That faintly bitter thought circled in Lin Mu's mind for a moment before he pressed it down with cold rationality.
In the cultivation of Gu, fortune was never something that could be forced.
Sometimes the harder one searched, the more it resembled fishing in the open sea. Sometimes letting go of the obsession was what brought the path forward into light.
"Set it aside for now. Secure what can actually be secured first."
Lin Mu tilted his bamboo hat slightly lower, drew a slow breath, and reached for the back room's door handle, preparing to leave.
Compared to the bitter wine — a problem with no lead whatsoever — the Red Iron Relic Gu displayed on the tree house's second floor was his true objective for this visit.
That was the Gu that could bring about a genuine, qualitative leap in his combat power.
But the instant his hand touched the door handle —
Creak.
The wooden door was gently pushed open from outside.
The Jia Clan manager who had handled the Liquor Worm transaction stood in the doorway.
The easy, mercantile warmth he had worn earlier was gone. In its place was a trace of unease — his expression taut with nervous deference as he bent at the waist.
"Please wait, Supervisor Lin."
The manager swallowed, lowered his voice, and spoke with unmistakable reverence. "Our leader — Lord Jia Fu — wishes to meet with you on the top floor."
Lin Mu's forward step paused.
A flash of quiet understanding crossed the depths of his eyes.
"So he has come looking after all."
The reason was simple enough.
The campsite layout he had designed on the wasteland south of the city had been far too advanced — a strike from a higher plane against the Southern Border's traditional commercial methods.
And just now, he had dropped eight hundred Primeval Stones on a Liquor Worm without so much as blinking.
A young man who combined such staggering commercial acumen with such terrifying financial power — in a backwater like Black Blood Stockade, he stood out like a searchlight cutting through the dark of night.
For a seasoned merchant of Jia Fu's caliber, failing to notice the hidden hand behind all of this would have been nothing short of extraordinary.
"This is exactly the connection I intended to cultivate. Now that the big fish has taken the hook on its own, there is no reason to retreat."
Lin Mu's expression remained unchanged. He showed no sign of being flattered. He simply gave a calm nod.
"Since Lord Jia Fu has extended an invitation, Lin Mu will naturally comply. Please lead the way."
"Supervisor Lin, this way please."
The manager visibly relaxed and hurried to the front to guide him.
The two moved one after the other through the bustling crowd in the main hall, heading straight for an interior passage deep within the tree house — one not open to ordinary customers.
Following the winding wooden staircase, they arrived quickly at the Three Star Cave's third floor.
The manager brought Lin Mu to a stop before a wall of dense, lush foliage — broad, deep-green leaves growing in thick abundance.
The manager stepped forward, drew a token from inside his robe, and gave it a light wave against the wall.
Rustle, rustle...
Accompanied by a soothing sound of leaves and branches shifting against one another, the wall — which had appeared seamlessly solid — parted on its own like a living thing, drawing back to either side.
Behind the green curtain of leaves, a cleverly concealed door was revealed, along with a narrow spiral staircase winding upward.
"The lord is waiting for you above. I will not presume to enter." The manager bowed and stepped aside.
Lin Mu nodded and climbed the staircase, each step producing a faint, soft creak.
This scene — described in detail in the original story — was playing out before him now in full, and a strange sense of familiarity stirred in Lin Mu's chest.
At the top of the stairs was a quiet, modestly sized study.
The furnishings were exquisite. The air carried the refined, calming fragrance of premium sandalwood.
Behind a wide desk of purple sandalwood, a middle-aged man in luxurious brocade robes sat buried in stacks of ledgers and documents, his vermillion brush moving swiftly as he made annotations.
At the sound of footsteps, the man raised his head and set down his brush.
He had the face of a man born for commerce — the kind of face that put people at ease, a smile at the corners of his mouth that felt like a warm breeze.
But the long, vicious scar running from his right eye all the way to his jaw — jagged as a centipede — tore through that warmth entirely, lending his smile a cold, unsettling edge that sent a chill through anyone who looked too long.
The leader of the Jia Clan Caravan. Jia Fu.
"Brother Lin, my apologies for pulling you away from your business." Jia Fu gestured to the guest seat across from him, his smile easy and welcoming.
"Lord Jia is too courteous. To receive the lord's summons is Lin Mu's honor."
Lin Mu took his seat without servility or arrogance, meeting the gaze of this commercial titan with calm, level eyes.
Jia Fu dispensed with pleasantries. Merchants valued profit — and efficiency.
He went straight to the point, his gaze sharp and direct.
"Brother Lin, I am a man who speaks plainly. The campsite layout south of the city opened my eyes considerably."
"Commercial thinking that advanced does not come from a single day's effort. I wonder — from which master did Brother Lin learn such methods?"
The question sounded casual. It was anything but.
In the Gu world, where danger lurked everywhere, possessing abilities that far exceeded the norm almost always meant carrying a significant secret.
Those who did not know how to conceal themselves — once suspected of being an Otherworldly Demon or of having obtained some forbidden inheritance — would inevitably draw a death sentence.
But Lin Mu had his answer prepared long in advance.
He lifted the teacup from the table, blew lightly across the surface, and let a carefully measured trace of reminiscence and bitterness show in his eyes.
"Lord Jia overestimates me. There was no master."
Lin Mu drew on the original host's background as his shield.
"My late father spent his early years as a caravan guard traveling the Southern Border. He passed through many large stockades and left behind some worn, fragmentary notes on the layouts of the markets and trading posts he encountered along the way."
