Void Veins: The Forbidden Ascension

Chapter 5: Leaving the Gilded Cage

The sun sank below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and grey. Lin Ye stood at the main gate of the Lin Family Estate, clutching a small bundle of his few belongings—a change of clothes, his kitchen knife now honed to a razor edge, and a handful of cheap herbal pills he’d swiped from the medicine storehouse during the ceremony’s commotion. No one wept as he left. No one said goodbye. He was a forgotten ghost, and that suited him perfectly.

 Beyond the gates, the mortal world stretched out before him. Qinghe City lay three li away—a regional trading hub where low-level cultivators, merchants, and ordinary folk mingled freely. It was a place where clan laws held no sway, and where true strength—not bloodline—was the only currency that mattered.

 “A fine first step,” Mo Yuan remarked in his mind, his voice echoing with dry amusement. “You’ve cast off unnecessary chains. Now you’re free to build your foundation without scrutiny, without clan politics, without expectations. But remember: freedom means no protection. In the mortal city, you’ll meet rogue cultivators, bandits, cunning merchants, and perhaps agents of other sects. Be on your guard.”

 “I understand,” Lin Ye replied silently, striding along the dirt road toward the city. His steps were light, his energy steady. Abyssal Initiate Stage One had gifted him stamina far beyond any mortal; he could walk for hours without fatigue, his body humming with latent power.

 His first goal: the Qinghe Black Market. He needed information, basic supplies for his cultivation, and most of all—money. Coin made the mortal world turn, and he already had a plan to earn it.

 Upon reaching the city, he did not head straight for the market. Instead, he visited a small pawnshop on the city’s edge. Inside, he sold a fake jade necklace he’d crafted the night before using basic illusion techniques Mo Yuan had taught him. To the untrained eye, it looked like a low-grade artifact pulsing with faint spiritual energy. In truth, it was ordinary stone cloaked in a delicate veil of deception. The pawnbroker—a fat man with shrewd, greedy eyes—bought it for a modest sum, convinced he’d struck the bargain of a lifetime.

 Lin Ye accepted the silver with a face of wide, grateful innocence, bowing slightly as he departed. Once outside, a cold smile touched his lips. That small deception was never just about money. It was practice. Practice in weaving illusions, in reading people, in manipulating perception. Skills worth infinitely more than the silver itself.

 With coin in hand, he made for the Black Market, hidden behind an old teahouse down a narrow, reeking alley. The password was easy enough to learn through observation: three knocks, a pause, then two more. The hidden door swung open, revealing steep stairs leading down into the underground.

 The Qinghe Black Market was a bustling, dangerous hive. Dim qi lantern light illuminated stalls selling everything imaginable: pills of dubious origin, weapons stained with old blood, artifacts of unknown power, secrets, and even assassins for hire. An air of mistrust and sharp vigilance hung thick as fog.

 Lin Ye moved carefully, still wearing the guise of a timid, ordinary mortal—but his senses were fully alert, scanning the shadows. He sensed several Qi Condensation Stage 2–3 cultivators patrolling the area, their auras rough and unrefined. And then, he felt it: one figure with a far stronger aura—likely Stage 5 or 6—sitting quietly in a corner, sipping tea. That one was dangerous. Lin Ye marked the man in his mind, storing the impression of his presence, then turned his attention elsewhere.

 He found a stall selling basic alchemical ingredients and secondhand journals. The owner was a middle-aged woman with keen eyes and hands crisscrossed with old scars. She asked few questions as he bought several yin-type herbs and a tattered book titled Poison Master Liu’s Daily Records. Its pages were torn and worn, smelling of mildew, but its contents were priceless: poison formulas, antidotes, and methods for extracting toxic essences from beasts.

 “A worthy investment,” Mo Yuan approved. “Poison is the favored tool of the Demon Path cultivator. It does not require brute strength—only knowledge and precision. As for that book… its previous owner may have perished by their own creation, but their knowledge is yours now.”

 Lin Ye paid, concealed his purchases beneath his tunic, and turned to leave. But as he moved away, he felt it—a gaze. Sharp, assessing, and… interested.

 He turned slowly. The powerful man from the corner was now standing, his eyes fixed intently on him. Not on his face—but on the way he walked. The way he held his bundle. The quiet, unnatural composure beneath his mortal disguise.

 “Young mortal,” the man said. His voice was soft as silk, yet carried a subtle, pressing weight of cultivated qi that made the air around them feel heavy. “You are no ordinary mortal. I can smell it on you. The scent of… something different. Something that does not belong here.”

 Lin Ye’s heart hammered against his ribs, a primal warning, but his face remained open, fearful, innocent. “Sir… I am but a simple buyer. I know not what you mean.”

 The man offered a thin smile—one that never reached his cold, dark eyes. “Do not lie to me. I value honesty far more than cleverness. I am Shen Kui. I seek those with… unique potential. Those unshackled by orthodox rules. You may find my proposition of interest.”

 He tossed a small token toward Lin Ye. It landed perfectly in his palm—neither too hard nor too soft. Control over qi of that caliber was extraordinary.

 “If you wish to learn more, come to the Crescent Moon Teahouse tomorrow night. The password: ‘The night wind brings tidings from the abyss.’ Do not be late. And do not think of following me now. You would not enjoy it.”

 Shen Kui turned and vanished into the crowded market, slipping through the gaps in the crowd as if he had never been there at all.

 Lin Ye clutched the token, his fingers tightening around its cool surface. The game had just become far more complicated.