Three days passed.
The Council didn't return. The sect expert's declaration had been final enough that even Elder Zhao couldn't push further without risking direct conflict with the Azure Cloud Sect.
The Lin family breathed easier.
Shuan didn't.
He'd hidden the stone in five different places over those three days. Under the floorboards, in the bamboo grove, buried near the garden wall, wrapped in cloth at the bottom of his clothes chest, back under the floorboards again.
Every hiding spot felt wrong. Exposed. Dangerous.
On the fourth morning, he made his decision.
I'm leaving.
Not someday. Not when things calmed down.
Today.
He'd already wasted too much time hoping the situation would resolve itself. Hope was a luxury for people with options.
Shuan had none.
He waited until midday, when the estate was at its busiest. Servants moving between buildings. Guards changing shifts. His father locked in his study with ledgers and correspondence.
No one paid attention to a worthless child slipping out the back gate.
The market district of Shianji Town was crowded and loud.
Merchants shouted prices. Children ran between stalls. The smell of grilled meat and incense mixed with less pleasant odors from the gutters.
Shuan kept his head down, moving quickly through the press of bodies.
He knew where he was going.
Wang Shi's stall was at the edge of the market, half-hidden in an alley between a tea shop and a fabric merchant. Most people missed it entirely, which was exactly how Wang Shi preferred things.
The one-eyed merchant sat behind a low table covered with odds and ends—old talismans, chipped spirit stones, formation diagrams with corners torn off. Junk, mostly. But Wang Shi had connections. Knew people who bought things without asking questions.
He looked up as Shuan approached, his good eye narrowing.
"Well, well. The Lin family's ghost boy." His voice was raspy, amused. "What brings you to my humble establishment?"
Shuan glanced around. No one was paying attention.
He pulled out the green stone.
Wang Shi's expression didn't change, but Shuan saw the flicker of interest in his eye.
"May I?" The merchant held out his hand.
Shuan hesitated, then placed the stone in Wang Shi's palm.
The old man turned it over slowly, holding it up to catch the light. His fingers traced the smooth surface with practiced efficiency.
"Formation stone," he murmured. "Low grade. Crystallized into pearl shape—unusual, but not unheard of."
He set it down on the table.
"Where did you get this?"
"Does it matter?"
Wang Shi smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. "Smart answer. No, it doesn't matter. What matters is whether you're selling or pawning."
"Selling."
"Hmm." The merchant stroked his chin. "In a proper city, this would fetch maybe... five spirit coins. But here in Shianji?" He shrugged. "I can give you thirty silver taels."
Thirty silver taels was more money than Shuan had ever held in his life.
It was also far less than the stone was worth, even accounting for Wang Shi's markup.
"Fifty," Shuan said.
Wang Shi laughed. "Bold! I like that. But no. Thirty-five, and that's being generous."
"Forty-five."
"Thirty-eight, final offer. Take it or leave it."
Shuan met the merchant's gaze. Saw the calculation there, the certainty that Shuan was desperate enough to accept anything.
He was right.
"Deal."
Wang Shi's smile widened. He pulled a small pouch from beneath his table and counted out coins—thirty-eight silver taels, each one making a soft clink as it landed on the wood.
"Pleasure doing business."
Shuan swept the coins into his own pouch, the weight of them somehow both reassuring and damning.
He turned to leave.
"Boy."
Shuan stopped.
Wang Shi was watching him with that one good eye, his expression unreadable.
"Whatever you're running from... make sure you run far enough. Shianji Town is small. Secrets don't stay buried long."
Shuan said nothing.
He walked away without looking back.
By evening, he'd gathered everything he needed.
Travel rations from a merchant who didn't ask questions. A worn but serviceable cloak from a second-hand stall. A small knife, barely sharp enough to be called a weapon but better than nothing.
He kept five silver taels and hid the rest in different pockets, sewn into his clothes, wrapped and buried in his pack.
Everything fit into a single bag.
His entire life, reduced to things he could carry.
He returned to the estate as the sun was setting, moving quietly through the back gate. The guards waved him through without interest—just the useless young master coming back from wherever useless young masters went.
His room was exactly as he'd left it.
Shuan set his bag by the door, ready to grab at a moment's notice. He'd leave before dawn, while the estate was still sleeping.
By the time anyone noticed he was gone, he'd be halfway to the next town.
And from there... who knew?
Somewhere the Lin family name meant nothing. Somewhere his Grade Eight roots didn't matter because no one expected anything from him anyway.
