Unbeknownst to Lin Shu, his paranoia saved him once again. As he slipped into the shadows of Greenwood Hollow, a hooded figure emerged from the auction hall, her eyes burning with frustration and barely contained rage. The cloak obscured her features, but the cold sharpness of her gaze cut through the night. She stood frozen for a moment, scanning the empty street, the passage already devoid of her target.
"Damn it!" Her voice was low, almost a growl, trembling with fury. Her hands clenched into fists beneath her cloak, nails biting into her palms. "So close… I was so damn close!"
The moment she'd heard the name Lightning Steps, her blood had boiled. The description matched perfectly — the same explosive bursts of speed, the same shifting footwork. It couldn't be a coincidence. Her heart had nearly leaped out of her chest when Lin Shu stepped onto the platform, masked and hidden beneath that odd disguise. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to act, to rip the technique from his hands and confirm its authenticity herself. But she had forced herself to stay still. Attacking him outright in front of the crowd would have been suicide.
Still, she had to be sure. The original copy — the one she was after — carried a unique age to its qi imprint, and she had the means to verify it. All she needed was ten minutes with the skill, and the truth would reveal itself. But by the time the trade was sealed and she'd managed to bribe her way into the restricted passage, Lin Shu was already gone.
"Damn it all!" she hissed again, her breath ragged. The rules forbade most from taking the same path as a seller immediately after their trade, but for someone like her, rules could be bent — not broken, but bent. Even then, it took precious minutes to secure access, and by the time she stepped into the cold night air, Lin Shu had vanished.
She sprinted through the alleys surrounding the auction hall, her hood whipping behind her. Every corner turned, every shadow checked, only fueled her frustration. Lin Shu didn't linger. He didn't stroll through the streets or window-shop like some oblivious fool. No, the bastard slipped into the darkness the moment the trade was done, taking half a dozen different routes, twisting through alleys and side streets like smoke in the wind.
"He's too cautious… too damn careful!" She kicked a pile of crates, sending them crashing into the mud. "Even changed the gold pouch and the pill's box… I left traces in both to track them, and he slipped through my fingers!"
Her breathing was ragged, her fists trembling. This had to be it. The same name. The same effects. The same technique that had haunted her for so long. She'd held herself back with everything she had during the auction. The only reason she hadn't lunged at him right there was the need for confirmation. If it was fake — if it was a cheap imitation or some bastardized copy — she would have wasted everything. But now she had nothing. Not even a trail to follow.
"If I could've just gotten my hands on him…" Her voice was low, seething with hatred. "I would've ripped the truth from him. Piece by piece." Her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. "And if it was real… I would've made him beg for death."
The night stretched quiet around her, save for the distant sounds of the town. She stood there, fists shaking, the shadows deepening around her. Slowly, her breath steadied, but the rage in her eyes never dimmed.
"I'll find you…" she whispered into the dark, the promise sharp and cold. "And when I do… you'll wish you never set foot in that auction."
She turned, her cloak swirling behind her, and vanished into the night.
Lin Shu had no knowledge of the hooded woman, nor would he have cared even if he did. How could she possibly track him now? Lightning Steps was a technique that increased speed — nothing more. It didn't summon phantoms or leave behind unique marks that set it apart from other lightning-related arts. Even if she saw him use it right in front of her, what proof would she have? There were dozens of techniques that conjured crackling sparks and thunderous bursts, each with slight differences, but no clear hallmark unless the manuscript was in her hands. And that was impossible now — he'd already traded it away.
Besides, he was a nobody. A lone boy with no backing, no reputation, and barely enough power to survive. Whoever that woman was, she had no reason to suspect him for anything grand. Attacking him outright without reason? That would bring down consequences far worse than losing a battle skill. Stone Path Hall might not be the most powerful institute, but it still represented authority in Greenwood Hollow. If someone dared to assault one of their students, punishment would follow swiftly.
