The distance between the Twin Leaf Peak Sect and Mist Eye territory was too large to leave to chance.
A peak-grade communication slip.
"Peak-grade," he murmured again, clicking his tongue. "Thousand kiloters or more. Smooth signal, embedded with stabilizing inscriptions, protected against interception. Probably crafted by an expert Formation master."
And definitely expensive.
He grimaced as he walked, brushing a low-hanging branch aside.
It wasn’t as expensive as a Spatial Storage Bag, that was true. But Spatial Bags were one-ti investnts. A peak-grade communication slip? That was the sort of thing core disciples pooled their resources for or received as rewards for exceptional contributions.
They would usually get one during long term group missions so that they could relay information back ho.
Still... if Han Yu could get one, it would solve half his logistical problems overnight.
"Should’ve stolen one off those Mist Eye disciples," he muttered.
Not that he hadn’t tried. The red-eyed woman hadn’t had anything on her aside from the clothes she wore and that final breath laced with Falsebane Poison. No rings, no pouches, no tools—clearly instructed to travel light and clean.
To not leave any traces.
Han Yu kicked a small stone off the path and exhaled slowly.
He would have to check the contribution pavilion once he was back at the sect. See what was available. There might be a second-hand one up for trade or one that could be bartered for spirit stones—or favors.
His thoughts drifted back to his dwindling stash of spirit stones.
The missions he took had given him a good boost, but if he was going to start buying higher-grade tools and slipping deeper into this web of double-dealing and shadow gas, he’d need to think about new sources of inco too.
Maybe that was the real problem. He wasn’t just short on tools. He was short on power, reputation, resources—everything except guts and ambition.
And those two alone could only carry him so far.
Still, his business senses were tingling.
This web—this ss—this festering intrigue between the Mist Eye Sect, the Twin Leaf Peak Sect, and whatever the hell the Magma Ancestor had to do with anything... there was opportunity here. Dangerous, yes. But opportunity nonetheless.
If he could figure out how to play both sides... maybe even pit them against each other...
Han Yu smiled faintly.
The path ahead might be steep and treacherous, but the mountain of fortune at the summit made the climb worth it.
He picked up his pace, eyes sharpening.
The sooner he got back to the sect, the sooner he could check for communication slips, follow up on his connections, and start pulling strings.
Because if this little ga of shadows was going to escalate... he’d better make sure he was holding the right threads.
After more than two long, winding months, Han Yu finally found himself just beyond the neutral zone that surrounded the Twin Leaf Peak Sect.
It was earlier than he’d expected to arrive, but that was mostly due to the path he’d chosen. Cautious to the bone and stubbornly allergic to assassins and "mysterious disappearances," Han Yu had taken a deliberately indirect route.
He avoided major roads, traveling instead through a series of neutral territories that neither the Mist Eye Sect nor the Twin Leaf Peak Sect dared to lay official claim to.
He had started by heading south, passing through two dense, mist-choked forests. The air there had felt heavy with spirit energy, the silence broken only by rustling leaves and the occasional flicker of a distant beast’s presence. Then ca the western mountain range, which he had to traverse carefully over the course of ten days. Treacherous cliffs, narrow goat paths, and the occasional suspiciously placed boulder made it a grueling climb.
After that, another massive forest.
This one had been different—lush and humid, filled with thick vines and unfamiliar birdsong. It had taken him a full week to clear it, but once he erged, the terrain began to feel more familiar.
He was close.
But instead of heading straight to the sect gates like an obedient disciple eager to report in, Han Yu made a detour. He had unfinished business.
The city of Dongxuan sat a little north of the Twin Leaf Peak Sect, tucked in a neutral zone. It was a modest trade hub, filled with wandering cultivators, unaffiliated rchants, and locals who thrived in the shadow of a major sect without ever pledging allegiance.
Han Yu entered with a hood over his head and his face half-covered, as was the fashion for travelers who didn’t want to be recognized—or robbed.
The Jade Plum Inn stood near the end of a quiet alley, its wooden sign creaking gently in the wind. It was unassuming from the outside, but the scent of good broth and the low murmur of conversation made it clear that business was steady.
He stepped inside and made his way to the front counter, where a broad-shouldered man with a balding scalp and bright eyes looked up at him with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
"I’m looking for any ssages left for the Yin Trader," Han Yu said softly.
The owner narrowed his eyes.
"Yin Trader, huh? We don’t usually take ssages for ghosts," the man said, his tone neutral but edged with suspicion.
Han Yu leaned in slightly and replied, "Ren Jue said I could speak to his brother if I needed sothing handled quietly."
The innkeeper’s eyes widened.
"You know Little Ren?"
Han Yu nodded. "We serve the sa sect. He said if I needed a place that didn’t ask too many questions..."
The innkeeper let out a belly laugh and slapped the counter.
"That kid! Still running errands for every disciple and their grandmother, huh? All right, all right. If Ren trusts you, then I guess I can too."
The atmosphere lightened instantly, the owner’s suspicion lting into sothing warr and more familiar. This was precisely why Han Yu had chosen this place. Ren Jue had been a fellow servant back in the early days of Twin Leaf Peak sect, always cheerful, always up for a little wheeling and dealing when the elders weren’t watching.
It was a safe connection—nothing flashy, nothing dangerous.
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