"I grew up surrounded by those stories. In my spare time, I studied those notes and turned them over in my mind."
"This time, with the clan facing pressure from two sides at once and the External Affairs Hall short-handed, I was pushed into the role before I was ready."
"In the urgency of the moment, I took the bold step of testing out a few scattered ideas from my father's notes — making some assumptions, trying a few things. That it caught your eye, Lord Jia, was pure luck."
Seven parts truth, three parts fabrication. Using a dead father and a set of worn notes as cover — it was the most airtight excuse possible.
But Lin Mu knew it was not enough on its own.
So he pivoted, entirely naturally.
"And besides — these ideas would have remained nothing but words on paper if not for the full support of our External Affairs Hall Master Lin Mao Mao, and the Patriarch's authority keeping those below in line."
"Without them, this campsite would never have been built. Lin Mu was nothing more than a messenger running errands."
The deflection was seamless. Not a crack to be found.
Jia Fu listened to the full account, and a barely perceptible gleam flickered through his eyes. Inwardly, he was quietly astonished.
He could see plainly that Lin Mu was playing down his abilities.
But it was precisely that restraint — the depth of mind to know how to protect oneself in the cracks between powers at such a young age — that impressed him all the more.
Knows his limits. Knows when to advance and when to retreat. Has the means to act. A character like this, left to rot in a small pond like Black Blood Stockade — what a waste.
The desire to acquire talent ignited instantly in Jia Fu's chest — the burning instinct of a man fighting for succession.
"Brother Lin is too modest."
Jia Fu leaned slightly forward, his tone shifting to something earnest and unmistakably enticing.
"To hide a pearl in the dark is a thing that invites lament. Black Blood Stockade may have a Rank 4 cultivator presiding over it, but it remains a corner of the world."
"I wonder — would Brother Lin have any interest in leaving Black Blood Stockade and joining the Jia Clan Caravan? I can promise you this: the moment you agree, you become the youngest Grand Steward under my command."
"Compensation, resources — even Rank 2 and Rank 3 Gu worms — whatever you want, the Jia Clan can provide."
It was a naked, high-value poaching offer.
For any low-ranking Gu Master in the Southern Border, this was a chance to leap from the mud to the sky in a single bound.
In the original story, Fang Yuan had faced this same recruitment from Jia Fu.
And now, Lin Mu's answer was identical to Fang Yuan's.
"I am deeply grateful for Lord Jia's generosity. Terms like these are genuinely difficult to refuse."
Lin Mu rose to his feet and gave Jia Fu a deep, formal bow. But when he raised his head, his eyes were steady — not a trace of wavering.
"Even so — it is hard to leave one's home. The clan raised and cultivated me."
"The Patriarch has only just emerged from closed cultivation, and this is precisely when capable hands are needed most. If Lin Mu were to abandon the clan now for wealth and status, how would I be any different from a faithless beast?"
"I am grateful for Lord Jia's kindness. But I ask that you forgive Lin Mu — I cannot comply at this time."
A refusal. Gentle, but absolute.
Jia Fu's face showed undisguised regret. He let out a quiet sigh and settled back into his chair.
"A man of loyalty and principle — that is what I respect most. Since Brother Lin is determined to stay, I will not press further."
But the merchant's instinct never abandoned a promising long-term investment. If he could not take him now, he would plant the seed of goodwill and tend it for later.
Jia Fu pulled open a drawer and produced a jade plaque — carved from fine quality jade throughout, with the character "Jia" engraved in traditional script on its face.
He rose, walked to Lin Mu, and placed the token in his hands with great deliberateness.
"This Jia Clan Token marks its holder as an honored guest of the Jia Clan. Carry it with you, and wherever in the Southern Border you encounter one of our caravans, you will receive a twenty percent discount on any purchase — and priority buying rights on all goods."
"Take it, Brother Lin. Consider it a token of friendship. If you ever change your mind in the future, or find yourself facing a wall you cannot get past — bring this and come find me. Anytime."
An investment in the future. That was the vision of a great merchant.
"I dare not refuse a gift from my elder. Thank you, Brother Jia."
Lin Mu did not decline again. He understood perfectly well what this token would be worth on the Southern Border's trade routes in the years ahead, and tucked it into his robe without hesitation.
The exchange had been satisfying for both parties.
Lin Mu clasped his hands in farewell and turned to leave — he still had the second floor's goods to sweep through.
But then —
Just as he reached the concealed leaf-door, one foot already crossing the threshold —
A bolt of lightning seemed to strike through Lin Mu's mind.
I've been blind to what's right in front of me.
Lin Mu stopped dead. He turned his head and looked at Jia Fu, who was preparing to return to his desk.
His heart began to pound with the force of a sudden, audacious idea.
I've been agonizing over where to find some elusive century-old bitter shellfish...
But who in this world has a larger inventory than the man standing right before me — the magnate who controls the most vast distribution network of goods in the entire Southern Border? Why look far when the answer is here?
Lin Mu drew a slow, steady breath.
He turned back around and spoke in a tone that was perfectly calm, yet carried an unmistakable thread of probing intent.
"Brother Jia — before I go, there is a private matter I would like to ask about, if I may."
Jia Fu looked up. "Speak freely, Brother Lin."
Lin Mu met Jia Fu's eyes directly and went straight to the heart of it.
"Among the vast inventory your caravan has brought this time... would there happen to be any bitter wine?"