The isolation of the Patio of the Silent Cloud was absolute. The immense stone walls and the heavy runic matrices cut off every sound from the bustling City of the Celestial Lance, creating a haven of stillness at the heart of the chaos.
In the lateral wing of the property, a small and well-equipped stable housed the four colossal black horses and the family's carriage. Mò Zhōng, displaying the austere vigor of his forty forged years in the 1st Transcendental Stage, brushed the beasts' coats in silence. As an absolutely loyal servant, the old man absorbed the courtyard's quiet, grateful to have a dignified space to tend to the logistics while his Lords rested.
In the main hall of the courtyard, the lethal tension of the Higher Realm had evaporated. The heavy, structured tunics and opaque veils of the "Rule of Shadows" were draped carelessly over a fine-wood armchair.
Free of the thick, restrictive layers of silk, Yù Méi was sprawled on the smooth stone floor covered by rugs, arms open and legs stretched out. The youngest wore only a thin cotton tunic in golden that could not contain the relieved and breathless rise of her full chest.
"By the love of our heaven..." Mò Yán sighed, her scarlet eyes watching the youngest with a mix of admiration and relief as she herself loosened the rigorous collar of her own gray tunic. The diplomat sat perfectly upright on a stone bench, organizing small leather pouches across the table. "That thick silk makes the air in this city feel twice as dense."
Yù Méi rolled across the rug and laughed, her vivid gold hair fanning out.
"The problem isn't the silk, Yán. The problem is having to walk slowly so you don't accidentally crush the mortals in the street," the warrior grumbled, propping her chin in her hands. "This disguise is a bore. I walked through the entire market hoping some idiot would try to steal our purse just to give me an excuse to test my fists."
From the wide recliner just behind them, Zhì Yuǎn released a low laugh, the baritone's vibration warming the room.
The lethargic apathy with which he had been analyzing the currents of space outside had given way to the mild, affectionate presence he reserved solely for them. He watched the dynamic between his wives with a calm gaze. The god's large hands rested casually on his own leg, though his left arm served as an unshakeable support for Yù Qíng.
The priestess was reclined against him, her pale back resting against her husband's warm chest. She had no interest in the leather pouches Mò Yán was organizing. Yù Qíng's cold, elegant fingers slowly peeled a sweet fruit, bringing it directly to Zhì Yuǎn's lips.
He accepted it, his teeth grazing his wife's fingers lightly, which drew a slow, satisfied, possessive smile across Yù Qíng's face.
"Boredom is a luxury exclusive to the strong, little flower," Yù Qíng murmured, turning her face majestically to look at Yù Méi on the floor. "Out there, they kill each other over luminous gravel. In here, we are the very ceiling of the world. But your boredom has a cure."
Zhì Yuǎn chewed the fruit and slid his hand along Yù Qíng's waist, pulling her slightly closer against him.
"Méi's hunt in the forest yielded far more than the Beemoth's core," he remarked, his tone easy. "We have a fortune in High-Grade Stones, but trading them draws the wrong vultures. We need local currency and Medium-Grade Stones to move through the city's information networks invisibly."
He looked toward Mò Yán.
"Take the remaining cores, hides, and Magical Beast fangs from the Ring. Spread the sales across three different pavilions so as not to overwhelm a single appraiser."
Mò Yán nodded immediately, devotion flashing in her scarlet irises.
"This serv—... I will prepare the most efficient route through the commercial district, husband," Mò Yán corrected herself quickly, her face taking on a feverish hue at using the intimate address Yù Qíng had insisted upon. "I will negotiate the precise values according to the compendium we purchased."
Yù Méi leapt up from the floor, the lethargy vanishing in the blink of an eye.
"Excellent! Commerce means people, and people means someone might try to swindle us," the Brutal Blade celebrated, rushing to pull on her dark-gold tunic and opaque veil. "Let's go, sisters!"
Half an hour later, the heavy mahogany gate of the courtyard swung open, and the three shadows slipped into the bustling streets of the City of the Celestial Lance.
The organized chaos of the frontier market was deafening. The smell of beast blood, cheap incense, and sweat mingled with the sound of anvils. The trio moved in a perfect formation. Mò Yán led slightly ahead, her scarlet irises sweeping the stalls and silently recording the price fluctuations of each merchant; Yù Méi covered the right flank, her shoulders tense beneath the thick silk in search of any pretext for violence; and Yù Qíng floated at the center, her Suspended Lotus Step millimetrically adjusted to mimic a normal walk, her black eyes assessing the merchants as though they were weeds.
