When Lin Mu left Grey Street, that bone-deep chill and dampness still seemed to cling to his clothes, refusing to dissipate.
He didn't head directly for the western mining district. Instead, he took a detour to find a secluded mountain stream.
There, he pulled out the Corrosive Bone Grass he'd just purchased from a street vendor, crushed it ruthlessly in his hands, and smeared the foul-smelling, ink-green juice evenly across his freshly changed hunter's garb.
The nauseating odor instantly masked the lingering scent of red mud and the faint aura of blood-evil on his body.
It also snapped him fully out of the probing, calculating transaction he'd just concluded.
Unconsciously, he touched the warm pouch of Primeval Stones against his chest.
That reassuring sense of having reserves gave him an extra measure of composure for the filthy rat infestation he was about to face.
"Now comes the time to test what this body is truly made of."
Half a day later. The abandoned mine pits on the western side.
The air here was even fouler than Grey Street—thick with the sour tang of oxidized iron and the musky stench unique to rats.
The dark tunnels gaped like the maws of beasts, leading into unknown depths.
Lin Mu didn't venture deep. He chose a relatively spacious abandoned shaft on the outskirts.
"Squeak—!"
Several Ironhide Rats—covered in grayish-black hardened skin, each the size of a house cat—caught the scent of a living intruder.
They emerged from shadowy corners, red eyes gleaming, and lunged at Lin Mu.
Facing the encirclement, Lin Mu remained calm.
This time, he didn't activate the Swift Ant Gu or the Red Mud Gu as he usually would.
Instead, he deliberately sealed away the extreme speed and gliding granted by the "Earth Ring Body."
He channeled only high-grade Primeval Essence throughout his body, meeting the enemy with pure physical strength and the Iron Leaf Gu alone.
"Kill!"
Without the Red Mud Ring's assistance, his movements no longer flowed with that eerie, silken grace.
When the first rat lunged, his subconscious instinct was to trigger the Earth Ring Body—but he forced himself to suppress it.
That split-second hesitation slowed his sidestep by half a beat, and the rat's claws tore a gash in his sleeve.
Yet he didn't panic. His hand flicked backward, launching the Iron Leaf Gu. Enhanced by Primeval Essence, the blade sliced cleanly through the rat's throat.
Then came the second. The third.
The battle ended quickly. Three rat corpses lay on the ground. Lin Mu caught his breath, looked at his somewhat disheveled footwork, and frowned.
"Without the Earth Ring Body's enhancement, my close-combat instincts are too crude."
"My reactions are rushed, my attack angles lack cunning, my footwork lacks refinement. I'm brute-forcing everything with my Primeval Essence reserves."
It was a self-assessment cold to the point of cruelty.
He wasn't one of those self-satisfied geniuses. He was a practitioner of the Demonic Path who pursued perfection.
He understood clearly: though Gu worms were a Gu Master's foundation, if one day those Gu were countered or sealed, bodily instinct would be the last line of defense.
Just as the Gu Masters of the Thieving Heaven Era all cultivated excellent strength techniques. (Those who got robbed had no other choice.)
"My fundamentals aren't solid enough. Against a same-rank expert in close quarters, I'll suffer. I must train."
And so, for the remainder of his mission time, Lin Mu tempered his impatience.
He didn't delve deep into the mines to hunt for the "Rat King" that might exist there.
The Boar King had just died; tensions were high. Killing the Rat King would cause too great a commotion and easily draw unwanted attention from the clan's upper echelons.
Instead, he stayed on the outskirts, using the clumsiest, most primitive methods to clear out Ironhide Rats one by one.
Chop. Slash. Sweep. Thrust.
Each strike corrected his angle. Each dodge refined his movement.
By dusk, when an Ironhide Rat leaped at him through the air, Lin Mu shifted almost imperceptibly.
A slight tilt of his body evaded the attack entirely, and then he activated the Iron Leaf—in an instant, the rat was dead.
Not a single drop of blood had touched him.
Mission quota: complete.
Though he hadn't yet achieved the results he wanted, he could now manage fine control over his body's subtle movements.
In actual combat, once he combined this with the Earth Ring Body and Wind-Treading Gu, he would surely catch his enemies off guard.
Lin Mu was satisfied with these two days of training. It had truly let him feel the thrill of combat.
Indeed, only tempering through real battle could fully unlock a Gu Master's potential.
After a brief rest, he didn't hurry to leave. Instead, he began the final step—making himself look worn.
First, he deliberately scraped his clothes against the rough rock walls. Then he mussed his hair and smeared mine dust across his face.
Next, he awakened the Red Mud Gu, having it secrete a layer of hardened mud to seal off all auras, wrapping the Liquor Worm, Blood Scent Gu, and other Gu worms tightly before stuffing them into the deepest dead-angle corner of his Aperture.
Then he adjusted his breathing, forced out a cold sweat, and made his complexion look pale and drained—as if his Primeval Essence were exhausted.
With all this done, the image of a "branch disciple who'd barely survived and scraped through his mission" came vividly to life.
By the time he returned to the clan's Mission Hall, night had fallen.
The hall was still noisy. Lin Mu carried a heavy sack of rat teeth and walked straight to the counter.
The one handling registrations was still Lin Qiang.
Seeing Lin Mu's mine-dust-covered clothes and pallid face, Lin Qiang instinctively tried to put on his officious, authoritative demeanor.
