To carve a bloody path through the unknown, the first thing a man needed was to sharpen the blade in his hand to its keenest edge.
After two days of thorough rest, Lin Mu had brought both his tightly wound nerves and the nascent Rank 2 Red Iron Primeval Essence in his Aperture back to absolute peak condition.
Today was the day he and Jia Fu had agreed upon for the delivery of the "bitter wine."
In the early morning, Lin Mu pushed open his courtyard gate and strode south toward the caravan camp, the cool autumn breeze brushing against him.
Before he even reached the camp's perimeter, a wave of noise and heat — loud enough to overturn the sky — crashed into him from a distance.
Over these past few days, thanks to the solid commercial framework Lin Mu had laid in the early stages and the continued ripple effects of the free outer-ring policy, the camp in the city's southern district had seen a terrifying, explosive surge in foot traffic.
The originally planned area could no longer contain the sheer volume of people.
Beyond the free outer ring, a sprawling stretch of stalls extending for several li had spontaneously formed — unprotected by either the caravan or Black Blood Stockade — a rough, chaotic fringe market born entirely of its own momentum.
Countless wandering rogue cultivators and mortal merchants sat on the ground there, forming the most primitive and disorderly grassroots bazaar imaginable.
The outer fringe was a mess, but the middle and inner rings maintained excellent order.
The massive foot traffic translated into an enormous conversion rate, and the resulting flood of Primeval Stones poured into the Jia Clan Caravan's coffers like a surging river — filling Black Blood Stockade's pockets handsomely as well.
By any measure, it was an epic opening.
And Lin Mu — the man who had planned all of it from behind the scenes — had long since seen his standing in the eyes of the caravan's upper echelon rise in tandem with those staggering profits.
When Lin Mu walked through the familiar entrance of the Three Star Cave treehouse, head and shoulders above its neighbors, and pushed open the door to the first-floor private room —
"Ah! Brother Lin! You're finally here!"
The Jia Clan steward who had looked down his nose at Lin Mu on the very first day — carrying the particular arrogance of a man who managed affairs for a great merchant house — now had every trace of that arrogance wiped clean the instant he laid eyes on Lin Mu.
In its place was a smile of fawning, near-reverent deference. He even stepped forward quickly to personally escort Lin Mu inside.
"The Chief has been waiting for you on the third floor for some time now — please, right this way!"
In this steward's eyes, the young man in the plain deacon's robe standing before him was unfathomably deep.
Lin Mu followed the hidden spiral staircase up to the third floor — the level not open to the public.
He stepped into the lavishly appointed rosewood office, where the finest sandalwood incense burned in slow, fragrant coils.
Lin Mu noticed immediately that today, the study held more than just Jia Fu sitting at the head seat with a look of smug satisfaction.
In one of the guest chairs sat a familiar face — Jia Ping, the captain of the advance scouting team.
"Haha! Brother Lin, please, sit!"
The moment Jia Fu saw Lin Mu, he set down the ledger in his hands and came forward with great warmth.
Gone entirely was the air of superiority from their first meeting. Even his form of address had shifted — he now called Lin Mu brother with easy familiarity.
The enormous profits the market had generated over these past few days had placed Jia Fu at the top of the caravan's performance rankings for this circuit by a staggering margin.
On top of that, the two incomplete Gu recipes Lin Mu had given him earlier had been preliminarily analyzed by the caravan's resident Refinement Path master and appeared to hold considerable development value.
Fame and fortune both — no wonder Jia Fu was beaming. Even the vicious scar slashing across his right cheek seemed somehow softer today.
"Brother Jia is positively glowing. Sounds like these past few days have been very profitable indeed."
Lin Mu smiled, cupped his hands in greeting, and settled naturally into a guest chair.
"Mutual fortune, mutual fortune — it's all thanks to your brilliant scheme, Brother."
Jia Fu didn't beat around the bush.
