The moment Jiang Chen parted from Zhao Yan, time folded back to the start of that walk.
He had walked the road to the Hall of Bright Virtue a hundred times. He knew every food stall on it, which ones were good, which ones would disappoint.
This was Maple City. He had lived here for years and trained here for years. Walking its streets, he felt a calm he found nowhere else.
He was so at ease that when a figure collided with him, he failed to dodge.
No — he had tried. It was too fast.
And the collision felt wrong. They did not bounce apart, not the way two bodies should. They stuck together.
The force between them was suction, not repulsion.
That was unnatural.
Jiang Chen looked up at the black-robed man pressed close to him and felt his hackles rise.
His gut screamed: this man was terrifying. He could not win.
The gap was so vast that if he tried to run and raise the alarm as a Maple City Academy disciple, the man could kill him and leave at leisure.
"So you're that fellow's junior, then..." The man leaned to Jiang Chen's ear. "Stay at your place a few days. All right?"
Jiang Chen nodded, body rigid.
"Good." The man drew back, letting Jiang Chen see the face beneath the hood — coarse, brutal, born ugly with menace. "You look clever. Clever men don't do stupid things."
Jiang Chen noticed then: the hooded black robe was the same make as the one the little fat boy from Three Mountain City had worn. And this man was bald.
There was no time to think. The bald man's eyes were dangerous.
First: he could not bring this man home. Not Zhao Yan's place, not Ling Chuan's — they would only be dragged in. And An'an was at home.
"But... I live in the academy dormitory." Jiang Chen swallowed, letting his fear show. "I'm an inner disciple."
"Hm. Meridian open, foundation not yet laid. Honest talk is the start of a good partnership." The bald man seemed pleased. He turned, slung an arm over Jiang Chen's shoulder, and walked him along. "But I believe you'll find a way. Right?"
The street was busy. No one noticed anything strange.
Or rather, Jiang Chen had to work harder to look normal, or he would be killed on the spot.
His mind raced.
First: "that fellow's junior." Who was "that fellow"?
The robe matched the fat boy from Three Mountain City.
A bold guess surfaced: Zhu Weiwo?
Then the bald man's identity clicked — the Heart-Devouring Demon. Xiong Wen.
Zhu Weiwo had been hunting Xiong Wen for days, so long he had missed the Three-City Trial. And the demon had dared to slip into Maple City and hide in plain sight.
This was a sixth-rank Soaring Dragon realm cultivator with the Gate of Heaven and Earth open.
Even with the Four-Spirit Body Refining Art and the Violet Dawn Sword Art, Jiang Chen could not jump three ranks to beat this man. Impossible.
"A way... there might be one, but I need to think. May I think?" Jiang Chen was no genius who planned seven moves ahead. He was stalling.
"You may. But not long. My patience is thin." The bald man was gracious about it, patting his shoulder.
They walked arm in arm, like close friends.
Jiang Chen kept analyzing.
Two days ago was the Three-City Trial. He had sensed the conflict simmering behind it. He had not pried — none of his business. But Zhao Yan had mentioned, offhand, that Wei Lin was settling accounts over the Little Grove Town massacre.
Now, thinking back: the city must have been locked down tight those days. And this bald man had slipped through without a whisper. His ability to vanish was real.
So why was he on the street, grabbing a random man, hunting a new hiding place?
Only one answer: his old hideout was burned. Zhu Weiwo had caught his trail into Maple City.
That was the opening...
But if the bald man really was Xiong Wen, he would see the same thing.
So he could not leave any hint for Zhu Weiwo. Playing tricks under a Soaring Dragon cultivator's nose was suicide.
Jiang Chen thought about where to go.
Not toward the city lord's manor. Not toward the academy. Both were lifelines — and the bald man was no fool.
What could he possibly do?
He could not measure a Soaring Dragon cultivator by his own strength. At the Three-City Trial he had seen Lin Zhengren fight. Xiong Wen was only stronger.
Idea after idea rose, then died.
Tangled, nearly despairing — but he could not despair.
Then he remembered: he had not picked up An'an today. Would she walk home alone? Would she be scared?
He thought of Qingzhi, the little girl, and the fathomless old man named Gui.
Maybe...
He cast the thought aside. He would never bring danger to Jiang An'an.
But thinking of her gave him strength.
"I have a friend..." Jiang Chen said, struggling. "But I can't take you to where he lives now. I won't harm him."
The bald man was intrigued. "And then?"
"He has a courtyard in his family's compound. He hasn't used it in a long time. It's quiet. No one will bother you." Jiang Chen added carefully: "The problem is, his family is strong. If we're careless, there might be trouble."
"Oh? How strong?" The bald man's voice carried an open sneer. No local Maple City family meant anything to him.
"One of the three great surnames — the Fang family. They may have some extraordinary power. I don't know the details."
The friend was Fang Heng, of course. In all of Maple City, within Jiang Chen's knowledge, only the city lord's manor, the academy, and the three great surnames could trouble the Heart-Devouring Demon.
He had no grudge with the Zhangs or the Wangs. But Fang Heng had once tried to poison him — a debt of blood — and Fang Lin had never stopped hounding him. He had even quarreled with Fang Zesheng last time.
And the most important thing: of the three great surnames, he truly only knew the Fangs. He had been to their compound.
In that small courtyard, Fang Heng had once shared wine with him, and talked long into the night by candlelight.
Now it was up to the bald man to agree.
The man thought it over — his own safety was at stake — then said: "Lead the way."
Jiang Chen's heart eased.
The first gate had been passed.