Wu's voice trembled slightly as he continued his story, a mix of nostalgia and sorrow evident in his eyes. "I was once talented enough to be recruited into the Flowing River Sect, a small but notable force not far from this city."

His gaze grew distant as he recounted his past. "When I joined the sect, I was quite the catch for women. A spiritual inscriber is a rare profession in the Wildlands; only a select few have the aptitude for it at birth."

Wu turned his palm over, manifesting a bright red flame that hovered above his hand. The flame flickered and, unexpectedly, blew in Feng Zhiming's direction. Wu raised an eyebrow, puzzled. There was no wind in the room, so why would the flame behave this way? Spiritual flames, he knew, were the only medium through which a person’s will could be transmitted into an inscription. This made them indispensable for spiritual inscriptions.

"I was a young man then, and as young men often do, I fell in love with a girl. She was kind, gentle. But unfortunately for me, I also caught the eye of one of the elder sisters in the sect."

He touched the scar on his face, his expression shifting as if he could still feel the pain. "There was a man who was pursuing that elder sister. When she rejected him and turned her attention to me, he flew into a rage. To punish me for his humiliation, he pushed my head into a spiritual flame."

Feng Zhiming crossed his arms, intrigued by the story. He always appreciated a good tale, especially one laced with tragedy and betrayal. Anissa, too, listened intently. Her life had been a cycle of training, eating, and sleeping for nearly a century; this kind of storytelling was a rare form of entertainment for her.

"The man thought that by disfiguring me, the elder sister would lose interest. But she didn’t. Instead, her obsession grew. Eventually, after I repeatedly rejected her advances, she conspired with the man who had burned me."

Wu’s hands clenched into fists, his whole body trembling with barely contained anger. "They kidnapped the girl I loved. They… did unspeakable things to her. In the end, she took her own life out of shame. I begged the elders for justice, but they turned a blind eye, telling me that what’s done is done and that I should move on."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The rage in Wu’s eyes slowly faded as he exhaled deeply. "That day, my faith in the sect died. I left and wandered the Wildlands for years before I ended up in this dump, living day to day. Now, I hear that those two are at the peak of the Ethereal Core and have even become elders in the sect."

He held up the spiritual compass, the needle trembling as it pointed southward. "Destroy the Flowing River Sect for me, and the compass is yours."

The compass began to fluctuate wildly as Wu made his offer. Anissa, sensing the weight of the request, shook her head slightly in pity. She knew Feng Zhiming well enough to predict his response; he preferred the path of least resistance, and this was anything but that.

"Killing me or stealing the compass is an option," Wu said, preemptively addressing what he assumed were their thoughts, "but the compass is spiritually bonded to me. If I die, it shatters, and if it’s taken by force, it will break as well."

Feng Zhiming frowned ever so slightly. Even the power of suggestion wouldn’t work here; it was common knowledge that spiritual inscribers had near-unbreakable mental fortitude.

"You would really kill yourself if I forced the compass from you?" Feng Zhiming asked, his voice cold.

"Yes," Wu replied without hesitation, his tone unwavering.

Feng Zhiming found himself at a crossroads. "Swear to the Great Dao that the compass works as you claim."

Wu raised his hand solemnly. "I swear to the Great Dao, this compass tracks the creature of the Wildlands that you seek."

Feng Zhiming stood from his chair and took a deep breath before speaking again. "I will destroy the sect. However," he leaned in close, locking eyes with the old man, his gaze intense and filled with absolute resolve, "if I find you’ve cheated me in any way, I will make sure you experience the worst life conceivable in the myriad worlds. This I swear on my name as the Demonic Crow of the Heavens."

The sheer force of his words sent a chill down Wu’s spine, despite his earlier confidence in his mental strength.

"Remember," Feng Zhiming continued, "none who have crossed me have lived long enough to brag about it. But they have lived long enough to regret ever being born."

Straightening up, Feng Zhiming turned on his heel. "Let’s leave, master," he said, casually grabbing a scarf from the table and walking out, with Anissa following close behind.

Wu sat there, stunned by the encounter. As he came out of the daze caused by Feng Zhiming’s threat, he glanced around and realized something was missing. The scarf he had been working on was gone.

“Did I just get robbed?” he muttered to himself, utterly bewildered by the strange individuals who had just left his shop.