Worldwide Class Change: Minimal Effort, Maximum Reward!

Chapter 280: The Trail

Lin Yi increased his pace. He moved with a deliberate intent, careful not to let his speed turn into a lack of control. It was a distinction he had learned long ago on Tianyuan Star, where he realized that the gap between urgency and haste was often where mistakes happened. Urgency served the Law and kept a man moving toward a goal, while haste was a betrayal of that same Law, born of a carelessness that usually ended in failure.

He began to use the Observer differently than he had in the days following his arrival. Previously, he had functioned as a passenger to the sub-class, letting its density readings guide him through the landscape as if he were drifting on a current. He had followed the general pull of richer content without forcing a direction. Now, he turned the tool toward a specific, active question. He needed to know where the force that had emptied the tree and disturbed the ground had gone.

The Observer was not a tracking device in any traditional sense. Its design was focused on reading existing structures rather than tracing the history of what had passed through them. However, as Lin Yi had observed at the tree and the patch of unsettled earth, every action left a structural residue. This residue carried a signature of freshness that decayed over time. It was a quality similar to the resonance he had felt in the chamber, something that felt distinct from the natural formations surrounding it. He reasoned that if he could find another site containing this residue, he could compare its state of decay against the two locations he already knew. By calculating the difference in freshness, he could extrapolate a path. It was an imprecise method, reliant on guesswork and fine margins, but it was the only option he had.

Over the next several cycles, Lin Yi worked the landscape with a methodical persistence. He moved in wide, expanding arcs centered on the tree, his eyes constantly checking the Observer as it flagged every anomaly. Most of these hits turned out to be nothing more than natural variations in the Law-matter, the kind of random irregularities the realm seemed to produce on its own. He investigated a few promising leads only to find disappointment; they were simply formations that had shifted state due to internal pressures rather than external interference.

On the fourth cycle of his search, he found a third site.

This one was smaller than the previous two. It was a narrow fissure tucked away in a cluster of jagged formations he had missed on his first pass. The residue here was unmistakably fresher than what he had found at the tree or the unsettled ground. It possessed a quality of immediacy that the Observer picked up instantly, a sharpness that suggested the event had occurred quite recently.

Lin Yi crouched at the edge of the fissure.

Closer, Lei Bao remarked, the sound of his voice carrying that familiar static. Whatever took the others has been here more recently than the previous spots.

Yes, Lin Yi replied. He reached out and placed his palm against the rough edge of the fissure, just as he had done at the hollow. This time, the contact did not trigger a fragment of a Memory Pearl. Instead, it provided a clearer structural impression. The Observer parsed the freshness of the residue and began to build a rough sense of direction and scale.

The data suggested that whatever was collecting these fragments was not a large force or a massive entity. It lacked the overwhelming depth he had sensed from the inscribed cultivators on the seven columns or the vast presence of Kǎn. The signature felt like a single entity moving with a very specific purpose. It was methodical and patient, the kind of presence that took its time at each location to ensure nothing was missed, rather than tearing through the landscape in a frantic search.

The realization was both useful and unsettling. A methodical actor meant it was searching with a logic similar to his own, and it likely understood the value of what it was collecting. Patience implied the entity was not panicked or reactive, which made it far more difficult to predict and nearly impossible to surprise.

It is not random, Lin Yi said, his voice low. It is deliberate. It knows what these fragments are, or at least it knows they are worth taking.

A rival, then, Lei Bao suggested.

Possibly, Lin Yi said. He stood up and looked toward the horizon, following the line suggested by the fissure’s residue. Or it could be something assigned the same task Shen Mao was given, only its focus is on collection instead of preservation. I won’t know for sure until I find it.

He began to follow the direction the Observer provided. As he moved deeper into the territory, the landscape underwent another shift. The density of the formations increased, and the readings from the Observer grew more layered and complex. It reminded him of the way the air had felt as he approached the chamber, though it lacked the specific recognition signature that had identified that path as part of the Emperor’s inheritance. This was different territory altogether. It felt older, or perhaps it was simply a part of the realm that had remained untouched by the organizing logic that governed the seal and the chamber.

He pushed on through the periods of light and shadow without stopping. The sense of urgency he had felt at the empty tree remained, making the usual rhythm of rest and movement feel wrong. Continuous pursuit was the only thing that felt appropriate.

Near the boundary between two atmospheric registers, the Observer’s reading suddenly sharpened. It was an abrupt, jarring spike in clarity, similar to what he had experienced at the convergence point near the chamber. Something was directly ahead of him. It wasn’t just residue this time. It was active and present.

Lin Yi came to a halt.

He looked through a gap in the thinning formations. There was a clearing ahead, a space the self-luminous landscape seemed to have kept empty for this specific moment. A figure was crouched in the center of the clearing, hunched over something on the ground. It was working with a focused intensity, appearing entirely unaware of Lin Yi’s presence, or perhaps it simply didn’t care.

The Observer struggled to resolve the image of the figure. It happened slowly, the way the mind tries to make sense of something it has no category for. The reading it returned did not match any classification Lin Yi had seen in the Middle Domain. This was not a cultivator carrying a Law in the manner of Shen Mao or Kǎn, nor was it a construct or a formation. It existed in a category the Observer could not define.

The figure looked up.

The movement was incredibly fast, a sharp contrast to the stillness of its work. For a long, silent moment, the figure and Lin Yi stared at each other across the clearing. The vast, cold indifference of the Middle Domain seemed to shrink away, leaving only the two of them in a very narrow, very specific reality.

That is the one, Lei Bao said quietly. The crackling in his voice had smoothed out into a tone of full alert.

Yes, Lin Yi said.

He reached down and drew the Thunder Surge Blade.