CHAPTER 81: THIEF II

Tian Lei listened in silence, then gave a small nod. "Very well. I’ll watch."

The City Lord let out a quiet breath, the faintest trace of relief flickering across her composed features. She gestured to an attendant. "Prepare a guest room for him."

Tian Lei was escorted through a side corridor to a spacious chamber overlooking the lantern-lit gardens. He could feel faint wards humming along the walls—precautionary defenses woven into the mansion itself. He sat, calm as a stone, and waited.

By the time evening fell, the mansion’s great dining hall had been prepared. The fragrance of roasted meats, spirit grains, and herbal broths lingered in the air. He entered with steady steps, joining the City Lord, Lin Yao, and—at last—the daughter.

She appeared with a measured grace, her posture straight, her robe of pale blue tracing a figure that spoke of youth tempered by discipline. Her features were exquisite, her beauty already surpassing most mortal maidens, but her expression was colder than winter’s first frost. Her eyes carried no warmth as they swept across the hall—sharp, aloof, untouchable.

"This is my daughter, Yue Xin," the City Lord introduced softly. "Seventh stage of Qi Condensation."

Tian Lei inclined his head in greeting. "An impressive cultivation for your age."

Her reply was a nod so faint it could almost be mistaken for dismissal. No words followed—her face remained still, as though carved from ice.

An iceberg princess, hm? Tian Lei thought with mild amusement. He wasn’t offended; if anything, her aloofness confirmed what he’d already sensed—the Flower Sect would never target an ordinary girl.

Dinner was served. The servants laid out dishes of refined spirit foods, yet the one that drew Tian Lei’s attention was a simple earthen bowl set before him. A steaming soup, its broth golden-green, rich with qi fluctuations that whispered of the forest. Floating within were thin slices of luminous mushrooms, each one pulsing faintly with natural energy.

He lifted the bowl, sipping once. A subtle warmth spread through his meridians, clearing his mind and easing the edges of weariness he hadn’t realized lingered. His lips curved faintly.

"This soup..." he said, setting the bowl down gently, "...is good."

The City Lord smiled lightly. "A specialty of our region. Spirit mushrooms nourished by moonlight. Few outsiders ever get to taste it."

Tian Lei gave a rare nod of approval, savoring the quiet moment. Across the table, Yue Xin kept her expression unchanged, but he noticed the faintest flicker of surprise in her eyes—just for an instant—when he praised the dish.

The meal continued in measured silence, punctuated only by the soft clink of porcelain and the faint rustle of robes. After a time, the City Lord spoke, her tone composed yet heavy with meaning.

"Tonight, we will maintain vigilance. The hall will remain brightly lit, the guards posted as usual, and the household engaged in routine. Let them believe we are unaware."

A collective nod moved through the table. Tian Lei said nothing, but his eyes lingered on the hall’s tall lanterns, gauging the interplay of shadow and flame.

When the final dishes were cleared, the group dispersed into the mansion’s vast audience hall, a space large enough for a hundred guests. Tonight, however, only a few figures occupied its polished floor—Tian Lei, the City Lord, Lin Yao, and Yue Xin.

Tian Lei settled cross-legged near one of the central pillars, his presence quiet yet unshakable, as though he had been etched into the marble itself. Closing his eyes, he extended his senses, letting the vast silence of the hall speak to him.

Moments stretched. Then, without opening his eyes, he spoke in a low murmur, voice carrying despite its softness.

"...Didn’t I already caution you? Danger does not always announce itself."

The City Lord stiffened slightly. "What do you mean?"

Tian Lei’s gaze flicked open, sharp as a blade. "They’re already here."

At once, the attendants froze, uncertainty rippling through the chamber. Lin Yao shifted uneasily, her hand hovering near her waist where a hidden blade rested. Though outwardly calm, a trace of nervousness shadowed her eyes.

Across from him, Yue Xin betrayed no change, her composure like an untouched lake. Yet Tian Lei’s perception pierced deeper; beneath that icy mask, her qi fluctuated—restrained, but restless, as though anticipating something.

The City Lord’s hand curled faintly atop the armrest of her chair, her eyes dimming as she cast a sidelong glance at her daughter. That silence... that absence of warmth... it pressed like a weight on her chest.

She lowered her head ever so slightly, voice quiet enough that only Tian Lei caught it."My daughter is no pawn. And yet... it feels as though fate insists on making her one."

Her tone carried not command, but a mother’s bitter helplessness.

