Thorns tore through coarse canvas robes, leaving a crimson streak across Shen Jietian’s forearm. In the lawless depths of the wilderness, even the flora bit like starved beasts.
Yet, he barely registered the stinging heat. His focus remained locked onto a patch of jagged shadows wedged between two weathered, moss-covered boulders just a few paces ahead.
There, bathed in a sliver of filtered canopy light, grew a pristine stalk with pale blue, serrated leaves that shimmered with a faint, ephemeral spiritual glow.
Moonleaf Grass.
A quiet breath of relief escaped Shen Jietian’s dust-caked lips.
"Found one," he murmured under his breath, his voice laced with relief.
Carefully parting the dense, choking weeds surrounding the prize, he crouched low to the damp earth.
He drew a small, serrated bone knife from his belt, metal tools carried a cold, unrefined qi that could easily sever the plant’s delicate spiritual veins and began excavating the soil around the stubborn roots.
With a gentle tug, the herb came loose, its spiritual essence intact.
Only after securing the specimen inside a small jade box to preserve its medicinal aura did Shen Jietian allow his tense shoulders to drop.
One stalk of high-quality Moonleaf Grass could easily fetch three low-grade spirit stones in the markets of Black Mist City.
His fingers unconsciously tightened around the cool surface of the jade box.
To the pampered, jade-adorned disciples of the righteous sects, three spirit stones were nothing more than pocket change, barely enough to purchase a cup of spiritual tea at a luxury pavilion.
But to a struggling loose cultivator with had no backing, no lineage, and no resources, it was a lifeline.
It meant another month of rent for his stone cave-dwelling and several days of quiet, closed-door meditation.
More importantly, it brought him one step closer to his ultimate goal, a Low-Grade Qi-Breaking Pill.
The mere thought of that pill brought a quiet, bitter sigh to his lips.
Seven years. For seven agonizing years, he had risked life and limb in the wild, yet he remained miserably stuck at the Third stage of Qi Condensation.
At twenty-two, he could no longer pass for a youth with untapped potential.
If he failed to force open his choked meridians and step into the middle stages soon, his potential would fully stagnate, consigning him to the bottom of the cultivation world forever and the ruthless, unforgiving road ahead would only grow exponentially more difficult.
"Jietian! Stop dawdling and get over here!"
A booming voice shattered his thoughts. Shen Jietian seamlessly slipped the jade box into the deepest pocket of his patched pocket before hurrying toward the clearing.
Gathered beneath the sprawling canopy of an ancient tree were four men. At the center stood Old Zhao.
Though clad in the drab, mud-stained clothes of a common farmer, a heavy, suffocating pressure radiated from his frame.
In the lawless wilderness, a two-stage gap in strength was the difference between a master and a slave; as a veteran at the Sixth stage of Qi Condensation, Old Zhao was the undisputed authority of their makeshift party.
Beside him stood Chen Hu, a hawk-nosed cultivator at the peak of the Fourth stage , and the Liu twins, Liu Feng and Liu Yun, both solid Fifth stage cultivators.
Old Zhao’s sharp, calculating eyes darted toward Shen Jietian, landing immediately on his empty hands.
"Only one stalk?" the old man asked, his brow furrowing slightly in disapproval.
Shen Jietian offered a low bow, keeping his expression deferential. "The spiritual aura on the periphery is sparse, Elder Zhao. The outer perimeter was picked clean by the early gatherers."
Chen Hu sneered, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Did you think the Heavens dropped pie from the sky just for you? The early bird catches the worm, but a slug gets nothing but dirt."
"Of course it has. Every desperate loose cultivator within a hundred miles of Black Mist City knows about the seasonal harvesting period in Moonleaf Valley."
The Liu twins chuckled, their eyes flashing with casual disdain.
"If high-grade Moonleaf Grass grew like common weeds on the roadside, even the beggars of Black Mist City would be riding in flying carriages by now!"
Old Zhao waved his calloused hand, cutting through the chatter with an air of absolute authority.
"Enough useless jawing. We’ve barely gathered half of the quota required for the merchant contract. If we do not complete the mission, we forfeit our deposit."
His gaze shifted slowly toward the darker, mist-shrouded depths where the ancient trees grew unnaturally dense. "To fulfill the contract, we must venture deeper."
Shen Jietian’s brows knit into a tight frown.
In the cultivation world, high returns were always bought with catastrophic risk. Moonleaf Valley was not infamous for its harvest.
Every year, dozens of overambitious rogue cultivators walked into these mists and never walked back out.
It was infamous because it served as a mass grave. Every year, dozens of overambitious loose cultivators walked into these mists and never walked back out.
