"Cough, cough! We're merchants, not rebels!" the shopkeeper spluttered. His face paled to a sickly, ashen shade as he took an involuntary step back toward the ornate screen behind him. The very suggestion of rebellion was a death sentence in these times, a word that could bring the weight of the imperial army down upon them all.
"This token isn't something a rebel should have. I once saw it in my father's study," Su Min said. Her voice was calm and level. It gave nothing away, revealing no hint of the storm that had once surrounded her family. She watched him closely, her gaze steady and unnerving in the quiet room.
The shopkeeper froze at her words. His body went rigid as if he had been struck by an unseen blow. His eyes flickered with suspicion as he studied her, truly seeing her for the first time in the flickering light. In his mind, a figure of her supposed stature—someone who commanded such respect and possessed such deep, forbidden knowledge—had to be at least in her forties or fifties.
Even Zhao Yiping, the man hailed as the number one hero in the martial world, had addressed her with deep, unyielding respect. As she spoke, Su Min subtly dipped her finger into her cup of lukewarm tea and traced a single character on the dark wooden table between them: 永, the character for 'eternal'.
The merchant sucked in a sharp, hissed breath. The sound was loud and jarring in the otherwise quiet room. Very few people in the world knew about that specific symbol or its true meaning. How could this young girl possibly know of it?
On the surface, their organization was affiliated with Prince Fu, the emperor's indolent half brother who had been banished to the southern frontier as a harmless, forgotten figurehead. But their deeper, hidden ties were to the legacy of Prince Yong, whose rebellion had been crushed less than a decade ago. That secret was known to only a handful of people, and he was one of them. He wasn't here as a punishment; he was here on a critical mission, and a capable alchemist like Su Min was a vital asset he couldn't afford to scare away with his own fear.
"Let me think…" the shopkeeper murmured. He fell into a deep thought as his mind raced to connect the dots. He tried to fit the disparate pieces of this puzzle together into a cohesive picture.
Su Min didn't rush him. She simply flicked her sleeve lightly over the table with a graceful, fluid motion. The water stain evaporated instantly under the heat of her spiritual energy. It left the dark wood dry and unmarked, as if the character had never been traced there at all.
"You… you're Minister Su's daughter?" he asked. His voice was low and cautious as he finally pieced the truth together. The realization dawned on his face with a complex mixture of awe and lingering fear.
It all traced back to the scandal eight years ago, a time of blood and fire. The emperor had mobilized a huge army, even setting entire mountain ranges on fire, all to capture one man and his family. He had still failed to secure them. The resulting chaos, some said, had angered the mountain gods and brought a devastating famine to the region.
It wasn't that Su Min had brought calamity upon the nation, but that Great Wei was already a pot about to boil over from its own corruption. The incident was just the spark that lit the fuse. Now, the world had mostly forgotten Su Min, but he hadn't.
Who could have imagined she would appear before him now? It was absurd, a defiance of logic. Yet it explained everything. It explained why hardened martial heroes called her 'senior' without hesitation. This was the mind that had once played a nation's army like a game of chess on a board made of mountains and rivers.
"What assistance do you require, miss?" he said. His tone shifted to one of clear, profound deference. "The lord deeply regrets the events of the past. Minister Su was a loyal man, and he ultimately fell victim to treachery and lies…"
"Enough. That's all in the past," Su Min interrupted. Her voice was cold, cutting off his flattery before it could take root. She had no stomach for his empty words or historical revisions.
She was acutely aware of what had happened back then. These weren't facts learned from a dry scroll; they were her memories, ingrained and lived in. She could still recall the oppressive scent of the prison cell—the metallic tang of copper and the rot of damp, decaying wood. She remembered the iron bars, cold to the touch and slick with condensation, the wet straw that poked through her clothes, and the smell of blood. The damp chill had clung to her skin like a second layer that she could never wash away.
The girl she had been, the original Su Min, had huddled on cracked stone in the dark. Her hair was matted with filth and her nails were torn from clawing at the walls. She remembered the sound of her cousin choking in the next cell, a wet, rattling noise. She remembered the way her aunt had whispered lullabies until the woman finally fell silent forever. And her father… the last image was of him turning to her. His hands were bound with heavy iron. Blood was at the corner of his mouth as he smiled a grief-stricken apology that he could not speak aloud.
"Endure," he had mouthed.
And then he was gone.
She had been spared the worst of the executions, protected by some unseen command from on high, but the helplessness of that time was its own torture. Days blurred together in the dim, grey light of the dungeon. She hadn't cried, not after the first week of silence. The tears had run dry, leaving only salt on her cheeks. Those memories were bone deep now. A girl had suffered in that body, and she, the current Su Min, had inherited all of it—the pain, the fury, and the cold numbness that followed.
Sometimes she dreamed of things she had never seen with her own eyes: her mother's garden in the spring, her father reciting poetry by the lily pond, the golden threads of a childhood robe catching the light. They were echoes carried through time by a ghost. And with them came the deepest truth: this world had never shown her any mercy.
The Emperor hadn't just killed the Su Clan. He had erased them from history. He offered their bodies and their memory to the ambitions of the woman behind the throne, the one who fed on talented girls to sustain her own fading power. Su Min had been spared only to be a future vessel, a living feast for a parasite. That was the Emperor's mercy.
She opened her eyes, staring calmly at the shopkeeper. His reverent expression meant nothing to her. She didn't want his pity or his respect. She remembered the names of all those who had stood by or looked away while her family was slaughtered. She had no interest in correcting history's lies for his benefit. Let them believe what they wanted. She would write her truth in actions. The past had burned, and she carried the ashes like embers in her chest, waiting for the right wind to reignite the flame.
"I have here ten Body Tempering Pills," she said. Her voice pulled him back to the present. She was all business once more. She placed a small, translucent jade vial on the table. "They can help talented individuals swiftly reach the Body Refining Stage. I need you to find me ten such people and prepare a batch of special materials for me."
"No problem. Give me a month; I will find the candidates," the shopkeeper responded eagerly. His eyes gleamed with a sudden understanding. In this chaotic world, cultivators were the true power. By selecting these ten, they would build a core of resistance and bind these future experts to their cause. The pills were more precious than gold, and the opportunity was priceless.
"Thirty days from now, I will return," Su Min stated. Her tone left no room for negotiation. "In addition to the ten candidates, I require these materials. No matter what, you must procure them for me." She handed him a folded list. The items were all body parts from monsters and beasts. The tiger demon wasn't the only one she had encountered over the years, just the most ferocious of the lot. Once her ring was finished, she would need to start forging her own magical weapons, and these components were essential for the process.
"Understood. I will arrange everything immediately," the shopkeeper promised without hesitation. He knew he couldn't stop her even if he wanted to. She came and went as she pleased, a force of nature he could only hope to direct toward his enemies. Besides, he needed to report this to his superiors immediately. There was an old bond between their families. That was why they had been implicated before. Now, with her identity and her strength, Su Min was someone they had to win over at all costs.
"May this help me step onto the Path of Merit and awaken new powers," Su Min murmured to herself as she left the residence. She narrowed her eyes against the sudden, harsh sunlight that felt abrasive after the dim interior.
Cultivation couldn't be rushed. In the early stages of the game, a single breakthrough could take years of in-game time—a mere moment for a player, but an eternity in this turbulent era. Since she couldn't afford to shut herself away in seclusion for years on end, she would have to find other ways to grow her strength. This was the first step, a deliberate move on a much larger board.