The words had scarcely left her lips when the lanternlight trembled. A gust of chill swept the hall, though no window had opened. The air itself seemed to groan.

Tian Lei’s eyes narrowed. There it is.

With a deafening crack, the great doors of the audience hall shuddered inward, iron bolts snapping like twigs. Lanterns guttered as shadows spilled across the polished floor, crawling upward until they took form.

Figures poured in—men and women draped in tattered robes, the stink of blood and unwashed qi clinging to them like rot. Their gazes glimmered with feral hunger.

"Bandits," Lin Yao hissed, her blade half-drawn, eyes narrowing as she counted. "No... cultivators. Old, ragged... but dangerous."

Indeed, the first wave were no common raiders. Weathered faces twisted by years of killing, their auras bore the residue of failed breakthroughs, leaving them like half-broken beasts. Mortals would have fled at the pressure alone.

But behind them came worse.

A gaunt man with bone beads hanging from his neck stepped forward, his qi curling darkly, sharp as rusted steel. A Specter Warrior—a failed sect disciple who had long fallen into the demonic path. His presence made the torches hiss and burn low.

And then—he appeared.

A hunched elder, his skin shriveled and parchment-thin, yet his eyes blazed with poisonous vitality. A faint spectral glow shimmered at his back—an illusory phantom claw stretching outward. His cultivation pulsed at the Spirit Master stage.

The intruders fanned out, surrounding the four within the hall.

The City Lord rose, her robes whispering against the marble. "How dare you defile my house..." Yet her voice faltered. Even she could feel it: this wasn’t the rabble of backwater thieves. Someone had gathered them, steered them.

The hunched elder chuckled, dry and rasping. "City Lord’s mansion, lanterns burning bright, guards pacing outside. All a show, wasn’t it? Did you think we wouldn’t notice?"

His gaze slid toward Yue Xin. The hunger in it was unmistakable.

Lin Yao bristled, blade ringing free in a cold arc of steel. "You won’t touch her."

The elder ignored her. His smile widened, exposing yellowed teeth. "Such a precious girl. The price on her head will make me young again."

The City Lord’s hand twitched at her side. "Xin’er..." she whispered, fear and fury entwined.

But before she could move—

Tian Lei rose.

Not with speed, not with show. Just... stood. And yet, the entire chamber shifted as though the pillars themselves had acknowledged a greater weight. His shadow fell long across the marble, swallowing the lanternlight.

He looked at the gathered bandits, then at the elder. His tone was casual, but each word struck like an iron bell.

"You stepped into the wrong hall."

They all turned toward Tian Lei, eyes narrowing with quiet suspicion. Who exactly was this man?

One of the intruders sneered, extending his spiritual sense. His brows furrowed when it brushed against Tian Lei’s aura.

"...Mortal rank?" the man scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. Rage twisted his features. "You dare stand before me with such a pathetic cultivation? You’re mocking me!"

The others chuckled coldly. Before the City Lord could speak, the man lunged forward, his qi surging—clearly of the Spirit Master stage.

But Tian Lei only tilted his head, expression almost bored. To him, the pressure felt fragile, like a weak breeze brushing against a mountain.

Steel flashed—no, something sharper, swifter. In the blink of an eye, the attacker’s stride faltered. His eyes widened, confusion frozen on his face. A thin line appeared across his neck.

The hall fell into silence as the man’s head slid cleanly from his shoulders, his body crumpling to the polished floor.

Blood spread like spilled ink.

A single voice broke the horrified quiet.

"...Careful," one of the cultivators muttered, his confidence shaken. His gaze locked on Tian Lei, a flicker of fear in his eyes. "He’s hiding his true cultivation."

The others shifted uneasily, their bravado fading into wariness. No one was foolish enough to think a mere mortal rank could kill a Spirit Master in a single stroke.

They were beginning to realize—standing before them was not a man of low cultivation. He was something far more dangerous.

Tian Lei stood still, blood dripping from the lifeless body at his feet. The others circled cautiously, their earlier arrogance fading into calculation.

Inside, Tian Lei’s thoughts remained calm, almost detached.

No... I’m not hiding anything. My cultivation really is only at the mortal rank. His gaze drifted lazily over the trembling Spirit Masters. But my combat power... it surpasses even a peak Grandmaster. Against anyone here, it’s more than enough.

The corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest smirk. To them, he was an enigma, a shadow concealing unfathomable strength. But only he knew the truth—his foundation was so refined, his techniques so absolute, that ranks meant nothing.