Outside the city, the wind and snow gradually subsided.
The silhouette of Merchant City unfolded in their field of vision. It was a fortress with formations for bones and resources for blood; its outer protective barrier pulsed slowly, spiritual runes interlocking like a web in a constant state of self-repair. Converging streams of people gathered at the perimeter, partitioned into several lanes for individual inspection.
Gu Changyuan didn't break his stride. He had suppressed his aura to its absolute minimum, pulling the frigid chill of the Ten-Extinction Physique deep into his body, leaving only the most basic bio-signature. This state wasn't mere stealth; it was "Zeroing"—in most detection arrays, he would be classified as stable and non-threatening. This was the correct move, the optimal path he had filtered out through countless previous lives.
Lin Chuan watched from within. He didn't rush to judge, instead absorbing everything into his perception. The density of the crowd, the spacing between cultivators, the distribution of formation nodes, and the guards standing in seemingly random positions—these things corresponded with the Silver-Haired Man's memories, yet there were minute discrepancies. The differences were small, but they were real.
The queue was long, but it moved quickly. Groups were guided to different checkpoints; some were simply waved through, while others were pulled aside or even escorted to a nearby isolation zone. The issue wasn't on the surface; the issue was in the selection process.
Gu Changyuan lined up in a row near the edge. This lane appeared to have laxer inspections; the supervising cultivator had a stable aura, devoid of forced pressure or obvious hostility. Based on experience, this was the "Low-Risk Lane." At least, it used to be.
Lin Chuan's focus shifted to the inspector. The man's stance was loose, his gaze dull, and his aura fluctuations were smooth—even showing a deliberate "ordinariness." But because he was too ordinary, it felt unnatural. That sensation didn't come from memory but from a deeper level of judgment—it felt like something was "just a bit too perfect."
Lin Chuan called out to the System in his mind. This time, it was faster. Barely a second.
"Present."
"Can you scan that cultivator?"
A half-breath pause.
"Basic Environmental Perception Module partially restored. Scanning… Target: Cultivation level higher than appearance; aura shows signs of suppression. Danger level: Unable to precisely evaluate. Recommendation: Avoid attracting attention."
Lin Chuan wasn't surprised. The System's basic functions were working. That was enough. As for the man's exact cultivation—it didn't matter. What mattered was the confirmation: the cultivator was a plant. In the Silver-Haired Man's memory, the inspection in this lane shouldn't be like this. This man was too loose, too dull, too stable. It was "just right" to an extreme. He was hiding something.
Gu Changyuan didn't stop. He entered the inspection range. The person in front passed without issue. The one before him was stopped, but only for routine questioning, and was quickly released. The entire process looked logical, with no obvious filtering criteria.
It was his turn.
The cultivator looked up, his gaze lingering on Gu Changyuan for half a breath, as if confirming something. In that instant, Gu Changyuan's aura remained rock-solid. His stance, his breathing, and even the focus of his eyes were within the most "unremarkable" parameters. This was the optimal solution derived from his countless trials and errors. There were no flaws.
But it wasn't the limit.
At that moment, Lin Chuan made a call. The problem wasn't "exposure"; it was "being selected." This lane wasn't letting people through randomly—it was filtering for targets that were "the most stable." The more stable a target was, the easier it was to categorize them for further processing.
Currently, Gu Changyuan was too stable. He wouldn't realize this mistake because it was the very result of his own optimization.
Lin Chuan had no time for further deduction. Nor did he need it. He only needed to do one thing: make this "optimal solution" slightly off.
In that heartbeat, a razor-thin disturbance appeared in his internal aura. It wasn't projected outward; instead, a single node within his meridians shifted slightly out of alignment. The deviation was minuscule—not enough to ruin the overall stability, but enough to create an invisible crack in that "perfect equilibrium."
Gu Changyuan didn't notice. His control held, but this tiny flicker was categorized as a "normal fluctuation," triggering no alarms.
Across from them, the inspector's brow furrowed slightly. In that instant, his judgment shifted. The classification he had originally locked onto was broken. He looked again; the "too clean" sensation was gone, replaced by the subtle, erratic fluctuations expected of an ordinary cultivator. Those fluctuations meant instability—and instability meant a lack of value for further scrutiny.
He waved his hand. "Next."
Cleared.
The inspector's gaze had already begun to shift elsewhere, but it snapped back for a fraction of a second, as if instinctively wanting to double-check. But that flicker of hesitation was quickly suppressed by his own logic.
Gu Changyuan crossed the inspection line. The entire process occurred without pause, conflict, or anomaly. It was as unremarkable as any of the thousands of city entries he had made. He continued forward, never looking back.
But inside the body, Lin Chuan knew clearly—the outcome had changed. Without that tiny shift, the man would have looked once more. That look might not have caused an immediate problem, but it would have diverted Gu Changyuan from the "Ordinary Path" into a different trajectory. In the Silver-Haired Man's memory, that path meant more inspections and higher uncertainty.
Now, all of that had been bypassed. Not through brute force, but a gentle misalignment. Yet that moment of hesitation proved it was nearly a "missed connection."
