The golden sunlight fell through the narrow window of the Cold Night Inn, painting the wooden walls with warm streaks.

Inside the small rented room, silence hung heavy, broken only by the faint sound of Mo Han's steady breathing. He sat in lotus position on the thin mat, eyes closed, his aura faintly circulating like a calm river.

On the other side of the room, Jia Kai and Chi Kai were bent over a scroll spread across the table, whispering to each other as they exchanged cultivation pointers. Their brows occasionally furrowed, then eased as they tested small streams of qi in the air, smiling when they corrected each other's mistakes.

The door creaked open with a squeak. Fatty Lambu waddled inside, struggling with a tray twice the size of his stomach. Plates of steamed buns, roasted duck, pickled radish, and a mound of fragrant noodles were stacked high. The smell instantly filled the room.

"Heheh, finally! A feast worthy of my cultivation efforts!" Fatty announced proudly, kicking the door closed with his heel. "Do you know how much trouble I went through to get this much food? That innkeeper looked at me like I was trying to empty his kitchen."

Chi Kai gave him a long look, her lips twitching. "No one doubts your cultivation effort in eating, Senior Brother Lambu."

Fatty dropped the tray onto the floor and plopped down, already grabbing a bun. "Hmph, laugh all you want. Remember this—spiritual energy might sustain your body, but food sustains the soul!"

His chewing noises filled the room.

Mo Han's eyelids finally flickered open. He stretched his shoulders, the faint pressure of his aura vanishing like mist in the wind.

Jia Kai immediately noticed. She stopped mid-explanation and turned to him. "Mo Han, where were you last night?" Her eyes narrowed. "I checked the courtyard twice. You were gone the whole night. Did you sneak out?"

Even Chi Kai looked up, curiosity shining in her eyes. Fatty Lambu, mid-bite, blinked, crumbs stuck to his lips. "Eh? Brother Han went out? When? I didn't hear anything!"

Mo Han only smiled faintly, his lips curving with that unreadable amusement of his. He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his robe. "You'll know soon enough," he replied simply, his tone calm yet brimming with confidence.

That answer made Jia Kai frown deeper. "You…" She bit her lip, clearly unsatisfied. "You always hide things."

Before Mo Han could respond, a soft knock tapped against the door. All four inside stilled.

The sound repeated, delicate but insistent.

Fatty's cheeks puffed. "Don't tell me the innkeeper came for more payment? I already gave him ten extra stones!"

Chi Kai tilted her head. "No… that rhythm isn't random. It's… purposeful."

Mo Han walked forward. Reaching the door, he slid it open. No one stood outside. Only the dim hallway, empty and quiet.

But on the ground lay a small folded piece of paper.

Without a word, Mo Han bent, picked it up, and closed the door again. He sat back at the table, unhurriedly unfolding the paper.

"What is it?" Jia Kai asked immediately, her voice sharp with concern.

Fatty leaned over, trying to peek while chewing another bun.

Mo Han's eyes scanned the note. His expression shifted—barely. A spark of satisfaction flickered across his gaze before vanishing. He folded the note again, slipped it into his sleeve, and stood up.

"It's an invitation," he said softly. Then, with a faint smirk, he added, "Seems like my work didn't go to waste."

Chi Kai blinked. "Invitation? From who?"

But Mo Han was already walking toward the door.

"Wait!" Jia Kai stood quickly, her hand reaching out. "Mo Han, what have you done this time? Explain properly—"

He paused at the threshold, his back straight, his tone firm but casual. "No need to worry. You'll see the results soon enough. Guard the room. I'll return shortly."

And before anyone could protest further, he slid the door shut behind him, leaving the three stunned.

-

Earlier that morning, within the Eternal Night Mansion's gates, Elder Ding had been the first among the thirteen elders to arrive at the avenue of transformed trees. While the others gawked at the lifelike animals and speculated about the culprit's arrogance, Elder Ding did not waste time admiring the shapes.

Instead, his wrinkled hands traced the cuts one by one.

"No wasted force," he murmured under his breath. "No trembling. Each stroke measured. The pressure… consistent."

He moved to the eagle-shaped tree, his fingers running along the carved wings. "This was no random carving. This was sword art. Sword intent hidden in every line."

His cloudy eyes shone with sudden clarity. He bent lower, pressing his hand on the bark. He could feel it—the faint residue of sword qi, controlled to perfection.

"Only a true sword master… or a genius who walks the sword path… could leave marks like these overnight," Elder Ding whispered. His voice trembled, not with fear, but with excitement.

As he moved to the last sapling, his eyes froze at the base. Carved neatly in precise strokes:

Mo Han — Room 13, Cold Night Inn.

For a long moment, Elder Ding stood there in silence. Then he straightened, his expression grave but alight with interest.

"Mo Han…" he repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Unlike the others, he did not shout for guards, nor did he mock the audacity. Instead, he turned on his heel, his robes billowing as he walked briskly away. The other disciples watched him leave in confusion, but none dared to follow.

By the time the city stirred with gossip, Elder Ding was already making his way toward the Cold Night Inn, eager to meet the mysterious cultivator who wielded such a blade.

-

Back in the inn, Jia Kai stood frozen near the door after Mo Han's departure.

"An invitation?" she muttered, still frowning.

Chi Kai clasped her hands, her cheeks flushed. "It must be something big. Elder, merchant, or noble… someone must have noticed him."

Fatty Lambu shoved another bun into his mouth, his expression pale. "I don't like this. Every time Brother Han says 'invitation,' it means trouble. Remember the auction? The rich family chasing us? My heart still hasn't recovered!"

Jia Kai shot him a glare. "Shut your mouth, Lambu. This is not the same."

Fatty whined. "It always starts like this—'oh, it's just a small thing'—and then I end up coughing blood in some mountain valley!"

Chi Kai giggled softly at his dramatics, though worry lingered in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Mo Han walked through the bustling morning streets of Golden Silk City, the folded paper in his sleeve like a hidden flame.

-

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