But when he met Lin Mu's eyes—weary yet still cold—the words died in his throat.
That killing intent from last time still haunted him.
"Submitting mission." Lin Mu's voice was hoarse.
"Oh… right, right."
Lin Qiang didn't dare ask questions. He didn't dare nitpick over the exact count of rat teeth the way he did with others.
He merely glanced into the bag, confirmed the approximate quantity was correct, then hurriedly stamped the mission form and handed over a small pouch of clan contribution points along with a few fragment Primeval Stones as reward.
Lin Mu took the items, turned, and left. No pleasantries. No haggling.
This crisp, efficient, results-only approach actually left several nearby clansmen—who had been hoping for some entertainment—feeling rather bored.
Outside the Mission Hall, Lin Mu didn't return to the crowded, noisy academy dormitory.
He stood at the crossroads, watching his peers in the distance—still quarreling over a few Primeval Stones, or coming to blows over a bed space—and decided it was time to find a private hideout.
"I have too many secrets now."
The Liquor Worm. The Red Mud. The Blood Scent. The Wind-Treading. And the trade with Gelded Ma…
That collective dormitory without even a proper lock was like a sieve full of holes, liable to get him killed at any moment.
"I must move out."
Lin Mu thought of those three-hundred-odd Primeval Stones—his vast fortune.
Though that money was meant for breaking through to Rank 1 Upper Stage and purchasing Rank 2 resources, setting aside a portion to improve his living situation was a necessary investment in security.
He didn't hesitate. He turned and walked toward the "Internal Affairs Hall," which handled clan property rentals.
"I want to rent a room."
In response to the steward's inquiry, Lin Mu stated his requirements: "Nothing fancy. Secluded, quiet, single-occupancy, standalone. Preferably a stone house with a basement or cellar."
"A secluded stone house? There is one, in the 'Quiet Stone District' at the northern corner of the settlement. Near the rear mountain—no one goes there. But the rent isn't cheap. Ten Primeval Stones a month."
Ten Primeval Stones—enough for an ordinary branch disciple to live on for three months.
"I'll take it."
Lin Mu slapped down thirty Primeval Stones. "Three months upfront."
The steward's eyes widened, but Lin Mu's expression remained unchanged.
True cultivation meant spending money like water. What mattered was whether the expenditure was worth it.
Just as Lin Mu was carefully budgeting for his new "nest"—
Dozens of miles away.
White Bone Mountain. The Hall of White Bone.
The style here stood in stark contrast to Black Blood Stockade. Every structure was built from massive beast bones, pale and skeletal.
Inside the great hall, cold phosphorescent flames burned, casting everyone's faces in the ghastly pallor of vengeful spirits.
The Patriarch of White Bone Stockade sat high upon his throne of bones, toying with a yellowed bone fragment radiating ancient energy—a transmission token from a recently excavated ruin.
He possessed Rank 3 Peak cultivation, majoring in Bone Path and Earth Path. His aura was dark and heavy.
"Is the intelligence confirmed?" he asked indifferently.
Below, an Elder responsible for intelligence bowed low.
"Patriarch, it is absolutely certain. That 'Iron Bones' Lin Cang of Black Blood Stockade, after obtaining the Blood Jade Marrow from the Jia Family, has officially entered closed-door cultivation to break through to Rank 4."
"Currently, Black Blood Stockade's internal affairs are being rotated among several Elders. Their defenses remain tight, but they are a dragon without a head."
"An excellent opportunity!"
An aggressive Elder stepped forward, phosphorescent fire flickering in his eyes.
"Patriarch, while he's in seclusion, we should launch a direct assault! Black Blood Stockade is hollow within despite their strong facade. Once we crack their turtle shell, their Black Blood Wood forest will be ours!"
"Fool."
The Patriarch sneered.
"That old fox Lin Cang may be in seclusion, but Black Blood Stockade's protective grand array still stands. They excel at Wood Path regeneration and entanglement, and their Strength Path cultivation is no laughing matter."
"We may be superior in Earth Path defense and Bone Path burst attacks, but if we truly clash, it becomes a war of attrition. Mutual destruction—and who benefits?"
"The scattered cultivators circling like vultures, and the Jia Family waiting to feast on the carrion!"
"Then… do we just watch him break through?"
"Of course not."
The Patriarch rose, crushing the bone fragment in his hand until it crackled. A cunning gleam flashed in his eyes.
"As long as we don't launch a full-scale war, they have no justification to activate their protective array."
"Relay my orders. Release all the 'elite seeds' in our stockade, along with the vagrant Gu Masters sworn to us."
"Divide them into multiple small teams and send them to conduct high-intensity 'training' at resource points along our border—the western mining district, the eastern Blood Forest, the southern herb fields, and elsewhere."
A cruel arc curved across his lips.
"Kill on sight. Loot on contact. If they succeed, it's skill; if they can't, they retreat."
"I want to bleed their outer territories dry. I want that old fox Lin Cang unable to sit still even in his closed-door cultivation!"
"Yes, Patriarch!"
With the order given, the previously tranquil White Bone Mountain sprang into motion.
Currents of killing intent began flowing through the forests, seeping toward the borders of Black Blood Stockade.
Meanwhile, Lin Mu had just received the keys to his new home—still dreaming of a stable environment for quiet cultivation.
He didn't know that the peace he longed for had ended before it even began.
The dark clouds had arrived.