Lin Shu was a little desperate right now. He hated not knowing his enemy—hated the feeling of being hunted while blind. Was Han Yi truly after him? Did she have ties to those he traded the egg to? Or was it all just coincidence? He couldn't be sure, and that uncertainty gnawed at him. If they really were looking for him, then staying here was a gamble he couldn't afford.
But Lin Shu wasn't the only one feeling cornered.
Inside the main building of the institute, Lu Zhenhai sat calmly behind a desk, his expression unreadable. Han Yi stood before him, her fists clenched at her sides, eyes lowered in shame.
"The tournament trap didn't work," Lu Zhenhai began, voice even, yet heavy with disappointment. "And that leaves us with three possibilities."
He tapped his fingers against the table. "First—the person we're searching for realized he's being hunted. He avoided the tournament, or worse—fled. You were rash, Han Yi. I told you to observe the lightning technique users discreetly, to avoid drawing suspicion."
Han Yi flinched but said nothing. She knew he was right. Her emotions had gotten the better of her.
"Second possibility," he continued, "is that the target has no idea we're looking for him. Perhaps he was on a mission, or injured, or simply preoccupied. But that seems unlikely. According to your notes, nearly every documented lightning technique user participated. The few that didn't have injuries or background histories that exclude them."
He paused.
"The third—and most likely—possibility is that the person wasn't part of our institute at all. Or even this town. The auction was open to outsiders. A lone cultivator could've appeared, sold the item, and disappeared."
Han Yi's gaze trembled.
Lu Zhenhai leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. "From your description, he was near your height. Likely your age. But if he had the item, it doesn't mean he was involved in the attack. The technique could've changed hands many times. The original seller might be long gone."
His words were calm, logical—measured like a man who had considered every angle. Deep down, Lu Zhenhai believed the trail was cold. But he didn't tell Han Yi that before. He saw her grief, her desperation. He had raised her like a daughter. And when she asked for a chance at revenge, he gave her the tournament as bait—if only to let her feel she was doing something.
But now… it had failed.
Han Yi stayed silent, staring at the floor. Her chest felt tight, her breath shallow. She had been reckless. She knew others had likely figured out her motives—knew she was being watched. She had broken every rule her master taught her. Why? Because when she saw a sliver of hope, a chance for revenge, the child inside her—the one who had lost her father, her friends, her entire village—had taken over.
And maybe, just maybe, she could've caught Lin Shu. He might've had nothing to do with her tragedy. But she could've found out. Could've known the truth.
Instead, her own emotions had betrayed her.
"Let this be a lesson for you, Han Yi," Lu Zhenhai said, his voice calm, but carrying a warmth that only those who truly cared could convey. "Do not lose your composure. Do not let your emotions control you. Think rationally. Carefully. About each and every one of your steps."
She didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, breathing quietly as his words sank into her heart like a blade—not one that cut, but one that pried open the guilt she'd buried under all that rage.
"Now go. Reflect on this mistake," he continued. "Remember it well. But also remember this—we all make mistakes. We all lose ourselves to emotion now and then."
His gaze softened further, and for a brief moment, it wasn't her master speaking—but someone who saw her as family.
"What matters is that you learn from it. That you grow. Even the most powerful… lose themselves to hate, to sadness, to regret. Not just you, Han Yi."
She finally looked up, her eyes glistening—not with tears, but with something more fragile. Acceptance. Shame. And the aching desire to do better.
"Understood… Master," she whispered.
Lu Zhenhai said nothing more.
He didn't need to.
Han Yi soon left the main building and walked quietly through the institute's dim corridors, the late afternoon sun casting long, wavering shadows across the stone tiles. Her master's words echoed in her head, not as scolding, but as a quiet reminder of what she had almost lost—herself.
"I guess my emotions got the better of me this time…" she muttered under her breath. "I ignored so many flaws in my plan. I was so stubborn, so sure of myself, that I didn't even consider the most obvious thing… that the seller could've come from outside the institute, that he might already be long gone."
The shame still lingered, but now it no longer drowned her—it pushed her forward.
"But like Master said… even the mightiest fall short sometimes. Let alone me."
Her fingers curled into fists, not from anger this time, but resolve. She had been chasing revenge. Now, she would chase strength. True strength, so that next time… she wouldn't act on desperation, but with purpose.
Her steps grew steadier as she entered her residence. The day had not gone as she hoped—but her path was no longer clouded.
Elsewhere, beneath a veil of forest shadows far from the institute, Lin Shu sat on the cold ground, his arms resting on his knees, eyes unfocused as thoughts raced endlessly through his mind.
That gnawing feeling was back again. Like invisible claws scratching at the edges of his sanity.
Paranoia.
