Chen mo’s mind was sharp as he sank into the shadows of the vessel’s hold, analyzing every detail. He pondered why cultivators didn’t just rely on storage pouches or rings with greater capacity to transport these goods. But quickly he dismissed the notion—large storage rings were exorbitantly expensive and required masterful craftsmanship. Some materials carried volatile fluctuations that could destabilize even the most expertly anchored spatial formations, risking the destruction of both the goods and the container. Certain living cargo, like beasts or slaves, simply couldn’t survive within storage rings.

  The vessel, Chen mo realized, was a far safer and more reliable method. It was fortified by layers of spatial formations and constantly monitored by a foundation establishment master—or sometimes even a golden core cultivator—ensuring that the precious cargo remained intact and untampered with. And for Chen mo, lurking unseen among it all, it offered the perfect vantage point: invisibility cloaked in practicality, waiting for opportunity.

  Chen mo’s confidence grew as he sat among the cargo. Even a foundation establishment cultivator, he was certain, could not detect him. Over time, he had refined a new trick with his Spatial Dominion Art: by manipulating his spiritual senses, he could layer his very being, rendering his aura invisible to others’ spiritual perception.

  He knew, however, that this trick might not fool a golden core true master—and he would never dare risk testing it until he himself reached that level. The more he experimented, the more he saw the boundless potential of his abilities.

  He wondered if he could one day create a personal, small spatial pocket—a private hiding place layered within folds of space, untouchable by others. Perhaps one day he could even extend it, making it large enough to serve as a secret base. But all of this required one thing: further mastery of the Spatial Dominion Art. For now, he sat quietly, letting the limitless possibilities unfold in his mind, each idea fueling the hunger for more power.

  The next morning, the docks were a hive of activity. Hundreds of cultivators queued to board the vessel Chen Mo was hidden within. Law enforcement maintained a tight watch, inspecting every traveler—any hint of a villain would lead to immediate capture.

  Luo Yan’s group boarded smoothly, courtesy of Steward Mu. Chen Mo tracked them instantly, but his attention snapped sharply when he noticed two other familiar figures. The first was Qiong Tao, the cultivator who had once pursued him in the mountains and wounded him with a wind blade. The second was Old Hei, the shady map dealer.

  Chen Mo’s lips curved into a faint, almost mischievous smile. “It’s a pity Li Yuxue didn’t come… otherwise all my enemies could be buried together. Well, at least Qiong Tao showed up—time to settle that old debt. Fate does have a twisted sense of timing.”

  Hidden in the shadows, Chen Mo prepared, patient but ready—the games of revenge and opportunity were about to begin.

  When the final boarding talisman dimmed and the last crate was secured, a heavy pressure descended upon the docks.

  It came like a silent mountain pressing down on the air.

  A streak of light crossed the sky and landed atop the vessel’s upper deck. Spiritual energy rolled outward in restrained waves.

  Foundation Establishment.

  Jian Lu.

  The master responsible for this voyage.

  Every sect disciple and traveling cultivator bowed deeply. Even Steward Mu lowered his head with respect.

  Jian Lu did not speak much. His gaze swept once across the massive vessel, then—

  His spiritual sense expanded.

  It spread outward like a vast invisible net, penetrating decks, corridors, cabins, and cargo holds. Thorough. Cold. Methodical.

  Deep within the storage level, Chen Mo sat unmoving among stacked crates.

  he drew upon the spatial attribute within his spiritual sense itself. His perception did not extend outward aggressively. Rather, it curved inward, enveloping him completely. Like wrapping himself in a cocoon woven from spatial distortion.

  His aura did not disappear.

  It became unlocatable.

  To outside spiritual senses, he was simply… absence. A blind spot that did not register as anything unusual.

  Still, when Jian Lu’s spiritual sense swept across the hold, Chen Mo felt the immense pressure brush past him.

  His breathing remained slow.

  His heart steady.

  The spatial attribute around him remained stable.

  The tide passed.

  Seconds later, the spiritual sweep withdrew.

  Chen Mo allowed a faint smile to form.

  Foundation Establishment… impressive.

  But not enough.

  Above, Jian Lu gave a small nod. Satisfied.

