Ametrine talismans were hundreds of times more powerful than anything a Qi cultivator could make with jade—able to channel primordial Shen. This required unparalleled refinement tools, which meant starting with condensed silver—a technique long lost to the mortal plane.

Jin Wu sat at the small table in his hut, thirty taels of silver gleaming before him like tiny moons. For a normal stylus, half a tael would suffice. But this was no ordinary tool. The process of condensing silver required precision, patience, and mastery over one’s soul force—something few outside the River Path had ever achieved.

His fingers brushed the silver as he closed his eyes, allowing a memory to surface. He saw himself sitting cross-legged by his Inner River, the ancient sage leaning back in his fishing chair, his line cast, the pole in one hand while lazily waving the other over a hovering sphere of molten silver.

“Condensed silver isn’t just purified metal, Lost Supper,” Old Yu had said, his voice gruff but patient. “It’s the essence of refinement. You’re not just burning out impurities—you’re teaching the metal to flow, to resonate with the current of creation.” He had grinned, tapping his temple. “You’re teaching the material to remember its true form so it can conduct Shen.”

Jin Wu had struggled for months to master it, his soul flame weak and unstable, the silver refusing to obey his will. He could still hear Old Yu’s exasperated grumbles: “You’re slower than the river carving a canyon, boy! Let the flow guide your flame. Merge with it!” And finally, after countless failures, Jin Wu had watched in awe as the molten silver compressed into a perfect bead, its glow alive with energy.

“Slowest student I’ve ever taught,” Old Yu had muttered, though his eyes gleamed with pride.

Now, years later, Jin Wu opened his eyes and summoned his soul flame—a vibrant purple flame that flickered above his forehead, casting ethereal light across the room. The thirty taels of silver floated into the fire, liquefying into a glowing pool. Jin Wu’s gaze sharpened as he spun the liquid faster and faster, forcing impurities to rise to the surface. They disintegrated with a faint hiss, consumed by the soul flame.

The liquid silver grew purer with each revolution, its silvery sheen intensifying until it glowed as though imbued with its own inner light. Jin Wu pressed his will into the flame, compressing the liquid with invisible force. The silver shrank under the pressure, its density increasing as its size diminished. When it was no larger than a bead, Jin Wu poured it into a bamboo mold he had painstakingly carved the night before.

As the silver cooled, Jin Wu turned to the source of the ametrine. Tucked in the corner of his dimensional ring was a fragment of ametrine crystal—a treasure he had found in the remains of the Sect.

Jin Wu carefully retrieved the fragment and placed it on the table. He began to shape it with delicate strokes, chiseling away imperfections until five flawless squares emerged, each two inches wide. The process was slow, demanding focus and precision. Hours slipped unnoticed, marked only by the dimming sunlight that crept across the room. Jin Wu’s movements never wavered, steady as the current of a deep river.

When the squares were complete, he shaped them into delicate butterflies, their wings glowing faintly as he etched intricate patterns across them with the silver stylus. Each line was precise, purposeful, and imbued with intent. In the center of the left wing, he carved the character for “luck,” and on the right, the character for “protection.”

By the time the final butterfly was finished, dusk had fallen, and the room was illuminated only by the soft flicker of his soul flame. Finally, he attached silver pins to the backs of the butterflies and wrapped each in a square of silk cloth before placing them in small, intricately carved wooden boxes. The boxes, made from the same bamboo as the mold, bore subtle engravings of flowing rivers—a silent homage to the path that had taught him this craft.

By evening, Jin Wu found himself standing in Elder Jing’s study. The five women who had rescued him were seated around a low table, sipping tea. Their light and carefree laughter filled the room. Jin Wu bowed deeply as he entered.

“Thank you for seeing me, seniors,” he began, his voice humble. “This old man has little to offer, but I owe you all a debt I cannot repay.”

The women exchanged curious glances as Jin Wu continued. “I was orphaned as a child, but my grandmother raised me. She taught me to work with stone and crystal. I was not a bright child, but after many hours, I learned to create these.”

He produced the wooden boxes, presenting one to each woman with both hands. “Please accept these as a token of my gratitude. My grandmother always said they bring luck and protection. Knowing you wear them would ease this old man’s heart.”

The room fell silent as the women unwrapped their gifts. Jin Wu’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched their reactions. Elder Jing was the first to speak.

