Now came the real question.
How exactly was he supposed to approach this potential, this unusual presence, and draw him into his dungeon?
Direct kidnapping? He doubted it would work. Given that a person like them usually possessed heaven-defying skills that would absolutely destroy his plan.
Luring? Perhaps he should use Ilya to draw the boy in?
Hummm...
Liam leaned back, thoughts tumbling and twisting around like threads in a loom.
Then, with a casual flick, a single card appeared between his fingers.
It was from a deck of his own creation, nothing flashy yet. Most of the cards remained blank, save for one.
A faint, crescent moon painted across its surface.
Beneath it, a shadowed figure stood alone, clutching a book as it gazed towards the moon.
The strokes were rough, abstract almost, yet strangely captivating. The first card was created on a whim, but now, this card might come in handy.
He called it The Moon Gazer.
The one who always stared towards the stars.
Something clicked in his mind.
A slow smile tugged at his lips. "Since Ilya was the one who unknowingly attracted that person to the dungeon... why not use her again?"
His fingers tapped the card lightly.
"But this time," he muttered, "the script will be different. A scenario where she'd need saving. Desperately."
"A forced situation, designed just right. And according to how the common protagonist acted in those books, saving her isn't an option, but obligatory for them"
His eyes glinted.
"Where he'll have no choice but to act."
"And ultimately… fall right into my hands."
The plan was already forming. Each line of the script, already written in his mind. In seconds, he designed a perfect plan for the awaited person.
"I hope everything goes well... "
The next morning.
Deep within the inner city, Ilya moved quietly through the bustling roads.
Her light-blue robe fluttered behind her with each step. Five guards trailed close, following from the back.
Each one of them was somewhere in the middle to late stage of the Qi Refining Realm.
Together, they were a force enough to make troublesome people think twice before acting.
After all, beauty was as much a blessing as it was a curse. And Ilya's appearance alone could bend necks like spring grass in the wind.
Especially in a city that was far away from any major forces. Where laws and rules doesn't really mean much.
Yeah, she needed protection.
Along the way...
Buildings rose on both sides of the street, fading slowly behind as she made her way through the city's residential sector, tucked against the far left, facing the edge of the great wilderness.
As she walked, the crowd thinned.
Fewer eyes watched here.
Most cultivator monks didn't like walking where they didn't have to, they preferred speed.
Quick movements. A blur through stone alleys.
This place? Too mundane for them.
Once outside of their house, their bodies turned into afterimages and left the place in an instant.
Only Mortals would even bother to walk slowly along the streets.
Soon after.
Ilya paused near the end of the wide street, her gaze dipping to something she drew from her sleeve.
A single piece of paper.
It was left behind by that curious young man she'd met the night before.
She read the familiar lines again, lips curving.
"Something that couldn't be brought up there and requires my presence to inspect," she murmured, voice soft with a hint of amusement.
"If it isn't worth the trip, then he will enter my blacklist from now on"
Sliding the paper back into her sleeve, she turned her chin slightly toward her guards.
"Anything?"
The lead guard stepped forward.
He was tall, older, with a plated breastplate molded to fit over loose-flowing robes that resembled ceremonial wear, but practical enough for movement.
"Nothing unusual so far, Young Lady," he said, voice calm.
She nodded. "What about the matter I told you to keep an eye on? Any changes since the last report?"
The man's brow twitched ever so slightly.
"Ah… that person."
He knew who she meant. No names were needed.
"Still the same," he replied, shaking his head. "Even after months of seclusion, there's been no sign of movement. The house remains sealed. No visitors. No shifts in spiritual energy. Not even a ripple of activity."
Ilya's eyes crossed faintly. A flicker of doubt passed across her expression.
"Strange," she murmured.
Especially now. With the red mist calamity approaching, most cultivators were either preparing or already fleeing.
That person, however, hadn't so much as flinched.
"Perhaps… they're confident?" she asked aloud. "Confident they can face what's coming without concern?"
