Chen Mo did not linger. The forest had already swallowed the echoes of battle, and it would swallow the rest soon enough.

  He moved methodically, searching each corpse with calm efficiency. Storage pouche, talisman remnants, spiritual stones, medicinal bottles, the broken fragments of that once-proud flying sword. Everything of value was bundled swiftly into a cloth sack.

  He did not bother hiding the bodies.

  The battlefield was a mess of shattered trees, scorched earth, and blood. Anyone determined enough would find them eventually. Burying corpses would not erase the spiritual fluctuations, nor the lingering scent of burnt talismans. Effort wasted was weakness. Time was more precious than appearances.

  An hour later, Chen Mo blended seamlessly into the line of mortals entering Fenglin City. His clothes were clean, his expression indifferent, his presence unremarkable. Just another young man returning from the outskirts with nothing but dust on his boots.

  No one spared him a second glance.

  Soon, he slipped back into his rented courtyard. The wooden gate closed with a quiet thud. The world outside faded.

  Inside, under the dim light of an oil lamp, Chen Mo placed the bundle before him.

  It was time to count the spoils of war.

  Inside the quiet courtyard, Chen Mo untied the bundle and poured its contents onto the wooden table.

  Twenty one spiritual stones. Three flying swords. Five different talismans. Several small porcelain bottles filled with pills.

  He picked up a spiritual stone first. It was cool to the touch, faintly luminous, like a shard of moonlight trapped in crystal. These, at least, were useful. Tangible. Clear.

  The rest were another story.

  The talismans… he could technically activate them with his True Qi, but that was like pressing random buttons in a dark room and hoping one didn’t summon lightning on his own head. He had no idea what each talisman did. Offensive? Defensive? Escape?

  The pills were worse. Refining Qi? Healing? Poison? Without knowledge, swallowing them would be gambling with his own meridians.

  The flying swords lay there like expensive decorations. Without proper spiritual sense and refined Qi manipulation, they were little more than sharpened metal.

  Then his gaze shifted to the pouch he had taken from Deng Li’s corpse.

  Chen Mo lifted it slowly. The material was simple, unassuming… yet it carried faint spatial fluctuations.

  A storage pouch.

  The legendary container that defied common sense and swallowed space itself.

  And completely useless to him.

  He tried once more to inject his True Qi into it. Nothing. No response. No opening. No crack. It was like knocking on the door of a treasury while lacking the key, the password, and the right to exist.

  “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “How long will it take before I’m properly initiated into Qi cultivation?”

  Frustration flickered across his face, but it didn’t linger. Anger without progress was wasted breath.

  There was still a bright side. Twenty one spiritual stones. That was real capital. Enough to purchase basic cultivation pills, perhaps even manuals or information. He could accelerate his foundation.

  He carefully stored everything away and leaned back, replaying the battle in his mind.

  Those cultivators… by mortal standards, their bodies were like tempered steel. Yet against him, they felt fragile. Too fragile. His fists had crushed them as if they were no more than reinforced clay.

  What truly surprised him was the protective talisman.

  It hadn’t lasted even a single breath under his punch.

  When he killed the Second Prince, he had exhausted a tremendous amount of energy to break through that defensive talisman. That one had felt like punching through layered iron walls.

  But Qian Bo’s?

  It shattered instantly.

  Chen Mo narrowed his eyes.

  A difference in quality.

  Talismans clearly had ranks. The prince’s must have been far superior, perhaps crafted by someone of higher cultivation. Qian Bo’s was likely a low-grade, mass-produced item.

  Which meant one thing.

  Strength in this world was not just about cultivation level. It was about resources. Quality. Background.

  A sixth-level cultivator from a minor hunting team was not the same as a prince backed by wealth and connections.

  Chen Mo exhaled slowly.

  Today’s battle had been easy. Too easy.

  But easy victories could breed dangerous confidence.

  Next time, the prey might carry better talismans. Stronger weapons. Sharper instincts.

  And somewhere out there… were cultivators whose casual strike could crush him the way he crushed Deng Li.

  The thought did not frighten him.

  It sharpened him.

