Chapter 140: A Surprise Encounter

After the little squabble with the Xuan family young master, Liam continued walking deeper into Blackstone city.The streets of Blackstone City breathed with an energy that felt paradoxical at this hour. Predawn should have meant stillness, the quiet lull before the first vendors roused their voices, but instead the city pulsed with life.

Lanterns burned along the main avenue, their golden glow staining tiled roofs in amber. Thin mist clung to the stone roads, curling low like restless serpents as feet and hooves stirred it.

The air smelled of spice and smoke. Roasted chestnuts popped over open braziers; skewers of meat sizzled on iron grills.

Merchants in plain hemp robes shouted prices, hawking steamed buns, healing salves, talismans inked in fresh cinnabar.

Predawn in Blackstone wasn’t a lull at all — it was more like an opening act.

Liam walked through it with steady steps, his gaze roaming from stall to stall.


He lingered for a moment at a herbalist’s booth, his eyes narrowing at bundles of dried leaves hanging like inverted fans. Their scents mingled — bitter, sharp, pungent.

"So many unfamiliar plants," he muttered under his breath. His mind ticked immediately to his plan: buy herbs, acquire ores, bring them into the Dimensional Space, let Lucy tear them apart molecule by molecule.

Especially the ores.

If their elemental structures mirrored those on Earth, good. He could cross-reference, replicate, maybe even mass-produce new alloys. But if they didn’t? If they contained compounds unknown to Earth? Then he’d be holding keys to a treasure chest that no one else in his world could open.

He wants to see if he can replicate them with the molecular assembler. It would be an interesting situation, if the molecular assembler can break down and build things of the cultivation world. It would make it a broken piece of tech. And the truth was that, Liam was really looking forward to it.

Of course, he knew one boundary even Lucy might not cross: Qi. Spiritual energy wasn’t something the molecular assembler could replicate. It wasn’t bound by chemical formulas or periodic tables. But everything else — herbs, ores, fibers — those were fair game.

The thought made his blood stir with excitement.

But herbs and ores weren’t the only reasons he’d returned.

Liam’s mind drifted to another plan: the sects.

He had read enough to understand their structures, though he knew books rarely captured truth. Hierarchies, inner and outer disciples, trials of merit, sect missions — obligations that tied one’s life to another’s command.

For someone like him, the thought was uncomfortable. He valued independence. He valued the ability to act on his own terms. Sect obligations would tangle his freedom with chains of duty, chains he couldn’t always cut.

And yet... he couldn’t deny the benefits; backing, resources — not he would be needing their resources, legitimacy.

A sect would shield him, at least publicly, and open doors that would otherwise remain closed. Especially for someone like him — an outsider, a "nobody" in this world with no cultivation to prove his worth.

Joining one of the major sects would be ideal, he thought, pausing before a blacksmith’s shop where iron bars glimmered in the dim light. But can I even get in? Without cultivation?

That thought gnawed at him. The system had given him the Myriad Armament Constitution, but not yet the ability to cultivate. Would it, eventually? Or was he destined to walk a different path altogether?

The questions spiraled, but Liam’s attention snapped sharply elsewhere; someone was following him.

It wasn’t paranoia. His telekinetic sense stretched in every direction, painting a perfect awareness of the twenty meters around him. Every lantern post, every barrel, every shifting cloak of a passerby appeared in his mind’s eye like outlines in the dark. And amidst it all, one presence had always lingered — steady, careful, too careful.

He stopped walking. Turned his head slightly. "How long do you plan on following me?" His voice was calm, but the words cracked like a whip.

Silence followed but the presence didn’t move.

Liam’s jaw tightened. He pivoted smoothly and strode toward the corner where he knew the figure stood cloaked in shadow. His steps echoed sharply against the stone, scattering the mist as he closed the gap.

He stopped a pace away and glared directly into the gloom. "I asked you a question. What do you want with me?"

A faint ripple shimmered in the air, like a veil disturbed. And then — she appeared.

A girl, no older than sixteen or seventeen by appearance, stood frozen in disbelief. Her hair shimmered silver-blue under the lantern’s light, cascading down her back like moonlight spun into silk. Her eyes — wide, luminous, faintly violet — locked onto his face with stunned disbelief.

"You... how?" she whispered. Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with shock.

Liam frowned. "How what?"

"You shouldn’t have been able to see me," she breathed. "My concealment is flawless. No mortal, no ordinary man without cultivation should..."

Her words cut short as realization struck her.

Illusion, Liam thought, the word hitting his ears with weight. He hadn’t seen her. His telekinetic sense had simply outlined her shape, her breathing, her presence within his radius. He had no idea she was cloaked in an illusion at all.

But her reaction told him plenty.

Curiosity prickled through him. He tilted his head, studying her features, the aura of her movements. He’d read of such things before, in those cultivation novels. A particular race famed for their illusion arts, for their beauty, for their mysterious ties to the Immortal Realm.

He let a slow smile curve his lips. "You’re Moonlight Fox, aren’t you?"

The girl’s eyes widened like saucers. Her hand twitched as though she meant to retreat, but she stayed rooted, staring at him as though he had just ripped open her secrets.

Liam chuckled softly. "Looks like I hit the mark."

The Moonlight Fox race. Demons of legend. Illusionists said to be bound to the Immortal Realm itself, rarely walking the mortal plane.

He had read that some of the lower demon race occupys the core areas of Thousand Mist Forest, far from places like Blackstone City.

But the Moonlight Fox race isn’t a lower demon race. So why was one standing here, trying to shadow him?

The question burned in his mind, but Liam didn’t voice it. He had no time for this. He had herbs to buy, ores to test, factions to investigate. His path was his own, not tangled in demon races or their mysteries.

He exhaled and turned, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "Stay out of my shadow. I won’t warn you twice."

He had taken three steps before her voice called out, sharp and desperate.

"Wait!"

Liam stopped, his back still to her.

"How did you break it?" she demanded, her voice carrying raw urgency now. "No one without cultivation has ever seen through my illusion. Ever. Not even Qi Refining cultivators. How did you do it?"

Her words caught him off guard. He turned slowly, eyes narrowing. She truly believed it was impossible.

Illusion? he thought again. His telekinetic sense had simply mapped her, nothing more. He hadn’t broken anything — he had bypassed it unknowingly.

But for her to react like this meant her skill was genuine, and rare. And that meant she wasn’t just some wandering demon girl.

The air grew heavy with silence between them, until Liam finally asked, his tone flat but probing: "What are you trying to pull?"

Before she could answer, a ripple ran through Liam’s instincts. It was sharp, immediate, a deadly premonition. His muscles coiled and his body moved instantly.

He vanished.

The girl gasped as the space before her shimmered. A heartbeat later, cold fingers wrapped around her throat from behind.

Liam’s grip was like iron, unyielding as he pinned her with his presence.

Her violet eyes flared in panic as she choked out, "W-what are you—?"

Liam leaned closer, his voice low, dangerous, vibrating against her ear. "I asked you once already. What do you want with me?"