Limitless Cultivation System: From Trash to Immortal

The instant the banners crested the western track, Xuan spoke low inside his own skull.

’Mira, take the man. Get him out of the mine fast and hide him somewhere in the mountains. I don’t want anyone seeing him, least of all my father.’

[ On it, Xuan. I will leave him somewhere high enough that nobody wanders into him by accident. I am taking control of his body now. ]

Far below, in the black gut of the mine, Han Ying turned from the bodies he had been arranging and walked toward the old drainage cut without hesitation. The blood spear rested low in his hand. His boots made no hurry of it, but every step carried him away from the passages the Skyedge column would soon flood with light, tools, questions, and men who had no business seeing a Blood Fang elder still breathing.

’Make sure he does not leave tracks a half-blind farmer could follow.’

[ Please. I have standards. ]

’You also have moods.’

[ And yet I remain excellent. ]

By the time Lin Zhen reached the mouth of the mine, Han Ying was gone. The only things left to greet the patriarch were his two sons, Wei Tianming, and a mountain that had spent the night swallowing Blood Fang men one scream at a time.

Xuan rose as his father swung down from the horse. The dismount came steady, though the wounded leg still demanded its due from him. Lin Zhen crossed the last of the ground until they stood face to face. Behind him came Elder Ren, the left sleeve of his black-and-red robe pinned flat over the stump Master Fu had sealed weeks ago, his good hand resting at his side while his pale silver eyes moved across the mine mouth, the dead, the trampled mud, and the streaks of blood that had dried almost black before dawn. At Xuan’s back, Lin Kai held his place with his mother’s sword sheathed for once, and Wei Tianming hovered half a step behind them, trying very hard not to look like the youngest thing breathing in a field of corpses.

The first thing out of Lin Zhen’s mouth was not congratulation.

"Where is the Blood Fang elder?"

Xuan did not let his face shift.

"Gone."

Lin Zhen’s eyes narrowed. "Gone where?"

"Into the mountains. He fled before your column reached the track." Xuan let his gaze drift toward the slope as if the answer irritated him more than worried him. "He was useful while the mine still needed opening. Once he understood Skyedge was coming in force, he chose distance over courage. I did not have the men to spare for a chase, and I had two mines to keep from collapsing into disorder."

Lin Zhen held his son’s eyes for a long breath. The answer did not satisfy him. It was not meant to satisfy him entirely. It only had to land close enough to the truth a tired man could put it aside until the mine itself stopped bleeding.

Elder Ren spoke before the silence could harden. "A Blood Fang elder running into the mountains alone with two Skyedge mines behind him is not a comfortable matter, but it is a smaller one than what we would be facing if the young master had lost either pit before we arrived. The man can be hunted when we have the ground under our feet."

Lin Zhen did not look away from Xuan at once. He weighed him the way fathers weigh sons when they hear a door close somewhere inside a sentence. Then the patriarch let it rest, dragged back by the sheer impossibility surrounding him.

He looked at the dead, at the broken defenses, at the mine mouth that should have been fortified and hostile and was instead waiting for Skyedge men to walk into it with tools. His gaze passed over Lin Kai, over Wei, and returned to Xuan. The hard line of his face eased into something he did not bother to hide.

"Two mines," Lin Zhen said, voice rough with more than the ride. "Two years this sect bled from the losing of them, and between one nightfall and the next you tore both back. I came up this mountain telling myself I might be carrying my sons home under cloth. Instead I find you standing here with the pits behind you." He drew in a breath through his nose. "You have done well. Better than well. I will not insult you by pretending I saw this coming."

Lin Kai shifted his weight. The old burr of grievance had not vanished from him, but tonight it had been worn down by blood, exhaustion, and something closer to honesty.

"It was Xuan’s doing, Father. The plan, the timing, the second strike, all of it." His jaw worked as though the admission had edges. "I came along to swing where he pointed me. Credit where it is owed. This is his."

Coming from Kai, who had once worn dislike like a second robe, the words carried more weight than praise from anyone else could have managed.

"There’s more inside," Lin Kai added, and the roughness in his tone changed. "We went through the overseer’s office. Mother’s hand is all over it. Reports, letters, movement through Skyedge, routes, names. Month after month. It is sitting on a table down there if you want to read it in her own script."

A storm crossed Lin Zhen’s face and was gone before it could settle. The man had already opened Cao Yan over what his first wife had done, but reading her betrayal in her own brushstrokes was a different wound. For a breath he wore it plainly. Then he buried it where patriarchs bury things they cannot afford to hold in both hands.

"Take me to it."

Lin Kai nodded once. Father and trueborn son turned for the lamplit dark of the mine, descending together to sit with a dead woman’s correspondence and whatever poison her brush had left behind.

That left Xuan outside in the thin morning with Elder Ren, while the column behind them ground into motion. Disciples filed past with picks, timber, crates of nails, rope, seal lamps, dry rations, water casks, and the weary purpose of men who had expected a battlefield and found work waiting instead. The machinery of a sect began taking hold of something it meant to keep.

"So what is the plan now that you are up here?" Xuan asked.