Lin Xuan left the cave system before dawn, moving southeast along forgotten hunting trails that skirted the southern borders of the old Lin Clan territory. The Cicada Husk Seed rested in his aperture—small, black, unassuming—yet already pulsing faintly in resonance with the Fate Cicada Fragment. He could feel the two beginning to merge, like roots seeking deeper soil.
The seed would accelerate the fragment's growth. In time, it would allow more precise manipulations of probability, small nudges against fate itself. Enough to turn near-certain death into narrow escape. Enough to make impossible victories merely improbable.
But growth required more than time. It required sacrifice.
He needed stronger materials—rank-five herbs, rare essence crystals, perhaps even a living cultivator's aperture essence to feed the process.
And he needed to stay ahead of the righteous sects' widening net.
By midday he reached a small, nameless trading outpost on the edge of the marshes—a ramshackle cluster of wooden stalls, mud-brick huts, and a single fortified inn catering to wandering cultivators, rogue gu masters, and those who preferred to stay off official maps.
The sign above the inn read "Mudskipper Rest" in faded paint. No sect banners. No righteous patrols. Perfect.
Lin Xuan entered without fanfare. The common room smelled of sour wine, roasted swamp eel, and unwashed bodies. A dozen low-rank cultivators sat scattered at tables—some nursing wounds, others haggling over minor gu eggs.
He chose a corner table near the back wall, ordered a pot of cheap spirit tea, and waited.
Less than an hour later, the person he had come for arrived.
A thin man in patched brown robes slipped through the door—face half-hidden by a wide bamboo hat, movements quick and nervous. Rank four peak stage. Known locally as "Whisper"—a low-tier information broker who specialized in selling sect movements, hidden routes, and the occasional stolen jade slip.
Whisper scanned the room, spotted Lin Xuan's gray robes and the single empty chair opposite him, and approached without hesitation.
He sat.
"You're the one who left the message at the old willow tree," Whisper said quietly. "Said you had high-grade stones and needed… discretion."
Lin Xuan slid a small pouch across the table—ten mid-grade spirit stones. Enough to make the broker's eyes gleam.
"I need three things," Lin Xuan said, voice low. "First: the current location and patrol patterns of the southern righteous teams. Second: any rumors of rank-five or higher gu materials appearing on the black market within the last month. Third: a contact who can smuggle living captives without asking questions."
Whisper counted the stones quickly, then pocketed them.
"First one's easy. The southern patrols are pulling back—most of the manpower's been redirected north after the marsh sightings. Only skeleton crews left here. You could walk through their territory blindfolded right now."
Lin Xuan nodded.
"Second?"
Whisper leaned closer.
"There's a private auction happening in three days—underground, in the abandoned salt mines thirty li west of here. Invite-only. Word is they've got a vial of rank-five Void Cicada Essence and a living rank-five aperture fragment preserved in stasis. Both time-path aligned. Very rare. Very expensive."
Lin Xuan's expression remained unchanged, but inside, satisfaction stirred.
"And the third?"
Whisper hesitated—then lowered his voice further.
"There's a man called Iron Fang. Runs a slave caravan out of the borderlands. Specializes in cultivators—rank three to five. Keeps them drugged, aperture sealed. Moves them to private buyers in the central provinces. He's in the mines for the auction. If you've got the stones… or something better… he'll talk."
Lin Xuan considered.
"Introduce me."
Whisper stood.
"Tonight. Back room of the inn. Bring twenty mid-grades for the introduction fee. And… don't mention my name if it goes bad."
Lin Xuan inclined his head slightly.
"Understood."
Whisper left.
Lin Xuan remained seated, sipping the bitter tea.
Three days.
Enough time to prepare.
He would attend the auction—not to bid openly, but to observe, to scheme, to take what he needed.
The Void Cicada Essence would feed the Fate Cicada directly.
The aperture fragment would serve as a living sacrifice—its time-path essence drained slowly, strengthening both his gu and his own cultivation.
And Iron Fang…
Well.
Useful pawns were not always willing.
Lin Xuan finished the tea.
He rose, paid for the room upstairs, and began refining the Cicada Husk Seed in secret—feeding it traces of his own qi and the residual essence from Su Qing's last advancement.
The seed cracked faintly.
A thin golden root emerged—delicate, hungry.
It reached for the Fate Cicada Fragment.
The two began to entwine.
Lin Xuan closed his eyes.
In three days, the auction would begin.
In three days, the righteous sects would still be chasing ghosts in the north.
In three days, he would walk into a den of vipers…
…and walk out richer, stronger, and one step closer to eternity.
To be continued...