“This isn’t necessary, Mr. Jin,” she said, though her tone was warm. She pinned the butterfly to her lapel despite her words with a small smile. The others followed suit one by one, their faces lighting up as they admired the craftsmanship. Even Ying Yue, whose reserved demeanor often set her apart, allowed a faint smile to grace her lips.

Jin Wu’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments. Deception had become second nature, yet he couldn’t shake the pang of guilt that twisted in his chest. These women had shown him kindness, and he had repaid them with subterfuge. But it was necessary—a small sacrifice to uncover the truth.

Jin Wu reached out with his soul force as each pin was worn. Invisible tendrils extended from the butterflies, threading their way into the women’s hearts. The connection was subtle, undetectable even to cultivators of their level.

When the last pin was in place, Jin Wu bowed once more. “This old man thanks you again for your kindness.”

Elder Jing smiled and gestured for him to join them for tea, but Jin Wu politely declined. As he left the study, his expression turned grim.

He would leave for Tianshi Lake City on the following day. Jin Wu needed to find the "Ferrets" and continue the investigation. With the ametrine butterflies and the soul force tendrils, he could keep an eye on the women who had rescued him, especially Ying Yue. She was hiding something, and Jin Wu was determined to uncover it, even from afar.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

As he stepped outside, the crisp evening air brushed against his face. He looked up at the stars scattered across the sky, their light steady and eternal. “Let’s see what kind of fish these butterflies catch,” he muttered with a faint smile, his eyes glinting with quiet mischief.

“Shadow, Ears, Rabbit… hold on,” he thought, shuffling back to his room. “I’ll find you soon.”

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The wind rushed past Jin Wu’s face as Elder Jing Fei’s flying sword soared through the air, carrying the two high above the rolling hills and forested valleys that led to Tianshi Lake City. The distant shimmer of the lake reflected the sunlight like a great mirror, and the sprawling city surrounding it was already visible on the horizon, its white walls standing tall against the morning haze.

Jin Wu sat cross-legged behind Elder Jing Fei, his hands clasped tightly around the sword's hilt. His face remained calm, a mask of quiet contemplation, but his fingers tightened ever so slightly on the hilt of the flying sword as it tilted with the wind. Flying artifacts still felt unnatural to him, like stepping onto a rope bridge in the mist—there was trust but no certainty.

Each slight shift in the sword’s balance made his stomach churn.

Ahead of him, Elder Jing Fei’s voice broke through the wind. “It will only take a couple of hours, Mr. Jin. You’ll find Tianshi Lake City as lively as ever, though…” She hesitated for a moment. “I understand this trip may be difficult for you.”

Jin Wu raised a brow, his voice light. “I’ve got plenty of aches to complain about, mostly in my bones, but I'm nimble enough for my age.”

She glanced back at him, her expression softening. “Still, if there’s anything we can do for you…”

Before Jin Wu could respond, a voice called out behind them. “Wait for me!”

Jing Fei groaned audibly as a second flying sword caught up to theirs, carrying none other than Ying Yue. Her light blue robes fluttered in the wind as she came to a graceful stop beside them, her expression a perfect mix of earnestness and determination.

“Junior Sister Ying Yue,” Jing Fei said, her tone clipped. “Why are you here?”

“I couldn’t possibly miss a visit to the famous Tianshi Lake!” Ying Yue replied a little too cheerfully. “Besides, I thought Senior Sister might need my assistance. Who knows what dangers you might encounter during the trip?”

Jin Wu raised an eyebrow but said nothing, hiding his amusement behind a polite cough. “How thoughtful of you, Miss Ying Yue.”

Jing Fei didn’t bother hiding her exasperation. “You were told to remain at the sect.”

Ying Yue’s smile didn’t waver. “And yet here I am. Shall we continue?”

With a resigned sigh, Jing Fei guided her sword forward.

A few hours later, the three of them descended toward the outskirts of the city.

The group landed just outside Tianshi Lake City, where the bustling road leading to the main gate was already crowded with travelers, merchants, and carts laden with goods. The scent of lake water mingled with the sharp tang of spices and the earthy smell of horses.

Jing Fei stepped off her sword first, brushing the dust from her robes. She turned to Jin Wu. “This is as far as we’ll take you, Mr. Jin. The Celestial Serenity Sect does not involve itself in mortal matters, but we wish you the best in finding your kin.”

Jin Wu bowed deeply. “You’ve done more than enough, Elder. I will never forget your kindness.”

