Chapter 125: Rumors In The City

Lying flat on his back atop the cold stone platform, wrapped loosely in Song Heng’s thick outer guard robe, Lu Feng was completely fast asleep. The grueling, night-long battle against the ravenous Primal Chaos Bead had drained every drop of his physical stamina and mental energy. He slept deeply, his body slowly recovering from the brutal ordeal under the soothing morning light.

Outside his secluded hall, the rest of the estate was already buzzing with daily activity.

Bai Bao was at the eastern courtyard, his bare chest glistening with sweat as he went through his morning martial drills, his heavy training sabre whistling sharply through the air. In the underground cellar beneath the guard house, the two bound Iron Fang captives remained tightly secured, monitored with strict vigilance.

Near the main kitchen building, the pleasant, rich aroma of simmered broth and steaming rice drifted through the air. Han Lin was busy arranging the household, setting everything in pristine order as she usually did along with the girls and Aunt Gao. However, as the morning progressed toward noon, a faint trace of worry began to settle between her fine brows.

Usually, Lu Feng was awake long before the morning sun reached its peak, either walking through the quiet garden paths or reviewing the estate’s finances in his study. Yet today, despite the sun approaching the center of the sky, her young master had not made a single appearance, nor had he requested his morning tea.

Holding a round wood tray laden with a fresh pot of steaming green tea and a delicate bowl of rice porridge, Han Lin walked gracefully down the polished wooden corridor leading toward the western training pavilion.

As she rounded the corner near the bamboo grove, she immediately spotted a tall, broad-shouldered figure standing like an unyielding iron statue directly before the heavy wooden doors of the training hall.

Song Heng stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his hand resting within an inch of his sabre hilt, his sharp gaze carefully scanning the surrounding courtyard.

Han Lin slowed her steps as she approached, her soft cloth shoes making almost no sound against the stone path. "Brother Song," she greeted gently, bowing her head slightly. "Is Young Master Lu inside? I have prepared his meal, but he has not stepped out of his quarters all morning."

Song Heng turned his head, his stern expression softening slightly as he looked at the young maid. He raised a single hand in a firm, stopping gesture, motioning for her to keep her voice down.

"Mistress Han Lin," Song Heng spoke in a low, disciplined rumble, keeping his tone hushed so as not to disturb the interior of the hall. "Young Master Lu is currently cooped up in private, closed-door seclusion inside the pavilion. He is in the middle of a crucial stage in his cultivation and has explicitly stated that he is not to be disturbed by anyone until he decides to step out on his own."

Han Lin blinked, her dark eyes flashing with surprise as she glanced at the tightly shut wooden doors. "Closed-door seclusion? But he didn’t mention anything about entering prolonged seclusion when I spoke with him yesterday..."

"It was an abrupt decision, but a vital one," Song Heng explained solemnly, his posture remaining rigid. "I was on duty late last night when a massive surge of spiritual force detonated inside the hall. Fearing that an enemy had breached our perimeter, I made the grave error of slamming open the doors and barging inside without waiting for his command."

Han Lin gasped softly, her hand moving up to cover her lips. "You interrupted his cultivation?"

"I did," Song Heng admitted, a look of lingering guilt passing through his eyes. "In any other major clan, barging into a master’s closed-door seclusion is a severe offense—one that often results in harsh punishment or immediate execution. Yet, Young Master Lu showed me immense mercy and grace. He not only pardoned my rashness completely, but he also thanked me for checking on his safety so quickly."

Song Heng’s eyes burned with an intense, fierce loyalty as he looked back at the heavy iron-studded doors.

"Because of his kindness, I am personally ensuring that no one else in this estate makes the same foolish mistake I made last night," Song Heng continued firmly. "Not a single soul shall set foot inside that hall, nor shall any loud noise disturb his peace, until the Young Master steps out of those doors with his own two feet. Please, take the tea back for now, Mistress Han Lin."