It wasn't just the institute, either. Beyond these small towns, the eyes of the emperor's forces lingered. Even the most arrogant clans and sects wouldn't dare to openly defy those who held true power in the region. If a rogue cultivator thought themselves above consequence, they'd be made an example of. Stone Path Hall couldn't afford to look weak — not if they wanted to keep their students or hold any sway over the locals. They would have to respond, or risk losing everything. No one would join an institute that couldn't even protect its own.
But none of that was on Lin Shu's mind.
Right now, the only thing he felt was triumph. He sat cross-legged in his small room, his gauntleted hands resting on his knees, feeling the rush of energy flowing through his veins. His body trembled slightly — not from weakness, but from the sheer euphoria of what had just happened. The Crimson Flow Pill had burned through him like a raging inferno, scouring every inch of his flesh and bone, purging impurities that had clung to his him for a month. The waste that had once clogged his meridians, threatening to cripple his progress, was now nothing more than ash scattered to the wind.
His lips curled into a slow, predatory grin. Then he laughed.
"Hahahaha… I did it!" The sound echoed through the quiet room, dark and exultant. He flexed his fingers, feeling the newfound lightness in his limbs. He felt… clean. No, more than that. He felt alive.
He uncurled his fist, letting a faint trace of bone-white qi swirl around his fingertips before fading into the darkness. The pill had worked. His body had shed its impurities, and though he still had a long road ahead, this was a crucial step — one that could've taken him years to achieve otherwise.
"And now," Lin Shu muttered, his voice low, "I have 9,618 gold coins… and a Mid-tier Crimson Flow Pill is worth at least 20,000." His eyes glimmered with dark satisfaction. "A High-tier one could go for over 30,000… and a Peak-tier?" He chuckled softly. "You'd be lucky to get your hands on one for less than 50,000."
Of course, gold alone wouldn't be enough to buy pills like those. Not at the higher levels. Cultivators didn't trade precious resources for mere coins — they wanted techniques, battle arts, rare materials, or artifacts that could push them further along their path. No one willingly parted with what could change their destiny without demanding something of equal value in return.
Lin Shu leaned back, resting his head against the wall. "I'll need a better cultivation technique," he murmured to himself. His current art was pathetic — a low-tier Rank 1 technique that barely scraped the bottom of the barrel. It wasn't enough. Not anymore. His body had been refined, purged, and now it needed a technique worthy of housing his growing power. He'd also need a proper body refinement art. His Ivory Dominion gave him an edge, but it wasn't enough to carry him forward alone.
He needed to plan. The auction had been a stroke of luck, but there wouldn't always be opportunities like that. No, if he wanted real power… he'd need to look elsewhere.
The black market.
Lin Shu's eyes narrowed. The black markets in this region weren't as large or dangerous as the ones in the cities, but they had their uses. People sold what they stole — or looted from their enemies' cold, dead hands. Battle skills, cultivation techniques, forbidden arts… they all passed through unseen hands, traded in whispers and shadows. Clans and sects wouldn't even know their prized techniques had fallen into someone else's grasp until it was too late.
A dark smirk curled at his lips. The risk was high, but the rewards? Far greater.
"Somewhere far from Greenwood Hollow…" he mused. Perhaps a larger town. Or a city, where the streets were darker, and the whispers even colder. Somewhere he could slip in unnoticed, find what he needed, and disappear without a trace.
His mind drifted to the competition, to the Iron Stampede technique used against him — the one that conjured the ghostly image of a bull, thundering behind its user. Techniques like that were recognizable. Obvious. Dangerous, yes, but predictable. Lightning Steps had no such giveaways. It didn't leave behind phantoms or unique qi signatures. At most, it shrouded him in crackling sparks, barely distinguishable from the countless other lightning-based arts.
No one could trace him. No one could suspect him.
He grinned. Let them look. Let them wonder. By the time they realized what had slipped through their fingers, he'd already be gone.
Lin Shu closed his eyes, his body still humming with newfound strength. Tomorrow would come soon enough. There was more to do. More to take. More to become.
But tonight? Tonight, he would savor his victory.