Shen Li put a 20 gold coin pouch and a gray powder-filled porcelain vase into his sleeve before heading out.
He knocked on the door.
Lin Wu opened it—and when he saw Shen Li, his eyes widened instantly. He quickly glanced left and right down the hallway."Come inside!" he whispered urgently.
Shen Li entered without a word.
Lin Wu shut the door behind them with a click."What are you doing here? You should've sent someone instead."
Shen Li smiled calmly and took out the porcelain vase, setting it gently on the table."I wanted to deliver this personally. One last batch."
Lin Wu's eyes flicked to the vase, then to the pouch of gold. He swallowed.
Lin Wu hesitated, then whispered:"If I do this… and something goes wrong, I won't have time to run. I'll be the first they burn."
Shen Li gently pushed the pouch of gold forward."That's why you should prepare now. Take the money, vanish when the time is right."
Lin Wu stared at the pouch, breathing slowly."…If I do this, you better not show up at my door again."
"Don't worry. If I need anything—I'll find another door."
Shen Li stepped forward calmly, lifting the pouch of gold coins and placing it directly into Lin Wu's hand.
Clink.
As the weight settled into Lin Wu's palm, Shen Li subtly applied a trace of force. A silver needle, concealed beneath the fold of his sleeve and held between two fingers, lightly pierced the skin at the base of Lin Wu's thumb.
"Ouch—" Lin Wu flinched, dropping the pouch onto the desk with a sharp metallic thud. He shook his hand instinctively and frowned."Damn… What was that?"
Shen Li let out a quiet, apologetic chuckle."Ah, must've been the needle in my cuff. Meant to sew it onto a button, but I forgot. My mistake."
Lin Wu examined the tiny red spot on his skin. It barely bled—just a pinprick. He shrugged it off with a mutter, more focused on the gold now glinting in the dim room.
Shen Li's eyes, however, remained cold.
Inside that needle was a slow-working, precise concoction—a blend of medical agents he'd developed during years of soul studies and poison research. It would begin by tightening the chest, then accelerating the heart unnaturally. In about a week, it would culminate in a sudden and fatal cardiac event.
There would be no trace. No link. Not unless someone dissected his meridians—and by then, the rot would be complete.
Shen Li turned toward the door with his usual calm.
"I'll leave you to it, Brother Lin. Be careful with the stock this time."
Lin Wu, already distracted by the weight of the gold, barely nodded.
The door shut behind Shen Li with a soft click.
"One door closed," Shen Li murmured as he walked away, "no strings left to pull me down."
That night, Lin Wu once again crept into the warehouse like a rat, scattering the gray powder over the bundles of herbs—just like he had done every night before.
Meanwhile, Shen Li sat silently in his room, staring at the flickering candlelight.
"One more time, just to be sure," he murmured, placing his hand on the Primordial Mirror.
He initiated a one-year simulation.
…
[You have died.]
When Shen Li returned from the simulation, his face turned pale. His brows furrowed deeply, and he slammed his fist into the table.
"Lin Wu… you damn coward."
In the simulation, Lin Wu had foreseen the possibility that Shen Li might silence him. Fearing death, he left behind written proof—a document, secretly sealed, stating his dealings with Shen Li. It contained enough details to implicate Shen Li directly.
After Lin Wu's death, the document surfaced during the Meng family's investigation. The chain of evidence led straight to Shen Li.
Shen Li took a deep breath.
He stood slowly, expression cold and calm now.
"Good. You've just confirmed you're not a rope to climb—you're a trap waiting to snap. If I don't cut you cleanly… I'll be buried with you."
After several days of targeted simulations, Shen Li finally pinpointed where Lin Wu had hidden the blackmail document.
He waited. Just as predicted, seven days after the poisoned needle prick, Lin Wu collapsed in the warehouse.
That morning, Shen Li had already been tailing him for two days straight in his soul form. When he saw Lin Wu staggering, clutching his chest with an ashen face, Shen Li didn't waste another second. He left the perimeter in silence.
With calm urgency, Shen Li made his way to Lin Wu's residence.
The door was locked, but Shen Li had rehearsed this dozens of times in the simulator. His fingers moved with practiced ease, gently lifting the latch with a small tool. A click. The door creaked open like it was welcoming its owner.
He stepped in like he belonged there.
Inside, the air was stale. Shadows stretched long across the room.
Shen Li walked straight to the table—worn, heavy, and old. He pushed it aside, revealing a part of the wooden floor that creaked oddly when stepped on.
"Right here," he whispered.
He knelt and took out a thin iron rod from his sleeve. With a precise motion, he slid it into the barely visible seam in the floorboard. A faint click echoed.
The panel popped up.
Inside was a hidden compartment.
Within it:– A tied cloth pouch with 45 gold coins, glinting dully in the gloom– A folded parchment with Shen Li's name, dates, and their dealings—Lin Wu's final insurance
Shen Li stared at the coins.
"Five of these… maybe his actual savings. The rest—mine."
He took them all.
Then he snatched the document
He resealed the compartment, slid the table back into place, and without a trace… slipped out.
The house returned to silence
After everything was done, Shen Li watched the chaos unfold from afar—calm, unreadable.
Just as the simulations had foretold, the Governor's Office launched a full-scale investigation. Physicians were summoned, records reviewed, and city-wide orders were issued. Hospitals, pharmacies, and merchant stores were checked for tainted herbs. Panic spread.
Soon after, the major families followed suit, initiating their own internal investigations to root out any foul play—protecting their interests, or perhaps salvaging their reputation.
