Chapter 13: Mission Hall
Mo Yuan descended the North Cliff slowly. Each step sent a dull ache through his right side, the cost of forcing the Void-Compression Step and Absolute Void Strike. His qi churned restlessly beneath his skin.
As he neared the Outer Sect's main hall, the air grew warm and heavy, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and spirit incense. Sect disciples passed by with quiet respect, sensing the pressure of his recent cultivation.
His first stop was the dining hall. His body cried out for nourishment and his Absolute Qi burned energy two times faster than a normal cultivator.
By the time he reached the dark ironwood doors, his stomach felt like an empty void.
The hall was filled with the midday crowd. Mo Yuan took a double bowl of spirit-grain porridge and some braised beast-meat, looking for a quiet corner to eat. Yet his presence did not go unnoticed.
The silence around him was no longer mockery, but watchful caution.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Mo Yuan looked up. A stocky disciple with a friendly, round face and a scar through his left eyebrow was already setting a tray down. He wore the gray robes of the Outer Sect, though they were frayed and stained with the dust of travel.
"Go ahead," Mo Yuan said, his voice still a bit raspy.
"Zhao Long. Fourth Stage Qi Refinement," the disciple said, digging into his food with hearty enthusiasm. "I saw your fight with Wang Wei. A hell of a palm strike, brother. You made that arrogant fool eat dirt."
Mo Yuan chewed slowly, savoring the warmth of the spirit-grain porridge. "He was overconfident."
"Maybe. But overconfidence doesn't shatter a Fourth Stage's defense with a basic move," Zhao Long countered, his eyes sharp beneath his jovial tone. "And a word of advice... Don't linger in the dining hall too long. Wang Wei's cousins are in the Law Enforcement Hall, and they're looking for any excuse to 'inspect' the North Cliff for forbidden artifacts. They believe you're hiding a treasure there."
Mo Yuan paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "They can search all they want," he said with a hint of mockery. "The only thing they'll find up there is rocks... and more rocks."
Zhao Long laughed, a deep, hearty sound that drew a few irritated glares from nearby disciples. "In this sect, if you're strong and don't have a powerful backing, they assume you've stolen it from the heavens. It's easier to call it luck than admit someone worked harder."
Mo Yuan looked at Zhao Long in surprise, his brow furrowing slightly.
It was rare to hear such open bitterness from a disciple of the Outer Sect. He studied Zhao Long for a moment before replying, his voice soft but thoughtful. "And you believe that?"
Zhao Long shrugged, taking another bite of his food. "Believe it or not, it's the truth. In a place like this, strength alone doesn't earn you respect. It's who you know, and what you can offer."
His eyes flickered toward the distant Law Enforcement Hall, his expression darkening for a moment. "Most of the time, people with real power hide their hands, and those who flaunt it are the first to fall."
Mo Yuan's gaze followed Zhao Long's, his expression unreadable. The weight of his words lingered in the air, and for a moment, the noise of the hall seemed to fade. "What about you? You hiding your strength too?" Mo Yuan asked, his tone still soft but now edged with curiosity.
Zhao Long gave a quiet chuckle, his gaze turning inward. "Hiding strength?" He shook his head. "Not exactly. But I've learned to keep my head low and my hands clean."
He paused, glancing at Mo Yuan with a wry smile. "It's the ones who stand out that get caught in the web."
Mo Yuan didn't respond immediately, his eyes narrowing as he considered the unspoken tension between power and survival. "And yet, some of us don't have the luxury of hiding," he said softly.
Zhao Long sighed softly, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his words had finally caught up with him. "You're right. Not everyone can hide. Some are forced to stand out, whether they want to or not."
Mo Yuan smiled softly, the expression calm but carrying an unspoken understanding.
Zhao Long raised an eyebrow, noticing Mo Yuan's gaze drifting toward the Mission Hall. "I noticed you've been looking toward the Mission Hall," he said, his tone casual but sharp. "Planning to take a mission, or just thinking about it?"
Mo Yuan gave a slight nod. "Yeah, kind of."
Zhao Long's eyes brightened. "If you don't mind, we could take a mission together."
Mo Yuan thought for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Maybe next time."
With that, he stood up and he gave Zhao Long a final nod, then turned and made his way toward the Mission Hall.
The Mission Hall was a large, high-ceilinged stone building, buzzing with the nervous energy of countless disciples.
Wooden boards lined the walls, each covered in paper slips, color-coded by difficulty. White slips were for simple chores, green for patrols, blue for hunts, and red for missions to hunt demonic cultivators.
Mo Yuan stood before the boards, his eyes scanning the slips carefully.
Mo Yuan walked past groups of disciples haggling over simple herb-gathering tasks and headed toward the back of the hall, where the air grew colder and fewer disciples lingered.
He wasn't here to accept a mission today his arm was still injured, and his Qi knots remained unsettled but he needed to understand the missions.
This was the Black Board.
The missions here weren't just difficult, they were life threatening. Mo Yuan's eyes scanned the board, his mind flickering like a polished mirror, analyzing the text on each slip.
[ Mission: Clear the Blood-Vine Infestation in the Weeping Ravine.
Reward: 150 Contribution Points. ]
[ Mission: Capture a Live Shadow-Leopard Cub.
Reward: 300 Contribution Points. ]
Mo Yuan's gaze stopped on a weathered, blood-stained slip at the very bottom of the board. It looked like it had been there for months.
[ Mission: Investigate the 'Spirit-Eater' Cave in the Southern Foothills.
Reward: 800 Contribution Points + 1 Middle-Grade Spirit Stone. ]
[ Description: Many disciples have disappeared. Reports of a 'cold, void-like pressure' emanating from the depths. ]
Void-like pressure?
Mo Yuan's fingers hovered just inches from the slip, cold and numb. He didn't take it. He knew stepping into that cave would be a death sentence in his current state.
"You're not actually considering that one, are you?"
A cold voice cut through the hall. Nearby disciples stiffened, some stepping aside before even turning.
Mo Yuan didn't need to look to know who it was.
Mo Yuan turned to see a group of disciples in pristine robes, led by a tall youth with a sword hilt made of white bone. It was Han Li, the third-ranked disciple of the Outer Sect.
"That mission has been there since last winter," Han Li said, his eyes scanning Mo Yuan with a mix of curiosity and disdain. "Five sixth-stage disciples went in together but no one returned. To a Stage Two like you, that cave isn't a mission, it's a grave. Especially with how pale you look now."
Mo Yuan didn't pull his hand away, though he didn't take the slip either. He looked at Han Li, his expression as unyielding as the mountain he lived on.
"I am merely observing," Mo Yuan said quietly. "A wise hunter knows the terrain before he sets the trap."
Han Li snorted, turning away with his entourage. "Then observe all you want. But don't let your ambition grow just because you beat Wang Wei."
Mo Yuan watched them leave.
Though Han Li seemed arrogant, his words carried a hint of truth. He was right rushing into the foothills now would be a death sentence.
He didn't take the slip. He needed three days of pure meditation to clear the Qi knots and restore sensation to his arm.
But the choice had already been made in his mind. The 800 points would be useful, and the 'Spirit-Eater' aura might reveal something about the void itself something that could help him understand and stabilize his Absolute Qi.
He turned and walked out of the hall, the image of the black slip burned into his memory. He would return when his strength was restored.