Chapter 20: The Growing Shadow
Han Feng spent the remainder of the night moving through the mountains.
He didn't cultivate.
Not yet.
After the pursuit in the forest, he had learned an uncomfortable lesson.
His enemies were not fools.
The cultivator who had entered the cave had noticed the false trail. Even though Han Feng had escaped, he could no longer assume that hiding his aura would be enough to survive.
He needed distance.
He needed information.
And above all...
He needed an identity that wasn't his own.
By sunrise, Han Feng had reached a narrow ravine several dozen kilometers from the cave.
The place was surrounded by dark cliffs and dense vegetation. A thin layer of poisonous mist covered the ground, making it difficult to see more than a few meters ahead.
Most ordinary cultivators would avoid such a place.
For Han Feng, that made it useful.
He spent several hours inspecting the area before choosing a small stone chamber hidden beneath the roots of an ancient tree.
There were no signs of recent habitation.
No footprints.
No formations.
No spiritual beasts nearby.
For now, it was safe.
Han Feng entered the chamber and finally allowed himself to relax.
His shoulder still hurt.
The wound left by the black spear had not completely healed.
He removed the cloth covering it and examined the injury.
The cut wasn't deep enough to threaten his life, but it was a reminder of how narrow his escape had been.
He cleaned the wound and leaned against the wall.
"That man was at least at the fourth level of Spiritual Foundation..."
Han Feng's eyes narrowed.
"And I barely escaped."
His current cultivation was simply too low.
The Celestial Diagram gave him extraordinary potential, but potential wasn't the same as strength.
If he continued relying on tricks forever, sooner or later he would encounter someone powerful enough to see through all of them.
He needed to cultivate.
But there was another problem.
Resources.
His small stock of medicinal herbs was almost gone.
The spiritual materials he had found in the forest had already been consumed.
Even the food he carried would last only a few days.
Cultivation wasn't free.
In this world, strength required resources.
And resources belonged to those with power.
Han Feng closed his eyes.
A thought slowly formed.
"Then I'll borrow their resources."
His eyes opened again.
Not steal.
Not yet.
Join.
An organization.
A sect.
A clan.
Something that could provide him with cultivation manuals, medicinal herbs, missions, information and, most importantly, protection.
Han Feng smiled faintly.
"If I remain alone, I'll always be hunted."
"But if I become one of them..."
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't need to.
The idea was already clear.
He needed a place where his existence wouldn't attract attention.
And he needed an identity that nobody would associate with Han Feng of Misty River Village.
For the next two days, Han Feng remained hidden.
He didn't cultivate.
Instead, he gathered information.
Using the Celestial Veil, he traveled through the outskirts of several settlements, listening to conversations and observing passing cultivators.
He learned about small clans.
Merchant groups.
Independent cultivators.
And several sects that operated in the region.
Most were unsuitable.
Some required bloodline qualifications.
Others demanded years of loyalty.
Several organizations were simply too close to Misty River Village.
Eventually, one name appeared repeatedly.
The Black Moon Sect.
It wasn't a major sect.
Compared to the great cultivation sects of the empire, it was barely worth mentioning.
But that was precisely what interested Han Feng.
The Black Moon Sect specialized in concealment, reconnaissance and assassination.
Its members operated throughout the border regions.
They didn't care much about a recruit's family name.
They cared about whether that recruit could be useful.
According to the rumors, the sect also accepted wandering cultivators who had no clan backing them.
Han Feng considered it carefully.
A dangerous organization.
But one with exactly the kind of environment he needed.
"If I enter..."
He frowned.
"...I may also become someone else's pawn."
That was the price.
Han Feng wasn't naïve enough to believe the Black Moon Sect would simply give him resources for free.
Every organization had rules.
Every resource had a price.
Every favor created a debt.
Still, the opportunity was too valuable to ignore.
He decided to investigate before making his move.
The Valley of Blood Mist was located nearly a day's journey from his temporary shelter.
The name wasn't exaggerated.
