Steadily Upgrading Everything!
Chapter 56: That’s how rich people work.

Chapter 56: That’s how rich people work.

The next morning, the soft chirping of spirit birds outside his window stirred John from sleep.

He stretched, feeling surprisingly refreshed, and quickly got dressed in his blue sect robes.

He stepped out of his cottage and found Caros already waiting just beyond the spirit herb garden, arms crossed, hair neatly tied back, and a faint smirk on his face.

"Took you long enough, sleeper," Caros said, tossing him a spirit fruit.

John caught it mid-air. "Where is Riara?"

"Speaking of which..." Caros muttered, turning as another figure approached.

Riara Greenblade strolled in with her usual haughty gait, robes freshly ironed, hair done up in elaborate braids, and a confident tilt to her chin.

She didn’t bother to greet them and instead raised an eyebrow.

"Took you boys long enough to get ready. Honestly, if I hadn’t waited for you, I’d already be halfway to assassinating that criminal myself."

Caros rolled his eyes. "And get lost in the first alley, trying to bribe people with skin care pills."

Riara scoffed. "Hmph. You peasants don’t understand charisma. My presence alone will make people spill their secrets."

John smiled lightly. "Let’s just grab the mission token before your ’presence’ gets us kicked out of the Sect."

The trio made their way toward the Outer Sect Mission Hall.

Once inside, they handed the mission scroll to the same grumpy elder from before.

Without much ceremony, the elder stamped the scroll with a wax sigil and handed over a glowing triangular mission token, etched with a small rune that would track their progress.

"Twenty days. Target must be killed, not captured," the elder grunted. "Don’t involve the locals. Good Luck."

With that, the three walked together to the Teleportation Platform, located at the far east end of the sect.

A dazzling blue portal hovered above a circular stone slab, maintained by a dozen formation arrays humming beneath it.

A flash of blue enveloped them.

They emerged inside a bustling formation plaza in the heart of the Greenstone Kingdom Capital, a sprawling city with tall blackstone walls, jade-roofed towers, and spirit beasts pulling luxurious carriages through wide roads.

John looked around. "Nice place. You wouldn’t think it’s a kingdom currently in political chaos."

"That’s how rich people work," Riara muttered. "Even with assassins killing princes, the tea shops stay open."

They walked down the main road and soon reached a large inn called Silver Wisteria Hall.

Inside, they were greeted by an elegant woman in a purple dress who offered them three rooms.

After finalizing the check-in, Riara turned to John with a sly smirk.

"Why not share Caros’s room? Save some coins. You’re not even being paid for this mission."

John looked her straight in the eyes. "I’d rather sleep in a pigsty than next to Caros’s snoring."

"Hey!" Caros exclaimed.

Riara chuckled. "Suit yourself. But don’t blame me when you’re broke."

"Even if I was broke," John said, walking up the stairs, "I’d still pay to keep you two at least five doors away."

After they settled into their rooms and had a quick meal, they reconvened at the inn’s small courtyard, shaded by silverleaf trees.

Caros unrolled a crude map of the capital.

"Alright," he said, tapping the map. "We split up and search for clues.

The target’s name is Wen Shan, but he’s a master of disguises and probably using a new identity.

Our lead is that he operates out of the merchant district or the slums, posing as a commoner."

Riara nodded, cracking her knuckles. "I’ll take the merchant district. My beauty is bound to get people talking."

John shook his head. "Caros, take the northern slums. I’ll sweep through the lower eastern market and taverns. Might hear something useful."

"Be careful," Caros said. "The Spirit Fruit Realm isn’t something to take lightly."

John smiled faintly. "I’ve fought worse."

The three nodded and scattered in different directions, each stepping into the city’s veins, searching for threads of a killer hiding in plain sight.

After parting ways with Caros and Riara, John wandered toward the eastern market district, his steps slow and thoughtful.

The distant sounds of merchants shouting over fruit prices and the occasional clang of blacksmiths at work echoed through the streets.

As he walked, his hand brushed the collar of his robe, and a sigh escaped his lips.

"I wonder if I should let them see my real face at some point..."

It had been more than two week since he arrived in this sect, and not once had Caros or Riara seen his true appearance.

From the very beginning, he’d used the Double Face Lizard Technique to alter his facial structure, a necessary precaution when he first arrived, but now it felt oddly... distant.

"They’ve proven themselves," he murmured to himself. "Maybe... someday."

But now wasn’t the time.

He activated his Double Face Lizard Technique, Level 7, and in just a few breaths, his entire body shifted.

Wrinkles formed over his cheeks, his back bent slightly, his hair grayed, and his frame thinned out.

Even his spiritual presence dissolved, his Qi vanishing completely, turning him into a harmless, feeble old beggar.

He reached down, scooped up some dirt from the side of the street, and smeared it across his robe.

Then he picked up a few discarded scraps of cloth from the alley, torn, stained, forgotten, and wrapped them around his waist and shoulder.

His elegant sect robes were now unrecognizable.

John limped forward, coughing once for effect, blending perfectly into the background.

"This isn’t Blue Cauldron Sect," he reminded himself. "Even Spirit Seed Realm cultivators could attract unwanted attention here. If people see a young, healthy man with a sharp look in his eyes wandering around asking questions, they’ll remember."

But an old man? No one looks twice at an old beggar.

