CHAPTER 552: JU FAN’S IMAGE

From the corner of the pavilion, a side door creaked open.

A small group of slaves entered the hall. Han Yu’s eyes went to them immediately. There were about ten of them: six men and four women. All of them wore coarse gray robes with black sigils branded near their necks, faintly glowing with crimson light.

The first thing Han Yu noticed was their eyes.

They were empty.

Not entirely lifeless, but dulled... as if hope had been drained from them long ago. Their shoulders were slumped, their movements mechanical. Still, they obeyed every order without hesitation.

A few of them were mortals, thin and pale but not starving. Others had weak Qi fluctuations; Qi Refining Realm cultivators, perhaps captured disciples or lesser criminals. Han Yu could see faint red marks on their arms where bindings had chafed against skin.

As they lined up before the clerk, none dared look at Han Yu directly. They stood perfectly still, heads bowed, waiting for orders.

The clerk, trembling slightly, gestured to them. "S-slaves, prepare the Senior Brother’s requested furnishings immediately. He wants bedding, furniture, and storage jars. You will follow instructions without delay."

Han Yu remained silent, letting her do the talking.

He could sense her fear thickening in the air, feeding into faint tendrils of Violet Fear energy that he quietly absorbed. The energy was subtle, trickling into his Soul core like wisps of smoke.

"Good," he thought, his face expressionless. "At least something useful comes of this."

The slaves moved with silent coordination. Some vanished into the back rooms to retrieve the items, while others carried out empty crates to transport them. Their expressions remained the same throughout; blank, subdued, efficient.

Han Yu could not help but feel a flicker of discomfort. He had seen servants before in his old sect, but this was different. These people moved like they had long since accepted that their lives no longer belonged to them.

Within minutes, everything he had asked for was neatly arranged in front of him.

The clerk inspected the items once before bowing again. "Would you like the slaves to deliver these to your cave, Senior Brother?"

Han Yu hesitated for a moment.

It was a bit strange that they offered delivery service for furniture, but then again, everything here seemed to revolve around control and obedience. He figured it would be best to allow them to handle it while he took care of other matters.

"Yes," he said simply, nodding. "Send them to my cave. The Fifth Rib Peak, cave six hundred and sixty-six."

The clerk’s expression flickered with something, perhaps a brief moment of pity, but she quickly masked it and nodded. "At once, Senior Brother."

The slaves began loading the furniture onto small carrying frames, their motions silent and smooth. None of them spoke or made a sound as they left, their footsteps soft against the blood-red tiles of the floor.

Han Yu watched them go, a strange heaviness in his chest. He was not the kind of man to pity easily, but there was something unnerving about how obedient they were. It was the kind of submission that could only come from absolute fear.

He turned back toward the counter and took out a small pouch from his ring, handing it to the clerk. "This should cover it." He had already seen the price she had written down earlier.

The girl opened the pouch and counted the stones quickly. "Fifty low-grade spirit stones," she said softly. "Perfect, Senior Brother. I will record it immediately."

Han Yu gave a slight nod and turned to leave.

He had taken only a few steps toward the door when his enhanced senses caught a faint whisper.

"Lucky," a male voice murmured from behind the counter. "Senior brother Ju Fan didn’t explode today. He must be in a good mood."

Han Yu’s foot paused mid-step.

He did not turn around, but his expression tightened for a brief second before he continued walking. "So that’s what they think of me," he thought wryly. "Exploding? What in the heavens did Ju Fan do before to earn that kind of reputation?"

As he walked past the rows of shelves toward the exit, Han Yu felt the faint stirrings of Fear Qi from several other disciples nearby. They had gone silent when he passed, pretending to browse the items, but their spiritual signatures betrayed their anxiety.

Unintentionally, Han Yu’s new form, combined with the crimson light that constantly reflected off his robes made him look far more menacing than he realized. His pale skin, sharp features, and calm eyes only amplified that sense of cold ruthlessness.

To those watching, he was not a quiet man trying to fit in. He looked like a predator casually strolling through his hunting grounds.

By the time he reached the door, the atmosphere behind him was suffocatingly tense.

The moment he stepped outside, several people inside the pavilion exhaled audibly, as if they had been holding their breath the entire time.

The clerk leaned against the counter, shaking slightly. "He didn’t even shout today," she whispered to the disciple beside her. "Maybe he’s... changing?"

The other disciple gave her a nervous look. "Don’t say that out loud. You never know when he’ll hear you."

Han Yu, walking down the path outside, caught the faint exchange through his heightened hearing and sighed inwardly. "I guess I’ll have to live with Ju Fan’s reputation for now," he muttered. "At least they won’t bother me."

Still, he could not deny the small satisfaction that came with absorbing the lingering Fear energy that hung in the air around the pavilion.

"Maybe," he thought with a faint smirk, "I’ll get stronger here without even trying, if everyone keeps fearing me this much."

He turned his attention toward the distant crimson light that marked the direction of another grand pavilion.

The Merit Hall.

If he remembered correctly, Ju Fan’s token had shown no record of the mission’s completion. The rewards had not been automatically added, meaning he would have to synchronize it himself.

"Well then," Han Yu said quietly as he began walking, his figure cutting through the misty red haze of the sect. "Time to claim what’s mine... or rather, what was his."

Behind him, the slaves marched up the mountain toward his cave, burdened with the furniture he had purchased. Their chains rattled faintly, echoing through the blood-scented air as the crimson moon watched from above.