The light inside the shop was somewhat dim. On several rows of old wooden bookshelves that reached the ceiling, countless thread-bound books, rare historical volumes, and dust-covered calligraphy and paintings were piled densely.

Behind the counter sat an elderly man with a head full of white hair. He wore a faded cyan long robe, a pair of Western-style reading glasses perched on his nose, and was holding a yellowed copy of the Da Xing Compendium, reading with evident delight. When the door curtain rustled, the old man did not even lift his head; in a hoarse voice he casually said, "Browse as you like, no haggling. The rare volumes are on the innermost shelf, don't touch them if you won't buy."

Su Ming did not step forward to speak right away. Following his usual Way of Survival principle, he mentally sketched the entire shop layout, confirming there were no hidden doors or ambushes, then strolled slowly to the left bookshelf, casually pulled out a volume, and idly began flipping through it.

Time passed, little by little. The shop was so quiet that only the rustle of turning pages could be heard.

After the length of an incense stick, the white-haired elder seemed tired of reading. He set the book down, removed his glasses, rubbed his brow, and finally lifted his head. With those eyes that seemed cloudy, he appraised Su Ming up and down.

Just as the old man's gaze landed, Su Ming's finger suddenly went limp while flipping a page.

Plop.

A smooth, jade-green pendant slipped from his sleeve and fell onto the hard bluish brick floor, producing a crisp clack.

"Ah!" Su Ming exclaimed and quickly bent to pick it up.

In that very brief instant as he retrieved the pendant, he deliberately adjusted the angle so the pendant's front faced the counter, exposed to the dim light.

The pendant's surface was carved with several faint, intricately detailed cloud patterns. It was the unique identity mark of an outer sect disciple of the Cloud Hidden Sect, and the special pattern it bore could not be forged by ordinary people.

The white-haired elder behind the counter had his pupils suddenly shrink to pinpoints. His normally stooped back almost uncontrollably straightened by half an inch, then he forced it down again.

The old man took a deep breath, closed the book on the counter, and slowly walked out from behind it.

"Esteemed guest." His voice was no longer hoarse, but held a restrained steadiness, "The books out front are mundane. If you seek genuine originals, perhaps you would accompany this old man to the backyard?"

Su Ming slipped the pendant back into his sleeve, lightly brushed the dust off his clothes, and nodded slightly. "Please lead the way, elder."

The old man turned and led the way. He walked to the very back of the shop and pushed open a hidden door that the bookshelf had been concealing.

Behind the door was a modestly sized backyard. A gnarled old locust tree grew there, and fallen leaves carpeted the ground. The old man guided Su Ming across the yard into an extremely plain secret room.

The secret room had no windows, only a weak oil lamp burning in a corner. The furnishings were reduced to the bare minimum: a hard plank bed, a square table, and a splash-ink landscape painting on the wall without any signature.

The old man closed the iron door of the secret room and pressed a few spots on the mechanism behind it. With a faint mechanical click and interlock, the entire room was sealed off.

After doing all this, the old man turned around.

He looked at Su Ming, who had removed his bamboo hat to reveal a young, delicate face. The old man's cloudy eyes suddenly filled with uncontrollable moisture.

With a sudden movement, the old man lifted the hem of his faded long robe, bent both knees, and knelt solidly on the cold bluish brick floor.

He clasped his hands together, raised them above his head, and in a voice thick with nasal tone yet utterly devout, he trembled as he spoke:

"Cloud Hidden Sect outer disciple, Chen Mingyuan, pays respects to the True Disciple!"

Su Ming felt a jolt in his chest. He did not avoid the gesture; instead he accepted the salute. Then he quickly stepped forward and took both of the old man's hands to help him up from the floor.

"No need for such formality, Old Chen." Su Ming's tone was gentle and respectful of his elder.

Chen Mingyuan rose and wiped his eyes with rough, age-spotted palms, smiling wryly as he shook his head.

"Forgive this old man for the spectacle." He looked at Su Ming with eyes full of reminiscence and feeling. "Fifty years ago, this old man also wore the robes of the Cloud Hidden Sect and stood before the mountain gate, dreaming of soaring on a sword and riding the wind. But the threshold to Foundation Establishment... it was simply too high."

His voice carried the weathered weight of time. "I was slow of talent. I failed the Foundation Establishment breakthrough; three of my meridians were severed, my Qihai atrophied, and further progress became impossible. The sect showed compassion instead of expelling me; they gave me some travel money. Knowing I had no face to stay on the mountain and waste resources, I volunteered to come to the Great Xing capital and opened this Qingya Zhai."

He gestured toward the cramped secret room as if displaying the medals of his life.

"I am ruined, but this life was given to me by the sect. For fifty years I concealed my name and identity, doing here in the capital the work of a book peddler who is blind and deaf. I thought my life would drift away like this, muddled and forgetful, but heaven took pity. Even buried halfway in the yellow earth, I was able to see a True Disciple of the sect once more."

Su Ming listened quietly. He looked at this elder whose cultivation couldn't even stabilize at third-stage Qi Refining and who had almost completely fallen into mortality, and an ineffable respect rose in his heart.

This was the true depth of the Cloud Hidden Sect. The Golden Core and Nascent Soul elders who stood above were the sect's blade, but people like Chen Mingyuan, scattered through the mundane world and devoting their lives in silence, were the sect's eyes and ears—the foundation of its vast intelligence network.

"I'm too old, truly useless now." Chen Mingyuan sighed, then his expression sharpened as a flash of keen light sparked in his aged eyes. "But when you give an order, even this old life won't let you down. My eyes and ears in this capital still function."

Saying this, he went to the landscape painting and searched the back of the scroll. With a click, a small secret compartment popped out from the wall.

He took from the compartment a thick stack of papers wrapped tightly in kraft paper, held them with both hands, and presented them to Su Ming.

"Sir, this is the intelligence you sent through the External Affairs Hall, asking me to collect regarding the Yongchang Marquis Manor."

Chen Mingyuan lowered his voice and reported with quick speed: 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"These papers contain the manor's public and covert personnel composition over the past year, the rotation patterns of their internal guards, and the financial flows of their properties. Most importantly, I discovered some extremely anomalous irregularities in the manor within the past six months."

Su Ming took the heavy stack of papers, his gaze tightening slightly. "Does anyone in the court know your true identity?"

Chen Mingyuan shook his head without hesitation, a highly confident smile on his lips. "Rest assured, sir. After fifty years in hiding, the spiritual light in my body has long since dissipated. In everyone's eyes I am merely a shabby bookseller who fusses over trivial amounts. No one knows."

Su Ming nodded with satisfaction. He placed the stack of intelligence into his storage ring and stared intently at the iron door of the secret room.

"Good. For the next few days, I'll be staying in this secret room. Whatever happens outside, consider that I do not exist."