And with that, John slipped into the rhythm of the capital, weaving through alleys, loitering near taverns, and resting against market stalls.

His Spatial Awareness was active in short pulses, carefully scanning twenty meters in every direction, discreet, efficient.

He listened more than he spoke.

Beggars were invisible but always around.

And soon, invisibility paid off.

Two guards stood near a wine shop entrance, speaking in hushed tones, unaware of the old man sitting behind a stack of crates.

"You hear about what happened to Old Master Feng?" one of them said.

"The merchant?" the other replied. "Yeah... Terrible. Heard someone broke into his home, forced himself on his wife, and then slit his throat before dawn."

John didn’t flinch, though a sharp light flickered in his eyes.

He slowly shifted his weight and leaned closer.

"Couldn’t have been a common thief," the first guard continued. "Lady Feng’s father offered ten gold taels to anyone who can find the killer. No trace. No blood. Nothing. Almost like a phantom."

"And the woman?" the other guard asked.

"Alive. Traumatized. Won’t speak. Just screams every time someone says ’black robe.’ Some of the neighbors claim they saw a tall figure vanish across the rooftops before sunrise."

The second man whistled. "Spirit cultivator?"

"Has to be," said the first, "the city guards don’t even want to get involved. It’s being handed over to some hidden force the palace called in."

"Royal bounty?"

"Exactly. That’s the real reason the inn’s filled with strangers lately."

John slowly stood and hobbled away from the wine shop, blending into the crowd again.

"Black robe... vanished without a trace... and not a single spiritual signature left behind," he thought.

It matched the profile they were given. The assassin they were after wasn’t just dangerous, he was an expert in stealth and disguise.

Just like himself.

After spending another two hours wandering the less-traveled alleys and side-streets of Greenstone Capital, John began connecting pieces of the puzzle in his mind.

There was a pattern.

People weren’t just killed, their homes were invaded at strange hours, and each attack involved a female victim either disappearing or being found mentally broken.

Some survivors whispered of a "man in black" with no shadow.

Others claimed to hear wails before sunrise.

The attacks formed a crescent arc around the northern merchant district, all within a specific boundary.

And at the center of that arc... was an old, abandoned textile mill.

John, still in the form of the ragged old beggar, hobbled his way to the building’s perimeter.

From behind a moss-covered cart, he observed the cracked windows and half-collapsed upper floors.

There was a strange, oppressive silence in the area.

No vendors, no children, not even stray dogs.

Suddenly, a sharp voice rang out from the left.

"Hey! You, old man! This place is dangerous, get lost!"

John turned his head slowly, and there stood Riara, in her sky-blue traveling cloak with a small white fox embroidered on the back.

Her arms were crossed, her brow furrowed. Clearly, she hadn’t recognized him.

He blinked, then dipped his head with a hoarse grunt, and began to shuffle away.

"Why does this feel... complicated?" he thought as he stepped into the shadow of a nearby alley.

He briefly considered revealing himself. She had earned that much.

But... not now.

He still didn’t trust this mission, or the capital.

Riara didn’t give him a second glance as she turned back to the front of the building.

Once the "beggar" was out of sight, she pulled a communication talisman from her sleeve and activated it.

A soft blue light pulsed within the charm.

"Come to the marked location. It’s suspicious. I’m waiting," she said into it, then tucked it away.

A few minutes later, footsteps echoed in the alley.

"Yo," Caros appeared first, casually tossing a plum into his mouth, sword on his back and dressed in traveling leathers.

Behind him came John, now back to his usual youthful face, neatly tied black hair, and the crisp outer sect robe.

He looked rested and calm.

Riara looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"You look different today. Did you go get another massage or something?" she quipped.

John gave her a bland smile. "You’re the one who said I needed better skin."

Caros rolled his eyes. "Alright, flirt later. Riara, what did you find?"

She nodded toward the building. "This is the only place that fits the center of the attack pattern. I’ve been watching it for an hour, no one in or out. But the spiritual energy is off. Like... stained. Also, I heard from a shopkeeper nearby that strange noises come from here at night."

Caros immediately unsheathed his sword a little. "So... we go in now?"

Riara nodded, serious now. "I think we should."

The three of them entered cautiously.

The moment they stepped into the building, a foul, musty odor hit their nostrils, like mold, dried blood, and something more pungent.

The light barely reached inside.

Cracked wooden floors creaked beneath their feet, and cobwebs clung to the rafters above.

Caros lit a small flame at the tip of his finger, illuminating the center of the hall.

And then they saw it.

Suspended from the wooden beams above were seven naked women, bound by the ankles, hanging upside down like butchered livestock.

Their hair draped downward like dark curtains, and dried streaks of blood ran from their scalps and necks.

Riara froze.

Her breath hitched, and her hands clenched into fists. "That bastard...!"

Even John felt a cold tightness in his chest. He’d seen his fair share of horror, but this was different, intimate, twisted.

Whoever had done this hadn’t just killed. He had displayed his work.

Like a message.

Or a game.

"Some of them are still alive," Caros muttered after a moment, moving closer.

John activated his Spatial Awareness briefly. "Barely. Weak breathing. But yes."

Riara’s voice trembled. "We’ll kill this monster."

John’s eyes narrowed, scanning the dark corners of the building.

"And we’ll make sure he doesn’t get another night to hunt."