  The next morning, Chen Mo arrived at Wu Bin’s courtyard and knocked gently on the wooden door.

  Moments later, it swung open.

  “Brother Chen!” Wu Bin’s face lit up with genuine warmth. “You came! Please, please, come inside.”

  He stepped aside enthusiastically, ushering Chen Mo in as if welcoming an old friend rather than a recent acquaintance. The courtyard was modest but tidy, with potted plants arranged carefully along the walls. The air carried the quiet comfort of an ordinary household.

  As they entered the inner room, Wu Bin called out cheerfully toward the back, “We have a guest!”

  Soon after they sat, Wu Bin’s wife entered gracefully, placing a tray of tea and freshly made pastries on the table. She offered a polite nod before retreating, a young girl peeking curiously from behind her skirts before being gently led away.

  Wu Bin poured tea himself, smiling. “Brother Chen, how has your stay in Fenglin City been? I was actually thinking of visiting you before I return to the sect next week.”

  “It has been smooth,” Chen Mo replied calmly. “All thanks to Brother Wu’s assistance.”

  Wu Bin waved his hand dismissively, though clearly pleased. “I merely shared a bit of common knowledge.”

  Chen Mo calmly slipped a few golden leaves onto the table. The metal made a soft, deliberate sound against the wood. “Even common knowledge has value. I have a few questions and would appreciate Brother Wu’s guidance.”

  Wu Bin’s eyes flickered at the sight of gold. He raised both palms slightly. “Brother Chen, there is truly no need for this.”

  “I insist.” Chen Mo’s tone remained steady. “Please consider it a token of gratitude.”

  Wu Bin hesitated only briefly before nodding. “Very well. I will help to the best of my ability.”

  Chen Mo lifted his teacup but did not drink. “Even as a menial disciple, access to information was limited. Now that I’ve left the sect, I still carry certain regrets. I intend to resume cultivation here in Fenglin City.”

  Wu Bin’s expression shifted to one of quiet attention.

  “I would like to know,” Chen Mo continued, “where I can safely purchase resources and information.”

  Wu Bin leaned back thoughtfully. “If it is basic resources for early Qi Condensation, the eastern cultivator market is the safest option. It is supervised under the authority of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect. Prices are standardized, disputes are strictly punished. Independent cultivators trade there openly.”

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  “And information?” Chen Mo asked.

  “For information, tea houses are where loose cultivators gather. Hunting routes, beast sightings, rumors of opportunities… news flows with the tea. But nothing is free. Sometimes it costs spiritual stones. Sometimes something else.”

  He lowered his voice slightly. “There is also the Black Ledger Pavilion. They deal in information of all kinds. Expensive, but reliable. The sect allows their existence as long as they do not cross certain boundaries.”

  Chen Mo listened without interruption, committing every detail to memory.

  Wu Bin studied him for a moment, then sighed softly. “Cultivating outside the sect is difficult. Without backing, everything is harder. Pills, techniques, protection.”

  Chen Mo finally took a sip of tea, his gaze calm and unreadable. “I understand.”

  Wu Bin nodded slowly. He did not press further.

  Some men sought comfort.

  Others sought the path forward, no matter how steep it climbed.

  Chen Mo set his teacup down. “What about sect backed shops?”

  Wu Bin nodded immediately. “You must mean the Spirit Treasure Pavilion. My grandfather spoke of it often. Even as an Outer Sect disciple, he conducted most of his dealings there. Loose cultivators trust it because it only sells genuine goods.”

  He leaned forward slightly. “It stands at the center of the eastern market. The prices are a little higher than the street stalls, but the quality is guaranteed. And within Fenglin City, no one dares openly cause trouble. The Azure Pine Immortal Sect’s law enforcement cultivators patrol regularly. Breaking rules there is asking for death.”

  Chen Mo gave a small nod. “Thank you, Brother Wu. If you ever need anything in the future, you know where to find me.”

  Wu Bin laughed warmly. “Then I will wish Brother Chen great success.”

  With that, Chen Mo rose and took his leave.

  As he crossed from the mortal districts toward the cultivator quarter, the air itself seemed to change. The spiritual qi grew subtly denser, brushing against his skin like a faint current. The streets became quieter but heavier, conversations measured, movements restrained.