Somewhere I can just... exist.
He sat on his bed, looking around the small room one last time.
Ten years of his life in this space. Ten years of being invisible.
Good riddance.
A knock on the door.
Shuan's hand went instinctively to his bag, ready to—
"Young Master Shuan? Your father requests your presence in the main hall."
Old Servant Wang's voice. Polite. Neutral.
Shuan's stomach dropped.
"Now?"
"Yes, Young Master. There are... guests."
Guests.
At this hour?
Shuan stood slowly, his mind racing.
The Council?
Another expert from the sect?
He opened the door. Wang stood there, his weathered face carefully blank.
"What kind of guests?"
Wang hesitated, just for a moment.
"The kind you don't keep waiting, Young Master."
Then he turned and walked away, expecting Shuan to follow.
Every instinct screamed at Shuan to run. To grab his bag and slip out the back gate right now, to hell with courtesy and family obligations.
But his feet moved forward anyway.
Down the corridor. Through the residential wing. Toward the main hall where lamplight spilled through the open doors.
He could hear voices inside. His father's, low and controlled. Another voice—older, smoother.
And a third voice. Cold. Familiar.
Shuan's blood turned to ice.
No.
He stepped into the main hall.
Lin Zheng Yuan stood near the center of the room, his posture rigid. Beside him were two figures.
Elder Zhao from the Council, wearing an expression of barely concealed satisfaction.
And Shen Kuang, the Azure Cloud Sect expert, looking as bored as he had four days ago.
But there was a fourth person.
An old man in dark robes, sitting in the seat of honor usually reserved for the most important guests. His hair was gray, his face lined with age, but his eyes were sharp and calculating.
He was examining Shuan the way someone might examine livestock at market.
"This is the boy?" the old man asked.
"Yes, Elder Feng," Lin Zheng Yuan said. His voice was carefully neutral, but Shuan could hear the tension beneath it.
Elder Feng nodded slowly. "Adequate. He'll serve the purpose."
Serve the purpose?
Shuan looked at his father. "What's happening?"
Lin Zheng Yuan's jaw tightened. For a moment, he said nothing.
Then, in a voice that sounded like it was being dragged from somewhere deep and painful:
"The Council has made a formal request. In light of the... recent difficulties and the strain on family relations, they've suggested a gesture of good faith."
"What kind of gesture?"
His father's eyes finally met his.
And Shuan saw it.
Resignation. Defeat.
"Elder Feng is a guest of the Azure Cloud Sect. He requires an assistant for his research. Someone young, with spiritual roots but no significant cultivation. Someone..."
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Someone expendable.
Elder Zhao stepped forward, his smile cold. "The Lin family has agreed to provide this assistance as a demonstration of their continued commitment to serving the sect and the town's interests."
Agreed.
Shuan looked at his father.
Lin Zheng Yuan wouldn't meet his eyes.
"You're selling me," Shuan said quietly.
Not a question. A statement.
"It's not—" his father started, then stopped. "It's more complicated than—"
"You're selling me."
Silence.
Elder Feng stood, brushing dust from his robes.
"The arrangement is already finalized. The boy will accompany me when I depart tomorrow at dawn. Ensure he's prepared."
He walked past Shuan without another glance.
Shen Kuang followed, equally disinterested.
Elder Zhao paused at the door, looking back at Lin Zheng Yuan with undisguised triumph.
"The Council appreciates the Lin family's... cooperation."
Then they were gone.
Shuan stood in the main hall, the weight of betrayal settling over him like a heavy cloak.
His father still wouldn't look at him.
"I had no choice," Lin Zheng Yuan said finally. "The Council, the sect... if I refused, they would have—"
"Destroyed the family," Shuan finished. "I understand."
And he did.
In a world where strength was everything, his father had made the only logical choice.
Sacrifice the worthless son to save the family's reputation.
Mathematics.
Simple and brutal.
"Shuan—"
"May I be excused?"
His father's mouth opened. Closed.
"Yes."
Shuan walked out of the main hall without looking back.
Behind him, Lin Zheng Yuan stood alone in the lamplight, looking older than he ever had before.
In his room, Shuan sat on his bed and laughed.
Quietly at first, then louder.
Because of course this had happened.
Of course the moment he decided to escape, fate had slammed the door shut.
The bag he'd packed sat by the door, mocking him.
Too late.
Always too late.
He pulled out the remaining silver taels and stared at them.
Thirty-three pieces of silver.
The price of his freedom.
And it still wasn't enough.