Before long, the guards returned, two of them, each holding several storage bags of varying colors.
Liam's eyes flicked toward the difference in shades, noting how each pouch bore distinct hues, likely tied to the items inside.
Without a word, they placed the bags neatly on the table and swiftly backed away, leaving through the door.
A soft thud marked their exit.
Silence fell again.
That subtle kind that draped the room like a second skin.
The woman lifted her cup and took the final sip, the porcelain clinking lightly as she set it back down.
With a gentle wave of her hand over the bags, she offered a smooth smile.
"Everything Senior requested is here."
"Barter," Liam said simply, his tone flat.
The smile on her lips paused for a second.
She studied him, eyes slightly narrowing before softening again, her tone calm, "Since Senior is a distinguished guest of this house, we're open to any form of exchange."
"Four perfected Qi Refining realm puppets," Liam stated.
Her composure faltered, just a flicker in her breath. "That…" she hesitated, "T-the price is a bit… unreasonable, Se-"
Liam raised a hand.
"Someone's after you, aren't they?"
"W-what? I?"
"Untitled chamber house," Liam continued, his voice as casual as if he were listing off ingredients for tea.
"Operating out of a backwater city with no significant backing, tucked so far from the nearest immortal city that news travels like a turtle on ice."
Her frown deepened, brief, but telling. Still, she didn't dare let too much show.
But Liam wasn't done.
"Twenty-four Qi Refining workers in your force. Seven at peak realm."
"Three underground chambers beneath this very room, roughly three hundred meters down, behind the bookshelf to the left. Used to store emergency supplies. Enough to feed a small sect for years."
Her hands curled beneath the fabric of her dress, fingers visibly trembling now.
"But..." Liam's voice dipped just slightly. "There's dust and webbing on those supplies. This isn't preparation for the red mist. This is you, trying to run."
Her lips parted, no words formed. She clutched tighter at her lap.
"From someone."
He didn't need to say more.
She heard it in his voice, the absolute certainty behind every word. Inwardly, she was panicking from the way how the conversation had suddenly turned.
Liam leaned back slightly, tone cold and calm. "For a third-rate chamber house to move this drastically, with only a mid-stage Foundation realm expert leading it, that means whoever is after you… is from a second-rate force."
"I-Senior..." she tried again, faltering.
But Liam simply laid the final chess movement, checkmate.
"You have a special body constitution, don't you?"
The color drained from her face in an instant.
Her eyes dilated, fingers twitching as if the table before her had turned ice-cold. Panic surged across her features.
It felt as though every layer of clothing had been peeled away. Each secret exposed with a glance.
Then Liam tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking toward the courtyard outside, as if sensing something deeper. "Oh?"
"It seems I'm ninety percent right." His voice dipped again, amused.
"No?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Her lips quivered. She swallowed hard, then forced out the words, extremely dry words.
"Y-yes… That is correct, Senior."
Liam gave a soft exhale, more amused than surprised. "Rare body constitution, hmm? Judging from that faint fragrance that clings to you no matter how much perfume you wear, I'd say… 'Purple Lotus Body,' no?"
"A body constitution perfect for serving as a cauldron, quick cultivation gains for men, or even long-term dual cultivation, for those with patience."
Crack.
Something within her, her composure, fractured.
'He knows…'
Her eyes widened in sheer horror.
Tremors racked her body, her proud facade now nowhere to be found.
The elegant woman of moments ago now sat exposed, vulnerable, shaken to her core.
"T-then…" she stammered, voice cracking as she gathered every shred of courage left, "is Senior here… to take me away?"
Liam heard her.
That tiny tremble buried in her voice. She was rattled. Maybe a bit too much.
He rested his hands lightly over his thighs, his back straightening just slightly as he sat up. His gaze, calm, too calm, landed on her.
"I'm not here to take you away."
She blinked, eyes still wide. "T-then…?"
"A deal," he said simply. "An offer."
"An offer?" she echoed, as if trying to convince herself that those words were real.
Her breath finally slowed a little, and she let out a heavy exhale, pulling herself back together.
Liam gave a small nod, as though silently approving her recovery, and continued, his voice unhurried.
"You have something I need. And I have something you… desperately need."
"An exchange of equivalents."
He lifted one gloved hand, fingers spreading in a slow, open gesture, inviting. "You'll assist me with whatever tasks or resources I require. In return, I'll protect you here. Even if a late-stage Foundation Building cultivator shows up at your doorstep, they won't get close to you under my watch."
His tone dipped, not threatening, just a quiet certainty.
An offer, a very alluring offer.
"As for a Golden Core cultivator… they won't make that trip. Your constitution is rare, sure. But not enough to make a Golden Core old monster to risk moving so far just to chase after you."
"I… I see…" she murmured.
There was a shift in her expression.
The panic in her eyes faded, replaced by cautious thought.
What he offered wasn't just safety, it was leverage.
A lifeline. Something more secure than her clan's name or her father's position ever gave her.
The deal was tempting.