A reddish mist covered the valley almost constantly, produced by a combination of poisonous spiritual plants and underground mineral deposits.
The mist reduced visibility and interfered with spiritual perception.
Perfect territory for people who preferred not to be found.
Han Feng stopped several kilometers away.
He didn't enter immediately.
Instead, he climbed a rocky slope overlooking the valley and observed.
At first, he saw nothing unusual.
Then he noticed them.
Three figures.
Black robes.
Masks covering the lower half of their faces.
They stood near the entrance of the valley, apparently guarding the road.
Han Feng watched them for several minutes.
They weren't particularly strong.
The strongest seemed to be around the second level of Spiritual Foundation.
But their movements were disciplined.
They weren't ordinary wandering cultivators.
Han Feng waited until nightfall.
Only then did he approach.
He didn't walk directly toward them.
Instead, he circled the valley.
He wanted to know how many guards there were.
One.
Two.
Five.
Seven.
There were more than he had initially noticed.
Hidden observation posts had been placed along the surrounding cliffs.
Han Feng smiled.
"So the rumors were true."
The Black Moon Sect didn't trust newcomers.
That made sense.
An organization built around assassination wouldn't survive by being careless.
He returned to the forest and spent the night thinking.
By morning, he had made his decision.
He would enter.
But not as Han Feng.
Han Feng's false identity could not be complicated.
A complicated lie required too many details.
Instead, he built it around facts that were common among wandering cultivators.
His new name would be Lin Feng.
He would be sixteen years old.
His birthplace would be a small farming settlement called Willow Creek Hamlet, located in the western borderlands.
The settlement was insignificant.
It wasn't associated with a powerful clan.
It wasn't a cultivation center.
And, more importantly, it had been destroyed three years earlier during a beast tide.
That explained why there were no living relatives to verify his identity.
But Han Feng needed more than a dead village.
He needed an explanation for his cultivation.
That part required more thought.
He couldn't claim to have been taught by a famous master.
Someone would eventually ask for the master's name.
He couldn't claim to belong to a clan.
The clan would have records.
And he couldn't claim to have discovered a powerful inheritance.
That would attract far too much attention.
So he created something much more ordinary.
His father had been a wandering herbalist.
Not a cultivator.
Not a famous physician.
Just a man who traveled between villages collecting medicinal plants.
His mother had died when Lin Feng was young.
After his father's death during the beast tide, Lin Feng had survived by following a caravan traveling between border settlements.
There, he had worked as a porter and learned the basics of breathing Qi from an old caravan guard.
The guard had never been his master.
He had simply taught the boy enough to strengthen his body.
The guard had died several years later.
No sect.
No inheritance.
No famous technique.
Just fragments.
That explained why Lin Feng possessed a basic cultivation foundation without having a recognizable lineage.
It also explained why his cultivation was mediocre.
And why his knowledge of the wider cultivation world was limited.
The story wasn't impressive.
That was precisely why Han Feng liked it.
It sounded like the kind of life nobody would bother investigating too deeply.
There was only one weakness.
The Black Moon Sect would certainly investigate Willow Creek Hamlet.
Han Feng had prepared for that as well.
Before entering the valley, he had spent two days collecting information from travelers.
The hamlet had indeed existed.
The beast tide had indeed destroyed several settlements in that region.
The caravan route he mentioned was also real.
Even the name of the old caravan guard came from a deceased cultivator whose existence was recorded on a memorial tablet in a nearby town.
Han Feng had not invented a completely fictional life.
He had built his identity from pieces of real information.
That made it much harder to break.
But it also created a dangerous rule.
He could not improvise.
If someone asked him about Willow Creek Hamlet, he needed to remember what he had learned.
If someone asked about the caravan route, his answer needed to match.
One contradiction could destroy everything.
Han Feng took a deep breath.
"Lin Feng."
He repeated the name silently.
Then he entered the valley.
At the entrance of the Black Moon Sect, two guards immediately stopped him.