Every time he thought he was safe, it crept in again like a cold wave lapping at the shore—quiet, unstoppable. Someone could be hunting him. Someone might know what he had. What he had done.
Unlike Han Yi, Lin Shu had no one to turn to. No master. No friend. No guiding hand. No warm voice to say "It's alright."
Not that he wanted one.
He didn't need comfort. He didn't need guidance. Because the moment someone knew even one of his secrets, they would already be marked for death in his mind. They would already be a walking corpse. Lin Shu didn't share. Not his burdens, not his pain, and especially not his plans.
If he wanted to survive in this world, he would do it alone.
Just as he always had.
Just as he must.
"Hmmm… I really hate this feeling," Lin Shu muttered to himself, eyes narrowed, knuckles whitening as he clenched a nearby stone till it cracked.
Should he hire someone to watch Han Yi? To see if she was still searching or had given up?
He didn't like relying on others, but information was survival—no, it was everything.
Or maybe… maybe he should just take a long mission. Something far, far from here. Use it as a reason to vanish. Then desert the institute entirely.
But if he did that, he'd have to make sure no one suspected him.
Because if they caught on… if they realized he had taken their resources, their connections, their techniques—
Only to leave before they squeezed everything out of him—
He'd be hunted. Branded. Punished.
"They won't let me go that easily," he whispered, his tone cold, calculating. "Not until they've drained me dry. Not until they got back what they gave and much more."
So, no—he couldn't just leave recklessly. He needed to plan. To vanish like smoke, without leaving behind a scent.
Eyes still fixed on the shadows around him, Lin Shu slowly stood up.
Either he would watch Han Yi.
Or disappear.
But in both paths—no one could know what he was thinking.
"From what Wen Ping told me, others are also searching for the individual Han Yi is after… which might very well be me," Lin Shu thought grimly, seated cross-legged in his dim room. "If I attempt to hire someone to observe her—even with my identity concealed—it's only a matter of time before suspicion falls upon me. And once that happens, they'll put the pieces together and hand me over to her… or worse, to the dean. I cannot trust anyone."
He clenched his fist.
"I also cannot investigate on my own. I lack any form of concealment technique, and someone like Han Yi, the personal disciple of a Rank 2 cultivator, almost certainly has some method of detection or surveillance. If I draw too close, she will find me."
He exhaled slowly, gaze hardening.
"That leaves only one viable path: desertion. It holds its own risks, but also considerable rewards. I am far stronger than when I first entered this place. With the right planning, I can join another institute—or an organization more suited to my growth."
His gaze shifted toward the far wall, as though peering through it toward the north.
"The Lightning Peak Ranges… If I can reach them, I'll finally be able to gather what I need for the Thunderforge Physique."
His thoughts grew more decisive.
"It's settled. I'll take a mission that sends me east, and then diverge northward midway through. I'll disappear without a trace."
With a plan in place, Lin Shu allowed himself a rare moment of calm. Tomorrow, he would visit the market, acquire the supplies and information he needed, and scatter false trails toward cities he had no intention of visiting—precautions to mislead any pursuit.
But at dawn, as he prepared to enact his escape, a sharp knock echoed against his door.
"Who the hell is this?." he thought, already channeling his Qi just in case. He stepped lightly toward the entrance and opened it.
An older student stood at the threshold, a formal expression on his face, a scroll in one hand.
"Lin Shu, student emblem number 257?" the student asked crisply.
"That's me," Lin Shu replied, eyes narrowed.
"You are hereby ordered to report to the arena immediately. A state of emergency has been declared by the institute's higher-ups. Failure to comply will result in punitive action and a formal fine. Do you understand?"
Lin Shu paused, silent for a moment before giving a slow nod. "Understood. What's the nature of the emergency?"
"You will be informed upon arrival. Now—place your hand on the device."
Lin Shu glanced at the metallic sphere in the student's other hand—a verification tool designed to record a student's acknowledgment of emergency orders. It left no room for excuses later.
He pressed his palm against it.
Confirmed. A quiet pulse of light indicated the device had accepted his registration.
"My duty is complete. You are expected to arrive at the arena within ten minutes," the student stated before walking away, already heading to inform the next student in line.
Lin Shu closed the door slowly, cursing under his breath.
Just when I decided to leave…
He hurried toward the institute gates, but the sight that greeted him soured his thoughts further—security had increased drastically. Students and instructors now guarded the exits, their expressions grim and disciplined.
"There's no escaping now," he muttered to himself. "Not without being noticed."
His mind spun with calculations and alternatives, but none were viable. Not yet.
With no other choice, Lin Shu turned and made his way toward the arena, every step heavy with caution. Something had changed. Whatever emergency had been declared, whatever the reason for this lockdown—it might not be a coincidence.
I need to stay alert. I need to survive. No matter what this is, I will not be caught.