She provided access to the commerce channel, opened the doors for him to acquire what he wanted without friction.
And in return… he offered her safety. Real safety.
The kind that could keep even peak Foundation experts at bay.
That kind of protection wasn't something she could afford, not unless she was a holy daughter from one of the great sects.
But he wasn't done yet.
Liam tapped his fingers slowly on the table, rhythmic, deliberate.
"That's just the surface of the offer."
She looked up, brows twitching slightly.
"I'll be using your business for my acquisitions, obviously," Liam went on, "and that means your commerce will need a steady flow of funds to match the scale of my needs."
A pause.
"My needs… are huge."
He leaned back, arms spreading slightly, casual.
"So here's the rest of the deal, I'll provide you with high-end products. Rare ones. The kind that'll sell for tens of thousands of low-grade spiritual stones each… maybe even hundreds of thousands, if luck favors you."
His words were calm, but they dropped like thunder.
He pointed once, then drew his hand back with grace, his gloved fingers curling slightly as he extended them again, this time, into a handshake.
"So…"
A beat passed.
"What do you think, little miss?"
The offer hung there between them.
The woman stared at his hand for a moment, unsure, hesitant.
Her lips parted as if to speak, then closed again.
It took a breath, then another, before she finally reached out and placed her hand in his.
Hard?
'Surprisingly firm'
Her brows twitched slightly at the strength behind his grip, or the.... texture...
But neither of them said a word as their hands pulled away, slowly, as if sealing something more than just an agreement.
Then Liam muttered, voice light, "To make this more ceremonious… how about a soul contract?"
Click.
He snapped his fingers.
A sharp sound, and just like that, whoosh, a sheet of parchment burst into existence, spinning lazily in the air before settling gently on the table.
It hovered there for a moment like it was alive before laying flat with a quiet hum.
Her eyes locked onto it.
No text. No ink. But she didn't need words to know what it was.
She recognized the paper. It was an oath contract that could be created from a monk's divine mind, once proceeded, the contract bound cultivators to the heavens themselves.
The moment an imprint touched it, fate would be set, no backing out, no second thoughts.
Still… she smiled.
"I'm ready to sign it with my oath."
Her voice held strong this time, confident.
After all, the path under the witness of heaven couldn't be faked.
Raising her hand, she extended her fingers.
A glimmering wisp of her soul imprint floated free, glowing faintly violet, and drifted gently toward the paper.
The parchment responded, lighting up with a warm, pulsing glow.
Liam followed without pause.
A golden strand of his imprint, brighter, denser, rose from within his core, swirling for a heartbeat before embedding itself into the contract like molten gold seeping into old stone.
The parchment flared one last time, then vanished with a snap, like it had never been there.
The deal was sealed.
Any violation… and heavenly calamity would fall.
Liam, clearly in a good mood, reached forward and swept the storage bags into one.
Be on the surface, his expression remained the same as always, cold behind the mask.
Or inside his house...
He calmly waved his hand, sending the four puppets on the side into a single bag before handing it back across the table.
She took it, fingers brushing the edge of the bag, her lips curling into a smile.
A wave of visible relief softened her features.
"So… these puppets are for sale then, Senior?"
"Indeed," Liam said with a small nod. "And there will be more. Even Foundation Building-level puppets."
Hiss!
She sucked in a sharp breath, visibly startled. "S-senior… y-you're a second-grade puppet master?"
"I am," Liam replied, tone calm and matter-of-fact. "That's exactly why I need access to high-grade materials, materials I currently lack."
He paused for a moment, eyes flicking toward her. "Gather as much as you can. If I'm in a good enough mood, I might even throw in a few Foundation-level puppets for your personal guards."
Her jaw tightened, then she nodded rapidly. "Y-yes! I'll do my utmost!"
"Good."
He seemed satisfied with her eagerness.
Then, as if recalling something, Liam reached into his sleeve and pulled out a slim communication talisman.
Its faint shimmer pulsed softly with spiritual energy.
"If anything comes up, contact me through this," he said, placing it on the table. "From time to time, I'll come to deliver goods and pick up materials. Stay ready."
"Yes, Senior," she replied, voice firmer now.
Then, as if the tension finally began to lift, she offered a small, polite smile. "Ah, and this junior's name is Ilya. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier."
Liam paused, glancing at her through the expressionless mask of his puppet body. The silence hung for a second.
Then a quiet chuckle escaped him.
"Call me whatever you like," he said casually, flicking his hand in dismissal.
"Y-yes!" she quickly replied.
Liam stood then, slow and steady. And just as he reached the door, he turned once more.
"Oh, and one more thing. My direct disciple is in this city as well. If you come across him, help him. In every way you can."
"D-direct disciple?!" she gasped, startled again. But before she could say anything more, he was gone.
Vanished.
As if he'd never been there to begin with.
Ilya stood there, frozen, still staring at the empty air where he once sat.
Her lips parted slightly, a hand rising to her chin as she whispered to herself.
"Direct disciple…?"
Her thoughts raced.
Could it be…?