"Name."
"Lin Feng."
"Age."
"Sixteen."
"Origin."
"Willow Creek Hamlet."
The guard's expression changed slightly.
"Willow Creek?"
"Yes."
"That's the settlement destroyed three years ago."
Han Feng nodded.
"My father died there."
"Name?"
"Lin Shan."
The guard studied his face.
"Occupation?"
"Herbalist."
"Not a cultivator?"
"No."
"Then how did you begin cultivating?"
Han Feng answered without hesitation.
"A caravan guard taught me basic breathing techniques when I was younger."
"His name?"
"Zhou Ren."
The guard looked at his companion.
Neither spoke.
Then the first guard asked:
"What caravan?"
"The Red Sand Caravan."
Another pause.
Han Feng could feel the tension increasing.
He didn't rush his answers.
The guard continued.
"Where did the caravan travel?"
"Between the western settlements and Black Rock City."
"How long did you travel with them?"
"Almost two years."
"And why did you leave?"
"The caravan dissolved after the previous caravan master died."
The guard stared at him.
Han Feng remained expressionless.
Every answer matched the information he had gathered.
But that didn't mean the guards believed him.
The first guard finally asked:
"Why join the Black Moon Sect?"
Han Feng considered his answer.
"I need resources."
The guard laughed.
"At least you're honest."
Han Feng didn't smile.
"I also need a place where nobody cares where I came from."
That answer changed the atmosphere.
The guard's expression became colder.
"That's not the same as saying you have nothing to hide."
Han Feng met his gaze.
"I didn't say I was innocent."
Silence.
The guard stared at him for several seconds.
Then he stepped aside.
"You're allowed to enter."
Han Feng took one step forward.
"That doesn't mean you're accepted."
The guard pointed toward the valley.
"The recruitment examination will determine that."
Han Feng nodded.
He had expected nothing less.
The recruitment wasn't a simple tournament.
Han Feng quickly realized that the Black Moon Sect had no interest in finding the strongest candidate.
They wanted useful people.
The first test was observation.
Candidates were placed inside a forest filled with hidden markers.
Their task was to locate three of them without being detected by the examiners.
Some candidates rushed ahead.
Others relied on brute force.
Several were eliminated within the first hour.
Han Feng moved slowly.
He didn't activate the Celestial Transmutation Gu.
He didn't need it.
Instead, he relied on patience.
He watched the birds.
The insects.
The movement of leaves.
The places where the mist behaved unnaturally.
A hidden cultivator would inevitably disturb the environment somehow.
After nearly two hours, Han Feng found the first marker.
Then the second.
The third was different.
He could feel it nearby, but he couldn't see it.
He searched the area for several minutes before realizing the truth.
There was no marker.
It was a trap.
Someone was watching him.
Han Feng deliberately walked past the location.
Then he turned around and looked directly at a tree.
"Is that what you're testing?"
Silence.
A black-robed examiner appeared from behind the trunk.
His eyes contained a trace of surprise.
"How did you notice?"
Han Feng shrugged.
"The birds avoided this tree."
The examiner stared at him for several seconds.
Then he disappeared.
"Pass."
Han Feng continued.
The second test was combat.
This time, Han Feng couldn't avoid showing something.
His opponent was a young man named Chen Rui.
He was slightly taller and considerably more muscular.
His cultivation was at the first level of Spiritual Foundation.
"Don't worry," Chen Rui said with a grin.
"I won't cripple you."
Han Feng said nothing.
The signal was given.
Chen Rui attacked immediately.
His movements were fast.
Faster than those of the young cultivators in Misty River Village.
Han Feng stepped aside.
The punch passed his chest.
He countered with a palm strike.
Not enough to win.
Just enough to force Chen Rui back.
The young man narrowed his eyes.
"You're hiding something."
Han Feng's heart skipped.
But his expression remained calm.
"So are you."
Chen Rui smiled.
Then he attacked again.
The battle continued for nearly a hundred exchanges.