Old Zhao’s eyes snapped to him, narrowing to cold slits. "What? Do you have an issue with my arrangement, Jietian?"
"I would not dare, Elder Zhao," Shen Jietian replied smoothly, lowering his gaze to mask the sharpness in his eyes. "I merely worry about high-tier spiritual beasts."
Old Zhao chuckled, a dismissive, patronizing sound.
Old Zhao let out a patronizing chuckle. "Don’t scare yourself like a mortal girl. We are merely skimming the outer ring of the inner valley. There are no high-tier beasts in these parts. There’s nothing to fear"
Chen Hu chimed in, eager to flatter the strongest among them.
"Precisely! Even if a stray beast wanders out, Elder Zhao’s Iron Skin Technique can handle anything this valley throws at us."
Old Zhao stroked his sparse beard, visibly pleased. "At least Chen Hu understands proper deference. Move out."
As the group resumed their march, Shen Jietian fell silently into the rear, his sharp wits evaluating their battle readiness.
The Liu twins each had a faint yellow glow pulsing from defensive talismans hanging prominently from their sashes, ready to trigger at a thought.
Chen Hu carried two offensive Fireball Talismans tucked securely inside his cuffs.
Only Shen Jietian had absolutely nothing.
A single low-grade defensive talisman cost nearly two spirit stones in Black Mist City.
A single misstep in allocating his scarce resources meant he would starve or lack the energy to cultivate.
His sole defense was a heavy, notched iron sword strapped to his back.Instead of flexible magical items, his sole means of defense was a heavy, notched, and slightly rusty iron sword strapped to his back, a weapon that had clearly seen better days.
This was the harsh reality of being at the bottom of the cultivation world. Loose cultivators had to make brutal choices every single day.
Food, rent, cultivation pills, weapons every single spirit stone had to be spent with absolute precision.
Every fraction of a resource mattered, and a single misstep in allocating spiritual resources could lead to starvation or death.
The gloom deepened as ancient, corrupted branches blocked out the sunlight, blanketing the forest floor in a bone-chilling fog.
The valley gradually grew darker and more oppressive as the sprawling branches of ancient, corrupted trees blocked out the vast majority of the sunlight overhead.
The atmosphere turned distinctly gloomy, thick with a damp, bone-chilling fog.
After two hours of continuous, tense trekking, Old Zhao raised a hand, signaling a halt. "We rest here for a short incense time. Circulate your Qi and restore your stamina."
Everyone sank to the ground, exhausted by the continuous strain of navigating the treacherous, uneven terrain while maintaining a state of high alert.
The Liu twins efficiently retrieved strips of energy-rich beast meat to replenish their vitality, while Chen Hu unhitched a fine leather wineskin filled with low-grade spiritual brew.
Shen Jietian, sitting slightly apart from them, silently pulled a few dry, rock-hard mortal biscuits from his pouch.
The dietary difference between them wasn’t massive, but it was a clear, unyielding reflection of their varying wealth.
It was a subtle disparity, yet in the cultivation world, such small gaps always dictated who stood on top and who crawled below.
"What are you planning to do with your share of the payout?" Liu Feng asked, glancing at his brother.
Liu Yun grinned lazily. "I’m heading straight to the Fragrant Jade Pavilion for three days of refined spiritual wine and fine company."
Chen Hu spat on the ground. "Idiot. Wasting precious spiritual resources on mortal pleasures. That’s why you’ll remain a dog for hired work your whole life."
"Oh? And what grand Dao are you pursuing with your meager share?" Liu Yun retorted.
"A proper weapon," Chen Hu said, patting his saber. "This iron piece can barely conduct spiritual energy without cracking. I need a genuine low-tier artifact saber."
Old Zhao chuckled warmly from his spot, resting his back against a boulder. "Investing in survival is the only true way. As for me, I’m saving every single stone from this mission."
"For what? A late-stage breakthrough?" Liu Feng asked curiously.
"For retirement," Old Zhao replied simply, a trace of weariness softening his sharp eyes.
The twins instantly burst into loud, incredulous laughter.
The twins burst into loud, incredulous laughter. "A loose cultivator talking about retirement? Elder Zhao, you might as well dream of being invited as a Supreme Elder by a immortal sect!"
Rarely did a rogue cultivator live long enough to see grey hair. Old Zhao didn’t take offense, but his eyes shifted toward the silent youth in the rear. "What about you, Jietian? What are you hoarding your stones for?"
"What about you, Jietian? You’ve been quiet. What are you saving for?"
The group quieted, their eyes landing on him.
Shen Jietian paused, then answered flatly, "A Low-Grade Qi-Breaking Pill."
