Two days slipped past in an instant. Zhen sat cross-legged, breath steady, his qi circulating in slow, deliberate waves. Despite his efforts, he remained rooted in the 8th stage of Qi Condensation. A flicker of frustration crept in, but he pushed it aside.

  At least the Diamond Skin Technique had become second nature—his skin hardened instinctively, a faint golden shimmer tracing his limbs before vanishing.

  Still, full body use drained his qi faster than he liked, proof that the technique belonged to Foundation Establishment Realm.

  His meals had been simple yet potent—thick slabs of roasted beast meat, its juices rich with spiritual essence, and fruits that hummed with dormant energy. They fueled him, but not enough.

  — ? — ? — ? —

  The next day, Zhen blinked awake, feeling the slight chill of the morning air. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed a small, intricate origami figure resting on his stand and his sect badge emitting a faint, rhythmic pulse. A message.

  The Abyssal Harmony Sect often used this trick for communications. With a practiced hand, he unfolded the origami to reveal its contents.

  The message inside revealed that the location of the spirit garden had changed from Jadecreast Peak. The new location wasn't given, but all disciples were to assemble at Serpent End Ravine, and they were warned to prepare for any difficulties.

  Zhen's brow furrowed as he read the message again. Why the change in location?

  The Abyssal Harmony Sect rarely altered its plans. So why now?

  The warning to prepare for difficulties sounded ominous. Will it be one of those high-risk, high-reward tasks, Zhen exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders to dispel the thought. Speculation was pointless. Whatever this new mission entailed, his role was already decided.

  His gaze swept over the small hut, cataloging his supplies. A few pounds of spirit rice nestled in the corner—too little for a full month. He pinched a grain between his fingers, rolling it absently before dropping it back. The meat, once rich with qi, had begun to stiffen at the edges. It wouldn't last much longer.

  Four days. That was all the time he had before relocating.

  After a breakfast of spirit fruit, rice, and boiled meat, Zhen stepped outside. The crisp morning air carried the faint scent of damp earth. Pursuing his memories, he started down the well-worn path, the monthly trip to the town an ingrained habit by now.

  Each step felt lighter than the last, his qi-tempered body making the journey almost effortless. Once, he might have dreaded the long trek. Now? He could walk a hundred miles and barely break a sweat.

  After walking half an hour, the sect gates loomed ahead, carved from massive slabs of ancient red stone, their sheer scale a quiet testament to the sect's past. Rumors have it that the gates were remnants of a forgotten era, designed not for men but for beings far larger. No one knew the truth.

  Zhen's gaze flickered to the guarding disciple, whose fingers twitched absently as he handled the spirit herb. His blue uniform marked his status, a quasi-outer disciple, with a notebook and brush loosely held.

  "Name and Badge?" The disciple's voice was flat, eyes barely lifting from the herb.

  "Li Zhen," He held up his badge, the cool jade against his palm as it clinked softly.

  The disciple flicked a glance his way before flipping a page in his notebook, pressing the jade on it. "Reason for leaving?"

  "Town visit."

  A nod. With a flick of his wrist, he returned the badge. "You have a month. Fail to return, and you'll be presumed dead, and your monthly stipend will be stopped."

  Pragmatic. Harsh. But for a demonic sect, it made sense—why waste resources on those who couldn't survive?

  Stepping beyond the gate, an almost imperceptible shift tingled against his skin, as if a weight had lifted, leaving behind an eerie absence. His fingers twitched. Just the barrier, he reasoned, shaking off the unease.

  The previous Li Zhen had sparse memories of the terrain surrounding the Abyssal Harmony Sect. Nevertheless, following the main road should eventually lead to the town.

  Other disciples traveled in the same direction, some alone, others accompanied by servants. Their speeds varied—some little more than blurs against the landscape, others moving at a mortal's pace.

  After an hour, the town's gates finally came into view, flanked by a handful of guards in chainmail, their weapons resting lazily at their sides. The closest one, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, straightened slightly as Zhen approached.

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  "Welcome to Redstone Town, Honored Cultivator,"

  Zhen gave a small nod in acknowledgment and stepped past the gates. Being a sect disciple had its privileges.

  Inside, the town pulsed with life. Merchants called out from wooden stalls, the air thick with the scent of roasting meat, ink, and fresh-cut lumber. Redstone Town wasn't large—barely half a million people—but for a place so close to the sect, it bustled like a city. Weapons, talismans, rare herbs—all manner of wares filled the streets, catering to the needs of disciples who passed through.

  Zhen strolled through the bustling streets, his eyes drifting over the passing faces, each one absorbed in their own struggles and successes. As he rounded a corner, movement in a shadowed alley caught his attention.

  A small group huddled there, voices low, their body language taut with tension. One of them, a wiry man with a jagged scar down his forearm, met Zhen's gaze. His expression darkened, hostility flickering in his narrowed eyes.

  Zhen merely chuckled, shaking his head. If they don't trouble me, I won't trouble them.

  One of the three was dressed in robes similar to his own—a fellow sect disciple. It wasn't surprising. Redstone Town was the closest human settlement to the Abyssal Harmony Sect.

  He let the moment pass and continued on his way.

