The streets grew quieter as they left the roaring arteries of Shanliu's central ward. The festive noise faded behind them, replaced by the grim hush of the Western Quarter — where the walls leaned close and the shadows whispered rumors long before mouths did.
Here, the cobbled stone turned slick with moss, and the air shifted — less spice, more rot. Less fire, more old sweat.
Chen Yun walked like a drifting specter.
Jie Lun, breath catching in his throat, kept pace beside him. "Senior… the drop point is a tea house off Iron Vine Lane. Real quiet. Not the talking kind."
Chen Yun gave no reply.
But his silence was not indifference.
His ears drank in the city's voice — a different voice now. The clang of blacksmiths had given way to murmured deals through cracked shutters. The scent of roast meat vanished, replaced by rusted incense and faint traces of opium and sweat. Here, swords were drawn with smiles, and names were traded like coin.
Jie Lun asked cautiously, "You ever walk this deep, Senior?"
Chen Yun's only answer was a glance — and a flicker of a smile with no warmth behind it.
They turned down a narrow lane lined with rusted prayer chimes and weathered talismans, long since bled of power. The wind here didn't blow. It slithered.
At the end stood the Seven Petal Brew — a two-story skeleton of what once may have been a tea house. Its sign hung by a single nail, swinging in silence.
Jie Lun slowed. "That's it."
Chen Yun raised a hand. "Wait."
The boy froze.
The wind shifted.
Then came it .A faint scent — burnt resin and copper blood — passed them. Chen Yun's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, Qi wrapped so tightly around his body it was like silk on steel. His Qi did not fade — it folded, slipping between the cracks of space.
Shadows bent around him. Sound lost its path.
— Void Veil Step.
He stepped forward and pushed open the door.
No bell rang.
The silence inside was unnatural.
No voices. No footsteps. Not even the faint bubbling of tea.
But the tables were laid.
Teacups filled. Scrolls half-open. One cup, in the far corner, still steaming.
Chen Yun stepped in first. Every step quiet, every breath measured.
He touched the nearest cup. Still warm.
"Someone left in a hurry," he murmured.
Jie Lun's voice was a breath. "Something's wrong… they're always here."
Above — a creak.
Chen Yun moved.
Steel dropped from the ceiling like a viper's fang.
He sidestepped. The blade struck the floorboards with a vicious crack.
Three masked figures dropped from the rafters — black-robed, curved blades gleaming, Qi flaring like torches.
"Take the boy!" one hissed. "Fast!"
But they made a fatal mistake.
They saw Chen Yun.
They did not perceive him.
No sword left his sheath. No stance shifted.
He moved, and the world bent.
A finger extended — calm, elegant.
A ripple bloomed through the air.
Thud.
The closest attacker dropped — ribs collapsed inward like paper, breath torn from his lungs.
A second charged — twin daggers, dipped in poison. He slashed.
Chen Yun met it with an open palm.
Spacial ripple
No defense — a disruption. The man's dagger cracked in his grip. A pulse of Qi flared — cold, sharp as steel.
Chen Yun pressed a hand to his chest.
The man flew backward like a broken kite, crashing through the far wall in a rain of splinters.
The last one — lighter frame, feminine build — stepped back, blade trembling.
Chen Yun didn't glare. He didn't threaten.
He merely raised his eyes.
And that presence — vast, unblinking, eternal — crushed her will.
Her grip faltered. The blade clattered to the floor — a surrender more instinct than choice. She turned and vanished into the shadowed alley, a hunted thing fleeing a force she could never name.
Chen Yun didn't chase.
Instead, he turned toward Jie Lun.
"You said this place was discreet."
Jie Lun's voice shook. "It was… it always was… I swear…"
Chen Yun walked to the back table — to the steaming cup.
He examined the teapot.
Something floated on the surface.
A slip of bamboo paper.
He plucked it out.
One word carved into it: "Watcher."
His gaze darkened.
Outside — shouting.
Jie Lun rushed to the door. "Enforcers," he whispered. "Running past… towards the eastern quarter."
Chen Yun slid the bamboo into his sleeve.
"They're not here for us."
He stepped outside, eyes sharp.
Indeed — guards in silver-plated armor stormed the district, yelling of smuggling human and human cores. Too loud. Too fast. Too convenient.
A diversion.
"Stone Heart Sect is moving," Chen Yun said quietly. "And they move like snakes."
Jie Lun tugged his ragged cloak close. "Then what do we do?"
Chen Yun looked skyward — past rooftops, past the bell tower of the Sky Pavilion.
"Someone is clearing the board," he said. "Cutting off all outer tongues."
His eyes dropped to Jie Lun.
"You were a messenger."
Jie Lun nodded slowly.
"You saw too much."
"You've become the loose piece they forgot to burn."
Jie Lun paled. "That sounds... bad."
Chen Yun turned, his voice like the edge of a blade in the night.
"It is."
"Then… what now?"
Chen Yun kept walking.
Without turning, he replied:
"Now we shake the board."