The old district of Tiancheng City did not belong to the present.
That was the first thought that crossed Lin Yuan's mind as he stepped out of the taxi and onto uneven stone pavement. The modern skyline was nowhere in sight here. Instead, low buildings with sloping roofs lined narrow streets, their wooden frames darkened by age and incense smoke. Red lanterns hung beneath eaves, swaying gently despite the absence of wind.
This place existed in a gray zone—neither tourist attraction nor forgotten slum.
It was maintained.
Which meant someone cared enough to preserve it.
Lin Yuan adjusted his jacket and walked forward at an unhurried pace. His senses were fully alert, yet carefully restrained. He did not expand his perception recklessly, nor did he draw qi openly.
This was not cultivation.
This was diplomacy.
The teahouse Qin Shuhai had sent him to was modest from the outside: two stories, wooden doors, no signboard. Only a faint, steady aroma of tea leaves drifted from within.
Lin Yuan paused at the entrance.
His heart rate was steady.
Breathing even.
There was no fear—only calculation.
If this is a trap, he thought, then it's meant to test my reaction, not kill me.
He pushed the door open.
A bell chimed softly.
Inside, the teahouse was quiet. Only a few tables were occupied, each separated by decorative screens. The lighting was warm, deliberately subdued. The air felt… calm.
Too calm.
Lin Yuan took three steps inside before he felt it.
A pressure.
Not oppressive.
Not hostile.
But unmistakably strong.
It was like standing near deep water—no waves, no turbulence, yet one instinctively knew the depth beneath the surface.
So this was the hidden world's baseline.
A young attendant approached him with a polite bow.
"Mr. Lin," she said. "Please follow me."
Lin Yuan nodded and followed her up a narrow staircase to the second floor.
At the end of the hallway, she slid open a wooden door and gestured him inside.
"This way."
Lin Yuan entered.
The room was simple: a low wooden table, two cushions, a charcoal stove keeping a kettle warm. Seated at the table was an old man with white hair and a calm smile, dressed in a plain gray robe that would have looked out of place anywhere else in the city.
But here—
It fit perfectly.
"Please, sit," the old man said.
Lin Yuan met his gaze.
Those eyes.
They were not sharp in the way Zhao Feng's had been—not aggressive, not domineering. Instead, they were deep, like a well that had never once run dry.
Lin Yuan inclined his head slightly and took a seat across from him.
"Lin Yuan," the old man said, pouring tea with slow, deliberate movements. "I am Qin Shuhai."
"An elder, judging by your aura," Lin Yuan replied evenly.
Qin Shuhai chuckled.
"Straightforward. I like that. Yes, you may call me Elder Qin."
He slid a cup across the table.
"Drink. The tea is ordinary. No additives."
Lin Yuan picked up the cup and took a sip.
It was, indeed, ordinary tea.
That alone was noteworthy.
"You noticed a fluctuation," Lin Yuan said calmly. "Enough to trace it to me."
"Yes."
"And you decided to contact me," Lin Yuan continued. "Instead of silencing me."
"Yes again."
"Why?"
Qin Shuhai leaned back slightly.
"Because silence is inefficient," he replied. "And because killing anomalies before understanding them is how civilizations stagnate."
Lin Yuan's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"That implies you don't believe my awakening was an anomaly."
"I believe," Qin Shuhai corrected gently, "that you are the anomaly."
Silence stretched between them.
Lin Yuan did not rush to fill it.
Finally, Qin Shuhai spoke again.
"Tell me, Lin Yuan," he said. "How did you awaken?"
Lin Yuan met his gaze squarely.
"I won't."
Qin Shuhai laughed softly.
"Good. If you had answered readily, I would have been disappointed."
He set his cup down.
"Let me be clear. I do not demand your secrets. I am not here to recruit you, nor to bind you to a sect or organization."
Lin Yuan's brows rose slightly.
"Then what are you here for?"
"To warn you," Qin Shuhai said.
Lin Yuan waited.
"The world you have stepped into is old," Qin Shuhai continued. "Older than this city. Older than this country. Cultivation never vanished—it retreated. It hid. Those who survived learned to coexist with modern society rather than challenge it openly."
He paused, eyes sharpening.
"Large fluctuations attract attention. Yours was… unusually clean."
Clean.
Lin Yuan understood.
No external artifact. No inheritance signature. No chaotic instability.