As Jing Fei prepared to leave, Ying Yue lingered, her gaze fixed on Jin Wu with unsettling intensity. “Mr. Jin,” she said, her tone deceptively light. “What will you do once you find your family? Will you return to the mountains? Or perhaps settle here in the city?”

Jin Wu straightened, his expression carefully neutral. “This old man doesn’t plan so far ahead. First, I’ll see what remains of the past. After that, who knows where the life will take me?”

Ying Yue’s lips curved into a smile, though her eyes seemed to pierce straight through him. “I see. Well, do be careful. Cities can be… unpredictable.”

Jin Wu inclined his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jing Fei gestured impatiently. “Ying Yue, we’re leaving.”

With a final glance, Ying Yue stepped onto her sword and joined Jing Fei in the air. Jin Wu watched them disappear into the sky, his smile fading the moment they were out of sight.

“She’s definitely up to something,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing. “But for now… Mei.”

He turned toward the city gates, where trouble was already brewing.

The guards at Tianshi Lake City’s gates were a surly bunch, their rusted spears and mismatched armor a testament to the lax discipline of the city’s outer defenses. Jin Wu joined the queue of travelers waiting to enter, his old robes and hunched posture making him look every bit the harmless peasant he intended to portray.

When it was his turn, the guard on duty—a tall man with a sneer plastered across his face—stopped him with a raised hand. “Hold it, old man. Entry fee’s five copper.”

Jin Wu blinked. “Five copper? Since when?”

“Since today,” the guard said with a shrug. “Got a problem with that?”

Jin Wu sighed, patting his tattered robes as though searching for coins. “I’m afraid this old man doesn’t have much to spare. Couldn’t you make an exception? I’m just here to visit my family.”

The guard smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “No money, no entry. Simple as that.”

Jin Wu glanced at the other guards, who were watching the exchange with amused grins. He lowered his voice, adopting a conspiratorial tone. “You’re a wise man, aren’t you? Surely, you’d recognize a fine opportunity when you see one.”

The guard frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Jin Wu leaned closer, holding up a small piece of paper with symbols brushed on it, which he had pulled from his sleeve. “This, my friend, is a Luck Talisman. Normally, it would cost a silver tael, but for you, I’ll give it away for free. A small token of gratitude for your service to the city.”

The guard hesitated, his eyes flicking between the talisman and Jin Wu’s calm expression. Finally, he snatched it from Jin Wu’s hand, inspecting it with a skeptical eye.

“What does it do?” he asked.

“Ah,” Jin Wu said, his tone becoming solemn. “Burn it facing the rising sun at dawn, and it will protect you from misfortune for a whole month. Just last month, a merchant avoided a bandit attack thanks to one of these. Of course, I can’t promise miracles, but… well, you never know.”

The guard’s sneer softened as he tucked the talisman into his belt. “Fine. Go on, old man. But don’t cause any trouble.”

Jin Wu bowed deeply. “May fortune favor you.”

As he walked through the gates, he couldn’t help but smirk. “The wonders a scrap paper can accomplish,” he muttered.

The alley where Mei’s shop had once stood was much as Jin Wu remembered it—narrow, dimly lit, and crowded with the remnants of failed businesses. Yet something felt… wrong. The vibrant energy Mei’s shop had brought to the space was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness.

When Jin Wu reached the shop, his heart sank. The wooden sign above the door was cracked and faded, the paint peeling away to reveal bare wood. The windows were shuttered, and the door hung slightly ajar, creaking softly in the breeze.

He stepped inside, the floorboards groaning under his weight. Dust covered every surface, and the faint scent of herbs and incense still lingered, though it was fading. A single overturned chair lay in the corner, its legs broken.

Jin Wu’s chest tightened as he moved through the space, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He stopped before the counter, where a small brass trinket caught his eye—a hairpin shaped like a lotus flower.

“She wouldn’t leave this behind,” he whispered, his hand trembling as he picked it up. “Not willingly.”

For a long moment, he stood there, staring at the hairpin as memories flooded back. Mei’s laughter, her sharp wit, reprimands, and his promise. Where could she have gone?

As he stepped back into the alley, Jin Wu’s gaze lingered on the shuttered shop, his mind swirling with possibilities. The faint sounds of the bustling city filtered through the narrow passageway, but they felt distant like echoes carried on a hidden current.

“Sometimes a river must flow underground,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the wind. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he turned away, his steps purposeful but unhurried.