Chapter Twelve: Is Lin Cong Dead?

After placing the spirit talisman carefully, He Song turned away from the market stall area and returned home.

However, just as He Song arrived and began practicing his spells while maintaining vigilant awareness, he suddenly heard faint footsteps outside. The sound came from beyond his dwelling, immediately arousing his alertness.

He Song held his breath, focusing his senses to their utmost. As a cultivator, his five senses were exceptionally sharp, and he strained to pinpoint the origin of the footsteps. At the same time, two Earth Protection Talismans appeared silently in his hands. Should anything happen, he could activate them instantly to shield himself.

With these precautions in place, He Song’s mind finally settled. He listened as the subtle footsteps circled the perimeter of his neighbor’s house several times, pausing for lengthy intervals in various spots, before gradually fading away.

When all was quiet again, He Song’s expression relaxed. He tucked the two talismans back into his sleeve.

“This sound… it’s almost as if someone is casing the place,” he mused. The route taken by the footsteps flashed through his mind, and his gaze shifted to Lin Cong’s house next door.

Lin Cong was He Song’s neighbor. Last night, Lin Cong had returned home grievously wounded, and today, someone seemed to be scouting his residence. This made He Song ponder.

He remembered hearing painful groans and violent coughing from Lin Cong’s room the previous night. The sounds diminished through the latter half of the night, and now, there was utter silence.

If He Song could hear these noises, so could Lin Cong’s other neighbor. In this row of houses, each one had two neighbors, and sounds carried clearly between them.

Considering this, He Song’s gaze toward the adjacent house grew deeper. It seemed the person casing the area was Lin Cong’s other neighbor.

Could it be that Lin Cong had already died from his injuries in his room? Otherwise, how could there be no sound from his room for so long?

A flicker of eagerness flashed in He Song’s eyes but was quickly dismissed. No matter if Lin Cong was dead or alive, his belongings were not for He Song to claim.

If Lin Cong was still alive, intruding into his home would be suicidal. With his robust physique and third-stage Qi Refining cultivation, Lin Cong could crush He Song as easily as a chicken.

Breaking into someone’s residence only to be killed by the owner was a matter of self-inflicted fate; even the enforcement squad would not intervene.

Even if Lin Cong was dead and He Song managed to seize his belongings, Lin Cong’s other neighbor had already set their sights on the same items. If He Song acted first, he would surely be targeted by a cultivator whose depth was unknown.

The relics of a third-stage Qi Refining cultivator were not worth the risk of offending another mysterious cultivator.

These thoughts flashed through He Song’s mind. After careful consideration, he closed his eyes once more and continued practicing the three basic spells he had just learned:

Concealment Technique, Spirit Sight, and Transmission Spell.

These three spells were not particularly difficult to master. They required a bit more time than the Rain of Spirits and Spirit Arrow techniques, but not substantially more.

He Song had spent ten days mastering the Rain of Spirits, enough to cast it without loss of power; Spirit Arrow took the same amount of time.

In comparison, each of the three basic spells—Concealment Technique, Spirit Sight, and Transmission Spell—seemed to require about half a month to reach proficient casting without diminishing their potency.

Half a month was only five days more than the ten days he had needed for the other spells. Thus, their difficulty was not excessive.

He Song chose to practice Concealment Technique first, not for any other reason, but because it could hide his presence from others.

Casting a thoughtful glance at the neighboring house, He Song soon immersed himself in the practice of Concealment Technique.

...

Time flowed swiftly, like an arrow. In the blink of an eye, half a month had passed.

During these days, besides refining Concealment Technique, He Song also made time to visit two elders he had recently met in the Immortal Market: Meng Guan of the Spirit Herb Pavilion and Wei Fan of the Spirit Construction Pavilion.

These two belonged to the same sect and were already acquainted. As internal members of the Immortal Market, He Song’s cultivation might be low, but as a Spirit Plant caretaker, he possessed some value for acquaintance. Furthermore, his character was recognized by Wei Fan.

With both sides eager for friendship, He Song’s interactions with them went smoothly. After several visits, their relationship gradually deepened. At least, as long as there were no conflicts of interest, it was quite easy for He Song to glean information from them.

One day, He Song sat upright on a meditation cushion in his home. His aura flickered, sometimes present, sometimes absent. Suddenly, his presence vanished completely, and he became like a stubborn stone, betraying no trace of his energy.

“Concealment Technique, mastered!” He Song’s eyes flashed with joy as he opened them.

With this spell, he could suppress all traces of his presence with a mere thought. Unless seen directly, he would be as invisible as a stone, leaving no sensation in others.

Having hidden his aura, He Song stood up from the cushion, brewed a pot of tea, and savored several sips.

His visits to Wei Fan and Meng Guan had improved his tea-making skills. Wei Fan had even gifted him a tea set and some leaves, allowing He Song to enjoy tea in solitude at home.

Just as He Song was savoring his tea, faint footsteps echoed in his ears once again.

In an instant, He Song froze in place, becoming as immobile as a stone. Only the aroma of tea drifted to his nostrils as he quietly listened for the direction of the footsteps.

Half a month had passed, and Lin Cong’s other neighbor had proven remarkably patient. To this day, He Song had never heard the person step into Lin Cong’s room.

Each time the footsteps came, they merely circled Lin Cong’s house, lingering in certain spots for long periods before quietly departing. Always the same—cautious to the extreme.

Even He Song found himself raising his standards for caution after witnessing such meticulousness.

What did it mean to be cautious? This was true caution!

For a bit of gain, the person had been casing the area for half a month.

Yet this time, something was different.

Perhaps sensing no aura from He Song’s house and believing him to be absent, the visitor’s courage had noticeably increased. The footsteps circling the house were less discreet than before.

Listening to the altered footsteps, He Song pondered.

“Could it be that this person refrained from acting before because he sensed my presence at home? Now that I’ve mastered Concealment Technique and suppressed my aura, he can’t detect me, and so he’s preparing to act?”