Deep in the courtyard’s shade, a grey‑robed figure in a snowy‑white crane mask knelt before Xie Wei, delivering his report with the utmost respect. The Xie Clan might look easy‑going on the surface, but beneath that veneer its discipline was iron‑tight. Every scrap of information about the man calling himself Ximen Gucheng, every footprint he left, had already been sifted through by the clan’s Ocean Province shadow guard. The moment Li Yuan, now the clan’s brand‑new son‑in‑law, stepped outside the gate, his whereabouts would be relayed back almost instantly. The shadow guard didn’t bother with tailing their targets the old‑fashioned way. In Bright Moon Prefecture, every street and alley had eyes; rather than shadow someone stronger than themselves and risk spooking the prey, the guards pieced together a traveler’s path by elimination. Had the target taken this road? Entered that building? Cross‑referencing routes and destinations, they let the pattern reveal intent. Anomalies and hidden schemes shine like beacons once you map a man’s footsteps. Since Li Yuan married into the clan, the guard’s resources had tilted sharply toward him—not out of distrust, but because the Xie Clan wanted to know exactly who they were accepting as kin. It was for everyone’s peace of mind. Truth be told, he’d been checked out well before the wedding; had anything been amiss, the union would never have happened. Now the masked agent finished his update. “Since the wedding the young master hasn’t set foot beyond the residence. As for the rumors of Immortal islands in the Eastern Sea, these are the files we already had on record, plus new fragments we’ve collected. All of them are nearly impossible to verify, which is why they were kept in the dark archive.” The shadow guard’s archives were divided into a bright hall and a dark hall. Confirmed or urgent intelligence went to the former; unconfirmed, low‑priority, or unverifiable tales went to the latter. Xie Wei nodded and took the dossiers. Only then did she realize how many wild rumors floated over the Eastern Sea. It wasn’t just ghost stories and demonic sightings. She also found tales about cocky wandering martial artists who claimed to have bumped into real living Immortals after sailing past the horizon. They’d return home half-mad, babbling that these lofty beings sat cross-legged on the clouds, shape-shifting at will. To Xie Wei, these Immortals were likely nothing corporeal at all—illusions, perhaps, or tricks played by ghosts. The Eastern Sea teemed with colossal beasts and savage ghosts; hardly a place for ordinary folk. Even so, the overlapping accounts hinted that Immortal islands might truly exist out there. Could one of those isles be her brother‑in‑law’s homeland? After all, where but a celestial land could spawn a monster of talent as pure and spotless as a drifting white cloud? She put the files away with a wave. The agent withdrew, and moments later Xie Yu came storming in. Dropping her solemn air, Xie Wei offered a dignified smile. “What’s the trouble between you lovebirds this time?” “He’s still training!” Xie Yu fumed. “I told him our big brother will be back this afternoon. He said he knew, but this morning he went into seclusion anyway. And not the kind you can unlock from the outside!” She clenched a tiny fist. “I could just punch him.” Original content can be found at novel⚑fire.net Xie Wei’s eyes twinkled. From her agents’ reports she already knew. Li Yuan hadn’t merely avoided the main gate; he hadn’t even stepped out of his practice room. He was a total martial fanatic, almost kindred spirits with the eldest son of the Xie Clan. “When our big brother gets home, I bet he’ll smash the secret chamber door. I don’t even know what to do,” Xie Yu fretted, pacing back and forth with a gloomy look on her face. “Have you two… ?” Xie Wei suddenly asked. “Have we what…?” Xie Yu replied, stunned. Her sister gestured meaningfully with her index finger and a circle. “N-no!” Xie Yu blanched and shook her head. A frown crept over Xie Wei’s face. “Then I’ll have a word with him. A son‑in‑law of the Xie Clan who neglects his duties, how can he treat you so?” “Please, Big Sister, don’t—” Xie Yu hesitated, then sighed. “He’s just…terribly single‑minded. He thought up a new training method and fell into it head‑first. I can wait. Besides, the method sounds fascinating; I’ve been pondering it myself.” She repeated Li Yuan’s explanation. Even Xie Wei, as head of the Ocean Province shadow guard and no stranger to marvels, found the notion of tempering the soul with skill downright bizarre. In this world, power was rooted in cultivating source blood—energy beyond shadow blood precisely because it harmonized with the ancestral seal, shedding its shadow to become the primal source. A fourth rank martial artist merely expanded that blood energy from the body to a wider domain. And yet Li Yuan seemed determined to blaze an entirely new trail… “Hone the soul with pure skill? And what sort of soul do you expect to forge?” “Without source blood to anchor it, won’t that soul be just a stray ghost, useful for nothing?” “Little Sister, have a word with him,” Xie Wei urged. “Before he really loses himself. This tempering the soul through skill is a bit…off the orthodox path.” Xie Yu nodded. “When our big brother gets here this afternoon, I’ll try to talk him round.” The afternoon came. Yet Xie Feng did not. He had promised, then failed to show up. Xie Yu stared at one broken appointment and one husband who had locked himself away despite knowing his brother‑in‑law was due. At length she muttered, “Those two really are in sync.” Inside the secret chamber, Li Yuan cultivated in silence. He had been in the Xie residence scarcely ten days, yet the undercurrents were already plain. He observed a military governor pretending to be mad, snide relatives at the wedding feast, a patriarch enthroned somewhere in the depths, and a battle obsessed brother‑in‑law who commanded 30,000 cavalry. Whatever the truth, danger swirled beneath the courtyard calm, and Li Yuan felt it was best not to stir the pot. Conveniently, his reputation as a martial fanatic let him bow out of all the intrigue. He would stay here, refine his insights, and wait for the emperor to summon him. Whenever Li Yuan could spare the focus, he used the eyes he’d left behind in Gemhill County to survey the wider world. Through that caged songbird he learned at least the general lay of the land. By night, the fog carried more and more roars from exotic beasts. Among the late‑night passers‑by, odd shadows crept. By Li Yuan’s reckoning, the Bladeseekers would begin mass‑producing sixth ranks within two or three years. When that happened, the surge of exotic beasts and the completion of the ghost cavalry would bring the sky crashing down.