Chapter Thirty-One: Lin Fengtian

The news of his departure from the City Lord’s Manor spread through Divine Wind City in an instant. Unbeknownst to him, he had already become the focus of countless cultivators; every slight movement on his part could now trigger a sizable commotion.

“Shopkeeper Lu, may I ask what business the City Lord had with you?”

Tu Lu had not yet returned to the Inscription Workshop when a middle-aged cultivator stepped forward, questioning him.

He glanced at the man and immediately understood. If his expectations were correct, this man was among those awaiting inscription today—no wonder he seemed so anxious.

“Starting tomorrow, Master will be inscribing for the City Lord, and the workshop’s business will be suspended for now,” Tu Lu announced, casting his gaze not only at the man but also at the other cultivators openly and covertly observing him, then sighed.

But the moment he finished speaking, a hush fell over the crowd before an uproar erupted.

“Master’s skills are unmatched; surely it won’t take long, will it?” the man asked nervously.

But Tu Lu shook his head. “It’s hard to say. The City Lord’s request is for inscribing a set of true treasures, not mere magical implements—this is no simple task. The workshop’s business won’t resume anytime soon.”

With that, he ignored the stunned middle-aged cultivator and proceeded toward the workshop.

He needed to familiarize himself with the Nine-Dragon Pattern, and he had no idea how much it would cost to forge a set of such treasures. Even with nearly fifty thousand Thunder Stones in his possession, he felt no sense of security.

He planned to sell some surplus pills and magical tools to Heavenly Dragon Pavilion in exchange for more Thunder Stones. He also needed to purchase some pills to restore his spiritual power, refine the two wood-element avatars, and further cultivate to break through his current realm...

As he pondered these matters, he walked quickly to the workshop. He had too much to do and no time to waste on idle chatter with others.

Yet just as he stepped inside, an uninvited guest arrived.

Though the man had disguised himself well—his concealment technique was quite skillful—any Nascent Soul cultivator would instantly recognize him: Lin Fengtian.

“Cursed witch! Not only did she seal my cultivation, she half-destroyed my treasure. If not for that, with my strength, even if I couldn’t break the Divine Wind City’s formation outright, opening a small portal to escape would be child’s play!”

He gritted his teeth as he approached the workshop.

After awakening in the slums, he had tried countless methods, expending even the secret arts that consumed his Nascent Soul’s essence, but the seal remained unbroken. He had even performed the Lin Family’s blood sacrifice ritual from Azure Profound Prefecture, sacrificing thousands of commoners, yet it had no effect.

His cultivation was firmly sealed, his treasure half-ruined, unable to contain blood fiend energy for more than a brief burst at the threshold of the Nascent Soul realm—hardly enough power to open a gateway and flee Divine Wind City!

But lately, he’d heard of an inscription master in the city with an almost perfect success rate. This gave him an idea.

His treasure wasn’t completely destroyed—it could still be strengthened for a short time, but the duration and explosiveness were inadequate for escape. If he could have it inscribed, perhaps he could muster enough strength to breach the city’s restriction and slip away!

He had considered other means, such as joining the ranks of cultivators defending against the beast tide and leaving during the chaos. With his strength, unless he ran into a primal beast head-on, he’d be in no danger.

But that plan was doomed—leaving the city required a soul contract, a binding agreement of immense power. With his current cultivation sealed, he had no way to dispel such a contract. Should he escape, even if he survived the contract’s backlash and returned to Azure Profound Prefecture, his soul would suffer irreparable damage.

Absolutely unacceptable!

A murderous gleam flashed in his eyes as he shoved through the crowd and stormed into the workshop.

“Sir, the inscription workshop is closed today, and temporarily—”

“Out of my way!”

Before Xiao Dong could finish, Lin Fengtian sent him flying with a slap.

“Where is the inscription master?!”

He strode into the rear courtyard, shouting.

“What’s going on?” Tu Lu hurried out from a small room, frowning as his gaze fell on Xiao Dong’s battered figure.

“You’re the workshop’s inscription master?” Lin Fengtian demanded.

“No, I’m the shopkeeper. The master prefers not to meet with clients. If you have business, speak to me,” Tu Lu replied, drawing a deep breath, his expression dark.

Lin Fengtian snorted, unconcerned with Tu Lu’s attitude, and tossed a pair of blood-red gloves into his hands. “It doesn’t matter who! You have three days. Inscribe these gloves with the Eight-Blood Curse Sigil. Three days from now, I’ll return. Succeed, and you’ll be rewarded with thirty thousand Thunder Stones. Fail, and neither you nor this workshop need exist.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out, never once allowing Tu Lu a word in reply.

Tu Lu was so incensed his nose nearly twisted in rage.

Though this middle-aged cultivator was at the peak of the Sea-Filling realm, his arrogance was intolerable. Even a dog’s owner is owed respect—Tu Lu despised nothing more than threats. Gongsun Yan’s demands he could not resist, but at least she offered compensation. This mere Sea-Filling peak dared act so brazenly?

“Inscribe for you? Dream on!” Tu Lu sneered.

Just a Sea-Filling peak—he might not be able to deal with him for now, but that didn’t mean he was afraid. Once he completed his two wood-element avatars and broke through in cultivation, with the absolute defense of the Heavenly Dragon Order and the terrifying power of the red orb, who could say who would prevail?

At worst, he could seek refuge in the City Lord’s Manor. He didn’t believe some Sea-Filling cultivator would dare threaten him there.

As for the Eight-Blood Curse Sigil—he knew all about it. The introductory treatise on inscription arts described it in detail. Though a basic rune, it belonged to the demonic path, with infamous ingredients: the blood essence of children.

That was a rune he would never use, even if he could.

“Master...”

At that moment, Xiao Dong, his face bruised and swollen, limped over.

Seeing his pitiful state, Tu Lu frowned and handed him a Thunder Stone. “You’ve done well. Go out and buy some things with Xiao Ci.”

“Master, are you planning to dismiss us?” Xiao Dong asked nervously.

“Where did you get that idea?” Tu Lu glared at him. “Who would care for Little Cai if I dismissed you? The City Lord’s people aren’t trustworthy. I want you and Xiao Ci to come with me to the City Lord’s Manor tomorrow. For now, go relax.”

“Thank you... thank you, Master!” Xiao Dong stammered with gratitude, accepted the Thunder Stone, and scurried off.

Tu Lu narrowed his eyes, about to begin his seclusion, when yet another visitor arrived—one who gave him a true headache.

“Fellow Daoist Lu, I didn’t expect the City Lord to invite your master to inscribe. Congratulations!” Zhao Yuyang entered with a gentle smile, alone this time, without Hu Tu.

Tu Lu frowned. He was busy enough already—why did everyone have to come today?