They didn't wait for the auction to finish.
Helian Feng timed it to the shift in attention—right when the crowd leaned forward for the next item and the room's hunger turned away from them.
"Now," Helian Feng said, barely moving his lips.
Gu Li rose first, calm and stern, like this was a normal errand. Pei Xun followed with his paper strips tucked away tight. Tang Ye stood a beat too fast, nerves obvious, then forced himself slower. Xie Han drifted up like a shadow. Shen Lu moved last, keeping his breath even, face blank behind his mask.
They slipped out through a side aisle near their chosen exit.
No one stopped them.
That was the problem.
In the underworld, leaving was allowed because leaving created pursuit.
Outside the auction hall, the plaza felt louder. Lanterns flickered. Stalls whispered. Conversations sparked and died. The ceiling pressed down like the whole city was listening.
Helian Feng didn't look around randomly.
He watched patterns.
Attendants moved in sets of two or three, all in the same dark robes, all masked, all disciplined.
But the one who had taken the rumor slip moved alone.
That should have made him safer.
It made him suspicious.
"There," Xie Han murmured.
Shen Lu saw him: a slim attendant with a blank lacquer mask, walking along the edge of the plaza with the calm confidence of someone who believed he could not be touched. His sleeves were wide, hands hidden, stride even.
He didn't look like he carried anything.
Which meant he did.
Pei Xun whispered, "Contract storage."
Gu Li's voice was stern. "Or body-carry."
Tang Ye swallowed. "He's going to the buyer."
Helian Feng's eyes narrowed. "We follow at distance."
Shen Lu nodded once, though his throat was tight. His flame pulsed faintly, restless at the thought of pursuit.
Yuan's voice slid into his mind, cold. Master… don't let the fire taste the chase. It will want more.
Shen Lu thought back, flat: I know.
They moved.
Not in a straight line.
Helian Feng angled them behind stalls and pillars, using crowds as cover. Gu Li stayed close to Shen Lu, stern presence steadying him. Pei Xun stayed just behind, paper strips occasionally sliding out like feelers then retracting quickly. Tang Ye kept his fox close; the beast moved quieter now, arrogance sharpened into focused hostility.
Xie Han trailed the rear, too relaxed, like he was daring anyone to notice him.
The attendant reached a narrower corridor, one that dipped slightly downward.
A private passage.
Two star-marked guards stood at the entrance, masks polished, purple stars faintly glowing.
The attendant approached.
He didn't speak.
He lifted his wrist.
A bell did not chime.
Instead, a faint purple symbol glimmered on the inside of his sleeve—like a stamp revealed by lantern light.
One guard stepped aside immediately.
No questions.
No token.
Permission.
Shen Lu's stomach tightened.
Helian Feng's voice was barely breath. "Great family."
Pei Xun muttered, "Or Yaochuan's inner circle."
Tang Ye's face went pale. "What do we do. We can't follow through that."
Xie Han's eyes gleamed. "We can."
Gu Li shot him a stern look. "No."
Helian Feng didn't argue with either of them.
He simply watched the corridor, eyes cold, calculating.
Then he turned slightly and spoke low, meant only for his group.
"We don't enter," Helian Feng said. "We listen."
Pei Xun's brows lifted. "How."
Helian Feng's gaze slid to Pei Xun's sleeve. "Your paper."
Pei Xun's mouth tightened. "You want me to eavesdrop on a contract corridor."
Helian Feng's voice was flat. "Can you."
Pei Xun's eyes narrowed, then he sighed like the world was irritating. "Yes. Maybe. If I don't die."
Gu Li's voice was stern. "If you die, I'm not bringing you back."
Pei Xun replied, dry, "Comforting."
They found cover behind a closed stall shutter and a hanging curtain of beadwork. The corridor entrance stayed in sight through a gap.
Pei Xun slid one thin paper strip out, so narrow it looked like a strand of ribbon. The ink on it was faint, barely there.
He whispered under his breath, and the strip drifted along the ground like a worm seeking warmth.
It slid toward the corridor.
One star guard's head tilted slightly.
Shen Lu's heart jumped.
The guard didn't move.
The paper strip paused, then flattened itself against the stone like it had become part of the floor.
Pei Xun's jaw tightened. Sweat beaded at his temple.
Gu Li whispered, stern. "Careful."
Pei Xun's eyes stayed fixed, pupils tight. "I know."
Shen Lu watched the corridor entrance.
The two guards didn't blink.
Not once.
Shen Lu realized that wasn't discipline.
That was… unnatural.
Contract constructs?
Puppets?
His flame pulsed faintly, uneasy.
Yuan's voice whispered, cold. They aren't alive.
Shen Lu swallowed hard.
Minutes stretched.
Then the attendant emerged again.
Alone.
Blank mask unchanged.
His stride was the same.
But something in the air around him felt… lighter.
Like he no longer carried anything of value.
Shen Lu's stomach dropped. "He delivered it."
Helian Feng's gaze sharpened. "Follow him. Now."
They moved as soon as the attendant passed the corridor entrance.
This time the attendant walked faster, still calm, still even, but with purpose. He cut through side streets, deeper into the underworld market, toward a section where fewer stalls stood and more doors appeared—private rooms, back halls, places where deals ended.
Pei Xun's paper strip returned to his sleeve and dissolved into ash the moment it touched his skin, like it couldn't survive the array's pressure.
Pei Xun's voice was dry but strained. "I heard… fragments."
Helian Feng didn't look back. "Say it."
Pei Xun swallowed. "The buyer isn't here personally. It's an envoy. They used a stamp. A family stamp."
Gu Li's tone was stern. "Which family."
Pei Xun's lips tightened. "I didn't get the name. But I heard one word."
He glanced at Shen Lu, eyes sharp.
"Yaochuan," Pei Xun said quietly.
Shen Lu's blood went cold.
Tang Ye's face went pale. "So it's them."
Xie Han's smile sharpened. "Good. Now we know who to stab."
Gu Li's voice snapped, stern. "No stabbing."
Xie Han sighed. "Fine. Now we know who to threaten."
Helian Feng's aura tightened, lightning qi simmering under his skin. "We don't act here."
Shen Lu's throat burned. "Then when."
Helian Feng's voice was cold and absolute. "When they leave the underworld."
The attendant stopped at a plain door with no sign, no lantern, no guards.
He knocked once.
The door opened just a crack.
A hand appeared—gloved, pale.
The attendant bowed slightly and stepped inside.
The door shut.
Helian Feng stopped.
So did everyone else.
Shen Lu stared at the plain door.
The underworld noise felt farther away here, muffled by stone and distance.
His flame warmed faintly, restless.
He forced his breath even.
Gu Li whispered, stern. "We can't break in."
Xie Han murmured, delighted. "We can."
Pei Xun muttered, "We shouldn't."
Tang Ye's hands clenched. "What now."
Helian Feng's gaze stayed fixed on the door, cold and calculating.
Then he said, voice low, "We wait."
Shen Lu swallowed hard.
Waiting was the hardest thing.
Because waiting meant imagining what was being said behind that door.
What was being traded.
What kind of leash an envoy of Yaochuan had just purchased.
And whether the receipt already had Shen Lu's name on it.