The name "Shadow Hand Xue" settled over the Lin Clan like a low fog—silent, suffocating, and impossible to ignore. Li Jian's wrath had been loud, furious, almost understandable. But Xue? He was a different beast entirely. A professional investigator from Green River City, known for peeling back lies like old wallpaper. He wouldn't roar; he would whisper—and see everything.
"A professional," Lu Chenyuan echoed, the word catching in his throat like ash. Uncle Liu's report still hung heavy in the air as the three of them sat in their dim main hall. "This is no longer about deflecting a grieving father's anger. This man will come with questions that don't sound like questions. He'll look for cracks we haven't thought to seal."
Shen Yue's hand, warm and tense, tightened around his forearm. "Then… what do we do, Chenyuan? How do we hide from someone like that?"
He took a breath, slow and deliberate. His thoughts spun like gears behind his eyes. This was no brute force threat—they were facing a scalpel, not a cudgel. "We vanish," he said. "Not literally. But we become so unremarkable, so poor, so boring that even a master like Xue finds nothing worth turning over. No surprises. No patterns to chase. Just dirt and old bones."
His gaze flicked toward the small wooden box tucked away behind a false panel in the floor. Inside: six Qi Nourishing Pills. To most, a fortune. To them now, a trap. "Those pills," he said, his voice low, "are both our greatest strength and our greatest liability. If Xue even hears a whisper about them, he'll rip us apart looking for more."
Uncle Liu shifted nervously. "Should we… get rid of them?"
"No," Chenyuan replied firmly. "But we don't sell them. Not now. Not to anyone. And we don't use them unless one of us is dying. They need to disappear, hidden better than anything else we own."
He turned back to the others. "Same goes for the spirit stones. We treat them like they don't exist. No purchases beyond the absolute essentials. Salt, thread. Oil, if we must. Nothing flashy. We survive, we wait."
The Moonpetal Leaf came to mind. Their long-term hope. And now, a thread-thin possibility. "The herb," he said aloud, thinking. "Still the best way forward. But we can't go looking for seeds. Too dangerous. Too traceable."
Shen Yue looked up. "Then what do I do?"
"You focus here," he said gently. "The Green Dew Grass. The Iron Vigor Millet. Your 'green thumb,' your Wood Spirit Qi—enhance what we already have. If anyone notices our crops are slightly better, they'll call it luck or care. Not talent. Not threat."
She nodded slowly. "All right. I can do that."
Her cultivation had been steady. She was adapting to her Qi like it was breath itself. Her root awakening had ticked upward—36% now. The system offered quiet affirmations, subtle insights he tucked away for later use.
"Uncle Liu," Chenyuan continued, "limit your trips to the market. Go only when absolutely necessary. Blend in. Be the worried old servant of a dying clan. Nothing more."
They all fell into that quiet caution like slipping into old clothes. Weeks passed. Days blurred. Their meals grew more meager—porridge, boiled greens, millet. Shen Yue coaxed every ounce of life from the soil she touched. Not a single twig went unused. Not a single visitor crossed their threshold.
Chenyuan stopped his alchemy altogether. Too risky. The scent alone might bring questions. Instead, he focused inward—cultivation, study, observation. He learned the shadows around their home, the timing of breezes, the hiding places known only to a fox on the run. His ruthlessness showed not in violence, but in stillness, in restraint.
Uncle Liu returned from the market one evening, his face grave. "Xue has arrived. He's quiet. Watching. Asking for ledgers. Nothing direct. Just… present."
Lu Chenyuan's stomach sank, though his face remained still. "Then he's exactly who they said he was."
Li Jian, for his part, remained secluded, letting the investigator do the work. But the reward—fifty spirit stones—still loomed, tempting the desperate. Or the petty.
Amidst the dread, their internal efforts bore small fruit. The second harvest of Green Dew Grass was denser, richer. The millet fuller. Shen Yue had learned to guide her Qi into the soil itself, enhancing it subtly, invisibly.
[System Notification: Wife Shen Yue has successfully mastered Basic Soil Enrichment with Wood Spirit Qi. Spiritual Root (Variant - Wood) awakening progress: 38%. Clan Vitality +1. Host gains insight into foundational geomantic principles of Wood Element. Clan Prosperity Meter: 25/100.]
The increase in the Prosperity Meter was minor—but heartening. More important were the insights. Geomantic principles—subtle, precise ways to alter the environment without drawing attention. It sparked a fresh thought.
That night, as they sat around a small bowl of porridge and bitter greens, Chenyuan broke the silence. "The Moonpetal Leaf. The seeds—we won't buy them. Not openly. But they're out there."
Uncle Liu looked up, puzzled. "You mean… someone might drop them?"
Chenyuan nodded. "Or sell them out of desperation. Or hide them, thinking they're worthless. Xue's presence disturbs more than us. Fear makes people reckless. Reckless people make mistakes. We won't chase. We wait. We watch."
He wasn't thinking like a thief, but like a scavenger—quiet, patient, opportunistic. Somewhere, an opening would come. And when it did, they would take it.
"For now," he said quietly, "we keep to the shadows. We grow strong where no one can see. And when the moment comes, we strike—not like a hammer, but like a root breaking stone from underneath."
The dream hadn't died. It had just grown deeper, like a seed pressed into dark earth. Waiting for its moment. Sheltered by silence. Guarded by will.