Han Feng deliberately kept his strength within a narrow range.
He allowed himself to be pressured.
He avoided flashy techniques.
He never used the Celestial Transmutation Gu.
And, most importantly, he didn't win too quickly.
Eventually, Chen Rui made a mistake.
Han Feng stepped inside his guard and struck his shoulder.
Chen Rui stumbled.
Before he could recover, Han Feng placed two fingers against his throat.
Silence.
The examiner raised his hand.
"Enough."
Chen Rui stepped backward, breathing heavily.
He looked at Han Feng with a strange expression.
"You held back."
Han Feng gave him a tired smile.
"So did you."
Neither man believed the other.
That was fine.
That evening, Han Feng was summoned to a small stone building.
Three people waited inside.
One was the examiner from the forest.
Another was a middle-aged woman with silver hair.
The third was a man whose face was hidden behind a black mask.
The masked man spoke first.
"Lin Feng."
"Yes."
"We verified the existence of Willow Creek Hamlet."
Han Feng remained silent.
"We verified the Red Sand Caravan."
Still silent.
"We even found a record of a caravan guard named Zhou Ren."
The masked man leaned forward.
"But we couldn't verify that you traveled with them."
Han Feng didn't react.
"Because?"
"Because most of the caravan records were destroyed."
The masked man's eyes narrowed.
"Convenient."
"Very."
Han Feng didn't deny it.
The woman beside him spoke.
"You constructed a story using facts that were already difficult to verify."
Han Feng looked at her.
"Yes."
The room became silent.
The woman frowned.
"You admit it?"
"I constructed the story."
He paused.
"But that doesn't mean everything in it is false."
The masked man stared at him.
Han Feng continued.
"Willow Creek existed."
"The beast tide happened."
"The Red Sand Caravan existed."
"Zhou Ren existed."
"My father was an herbalist."
He leaned back.
"The only thing you can't prove is whether I am the person connected to those events."
The masked man's eyes sharpened.
"And what exactly are you hiding?"
Han Feng smiled faintly.
"Enough to survive."
The room fell silent again.
Then the masked man laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough to break the tension.
"At least you're honest about being dishonest."
The silver-haired woman didn't laugh.
"That doesn't make him trustworthy."
"No."
The masked man picked up a black token.
"But trust isn't required."
He placed it on the table.
"Usefulness is."
Han Feng looked at the token.
"You will enter the outer division under provisional status."
The woman immediately added:
"For six months."
"During that period, your movements will be monitored."
"Your missions will be recorded."
"Your cultivation progress will be examined."
"And any contradiction in your background will be investigated."
The masked man looked directly at him.
"If we discover that you are connected to another organization..."
He paused.
"You will not receive a second interrogation."
Han Feng picked up the token.
The crescent moon engraved on its surface felt cold against his palm.
"I understand."
He stood.
Before he could leave, the silver-haired woman spoke again.
"One more thing, Lin Feng."
Han Feng turned.
"You said your father was an herbalist."
"Yes."
"Then why do your hands have the calluses of someone who has practiced weapons?"
Han Feng's eyes narrowed slightly.
She was testing him.
He looked at his palms.
Then smiled.
"I didn't say I only carried herbs."
The woman stared at him.
After a moment, she nodded.
"Acceptable."
Han Feng left the room.
Only after the door closed did he allow himself to breathe normally.
His identity had survived.
Barely.
But he understood something important.
The Black Moon Sect had not accepted his story.
They had accepted the possibility that he was lying.
And that was much more dangerous.
Because now, every mission would serve two purposes.
One would test his ability.
The other would test his identity.
Han Feng looked down at the black token.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Good."
If they wanted to investigate him...
Then he would make sure there was never enough evidence to find the truth.
Behind him, the stone door closed.
Inside the Black Moon Sect, a new name had been registered.
Lin Feng.
A wandering cultivator with no clan.
No master.
No surviving family.
No verifiable past.
And a story that was almost entirely built from truths.
Almost.