Fang Lin did not go to Venerated Black Tortoise Mountain.
That thought had never truly settled in his mind.
The clue pointed there, but a clue was not an invitation. Venerated Black Tortoise Mountain was a major power of the Demon Immortal Continent. With Fang Lin's current strength, going there openly would be no different from walking into a dragon's cave while pretending the dragon would not smell blood.
He had gained the old vitality leaf. He had learned the Black Mountain Suppression Art. He knew of Turtleback Station, the Old Root Storehouse, and the connection between Black Mountain Gate and Venerated Black Tortoise Mountain.
That was enough for now.
His strength was far from enough to touch the source.
If he appeared at Venerated Black Tortoise Mountain too early, someone would notice. A stranger asking about old vitality leaves, ancient resource batches, or the Old Root Storehouse would be remembered. Fang Lin had survived this long because he knew when to reach and when to wait.
So he turned back toward Rivercloud City.
He circled through mountain paths, changed his face twice, washed away the faint Black Mountain Gate aura from his body, and buried Luo Cheng's elder token deep inside his storage treasure. By the time he approached Rivercloud City again, he no longer looked like Elder Luo Cheng, Elder Wei Shanzhu, or the cold sword cultivator from the Demon Sealing Ruins.
He looked like a middle-aged rogue cultivator with a tired face, plain grey robes, and a dull iron blade at his waist.
His aura was suppressed to Middle Qi Conjunction Realm.
Not too weak.
Not too strong.
In Rivercloud City, there were thousands of Qi Conjunction cultivators. A Middle Qi Conjunction rogue cultivator was like a stone thrown into a river. It might make a ripple for a breath, then vanish beneath the current.
That was exactly what Fang Lin wanted.
Rivercloud City stood between river mist and mountain shadow.
The city was not small. From a distance, its outer walls stretched across the land like a grey beast resting beside the river. Tall watchtowers rose at intervals, and green-white banners bearing the leaf emblem of the Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect fluttered above the main gates.
The three Rivercloud sects stood around the region in a triangular arrangement.
River Sword Sect occupied the eastern side, near the wide river cliffs where silver mist gathered in the mornings.
Crimson Flame Hall stood to the southwest, built near red stone hills where heat rose even during cold nights.
Black Mountain Gate guarded the northwest, hidden among dark mountains and heavy stone ridges.
Rivercloud City stood near the center of their influence, while the Demon Sealing Ruins lay not far beyond the outer valleys. The city and the ruins were close enough that news from one could disturb the other within a single day.
But Rivercloud City did not belong to the three sects.
That was something many wandering cultivators misunderstood.
The three sects guarded the city. They controlled patrols, gates, local disputes, and several resource routes. They had influence, shops, disciples, informants, and hidden hands in many places.
But they did not own the city.
Cities generated enormous revenue. Taxes, trade fees, auction profits, residence rentals, pill markets, transportation formations, brothels, restaurants, weapon stores, beast markets, and cultivation chambers all produced spirit stones day and night.
On the Demon Immortal Continent, cities belonged to major powers.
Rivercloud City belonged to the Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect.
The three Rivercloud sects were only guards and managers beneath a larger shadow.
That was also why the unknown senior from the Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect had been able to stop the massacre outside the Demon Sealing Ruins with only a few words. The three sects could bare their teeth at wandering cultivators, but before the true owner of the city, they had to lower their heads.
Fang Lin stood among the crowd outside the southern gate and looked up at the fluttering green-white banners.
His expression remained dull, but inside, his thoughts moved quietly.
"The city belongs to Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect."
That made Rivercloud City dangerous.
But also useful.
The three sects could not openly search every cultivator without reason. They could not drag thousands of Qi Conjunction cultivators into interrogation chambers while Thousand Leaf eyes watched from above. They could scheme, threaten, and hunt in alleys, but they still needed excuses.
Excuses took time.
Time was something Fang Lin could use.
The gate line moved slowly.
Merchants pushed carts filled with beast hides, herbs, ore fragments, and sealed jars. Wandering cultivators waited with impatient faces. A few young disciples in sect robes moved through a side entrance, their chins raised slightly as if the road itself owed them respect.
A fat merchant ahead of Fang Lin wiped sweat from his forehead and complained, "Inspection again? Every few days, inspection. If they keep delaying carts, my spirit herbs will become soup before reaching the market."
A female cultivator beside him laughed softly. She wore pale blue robes, carried a short flute at her waist, and had the relaxed posture of someone who had seen too many city gates to fear them.
"If your spirit herbs become soup, sell them to a restaurant. Cultivators will buy anything if you call it medicinal."
The fat merchant paused.
Then his eyes brightened.
"That is actually not bad."
The woman blinked, then sighed. "I was mocking you."
"I accept useful mockery."
Several people nearby chuckled.
Fang Lin's mouth almost curved, but he suppressed it.
Rivercloud City had not changed. Beneath danger, greed, fear, and schemes, people still lived their noisy little lives.
Soon, Fang Lin reached the gate.
A Black Mountain Gate guard glanced at him, then at the entry fee.
"One low-grade spirit stone."
Fang Lin handed it over without complaint.
The guard checked his aura briefly. "Name?"
"Chen Yuan," Fang Lin said.
"Origin?"
"Rogue cultivator. Came from the southern hills."
"Purpose?"
"Rent a place. Recover. Look for small missions."
The guard's eyes passed over him and lost interest.
Middle Qi Conjunction.
Plain robes.
No sect token.
No obvious wealth.
No reason to care.
"Enter."
Fang Lin cupped his hands and walked into Rivercloud City.
Noise swallowed him at once.
Wide stone streets stretched in several directions. Shops stood shoulder to shoulder, their signboards carved from wood, jade, iron, or painted stone. Above the streets, colored lanterns hung between buildings, some marked with formation runes that glowed even in daylight.