Han Lin looked at Song Heng’s unyielding stance, then back at the silent training pavilion. A faint, soft smile touched her lips, her initial worry fading into a sense of deep comfort. Seeing how fiercely loyal the guards had become toward Lu Feng reassured her that the estate was truly safe.

"I understand, Brother Song," Han Lin said quietly, adjusting the wooden tray in her hands. "I will keep the food warm in the kitchen. Please let me know the moment Young Master Lu concludes his training."

Song Heng gave her a respectful node. "I will."

With a soft bow, Han Lin turned and walked back toward the main living quarters, leaving Song Heng standing guard like an impenetrable wall under the scorching midday sun.

While absolute tranquility reigned over the estate, the rest of Crimson Vale was in the grips of a roaring, chaotic storm of rumors.

By noon, the detailed events of the private sales event held at the Treasury Pavilion had seeped out from behind the heavy silk privacy screens and spread like wildfire throughout every corner of the city.

It was no longer just the prominent family leaders and merchant lords discussing the matter behind closed doors. The sheer magnitude of what had transpired yesterday afternoon was simply too massive to keep secret.

In the bustling upper district, inside the luxurious tea houses and high-end spirit taverns where wealthy cultivators gathered, every single conversation revolved around a single topic—the pills from the previous auction.

"Have you heard?!" a mid-ranking elder from a local merchant family whispered excitedly to his companions over a table laden with fine wine. "Lin Laifu hosted a private auction yesterday! Six vials of different pills were sold, and the total price exceeded one hundred and fifty thousand gold coins!"

"One hundred and fifty thousand?!" his companion nearly choked on his tea, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief. "Are you mad? That is enough wealth to buy an entire commercial block in the central district! What kind of pills could possibly fetch such an absurd price?"

"Pills with purity levels exceeding seventy-five percent!" the elder declared proudly, leaning in closer. "Very little lingering pill toxins! A renowned Pill Expert personally verified the fragrance—just inhaling the lingering aroma was enough to accelerate the circulation of his meridians!"

Similar shockwaves rippled through every major power in Crimson Vale.

In the inner court of the City Lord’s estate, high-ranking administrators were hurriedly reviewing financial logs, trying to figure out which grand family had mobilized such vast sums of spirit stones. Within the territorial halls of the major martial sects, senior elders held emergency meetings, furious that their own alchemists were incapable of producing anything above eighty percent purity.

Because Lin Laifu kept the true origin of the pills strictly classified under high-level confidentiality agreements, the public’s ignorance quickly gave birth to wild, sensational theories.

By the time afternoon arrived, the rumors had taken on a life of their own in the crowded streets and market squares.

"I heard it from a servant who works inside the Treasury Pavilion!" a rogue thug shouted excitedly to a crowd gathered near a weapon shop. "It wasn’t a local supplier at all! A reclusive Alchemic Grandmaster from a sect has quietly arrived in Crimson Vale!"

"No, you have it all wrong!" a stray merchant countered immediately. "My uncle works near the northern gates! He saw an elderly, white-haired Daoist riding a spiritual crane entering the city late three nights ago! It must be an ancient hermit who came down from the high mountains to refine pills in secret!"

"Whatever the truth is, this hidden Pill Master is an absolute monster!" another chimed in with awe. "To refine seventy-five percent pure pills with very little residual toxin... if any clan manages to earn his favor or secure his exclusive supply, they could easily rise to dominate the entire Crimson Vale within five years!"

Deep beneath the city streets, inside the shadow-draped hideouts of the Iron Fang Gang, the rampant rumors only served to fan the flames of ruthless greed.

White Horse sat in his dark, iron-studded chamber, listening to his scouts report the wild theories circulating through the upper district. While the common folk babbled mindlessly about white-haired hermits and grandmasters riding spiritual cranes, White Horse’s cold, scarred face remained entirely unreadable.

He didn’t care if the supplier was an ancient hermit or a traveling grandmaster. All he knew was that a massive river of wealth had just poured into the city—and his eyes were still locked firmly on the young, quiet master residing in the newly acquired estate.