The System chimed again, much faster this time.
"Detected host actively interfering with external perception. Operational Precision: Qualified. Risk Coefficient: High. Recommendation: Do not repeat unless necessary."
"You can monitor risk in real-time now?"
"Basic Risk Perception Module is online. Precision is limited, but functional."
Lin Chuan didn't ask further. The System was recovering. Slowly, but surely. It was his only variable in this passive situation.
Gu Changyuan entered Merchant City. The interior was far more complex than the outside; streets crisscrossed, and spiritual energy was redistributed by formations into various functional zones. The crowds were dense, a chaotic mix of auras. Lin Chuan tried to have the System scan the surroundings.
"Scanning environment… Cultivator density: High. Formation nodes: Twenty-seven. Three possess offensive presets. Dangerous targets: None currently. Recommendation: Follow current target; maintain a low profile."
Twenty-seven formation nodes, three offensive. Lin Chuan burned the map into his mind. The Silver-Haired Man's memory had a layout of Merchant City, but that was from the past. The System's scan told him that things were different now.
Gu Changyuan's pace was steady. He clearly had a specific destination, crossing two main streets before ducking into a narrow alley and passing through a marketplace. Lin Chuan memorized the route. He didn't know where Gu Changyuan was going, but he needed to know how to get out.
This was his habit. No matter where he entered, he looked for the exit first.
The System suddenly chimed.
"Tracking signal detected. Source: Approximately forty paces behind. Pattern: Non-fixed, rotating targets. Trackers: At least two. Cultivation: Unable to precisely evaluate. Intent: Unknown."
Lin Chuan didn't panic. He didn't tell Gu Changyuan immediately—he couldn't reveal that he was capable of such perception. He stayed quiet, simply recording the event.
Gu Changyuan seemed to sense something as well. His gait changed rhythm slightly—not a speed-up or a slow-down, but a shift in style. Through the System scan, Lin Chuan saw they were walking in circles. Not a simple loop, but a test of the trackers' reactions.
After three loops, Gu Changyuan suddenly ducked into a side path and entered an inconspicuous shop. The trackers didn't follow. they lingered outside for a moment and then dispersed.
Inside the body, Lin Chuan felt a surge of relief. Not from relaxation, but from confirmation. Gu Changyuan's perception was stronger than he had anticipated. This wasn't a bad thing—at least not yet.
The shop was small and dimly lit, its shelves cluttered with junk—it looked like an abandoned trading post. Gu Changyuan walked to the back, pushed open a hidden door, and stepped inside.
Someone was waiting.
A man sat behind a desk, wearing gray robes. His face was ordinary—the kind that would vanish in a crowd. He looked up at Gu Changyuan, then spared a glance for Lin Chuan.
"Who is this?"
"Found him," Gu Changyuan said.
The man didn't ask further. He pulled something from his sleeve and placed it on the desk. It was a jade slip.
"The item you wanted. The price has tripled."
"Why?"
"Someone is sweeping the market. You aren't the only one looking for what you've targeted."
Gu Changyuan was silent for a moment. He picked up the jade slip, his divine sense probing within. Lin Chuan didn't know what was written, but he saw Gu Changyuan's brow twitch—not in surprise, but in confirmation.
"Enough." Gu Changyuan pocketed the slip and tossed a bag to the man. "I'll handle the rest of the way myself."
The man caught the bag, weighed it, nodded, and stood up to leave. As he passed Lin Chuan, his gaze lingered for an instant. Lin Chuan didn't move, didn't look back, and didn't even try to control his aura—he allowed the body to maintain the natural state of the Silver-Haired Man after his severe injuries: withered, dull, and unworthy of notice.
The man left.
Gu Changyuan stood still, his back to Lin Chuan, silent for a long time. Then he turned around and looked at Lin Chuan.
"Can you walk?"
Lin Chuan didn't answer. He didn't know if this was a test or a genuine question. He chose silence.
Gu Changyuan watched him for two breaths, then didn't ask again. He walked to the corner, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes.
"We head into the mountains tomorrow. Rest tonight."
Lin Chuan sat where he was, leaning against the wall. He could feel that "thread" between them—neither tight nor loose. Gu Changyuan was resting, his breathing steady, his consciousness sinking.
Lin Chuan didn't rest. He replayed every event of the day in his mind: the city entry inspection, the aura shift, the System recovery, the trackers, the jade slip, and the man in gray. He dissected each event, looking for details, looking for opportunities.
The System chimed softly.
"Daily Summary: Active interference performed once, successful. Risk Perception Module online. Environmental Scanning Module online. Current System completion: Approximately 12%. Estimated full recovery time: Unknown."
Twelve percent. Lin Chuan didn't know what the number meant, but it was better than zero.
He closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep. He circulated the frigid energy within his body, nourishing his meridians and repairing internal wounds. The Silver-Haired Man's body was slowly recovering, as were the System's functions. And so was he.
The wind and snow were kept outside the walls. The night in Merchant City was quiet.
Lin Chuan sat in the corner, waiting.