Yanwei observed the shop from his stall, his smirk fading slightly. “She didn’t snap,” he muttered. “Not bad. I expected her to lose control.”
Though impressed by Linglong’s restraint, Yanwei felt no fear. To him, this was still a game. Her moves were calculated, but predictable. He had already prepared for this eventuality. Deciding to let the day pass before taking further action, he rented a room at a nearby inn.
…
The inn buzzed with activity the next morning. As Yanwei descended to the main hall, he immediately noticed the unusual energy in the air. People huddled in groups, whispering in hushed, urgent tones. Curious, he flagged down a waiter, slipping him a spiritual stone.
“What’s all the commotion about?” Yanwei asked with a polite smile.
The waiter’s face lit up, his demeanor becoming enthusiastic. “Oh, you didn’t hear? Last night, the chamber of commerce shop was attacked! They say a demon cultivator massacred everyone there while investigating something important.”
Yanwei raised an eyebrow. “A demon cultivator?”
“Yes! They’re saying he’s a rogue cultivator hiding in disguise. The Linglong family is furious, and even some sects are getting involved! They’ve put a bounty on his head!”
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
The waiter bowed and left after delivering the gossip, leaving Yanwei alone to process the information. He chuckled softly as the pieces fell into place.
“So, that’s her move,” Yanwei mused. “Framing a demon cultivator? Clever. But it’s more than that.”
He leaned back in his chair, casually tapping his fingers on the table as his mind worked through the situation. It’s not just Linglong pulling the strings.
“The sects and the chamber of commerce’s main branch are playing along. They know there’s no demon cultivator, but they see this as an opportunity. A spectacle like this keeps people distracted and reinforces their power through fear. For them, it’s nothing more than an entertaining show.”
Yanwei’s smirk deepened. “So, they’ve all decided to make me the scapegoat. Interesting. But no matter how clever the game, it’s still just a game. One where I make the rules.”
After finishing his breakfast, Yanwei left the inn and began his journey back to the sect. The roads were tense, filled with cultivators from various factions. On the way, he encountered a small group from the Linglong family who were interrogating travelers.
He played his part perfectly, acting as a middle-stage sect disciple. His movements were steady, his aura unassuming.
In this world, disguises had a fatal flaw—spiritual energy. The more you fought, the more energy you expended, and eventually, the disguise would break, exposing the user’s true face.
But Yanwei wasn’t concerned. His disguise wasn’t bound by such trivial rules. It wasn’t a technique but a gift, innate and absolute—a reward from the heavens themselves for the anomaly he had created.
“Let them test me,” he thought, amused. “They’ll find nothing but what I choose to show.”
As Yanwei moved through the chaos, he noticed others reacting differently. Most cultivators who had heard the rumors discarded their disguises entirely, blending into the crowds to avoid suspicion from the Linglong family. Those who didn’t—either due to ignorance or arrogance—were quickly caught and tortured.
Even so, the Linglong family didn’t have access to soul-searching techniques, a method rare and highly coveted in this world. Despite this limitation, the fear they inspired was enough to keep most cultivators in line.
Yanwei observed it all with detached amusement. The chaos, the fear, the desperation—it was all so predictable. He glanced back once, his lips curling into a faint smile, before continuing on his path.