  He raised his hand.

  The vessel awakened.

  Formations carved across its massive hull ignited one after another. Lines of light raced along the reinforced ribs, converging toward the propulsion arrays. Wind gathered beneath the ship in controlled spirals. The air trembled.

  A deep humming sound resonated from the vessel’s core.

  The enormous structure lifted from the dock, rising steadily into the sky. Dust and loose debris swirled violently below as a translucent defensive barrier enveloped the entire ship.

  Higher.

  Steadier.

  Then the propulsion arrays flared brilliantly.

  The vessel tilted northward and surged forward.

  Clouds shattered as it pierced through them. Mountains below shrank rapidly. The city faded into a distant blur.

  It flew like a moving fortress of light and steel, carving a path toward the northern horizon.

  Toward Cloud Root City.

  Toward opportunity.

  Toward unresolved grudges.

  And within the dim storage deck, Chen Mo remained still, unseen, carried by fate’s enormous wings.

  The voyage north unfolded like a long exhale.

  Days slipped by without turbulence, and Chen Mo remained within the vessel’s lower deck, quietly cultivating with the aid of spirit stones. Their steady stream of spiritual qi flowed into his meridians, circulating, refining, strengthening. The hum of the ship became a constant backdrop, like a mechanical heartbeat beneath his meditation.

  It was not that danger did not exist.

  This was the cultivation world. Danger was stitched into its sky.

  But to attack a vessel like this?

  The assailant would need to be at least mid level Foundation Establishment. Even then, success would be unlikely. The ship was layered with defensive formations, reinforced at critical nodes, and overseen by Jian Lu himself, a mid stage Foundation Establishment master whose presence alone discouraged ambition.

  And above all else, the vessel bore the crest of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect.

  That emblem was more than decoration.

  It was a declaration.

  To attack such a ship was not simple robbery. It was provocation. Even if someone managed to plunder the cargo and escape the immediate battle, what then?

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  The Immortal world had long memory.

  Formations recorded aura fluctuations. Residual spiritual signatures could be traced. Sect experts possessed secret arts that could follow karma threads, reconstruct spiritual imprints, narrow down locations with terrifying precision.

  There was no true anonymity once you acted.

  You could conceal your face.

  You could alter your appearance.

  But your aura left footprints in heaven and earth.

  And the Azure Pine Immortal Sect would never ignore such an insult. They would hunt relentlessly, patiently, methodically.

  In this world, survival was not just about strength.

  It was about understanding consequences.

  Chen Mo absorbed another spirit stone until it crumbled into gray dust between his fingers.

  He was not strong enough yet to challenge such tides openly.

  For now, he would ride beneath them.

  Quiet.

  Growing.

  Waiting.

  High above the drifting clouds, beneath a sky washed in pale blue, Luo Yan’s group gathered at a quieter corner of the upper deck. Lantern light swayed gently in the wind as the massive vessel cut northward through the heavens.

  Their voices were low.

  Measured.

  Steward Mu stood with his hands behind his back, gaze drifting across the horizon as if merely admiring the scenery.

  “The vessel will pass by Blackstone City in a week,” he said calmly. “I’ve spoken with Master Jian Lu. He agreed to let us disembark there.”

  Luo Yan’s expression remained composed. “Did Master Jian Lu ask for the reason?”

  Mu gave a faint smile. “Naturally. But there is nothing suspicious. Blackstone City is renowned for its black ore. Exceptional material for forging weapons and refining spirit vessels. Merchants frequently stop there to purchase it, then resell it elsewhere for double or even triple the price.”

  He turned slightly, voice lowering further.

  “To make the explanation more convincing, I also mentioned that an auction will be held in the city. A Foundation Establishment pill is said to be among the items.”

  At those words, even the breeze seemed to hesitate.

  A Foundation Establishment pill.

  For many Qi Refining cultivators, that single object represented the narrow bridge between mortality and true power.

  Luo Yan nodded slowly. “Reasonable. No one would question interest in such an auction.”

  Qiong Tao’s eyes flickered with restrained ambition. Old Hei remained silent, fingers tapping lightly against the railing as if calculating invisible figures.

  Far below, in the vessel’s dim cargo hold, Chen Mo listened.