Among them, the Meng family suffered the worst.
Of all the affected, over 70% were linked to the Meng household. The symptoms were subtle at first—fatigue, breathlessness, sluggish meridian response—but now, with the cause known, it was clear:
Meridian Clogging.
A death sentence to martial talent.
Their elite juniors—once the future of the family—were now irreversibly crippled. The Meng family roared with fury.
That fury had to go somewhere.
Eventually, the trail led where Shen Li had always intended it to: Gao Lupeng.
The herbs, the warehouse, the distribution chains—too many threads tied to his name. The Meng family didn't care for excuses. They only cared that the damage was done, and someone had to pay.
And Gao was not one of them.
Shen Li sat quietly, sipping bitter tea as he listened to the gossip weaving its way through the streets like wildfire. The news reached him sooner than expected.
Just as he had predicted, when the Meng family failed to find a scapegoat within Gao's faction, they shifted to elimination. His warehouses were burned. His allies silenced. His name—erased from merchant ledgers.
But Gao Lupeng himself was never found.
That's when something occurred Shen Li hadn't foreseen.
Exactly one week later, a ghastly banner was raised outside the southern forest, along one of the known bandit routes.
It wasn't just a flag.
It was Gao.
Or what remained of him.
A pole was rammed straight through him—from the rear, up through the mouth, raising his body like some twisted offering. His arms and legs had been severed, leaving only his torso flayed and trembling, like a human lantern hung for all to see.
His eyes were dull, devoid of will.
Snakes—drawn by the scent of rot—crawled across his mutilated chest and circled in the dirt below, like they knew this meat belonged to the dead.
Shen Li's face remained composed as he stirred his tea.
But deep inside, a cold thought lingered:
"It seems the Meng family has very strong control over the bandits... or perhaps they simply exchanged value."
Whether by command or convenience, Gao Lupeng had become nothing more than an offering, a final seal to close the case. His death, brutal and public, served both as warning and cleanup. Whatever secrets he might've carried—he took them with him into the afterlife.
After simulations, each filled with rising tension, counterplots, and brutal ends, Gao had always been the ceiling. A predator watching him from above, ready to pounce the moment Shen Li's fortunes turned.
And now... that shadow was gone.
Shen Li finally relaxed, a rare moment of clarity clearing his mind. Whether Gao's actions were his own, or puppeteered by the Meng family, mattered little now.
"At least for now… I don't have a sword hanging over my head," he thought, exhaling slowly.
As for the Meng family, they were likely scrambling behind closed doors. Their once-proud juniors now crippled by clogged meridians. They'd need years—if not decades—to cleanse their bloodline of the unseen rot. It was a disaster not easily buried.
And the medical families?
Their heads would ache for months.
They had vouched for the purity of those herbs. Now, they would have to stand before scrutiny, before anger, and most painfully—before doubt.
Shen Li narrowed his eyes as he sipped from the cooling tea.
"Now... I need to resolve two matters: one, a suitable cultivation manual. Two, the methods of that leather monster"
Thanks to over a hundred years of simulated lifetimes, he had already amassed a collection of more than twenty low-grade martial arts manuals and four middle-grade techniques. In the process, Shen Li had come to an unsettling realization: martial arts effectiveness correlated with how many muscle groups were activated in harmony during combat.
It was a breakthrough only someone with his unique blend of medical knowledge and lived experience could make.
Theoretically, he could construct a high-grade martial art from scratch. His understanding of anatomy, muscle stimulation, and meridian flow made such a feat possible. But Shen Li wasn't interested in wasting years on a path that might only end at the first-grade threshold.
"Even if I build one… it'll only serve as a reference. Not the final product."
No—what Shen Li truly sought was a path beyond the clouds. Something that would let him see the higher scenery that few ever glimpsed. A path that broke beyond the boundaries of mortal martial progression.
Inner energy methods… now that was a different beast entirely.
Despite all his simulations and extensive research, he had yet to lay hands on even a single complete inner breathing technique. The realm of internal cultivation remained shrouded, forbidden to commoners and even many elites.
He knew one thing though: only the Song family in this county had access to such methods—and they guarded them with the ferocity of a starving dragon.
Perhaps, when the day came that the Song family fell, he would be in the perfect position to seize their legacy. But until then… he needed to prepare.
Shen Li strolled through the bustling city center with a calm, unhurried air, as if he had not a single worry in the world. His eyes idly scanned the crowded streets, but in his heart, he was counting something else entirely.
"System," he whispered inwardly.
A translucent panel appeared before his mind's eye—its numbers neat and steady:
[Simulation Interface]
Name: Shen LiRace: HumanLifespan: 17 / 312
To simulate, enter how many years of lifespan you wish to sacrifice.[Awaiting Input…]
Shen Li sat silently before the flickering candlelight.His eyes swept across the system interface before him, steady as stone.
He had already surpassed the mortal shell that bound common men.
A first-grade martial artist, if fortunate, could live up to 120 years.But Shen Li had outlived that estimate by nearly double.
And yet… he was still a mortal.
"Initiates… how long can they live?" he murmured.
There were no records. No books. No scrolls.Nothing tangible that spoke of the true lifespan of those who broke their human limits.
As for immortals?
Legends spoke of them, but their presence in the world was like smoke—drifting, faint, unreachable.
"If they do exist," Shen Li thought grimly,"Then either they have vanished from this world…Or they hide behind a veil so thick, even the heavens pretend they're myths."
He tapped the interface, considering the weight of his next path.