He turned to the display shelf behind him and carefully lifted a small black ceramic wine jar — ancient in shape, sealed with a clay stopper — and set it down on the table in front of Lin Mu with a solid thud.
"Brother, here's what you asked for. This half-jar is every last drop of bitter wine our entire caravan brought out on this trip. It's all here. Consider it a token of gratitude from your elder brother."
At the sight of this final piece of the puzzle finally in hand, a flash of intense, barely contained excitement passed through the depths of Lin Mu's eyes.
But he knew the performance had to be played out in full.
To maintain the persona he had established in Jia Fu's mind, Lin Mu immediately let his eyes light up with undisguised eagerness, even allowing himself to look a little impatient.
"Fine wine! I won't stand on ceremony!"
He grabbed the jar, knocked the clay seal off with one hand, and without bothering with a cup, tilted his head back and poured a large mouthful straight down his throat.
In an instant —
A bitterness so extreme it defied description — as though coptis root, raw bile, and century-aged vinegar had been blended together and concentrated tenfold — detonated inside his mouth.
The flavor shot straight up to the crown of his skull. His stomach lurched violently, and he nearly vomited on the spot.
Damn... this is worse than actual poison.
Lin Mu was screaming internally, but his face didn't so much as twitch.
He forced the mouthful of bitter wine down his throat, his Adam's apple rolling visibly.
He even closed his eyes, smacked his lips as though savoring the aftertaste, then snapped his eyes open and let out a loud shout:
"Excellent wine! That's got some kick to it!"
Watching Lin Mu down this swill — this stuff that tasted like drain water — with the expression of a man who had just found his greatest pleasure in life, the last trace of doubt in Jia Fu's mind dissolved completely.
"Haha! Brother, you truly are a man of genuine character!" Jia Fu stroked his beard, laughing heartily.
After several rounds of pleasantries and subtle probing, the atmosphere in the study gradually took on a more serious weight.
Jia Fu exchanged a glance with Jia Ping beside him.
Then the great Southern Border merchant let the smile fade from his face, leaned slightly forward, and laid down the true stakes of today's meeting with deliberate gravity.
"Brother Lin, I'm a plain-spoken man. I won't dance around it."
Jia Fu fixed Lin Mu with a burning gaze, his tone carrying the resolve of a man who had committed to burning his boats:
"My useless brother Jia Jinsheng died in an accident. Right now, in the succession struggle within my clan, I am in desperate need of capable men."
"A mind as extraordinary as yours — that commercial brilliance, that patience and composure — wasted as a minor steward in Black Blood Stockade? It's a crime against talent."
"If you're willing to say yes and join my Jia Clan Caravan — I'll lay my cards on the table right here and now."
Jia Fu raised a single finger and put forward an offer that could shake the entire Southern Border merchant world:
"I will make you the youngest External Surname Manager under my command."
"Every position, every channel, every resource that Jinsheng left behind — I hand all of it over to you. You and I, brothers together, sharing the boundless wealth of the Southern Border trade routes."
Boom.
The words landed, and Lin Mu's heart gave a traitorous lurch.
The sheer scale of this offer was staggering.
An External Surname Manager, inheriting the full resources of a blood-born young master. What did that mean?
It meant that with a single nod, he would instantly become a figure who could walk sideways across the entire Southern Border.
Lin Mu knew full well that he possessed neither Fang Yuan's heaven-defying fortune nor a Spring Autumn Cicada to reset the clock.
If, during this critical early development phase, he could lean against the towering tree that was the Jia Clan — his cultivation resources going forward would be inexhaustible.
Rank 2, Rank 3, even Rank 4 Gu worms would be within easy reach.
It was impossibly tempting.
Lin Mu's lips parted slightly. The word yes was almost already on his tongue.
But in the very instant he was on the verge of nodding —
Wait.
After Jia Fu leaves Black Blood Stockade — where is this caravan headed next?
Qing Mao Mountain.