The Sacred Leaves Family's Wishes for Peace-Chapter 53 There Must Be Something Trickish

As the group made their way toward the docks, the bustling energy of Yulin Market slowly receded, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease. The streets, though vibrant, were now filled with shadows of doubt in the minds of the Yun family.

Far from the lively market, Wang Linyue and Mu Zizhao walked side by side, their steps measured and deliberate. The facade of amicable hosts had disappeared, replaced by a more calculating demeanor.

"Brother Wang, are you planning to make a move against this Yuncang Yun Clan in your residence?" Mu Zizhao’s tone was calm but laced with curiosity.

Wang Linyue chuckled, his sharp eyes glinting under the faint light of a lantern. "Why the rush to conclusions, Brother Mu? This Yun Clan, though recently established as a cultivation family, intrigues me. The patriarch’s demeanor is neither too cautious nor overly arrogant—a balance that suggests experience."

Mu Zizhao raised an eyebrow. "And yet you invite them to your estate with the promise of an alchemical recipe. Surely, that’s not mere hospitality?"

Wang Linyue smiled faintly, his hands clasped behind his back. "Of course not. This is an opportunity to probe their depths, to see what cards they hold. After all, a newly ascended family like theirs may possess treasures they don’t fully comprehend—or the wisdom to wield them effectively."

"And if they refuse to cooperate?" Mu Zizhao’s expression turned cold.

"Then they’ll learn why the Yulin Wang Clan remains unchallenged in this region." Wang Linyue’s tone carried a subtle threat, his voice as smooth as silk yet as sharp as a blade.

"Still, Brother Mu, remember—this is Yulin County, not some lawless corner of the world. Any actions we take must remain... discreet."

Mu Zizhao snorted softly. "Discreet or not, I’ll have my guard ready. The whisk they sold earlier? It belonged to Daoist Kuang, an old acquaintance of ours. Its sudden appearance raises questions that can’t be ignored."

Wang Linyue nodded. "Indeed. And the answer to those questions might bring us far more."

Meanwhile, as Yun Yunyue and his group approached the docks, a quiet tension lingered among them.

"Second Uncle," Yan Tian finally broke the silence, his tone low, "Do you think Wang Linyue could be planning something beyond a mere sale?"

Yunyue glanced at his nephew, his face composed. "Possibly. But as I said earlier, such invitations can’t be ignored. Whether it’s an opportunity or a trap, we must tread carefully."

Yan Tian nodded, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword. "Then we’ll be ready. Whatever they intend, they’ll regret underestimating us."

Yan Shuang, who had been quietly processing her brother’s earlier remarks, finally spoke up, her voice laced with determination. "If they think they can intimidate or deceive us, they’re sorely mistaken."

Yunyue smiled faintly, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "Good. That’s the spirit. Always remember, in this world, strength and wit are the only currencies that matter."

Yan Shui, ever the light-hearted one, muttered under his breath, "As long as they don’t charge us more spirit stones for their hospitality, I’m fine with whatever happens."

The comment drew a soft chuckle from Yan Shuang and a knowing shake of the head from Yunyue. Despite the potential danger, the Yun family maintained a calm front, determined to face whatever awaited them.

At the docks, the bustling activity of returning boats and departing groups continued unabated. In the midst of it all, the shadows of two paths began to converge—one fueled by curiosity and guarded ambition, the other by cautious resolve and quiet strength.

On the deck of the boat heading back from Yulin Market, Wang Linyue stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out toward the mist-shrouded waters. His demeanor was calm, but the storm brewing beneath his eyes spoke of deeper intentions.

Beside him, Mu Zizhao wore a tense expression, his brow furrowed as he spoke, "Brother Wang, if you plan to act against the Yuncang Yun Clan, you must ensure there’s no trail left behind. That family is under the imperial court’s protection, and their connection with Li Qing, the court-appointed cultivator, is no secret."

He hesitated, then added, "From what I’ve heard, the annual stipend of twenty low-grade spirit stones and thirty catties of spirit rice that the Yun Clan receives was personally recommended by Li Qing."

Wang Linyue’s lips curled into a faint, shadowed smile. "Rest assured, Brother Mu. If action must be taken, I’ll ensure it’s as clean as the still waters of this lake. Even Li Qing won’t be able to find a thread of evidence."

Mu Zizhao’s gaze darkened. "Even so, it’s worth interrogating them first. There’s no concrete proof that Daoist Kuang perished at their hands. The Yun Clan is still a fledgling in the cultivation world, with only two spiritual root bearers. They lack the strength to challenge a cultivator of Kuang’s caliber."

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"You may have a point," Wang Linyue admitted, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "When I probed their spiritual energy earlier, I found one of the Yun children at the peak of the third stage of the Fetal Breathing Realm, and the other at the mid-stage. Compared to Kuang, their cultivation is far inferior."

A sharp intake of breath escaped Mu Zizhao’s lips. He couldn’t hide his astonishment. "The third stage? In such a short time? That’s... unheard of."

Mu Zizhao clenched his fists. "I’ve toiled for over twenty years to reach the second stage, and that was only after securing resources under your patronage, Brother Wang. Yet these children have surpassed me already? This... this defies all logic!"

"It is remarkable," Wang Linyue agreed. "And it suggests that the Yun Clan may have backing far beyond what we’ve seen."

Mu Zizhao shook his head in disbelief. "If that’s true, it explains why the court holds them in such regard—and why Li Qing himself might take an interest. Could it be they’re supported by a hidden master in the cultivation world?"

"That thought has crossed my mind," Wang Linyue replied, his tone even.

"Then... will you still pursue them?" Mu Zizhao asked hesitantly.

A cold glint flashed in Wang Linyue’s eyes. "If they’re innocent of Kuang’s death, I’ll let them be. But if evidence proves otherwise... no hidden master will deter me. I owe Kuang my life, and I’ll see his death avenged."

Mu Zizhao sighed heavily, knowing that Wang Linyue’s resolve stemmed from a debt of gratitude that no logic could overcome.

At the docks, Yun Yunyue and his nephews and niece reunited with Sun Tianming and his sons.

"Brother Yunyue! Finished your business?" Sun Tianming greeted with a wide smile.

"Yes," Yunyue replied with a polite nod. "The whisk is sold."

"How much did you get for it?"

"Ten low-grade spirit stones. Not much, but enough."

Sun Tianming laughed. "Ten stones for an old whisk isn’t bad at all. I just spent thirty stones on two Fetal Breathing Pills for my son. The cost of cultivation truly knows no bounds!"

"Fifteen stones per pill?" Yunyue asked, eyebrows raising slightly.

"Indeed. It’s the going rate here," Sun Tianming confirmed, shaking his head. "And to think this was just a small errand! At this rate, I’ll need a cart full of stones to keep up with these demands."

Yunyue chuckled softly, filing the information away. It was his first visit to the Yulin Market, and learning the pricing of cultivation resources was a crucial part of the experience.

As the two men chatted, Yanshui stood off to the side, chewing on the last of the candied lotus roots he’d bought earlier. His sister, Yan Shuang, leaned closer, nudging him with her elbow.

"Brother, do you think that man with the whisk might have been lying about his intentions?" she asked.

Yanshui shrugged, his voice casual. "Maybe. But it’s not our problem anymore."

As the group prepared to board their ferry back to the mainland, the currents of intrigue swirling within the market’s dense atmosphere remained. Whether by chance or fate, paths had crossed and entanglements deepened. For now, the Yun Clan returned home unaware that the true storm was just beginning to brew.