  A short walk later, he reached his destination, a small, unassuming shop. The sign above the door was faded, but he could vaguely read it. Hua Rice Shop. The previous Li Zhen knew the owner well. Cui Hua, a woman as tough as iron, treated all customers the same—gruff, no-nonsense, and fair. That was why he bought from her.

  Zhen stepped into the shop, inhaling the faint scent of polished wood and spirit rice. A string of crimson paper lanterns swayed gently near the entrance, their soft glow casting flickering shadows along the shelves. Someone had put in the effort to clean up—the counters gleamed, and a fresh bundle of wildflowers sat in a simple clay vase by the register. Something good must have happened.

  A cluster of teenagers bustled behind the counter, filling orders with a mix of efficiency and playful banter. At the front, a grizzled woman leaned over the counter, exchanging words with a customer.

  Zhen recognized her immediately—Cui Hua, the sharp-tongued shopkeeper with a heart bigger than her gripes. A local samaritan in her own right, she had taken in several orphans from the streets, giving them food, shelter, and a purpose.

  Hiring them was cheap, sure, but she could have just as easily turned them away like so many others did. Instead, she put them to work, training them with a firm but fair hand.

  He stepped forward with an easy nod. "Morning, Boss."

  The woman, her face etched with years of hard work, glanced up. A flicker of recognition sparked in her eyes, followed by a smirk. "Back again, little sprout?"

  "Yeah." He walked to the front of the counter, eyeing the neatly stacked rice sacks. He gestured toward one. "Gimme the same."

  Cui Hua was already tying up another customer's purchase, a thick string wrapping around the sack in deft motions. She snorted. "One measly bag? Planning to live on qi again?"

  "It's sufficient," Zhen assured her.

  "Sufficient, my foot!" She scrutinized his frame with a sharp eye. "You look like a stiff breeze could blow you over. You eating that rice or letting it sprout in a shrine?"

  Zhen grinned, rubbing the back of his head. "I also go to the mountains to hunt. Even with just one bag, I won't go hungry."

  Cui Hua shot him a look that clearly said she'd sooner believe rice could sprout gold than his excuse. But Zhen could do nothing—his past self had been notoriously stingy, and she knew it.

  The customer beside him, a middle-aged man, handed over a pouch of coins. Cui Hua upended it into her palm, clicking her tongue. "Come on, Old Wei. It's only a hundred. You gotta pay twenty more."

  Wei frowned. "Come on, Cui Hua, haven't I been a loyal customer? Can't you let this one slide?"

  "That's not how I do business here, " She rolled her eyes. "You people should just pay with spirit stones. Gold fluctuates, spirit stones don't."

  Grumbling, the man fished out the remaining coins, and Cui Hua waved him off. As he left, she muttered, "Always the same, trying to nickel and dime me. Like I'm running a charity."

  Her expression darkened in mock frustration as she turned back to Zhen. "You starving young people never eat enough. Give the lad some of the older rice from the back."

  "Got it, boss." A nearby teenager, no older than thirteen, darted toward the storeroom.

  "Wait—," Knowing the older rice held more spiritual energy and was far more valuable, he voice his protest, but Cui Hua shot him a scathing glance, sharp as a knife, and he swallowed his words. There was no arguing with her.

  It was always the same. Every month, Cui Hua found some excuse to slip him extra rice, always claiming it was too old to sell. Yet, it was never stale—sometimes it was even better than what she gave her regular customers.

  Zhen wasn't ungrateful. He knew this was her way of looking out for him. In return, whenever trouble brewed, she'd find a way to nudge him into dealing with the thugs who prowled around the local merchants.

  He exhaled, shaking his head. "Thanks, Boss."

  Cui Hua looked up, her usual sharp gaze softening for a fleeting moment. "Living alone ain't easy, kid. Next time you're starving, just come by. We might not have much, but we can always spare some rice for you."

  Zhen nodded, a quiet warmth settling in his chest.

  Cui Hua absently fiddled with the wildflowers sitting in the clay vase, plucking at the petals with idle fingers. She cast him a look—one that practically screamed, 'Well, aren't you going to ask?'

  Zhen smirked, shaking his head at her theatrics before finally relenting. "Alright, what's the happy occasion?"

  Cui Hua's grin stretched wide, full of pride. "Our Ning Xue here has been accepted into Abyssal Harmony Sect! She'll be leaving in a few days!" She waved toward the back of the shop, where a young girl sat hunched over an abacus, her fingers moving deftly over the beads.

  "Ah, that is wonderful news," Zhen's brow lifted in surprise as he took a proper look at her. Hidden beneath loose clothing and bangs that shadowed her face, she had a darker complexion and an unassuming face—someone easy to overlook in a crowd.

  Cui Hua's grin turned sly as she leaned in just a little. "Say, little sprout," she nudged him with a wink, "you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on our Ning Xue up there, would you? A fine young man like yourself looking after such a diligent girl... sounds like a good match, don't you think?"

  Across the room, Ning Xue's head snapped up, her face instantly turning a brilliant shade of red. "Auntie!" she shrieked, mortified. She whirled toward Zhen, bowing quickly. "My apologies, Senior Brother! Please disregard her!"

  Cui Hua's boisterous laughter filled the shop, shaking the very walls with its mirth—only for the cheerful atmosphere to shatter as the door burst open.