"That makes you dangerous," Qin Shuhai said frankly. "And valuable."
"Dangerous to whom?" Lin Yuan asked.
Qin Shuhai smiled thinly.
"To anyone who believes power should be inherited, rationed, or controlled."
Lin Yuan's fingers tightened slightly around his cup.
"And you?"
"I believe power should be understood," Qin Shuhai said. "Before it is either embraced or destroyed."
There it was.
The line.
"You're here to assess whether I should live," Lin Yuan said calmly.
Qin Shuhai did not deny it.
"Yes."
The word was spoken lightly.
As if discussing the weather.
Lin Yuan exhaled slowly.
Inside him, the system interface stirred.
[High-Stakes Social Interaction Detected.][Choice Available.]
Lin Yuan did not look at it.
He already knew what to do.
He placed his cup down carefully.
"Elder Qin," he said. "You sensed my awakening. Others will too."
"Yes."
"If I hide, I will be hunted eventually," Lin Yuan continued. "If I submit, I become a pawn."
Qin Shuhai nodded faintly.
"Correct."
"So the only rational path," Lin Yuan concluded, "is to demonstrate that killing me would be… inefficient."
Qin Shuhai's eyes gleamed.
"And how do you intend to do that?"
Lin Yuan met his gaze without flinching.
"By surviving," he said simply. "And by growing faster than your expectations."
For the first time since the meeting began, the pressure in the room shifted.
Not outwardly.
But inwardly.
Qin Shuhai's smile widened—just a fraction.
"Interesting answer," he said. "Most people beg. Or threaten."
"I don't need to do either," Lin Yuan replied calmly. "Not yet."
Qin Shuhai studied him in silence for a long moment.
Then he laughed.
A genuine laugh.
"Well," he said, "you have nerves. I'll give you that."
He reached into his sleeve and placed a small object on the table.
A token.
Plain black metal, warm to the touch, etched with a simple symbol Lin Yuan did not recognize.
"This is not a contract," Qin Shuhai said. "It is a marker."
"A marker for what?"
"For patience," Qin Shuhai replied. "As long as you carry it, certain people will hesitate before acting against you. They will know someone is watching."
"And when they stop hesitating?" Lin Yuan asked.
Qin Shuhai's eyes sharpened again.
"Then it means you've grown enough that hesitation no longer matters."
Lin Yuan picked up the token.
The moment his fingers closed around it, the system interface flared.
[Item Acquired: Unknown Token.][Choose Return Type.]
Lin Yuan's heartbeat remained steady.
This was a critical moment.
Quantity could multiply the token's influence—expanding its deterrent effect.
Quality could refine it—transforming a mere marker into something… deeper.
But this item did not originate from him.
It was external.
Quality, he decided, might cause unforeseen entanglements.
He chose carefully.
"Quantity."
[Choice Confirmed: Quantity ×100.][Influence Amplification Applied.]
The token felt no different.
But Lin Yuan knew.
Whatever attention this marker commanded—
It had just multiplied.
Qin Shuhai's brows knit together briefly.
Then he laughed again, quieter this time.
"So," he murmured. "That's how it is."
Lin Yuan said nothing.
"Very well," Qin Shuhai said, standing. "Our conversation ends here. I will not interfere with your path—unless you force my hand."
"And Zhao Feng?" Lin Yuan asked.
Qin Shuhai paused at the door.
"The Zhao family," he said slowly, "are small fish who believe themselves sharks. If they move rashly… that will be their lesson to learn."
The door slid shut behind him.
Lin Yuan remained seated for several seconds, breathing evenly.
Then he stood and left the teahouse.
The night air outside felt lighter.
Not because danger had passed—but because lines had been drawn.
Lin Yuan walked several streets before stopping beneath a streetlamp. He pulled out his phone.
Three missed calls.
One message.
From an unknown number.
"Zhao Feng wants to see you. Tomorrow. Come alone."
Lin Yuan stared at the screen.
Then he smiled.
Slowly.
"So," he thought, "you moved first."
The system interface shimmered faintly, almost approvingly.
[Conflict Initiated.][Momentum Increasing.]
Lin Yuan slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued walking, unhurried, calm.
Zhao Feng thought he was summoning a loser for closure.
The hidden world thought it was observing a variable.
Neither realized—
The first true test of the Hundredfold Return System was about to begin.
And once it did—
There would be no turning back.