With his back still turned toward the source of the malice, An Jing continued without a single hitch, his movement not faltering one bit. He had detected quite a bit of malice over the last few days.

Since cultivating Sword of Tranquility and entering the Spirit Awakening Realm, An Jing's senses had become remarkably acute. And after comprehending the essence of Evenstar Ivory Divine Seal, his soul had grown stronger and clearer.

An Jing was well aware of how much people despised an ostentatious, profligate young master from Dustdawn, especially one who carried himself like a country dandy. Some harbored a deep resentment toward the wealthy, while others targeted outsiders, looked down on country folk, or simply loathed pampered young masters...

Beyond those, there were even more subtle forms of malice. Some begrudged him for spending lavishly at the store next door while only picking up a few small trinkets from theirs. Others resented that the country bumpkin had impeccable taste and couldn't be fooled when they tried to pass off inferior merchandise as premium goods. And the list went on...

Yet, these forms of ill intent were born of simple dislike, never amounting to a desire to cause harm. This time, however, the malice directed toward An Jing treated him as mere livestock. It was a cold, calculating gaze assessing his worth, evaluating how much he could be sold for, or how much ransom could be extorted by holding him hostage. A chilling gaze coiled around him like a venomous serpent.

Just as I thought. My recent behavior has attracted attention. Stopping before a street peddler and feigning an interest in his wares, An Jing casually scanned the crowd behind him as he turned, instantly pinpointing the exact source of the malice.

It was a middle-aged man donning headgear, his features defined by sparse eyebrows and a pair of narrow eyes.[1] He had a pleasant face, wore a light-brown coarse linen robe, and held a bag of local produce, effortlessly blending in as an ordinary person shopping for goods.[2]

But with his enhanced vision, An Jing keenly perceived that the calluses on the man's hands were entirely misplaced. They weren't marks from the toil of farming, but from wielding a blade. Though his stride appeared unsteady, every single step actually locked perfectly onto a focal point of power. If caught by surprise, he could immediately launch an attack or vanish in a swift retreat.

The man was indeed a martialist. Though his cultivation was modest, peaking at the River Aura Stage at best, he had at least practiced footwork. He likely had basic sword training, proficient enough to use it in any way he desired, proving he was no longer just a village thug.

It's true. If a slaver doesn't have good footwork, they're basically just waiting to be beaten to death as soon as something goes wrong. It doesn't seem like he's working for Fullyield Pawn Shop. An Jing knew perfectly well that the pawn shop wouldn't have waited until he consumed the spirit item; they would have struck sooner. But they could still be related to this incident.

The shopkeeper of Fullyield had undoubtedly reported the news to the management. With so many people in their company, the information must have been leaked to these malicious people tracking him. And on this occasion, they were observing him.

An Jing felt the gaze on him recede after a while. They were likely just verifying details such as his appearance and his place of lodging. However, this also meant that they had locked onto him as a target. This was the blowback from his hasty pursuit of the spirit item.

Interesting... They really have their eyes on me. Since he had sensed actual malice, An Jing had no intention of remaining passive. He ruled out the demonic cult immediately since the cultists practiced the Imperial Sky Art, making their presence almost undetectable. Little, if any, hostile intent ever leaked from them. They slaughtered, abducted, and trafficked victims without a shred of emotion, viewing it merely as a matter of course, an execution of heavenly will.

Compared to the demonic cult, this group consisted of mere amateurs. The former An Jing would have laid low at this stage, denying his opponents any opportunity to strike. However, his strength had dramatically improved after his recent breakthrough. Not to mention, there were no adepts in Keensight presently. Even if there were any hiding there, he was certain he could detect their presence beforehand and evade them entirely. So, what was there to fear? Power and confidence gave him the freedom to do as he pleased.

I'll find an opening over the next few days and strike them first. Having firmly etched the middle-aged man's faint eyebrows and narrow eyes into his memory, An Jing made his way back to the inn. It'll also give me a chance to see what they're plotting in Keensight.

Little did An Jing expect these people to be so exceptionally bold. Before he could find the right moment to strike, they made their move the very next morning while he was out buying breakfast.

As a busy hub, Keensight offered a unique blend of diverse flavors with endless varieties of breakfast options. Street staples ranged from assorted noodles and wontons to grilled cold noodles, savory pancakes, and fragrant scallion-oil noodles. More refined options included pastries like sugar cakes, steamed rice cakes, and multigrain cakes, paired with fresh soy milk or plum juice.

An Jing always pursued food with genuine enthusiasm and refused to be half-hearted about what he ate whenever he had the choice. He had spent the previous day entirely confined to his room, adapting to his improved physical capabilities and continuously circulating his aura to master its precise flow.

By the time he was done, morning had already arrived. After a full day without a single bite of food or drop of water, An Jing decided to venture out in search of a meal. After all, he preferred a warm bowl of noodle soup or fresh pancakes over the pastries served at the inn.

Old Chen's wontons were good last time, but I'll try something else today. An Jing made his way through the streets and alleys in high spirits, searching for a stall that appealed to him. Shortly after, he stopped at a teahouse to inspect their savory milk tea with interest. This savory beverage was a Dustdawn specialty that had migrated to the city. It was brewed from basic tea bricks and combined with salty milk. To be fair, it was actually quite tasty and similar to savory soy milk for breakfast.

"Hey young man, thinking of buying some? It might not be what you're used to if you're from Grand Chen." An elderly voice drifted from the back of the teahouse as an old lady emerged from the shadows to stand behind the tea brewer.

"Hmm? I actually do want to try it." Looking at the old lady who seemed to own the teahouse, An Jing asked, "But what makes you think I'm from Grand Chen, madam?"

An Jing was still dressed as a native of Dustdawn. He believed his accent and attire were impeccable, completely indistinguishable from a true local. Even Manager Li and the shopkeeper of Fullyield were fooled, so how did this old lady notice something?

Seeing the old lady, the woman brewing tea stood up in shock. "What are you doing outside? It's sunny today..."

"I'm fine. I can't be out in the sun, but I can still move around inside." Madam Huai had silvery hair and an amiable face, yet her complexion was almost frighteningly pale. She appeared to have a skin condition that necessitated that she avoid sunlight.

Gazing at An Jing, Madam Huai offered an apology. "I couldn't quite see clearly from the inside. It was but a casual remark, young man. Please don't take offense."

1. Fú jīn (幅巾) is a traditional Chinese headcloth made from a single piece of fabric, worn predominantly by men in ancient China ☜

2. 麻衣 (Màyī) literally translates to "hemp clothing" or "linen clothing." In ancient China, commoners, peasants, and laborers wore màyī because hemp and linen were cheap, durable, and readily available. ☜