Elder Yin’s face was a mask of calculated subservience, a veneer barely concealing the terror that still churned in his gut. His voice, once resonant with the authority of an Ashencloud Elder, was now a reedy thing, laced with forced deference. “The Blackwood Auction, my lord,” Yin began, head bowed low. “It is not a fixed location. A shadow event, held every three cycles in a different, forgotten corner of the Tianxia wastes. This cycle, it convenes in the abandoned ruins of the Jadefang Citadel, near the Whispering Peaks.” Jianli listened, his expression unreadable. He sat on a plain wooden stool, a stark contrast to the opulent furnishings Elder Yin had once enjoyed. “Tell me about the items. Specifically, those related to core fragments or ancestral essences.” “The primary draw this time is rumored to be a remnant of an immortal pillar,” Yin continued, his voice regaining a touch of his former gravitas as he spoke of something genuinely valuable. “Extremely rare. Many factions are vying for it. Beyond that, there will be potent medicinal herbs, rare concoction formulae, and captured beast souls. The currency is jade crystals, or items of equivalent worth. Entry requires an invitation token, which I… possess.” Jianli nodded slowly. An immortal core shard. It could not be a coincidence. He had seen the way the jade slip pulsed, drawing the Shadowmire and, later, Zhaohui. He knew what they were trading: remnants ripped from his ruined meridian seat. A cold, steady wrath settled behind his ribs. “Give me the token,” Jianli ordered. “And details on the security. Who are the primary bidders? Who oversees the event?” Yin produced a dark, intricately carved obsidian token from his robe. “The security is handled by the gathering's benefactors. The Crimson Veins Syndicate, primarily. But the true power behind it, the one who oversees the sales, is an officer from the Empyrean Guard. Commander Jiao Lei. A formidable warrior, known for his ruthlessness and avarice. He is Zhaohui’s immediate superior.” A faint ripple, almost imperceptible, crossed Jianli’s features. This was better than he had hoped. To find two birds with one stone, and to expose the rot so high up, was a pleasing development. He already knew Zhaohui was investigating illicit trade. This would force her hand, perhaps even break her resolve, but it would also reveal the true depths of the conspiracy. “Prepare a disguise,” Jianli instructed. “Something unremarkable. I will go as an obscure herbalist looking for rare ingredients. As for payment… I will bring my own.” Jianli spent the next day preparing. He crafted a simple mask, woven from gossamer thread and infused with a low-level illusion array that subtly altered his facial structure and bone density, making him appear a decade older, his figure slightly stooped. He donned plain grey robes, discarding any semblance of the Xun Clan’s finery. His Qi signature, usually a controlled, frigid expanse, was suppressed to mimic that of a low-tier mortal initiate, a level that would grant him entry but attract no undue attention. He also spent time in his cave, using a small, perfectly calibrated brass furnace, a relic he had retrieved from his past life’s hidden stores. He was not forging jade tokens, but something far more potent. Hours later, an iridescent pill rested in his palm. It hummed with contained energy, radiating an aroma that was both subtle and overwhelmingly profound. A Dewdrop Restoration Pill, but refined to a degree that transcended any known grade in this realm. A flawless creation, capable of mending meridians and restoring Qi flow in ways thought impossible. A singular remedy that could rewrite a practitioner’s destiny. The Jadefang Citadel was a skeleton of fractured white stone, perched on a desolate plateau beneath the jagged peaks. Within its crumbling walls, however, a temporary structure had been erected – a grand, opulent hall lit by glowing phosphor lamps. Guards in dark, unadorned armor stood sentry at the entrance, hands resting on bare blades. Jianli presented the obsidian token. The guard scanned it, then his disguised form, before waving him through with a grunt. Inside, the air thrummed with suppressed pressure. Wealthy merchants, clan elders, and cloaked figures moved through the ornate hall, eyes darting to appraise every stranger. Jianli moved like a ghost, his presence so muted that he seemed part of the shadows. He scanned the faces, searching for anyone who might have played a part in his downfall. Then he saw her. Lian Zhaohui. She wore the muted, dark blue uniform of the Empyrean Guard, though without the insignia of a captain. Her usual keen gaze swept the room, not for him, but for anomalies, for signs of the illicit trade she hunted. She was not disguised, her presence a beacon of righteous severity in the shadowy gathering. She was here on duty, unaware of the trap that was about to spring. Their eyes met across