Then, Chen Hu’s face contorted, and he let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed uncomfortably through the quiet woods.
The Liu twins followed shortly after, exchange amused glances. Even Old Zhao couldn’t help but shake his head, a wry, patronizing smile playing on his lips.
A heavy silence fell over the clearing, followed by a sudden, harsh burst of laughter from Chen Hu. "A Qi-Breaking Pill? You’re still stuck at the Third stage, aren’t you? How many years has it been?"
Shen Jietian remained silent, his grip tightening imperceptibly on his hard biscuit.
The answer was glaringly obvious. If he wasn’t completely stuck at his current bottleneck, why would he be desperately hoarding every single scrap of wealth for a high-risk breakthrough pill?
"Seven years," Shen Jietian replied without emotion.
Old Zhao shook his head, clicking his tongue in genuine dismissal. "Seven years to reach the Third stage of Qi Condensation... Kid, your skeletal talent is simply too mediocre."
"Spending wealth on a Qi-Breaking Pill for your aptitude is like throwing spirit stones into the ocean."
Shen Jietian didn’t argue. He quietly chewed his dry ration.
Seven years.
Seven years of crawling through muddy trenches, seven years of scraping together pathetic amounts of cultivation resources from the scraps left by others, and seven years of watching peers surpass him while he remained entirely stagnant.
Sometimes, during the coldest nights in his rented hut, even he wondered whether he should simply give up the delusional dream of immortality and live out a peaceful mortal life.
But once a mortal stepped onto the grand, magnificent path of defiance against heaven, how could they ever willingly turn back to become dust?
Seeing that he wouldn’t bait, the conversation gradually died down, and the group resumed eating in relative silence.
A short while later, Old Zhao dusted his lap and stood up. "Time to move. We need to hit our quota before..."
The old man froze mid-sentence. His posture went rigid.
Shen Jietian, whose survival instincts were honed to a razor’s edge by his lack of defensive tools, immediately noticed the shift.
Shen Jietian’s hand drifted silently to the hilt of his iron sword.
Old Zhao crouched down, hovering his fingers over the damp soil.
In the mud between a cluster of black ferns were several massive, fresh tracks.
The edges were razor-sharp, and groundwater was only just seeping into the grooves.
"What is it, Master Zhao?" Chen Hu asked, his voice dropping to a tense whisper as he instinctively reached for his Fireball Talismans.
There, clearly imprinted in the soil, were several massive, deep tracks. The edges of the prints were incredibly sharp, and fresh groundwater was only just beginning to seep into the grooves.
"Iron Fang Wolves," Old Zhao muttered, his voice dropping an octave.
The twins gasped, instinctively clutching their defensive talismans.
Iron Fang Wolves possessed hides like tempered steel and hunted in coordinated packs.
To low-level Qi Condensation cultivators, an encounter with a pack was fatal.
Old Zhao examined the tracks carefully, but instead of fear, a sharp, greedy glint flashed in his eyes. "Look at the direction. They are moving out of the inner territory out of season."
Old Zhao pointed away from the standard migration path, toward a narrow, rocky crevice leading into the deepest, most forbidden parts of the valley.
The wind gusted through the canopy, and as it died down, a suffocating, dead silence blanketed the woods.
There were no birds chirping overhead, no insects buzzing in the brush, and no small critters rustling through the leaves.
Shen Jietian’s skin prickled with a cold, primal instinct. A terrifying sensation took root in his chest the feeling of invisible, cold eyes watching them from the gloom.
"Master Zhao... is it dangerous?" Chen Hu whispered anxiously.
Old Zhao stood up, a dark, ambitious smile spreading across his face. "Dangerous? This is a gift from the Heavens!"
"If a pack of Iron Fang Wolves has abandoned their deep valley territory out of season, their den is left completely unguarded."
"And where there is a wolf den, there is guaranteed to be a massive cluster of high-grade spiritual herbs or a deposit of Spiritual Iron Ore!"
The twins’ eyes burned with instant greed. Chen Hu’s breathing grew heavy as he envisioned the sudden wealth.
Only Shen Jietian’s blood ran cold.
Through cold, detached logic, his mind reached the opposite conclusion: a pack of apex predators did not abandon their territory for no reason.
They were either hunting something massive... or they had been violently driven out by something far more terrifying.
"We move toward the den," Old Zhao commanded, his greed completely overriding his caution. "We take the fortune before another group..."
He knew exactly what Old Zhao was thinking the old man wanted to gamble their lives to raid the den for a fortune.
But looking at the silent, dead forest around them, Shen Jietian was absolutely certain that this was an incredibly fatal idea.
End of Chapter 1