  Blackstone City.

  One week.

  Auction.

  Foundation Establishment pill.

  His eyes sharpened in the darkness.

  So this was not merely a detour.

  It was a pivot point.

  The vessel continued forward, slicing through wind and cloud, unaware that within its wooden ribs, threads of ambition were quietly tightening.

  Wind brushed across the deck, carrying the faint scent of clouds and spirit currents. The conversation tightened.

  Qiong Tao’s patience thinned first.

  “What about our real target?” he asked quietly, eyes narrowing. “Can you at least give us more information?”

  Luo Yan did not look at him immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon where sky met nothingness.

  “The mountains,” he replied.

  Two simple words.

  Old Hei, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was low, rough like gravel dragged across stone.

  “How deep into the mountains?”

  Luo Yan’s expression did not change. “You will understand once we arrive. This is a rare opportunity. The fewer details spoken now, the better.”

  His tone carried no hostility. Only caution.

  He finally turned to look at them.

  “We must be careful. Words have weight. Even walls may develop ears when profit is involved.”

  Steward Mu nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Please trust Young Master Luo. Once we reach our destination, everything will become clear.”

  Qiong Tao frowned slightly, but said nothing further.

  The wind continued to whistle past the vessel’s barriers.

  Far below, hidden in shadow among crates of spirit grain and sealed chests, Chen Mo’s eyes opened slowly.

  Far below, hidden in shadow among crates of spirit grain and sealed chests, Chen Mo’s eyes opened slowly.

  He did not know what lay ahead in Blackstone City’s surrounding ranges, but one thing was certain.

  Whatever Luo Yan sought in those mountains… it was not ordinary ore.

  Seven days passed like drifting clouds.

  In the dim belly of the vessel, Chen Mo studied the faint interface of his own progress.

  Qi Refinement, Level 5.

  The breakthrough had been steady rather than explosive, like water quietly filling a reservoir until it overflowed. His meridians felt broader, spiritual qi circulating with smoother rhythm.

  The Turtle Breath Technique had also advanced to Level 2. His aura now settled with frightening subtlety. If before he resembled a stone at the bottom of a pond, now he was the pond itself, undisturbed.

  The Soul Searching Technique required no cultivation. It was merely a blade kept sheathed, waiting for a throat.

  As for the Spatial Dominion Art, he refrained from touching it during the voyage. Cultivating it would create spatial ripples, subtle distortions in the surrounding flow of energy. On an ordinary mountain, that would not matter.

  But under Jian Lu’s watch?

  Unacceptable risk.

  Patience was strength.

  Today, the vessel began to slow.

  The humming formations softened, propulsion arrays dimming as the massive ship gradually descended through the clouds. It did not approach Blackstone City directly. Instead, it hovered several miles outside its perimeter, lowering to a stable altitude above open terrain.

  This was merely a stop.

  A courtesy.

  On the upper deck, Steward Mu and his group offered respectful farewells. Without delay, they summoned their flying swords. Five streaks of light shot away from the vessel, heading toward the distant outline of Blackstone City.

  Moments later, the vessel’s formations reignited.

  It surged forward once more and disappeared into the northern horizon, leaving only fading turbulence behind.

  Silence reclaimed the sky.

  Then—

  A figure materialized where the ship had hovered moments ago.

  Chen Mo.

  Suspended calmly in midair.

  His spiritual sense had never left Luo Yan’s group. Threads of perception stretched across the distance, locked onto them like invisible hooks.

  Below, the landscape spread outward in rugged terrain. In the distance stood Blackstone City, dark walls gleaming faintly under sunlight. Beyond it, rolling mountain forests extended like a vast green ocean.

  Chen Mo’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  He watched as Luo Yan and the others altered their direction mid-flight. Instead of heading into the city, their flying swords tilted toward the nearby mountain range.

  They accelerated.

  Directly into the forests.

  So.

  The auction was a cover.

  Chen Mo did not hesitate.

  He moved.

  His figure blurred slightly as he followed from behind, maintaining distance, spiritual sense wrapped around him in spatial concealment.

  Above the mountains, the sky remained calm.

  But within the forest ahead, something waited.