the crowded hall. Her brow furrowed, a flicker of suspicion igniting in her gaze. Jianli, though disguised, still carried a certain coldness, a subtle control of Qi that was uniquely his. Zhaohui, despite her initial confusion, felt a strange pull, a recognition that transcended the simple illusion. She didn't know *who* he was, but she knew this was no ordinary, stooped alchemist. Her hand unconsciously drifted to the hilt of her gleaming sword. Jianli offered no reaction, his masked face impassive, yet tension pulled taut across the flagstones between them. The bidding commenced. Item after item passed, each eliciting offers in staggering sums of mineral currency. Jianli paid them no mind, his focus absolute. He waited. Finally, a hushed anticipation fell over the room as a velvet-draped pedestal was wheeled onto the stage. The man at the rostrum stepped forward, tall and broad-shouldered, with a hawkish nose and cold ambition in his gaze. His dark, polished armor bore the distinct emblem of a high-ranking Empyrean Guard officer. It was Commander Jiao Lei. Zhaohui stiffened, her gaze narrowing at her superior. She had suspected, but to see him here, openly presiding over such an event, was a betrayal that must have stung deep. Jiao Lei’s voice boomed through the hall, rich with resonant force. “And now, for the crown jewel of this evening’s offerings! A piece of an ascended sovereign's core! The very essence of higher realms, capable of propelling even the most stagnant martial path forward by centuries! Bid high, for such an opportunity may not arise again for millennia!” With a flourish, he swept the velvet cloth away. On the pedestal, encased in a shimmering stasis array, was a shard of pure, ethereal light. It pulsed faintly, radiating an ancient, primordial power. Jianli felt a strange ache in his chest, a ghost of a sensation from a life long past. It was undeniably a sliver of his ruptured soul-seat, though diminished, corrupted by their grasp. A frenzy erupted. Bids soared, each one eclipsing the last. Tens of thousands of high-grade gems were called out across the floor. Greed sharpened the room's tone. Zhaohui watched, her face pale, the plain evidence of her superior’s corruption settling upon her shoulders. Her loyalties were fracturing, torn between duty and the truth before her. Jiao Lei, a smug grin on his face, paused, allowing the offers to reach an apex. “Do I hear any further offers? Fifty thousand high-grade gems! A truly magnificent sum!” A quiet, clear voice cut through the cacophony. Jianli, still seated in the shadows, raised a single, gloved hand. “I offer one pill,” he stated, his voice calm, yet carrying a weight that silenced the room. “A Dewdrop Restoration Pill of flawless grade. It will mend torn meridians, restore depleted Qi, and elevate one’s talent to levels previously unimaginable. Consider it equivalent to one hundred thousand top-tier gems, or more, depending on the recipient’s need.” The declaration caused an immediate riot. Gasps, then shouts of disbelief, erupted from the floor. A flawless Dewdrop Restoration Pill? Such a thing was a legend. Most pill-masters struggled to create even low-grade variants. To produce a flawless one was to challenge the very heavens. “A pill?!” Jiao Lei scoffed, his eyes narrowing, his initial amusement turning to irritation. “Do you mock this assembly, old man? Such claims are ludicrous!” Jianli, unperturbed, held up the iridescent pill between two fingers. Its radiant glow captivated every eye. A faint, sweet aroma, impossibly pure, wafted through the hall, instantly calming frayed nerves and invigorating fatigued bodies. Even the powerful cultivators present felt a subtle shift, a sudden clarity in their senses. “Lies cannot hold this aura, Commander,” a grizzled elder from the front row rasped, his eyes wide with covetousness. “That… that is real. A true heaven-grade elixir!” The hall erupted into chaos. Patrons surged forward, abandoning their previous calls, clamoring for the medicine. Their greed, once focused on the luminescent shard, now fixated on the unprecedented concoction. Guards struggled to maintain order as seasoned masters, usually composed, devolved into a brawling mob, each desperate to possess the miraculous cure. Zhaohui watched, stunned, recognizing the cold, precise control that emanated from the disguised Jianli. He had just stolen the entire gathering, not with brute force, but with one perfectly crafted sphere. Jiao Lei’s face contorted in fury. His grand sale, his carefully orchestrated display of power, had been reduced to a farce by an unknown, unassuming old man. The value of his glowing relic paled in comparison to the clamor for the pill. His eyes swept the floor, finally locking onto Jianli, whose gaze remained impassive. “LOCK THE GATES!” Jiao Lei roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the hall. “NO ONE LEAVES UNTIL THAT PILL-MAKER IS FOUND!”