They entered the Golden Wind Pavilion — a secondary establishment, but rich in forging resources.
Mò Yán approached the rough wooden counter, depositing three 7th-Stage Transcendental spiritual cores and a heavy Steel Wolf hide. The appraiser, a one-eyed man with tattooed arms, widened his good eye.
"Fresh catch," the man murmured, pulling out an appraisal monocle. "The cut on the hide is a little crude, but the core density is excellent. I'll pay one hundred and twenty Low-Grade Spiritual Stones for the lot."
Beneath the luxurious golden-thread veil, Mò Yán's scarlet irises gleamed with calculating coldness. She did not alter her melodious voice.
"The hide presents blunt rupture rather than blade cuts, which preserved the Qi-conducting follicles intact for heavy armor forging," Mò Yán countered, her rigid and authoritative posture unshakeable. "And the density of the three cores is not merely excellent — they carry the exact resonance of the Silver Steel Forest. Two hundred Medium-Grade Stones. We will not accept low-grade dust for Transcendental-apex materials."
The appraiser swallowed hard. That veiled woman's technical precision had completely dismantled his attempt at extortion. He glanced at the two dark, silent figures escorting her. The instinctive feeling of danger made him open the safe without hesitation.
"Two hundred medium stones. Deal, my lady."
The process repeated itself at two more trading houses. Mò Yán's political intelligence, combined with Yù Méi's imposing presence and Yù Qíng's abyssal gaze, ensured that the family left the streets hours later with heavy sacks of Medium and Low-Grade Spiritual Stones — enough to buy free passage through any library or auction in the city without drawing the slightest unwanted attention.
---
While the three wives legally extorted the local market, the atmosphere a few kilometers away, at the city's apex, was considerably more tense.
The City Lord's Palace rose like an impregnable fortress of black stone and crossed lances at the highest point of the ramparts. The main hall breathed the scent of military incense and warm wax.
Seated upon the massive obsidian throne, the City Lord, Lǐ Kuáng, did not look like a poet or a bureaucrat. He was a man whose colossal body bore the marks of one who had conquered his own position through blood. The aura that emanated from him was no trick of the air — it was the pure dominion of an early Saint Realm cultivator. The presence of his condensed Laws subtly distorted the space around his broad shoulders.
Before him, the Commander of the City Guard stood bent, fists joined in a rigid salute.
"Report," Lǐ Kuáng ordered, his voice direct and rough, with no patience for detours.
"My Lord," the Commander raised his tense face. "Young Master Lǐ Wēi has not returned from the hunt in the Silver Steel Forest. The deadline established by his retinue expired more than forty-eight hours ago. There is no sign of the carriage, the draft beasts, or the scouts."
Lǐ Kuáng merely narrowed his eyes, his old wartime instinct chewing on the anomaly in silence.
"The Twenty-Eighth is an arrogant boy, spoiled by his mother's gold," Lǐ Kuáng stated, coldly. "Delaying to drink or chase some pointless whim in border villages is to be expected of him. But he did not go alone. Elder Gu accompanied him."
"Precisely, my Lord. Protector Gu is methodical."
"Gu is a veteran at the Transcendental apex. He does not get lost, and he certainly does not fall behind without sending a messenger," Lǐ Kuáng leaned back against the throne, his thick fingers drumming on the obsidian. "If a Saint Realm Primordial Beast had attacked, Gu would have sacrificed his own arm to send an alert signal. It is his silence that unsettles me."
The Commander of the City Guard swallowed hard.
"Shall we declare the Young Master dead, my Lord? Prepare a retaliation?"
"We do not declare death without a corpse, Commander. We deal in facts," Lǐ Kuáng rebuked, his voice thundering with the absolute authority of a Saint King. He rose, his scale armor rattling. "Seal the main access points to the Silver Steel Forest. Dispatch the elite trackers. And go to the treasury."
The Commander's eyes widened.
"Bring the Vitality Compass we imported from the Imperial capital," commanded the City Lord, his eyes flashing with a lethal calculation. "The artifact traces the threads of the Law of Karma. If Elder Gu encountered something that prevented him from returning, the compass will locate the remnants of his energy. And if there are culprits, the trail will lead us directly to them."
"At once, my Lord!" The soldier bowed deeply and shot out of the hall.
Lǐ Kuáng remained alone on the throne, observing the vast expanse of his domain through the enormous stone window. He was not a desolate father — he was the ruler of a hostile ecosystem. And the threads of Karma were about to be pulled, drawing with them the attention of the very calamity that rested silently in the city's guest district.