the east-south of Emberbar, impossibly far away. Though they shielded the capital, the distance between them stretched across thousands of kilometers.
The world was simply too vast.
Even from the highest peak of those mountains, the capital was nothing more than a faint point on the horizon.
"Sir Defying Sun, but the Restless Mountains are millions of kilometers from here. We would need perhaps three years of travel or more…"
"I am a Heavenly Expression. I have my ways," he said plainly before tossing a Heavenly Shard to Lyn.
It looked like a Pegasus, wings spread, completely golden. It was made of something like glass, yet it gleamed like solid gold.
Lyn took the Heavenly Shard in shock. He couldn't even tell its rank.
"That is the Pegasus's Leap Heavenly Shard, a rank eight fragment of law. Naturally, a rank three cannot activate a rank eight shard, so I will channel my Essence through a linked formation space. My Essence will be linked to that fragment, meaning you just have to hold it in your hands and it will work. Do not try to place it in your Vessel Realm, as it will instantly crush it due to the vast rank difference and foreign Essence. Understood?"
Now it was Lyn's turn to be speechless. So something like this is possible, he thought.
He nodded.
Vilen sighed before continuing, "Kid, step outside. I'm guessing you have an inn or something. Take your stuff, and we are leaving. I'll wait for you here in front of the tavern."
"Not necessary."
Vilen was mildly surprised before saying, "Very well. I will keep injecting my Essence into the fragment. Don't lose sight of me, or the formation link might break due to the distance."
He then activated the formation. Faint, fiery veins could be seen glowing within the shard.
"Follow me," Vilen said before suddenly vanishing.
This was the might of a rank eight Heavenly Shard.
Lyn was immediately worried about how he would keep up or avoid falling behind, but he instantly noticed a magnet-like pull in a specific direction.
"Ah, that's it."
He focused his intent to activate the shard.
He vanished.
The crowd, the entire time, had been speechless.
An old man at the bar, his eyes distant with memory, slowly set down his mug and spoke in a voice like weathered stone:
"When gold-winged promise leaves the hand,
And common ground gives way to sky,
A mortal walks where gods command
Beware the pupil, Teacher. Fly."
Those around him seemed to agree. It was almost a perfect reenactment of that myth.