"Could be," the old man admitted, arms folded behind his back. "The individual's reputation has always been consistent. Reclusive. Disconnected from the city's affair. Disappearing for months, even years at a time isn't unusual for him."
That much, he'd learned through careful inquiries.
The behavior matched the record.
And still, it didn't sit quite right.
Not with her.
"We'll pay him a visit after this. I hope he doesn't mind," the woman said casually, her tone dry with just a trace of intrigue.
Without waiting for a response, she pivoted on her heel, coat flicking behind her as she strode toward the far edge of the street.
The guards followed in silence, footsteps dull against the polished stone roads of the inner city.
It wasn't long before they arrived at the very edge of the residential quarter, where refinement started to rot.
A quiet corner with crooked fences, cracked stone paths, and a house that looked like it had been forgotten for quite some time.
It was the sort of place people whispered about.
The house was run-down, not because its owner neglected it, but because of something far more unnerving.
There were… stories about a taboo case here, once. And through the word taboo alone, it was more than enough to ward off many people from renting this property.
And yet.
"Somehow," the woman murmured, her voice light with amusement, "that strange young man from last night actually chose to stay here. How bold."
She stood before the half-rotten doorway, expression unreadable, and reached out to push the door open.
The wood groaned loudly, hinges screeching as the door gave way.
She didn't bother knocking.
Formalities? They were for people she respected.
And Lucien, to her, was just another mildly curious customer. Nothing more. Nothing that deserved her better manners.
If anyone could pique her interest, it should be that 'person'.
She stepped inside without hesitation, boots brushing over cracked stone and creeping moss.
Her guards followed, eyes darting over the ruinous interior.
She didn't come for him.
She came for what he claimed to have.
If his words last night had been a bluff, she'd walk out just as easily.
But her gut said otherwise. The way he described that treasure… there was no trace of hesitation. No lies detected, she was sure of it.
If not? She'd leave without another word.
The door creaked shut behind them, sealing off the place.
Vines crept along the walls, wild grass overtaking the stone paths.
Tiny ants crawled across what was left of the pillars, half-eaten and hollow.
The ceiling looked like it had been torn apart by a storm. Shingles hung loose. Sunlight stabbed through the gaps in tired slivers.
She didn't stop.
Her boots crunched over the mossy floor as she moved toward the back, where the note had instructed her to go.
As she stepped into the backyard, the sight that greeted her brought her steps to a pause.
A man stood with his back to them in the center of the yard, bent slightly forward, hands brushing dirt from his palms.
The quiet focus in his posture didn't change, even with their loud arrival and the presence of six guards behind her.
He wasn't startled. Not even slightly.
Suspiciously calm.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, watching him as he slowly straightened up, brushing his palms together.
And then, finally, he turned.
And just like that, the air stilled.
He was young, yes.
But his demeanour, gestures, body languages, they were anything but.
He had a cold, sharp look in his eyes, cautious, hidden wariness, and calculating.
His long black hair framed a face that was far too handsome to be ordinary, and the loose black robe draped over him swayed gently in the breeze.
There was something… unnatural about him.
Not in a monstrous sense. But in the way you instinctively knew not to treat him like everyone else.
Special...
Unique...
He radiated that.
Ilya blinked slowly, her gaze roaming briefly over his figure. 'He's tall too,' she noted inwardly, before shifting her posture.
With a slow, casual motion, she folded her arms beneath her chest, subtly lifting them as she stepped closer.
"Sir Lucien?" Her tone was mild, but a faint note of curiosity laced beneath.
"Yes," he answered evenly, his eyes drifting to her face first, then scanning the guards at her back with barely a flicker of interest. "You've come."
"As promised," Ilya said smoothly, circling around him. "And I hope you'll fulfill your part of the agreement too."
"Of course," Lucien replied, his voice was calm.
Without missing a beat, he turned back toward the direction he'd originally been facing, eyes following her as she came to stand beside him.
"My words are gold"