There were pill pavilions with bronze furnaces carved above their doors.
Weapon stores displaying swords, sabers, spears, bows, shields, and spiritual weapon fragments.
Talisman shops with yellow papers, jade charms, and beast-blood ink sealed behind glass.
Beast halls where low-level spirit beasts were bought, sold, or rented for travel.
Formation houses offering protective arrays, tracking disks, concealment flags, and cultivation chamber formations.
There were also restaurants several stories tall, their windows open to the street, where cultivators drank spirit wine and argued over rumors. Fragrance drifted from kitchens: roasted beast meat, medicinal soups, steamed river fish, and spirit rice cooked with herbs.
Farther ahead stood a zither pavilion beside a lotus pond. Music flowed from the upper floor, clear and soft, calming the noise of the street for anyone who passed nearby. Several young cultivators lingered outside, pretending to admire the pond while clearly hoping to see the musicians.
Across another street, red lanterns hung from a tall pleasure house. Women in silk robes leaned near carved windows, their laughter light and practiced. Some wore white, some black, some deep purple, each color chosen to match charm, mystery, innocence, or danger. Fang Lin glanced once and moved on.
Beside it was a gambling hall.
Beside that, a tea house.
Beside that, an information pavilion with a black crane emblem.
Rivercloud City had everything a cultivator might need.
And many things a cultivator absolutely did not need but would still pay for.
Huge mansions occupied the inner districts. Some belonged to merchant clans. Some to alchemy families. Some to guest elders from regional forces. Their gates were guarded by armored servants, and their walls were reinforced with formations.
The closer one went to the center, the cleaner the streets became.
The more expensive the air felt.
Fang Lin did not go there.
He remained in the outer western district, where rogue cultivators, minor merchants, and low-level disciples mixed freely. The buildings here were older, the streets narrower, and the guards less interested unless someone died loudly.
After half an hour, he found a residence office.
The clerk inside was a thin woman in yellow robes, around thirty years old, with sharp eyes and a smile that weighed people like merchandise.
"Short stay or long stay?" she asked.
"One month," Fang Lin said.
"What kind of room?"
"Quiet. Cheap. With a basic formation."
The woman looked at him once. Middle Qi Conjunction. Plain clothes. Tired expression.
Her smile became professional rather than warm.
"Outer western district. Small courtyard. One room, one cultivation chamber, one washing room. Basic sound-blocking formation. No defensive formation. Thirty low-grade spirit stones per month."
Fang Lin frowned slightly, like a poor rogue cultivator hearing a painful price.
"Too expensive."
The woman's smile did not move. "Then sleep in an alley. Alley is free, though the rats may charge protection fees."
Fang Lin looked at her.
She looked back calmly.
For some reason, he felt she had said that line many times and still enjoyed it.
After a breath, Fang Lin took out thirty low-grade spirit stones.
The woman's smile became slightly brighter. "Wise choice. Rats are terrible landlords."
She handed him a wooden residence token.
"Courtyard Seventeen, Willow Smoke Lane. Do not damage the formation. Do not bring corpse beasts inside. Do not refine poison without reporting. Do not kill neighbors unless you clean properly."
Fang Lin paused.
The woman added calmly, "That last rule is city law."
Fang Lin accepted the token.
"I will remember."
"Good. Middle Qi Conjunction cultivators who remember rules live longer."
Fang Lin left the office and walked toward Willow Smoke Lane.
The lane was narrow and quiet, with old willow trees growing beside the walls. The courtyard he rented was small but acceptable. Its gate was plain, its walls were low, and the sound-blocking formation was weak but functional.
He entered, closed the gate, and activated the residence token.
The formation hummed softly.
Only then did Fang Lin allow his shoulders to loosen.
A quiet sigh left his mouth.
He had returned to Rivercloud City.
The place where the three sects were searching.
The place where Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect's shadow watched from above.
The place closest to the Demon Sealing Ruins.
Dangerous.
But useful.
He sat inside the small room and placed several items before him.
Meng Shi's sealed wooden box.
Wei Shanzhu's storage ring.
Luo Cheng's remaining records.
The copied memories of the Black Mountain Suppression Art.
He did not open the old vitality leaf yet.
Not here.
Not on the first night.
Instead, Fang Lin closed his eyes and spread his divine sense carefully.
Not far.
Only two miles.
A safe concealed scan.
The city was too crowded. A careless sweep would touch countless cultivators, formations, guards, and hidden experts. Even with his Late Stage Solid Soul State and the grey stone's support, Fang Lin would not act recklessly here.
Within two miles, he sensed hundreds of Qi Conjunction cultivators.
Dozens of Spirit Foundation cultivators.
Hidden rooms.
Shop formations.
Drunken arguments.
A pill furnace exploding somewhere to the south, followed by a furious old man shouting that someone had added pepper grass instead of fire root.
Fang Lin opened one eye.
A faint smirk crossed his face before fading.
Rivercloud City was chaotic enough.
Good.
Chaos could hide him.
He withdrew his divine sense and sat cross-legged.
For now, he was Chen Yuan.
A Middle Qi Conjunction rogue cultivator renting a cheap courtyard in the outer western district.
No one important.
No one worth remembering.
Outside, Rivercloud City glowed beneath thousands of lanterns.
Music drifted from the zither pavilion.
Laughter rose from restaurants and pleasure houses.
Merchants counted spirit stones.
Sect guards patrolled the streets.
And somewhere beyond the city walls, the three Rivercloud sects still searched for a hidden cultivator who had already walked back under their noses.
Fang Lin closed his eyes.
His expression became calm.
He would wait.
He would watch.
He would learn where the next door opened.
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