  Gone were the bustling grain vendors and butchers. In their place stood cultivators clad in robes, some with swords at their waists, others with talismans hanging from their belts. Their expressions were composed, their gazes sharp. Sect disciples in grey and azure were more common here, walking with quiet authority.

  Chen Mo walked for nearly an hour before the eastern market came into view.

  It was alive.

  Stalls lined the streets in dense rows. Cultivators called out to passersby, advertising talismans, pills, beast cores, and spiritual herbs. Some displayed slabs of demonic beast meat, still faintly radiating residual qi. Others haggled fiercely, voices low but intense.

  Shops of all kinds stood open, banners fluttering gently in the qi-laced breeze.

  And at the very center of it all stood a grand, multi-story building of polished wood and jade inlays. Its plaque gleamed under the afternoon light.

  The Spirit Treasure Pavilion.

  Stable. Orderly. Untouchable.

  Chen Mo’s gaze lingered on it.

  Chen Mo pushed open the ornate wooden doors of the Spiritual Treasures Pavilion, and immediately the warm scent of incense and refined herbs greeted him. The pavilion was busy but orderly, filled with cultivators of all ranks negotiating with stewards, inspecting talismans, pills, and small spirit treasures. The polished wooden counters gleamed under the soft light, and the shelves were stacked with carefully labeled bottles and boxes. Occasionally, a cultivator would snap their fingers, summoning a servant who swiftly moved to attend to them, offering gestures of courtesy and efficiency.

  As Chen Mo stepped further inside, a young servant in a neat gray uniform approached him with a slight bow. “Welcome to the Spiritual Treasures Pavilion, sir. May I assist you with anything today?”

  Chen Mo scanned the pavilion quickly, taking in the organized chaos. Cultivators haggled over pill prices, inspected flying swords, and occasionally whispered about some rare talisman or herb. Despite the bustle, there was a certain calm precision to the place, as if every transaction followed an invisible rhythm dictated by the rules of the sect.

  “I wonder,” Chen Mo began, his voice calm but deliberate, “if you have pills that can help sense qi. I just tested my spiritual root and need to start learning how to perceive it properly.”

  The servant nodded knowingly. “Ah, Spiritual Perception Pills. We have several grades. The basic pills are suitable for beginners—they help the meridians relax and refine the qi in your body, allowing one to sense even faint spiritual energy. A bottle containing ten pills is five spiritual stones, the most affordable grade we offer. Mid-grade pills are stronger and last longer, while the advanced ones temporarily expand spiritual senses even further, though they are far more expensive.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes narrowed slightly, already calculating in his mind. “Five spiritual stones for ten pills… that’s reasonable. I’ll take a bottle of the basic kind for now. I just need to start practicing sensing qi.”

  “Certainly, sir,” the servant replied with a courteous bow. “I’ll prepare the bottle for you immediately. If you need guidance on proper intake or meditative techniques to maximize the pills’ effect, a steward can demonstrate it, but I see you are capable of managing yourself.”

  Chen Mo nodded, his gaze flicking briefly over the busy pavilion one more time. He could feel the pulse of cultivation power all around him, the hum of spiritual energy mingling with the subdued conversations of the crowd. With these pills and careful practice, he could finally begin sharpening the senses that would determine his survival and progress in this world.

  The servant moved quickly to fetch the bottle and delivered it to chen mo

  After handing over the five spiritual stones for the pills, Chen Mo paused and asked the assistant, “Is there a book containing general knowledge about cultivation? Something to guide a beginner like me?”

  The servant smiled warmly. “Of course, sir. The Basic Qi Cultivation Compendium is a standard sect-issued manual, widely used by beginner loose cultivators. It’s concise, clear, and very practical for someone starting out. It’s only four spiritual stones.”

  Chen Mo nodded, paid the four spiritual stones without hesitation, and left the pavilion. As he walked through the eastern market, he casually glanced at nearby stalls selling talismans, trying to make sense of the few he had collected from his recent spoils. Most were beyond his understanding for now, but he made mental notes, planning to either learn their uses later or sell them when the opportunity arose.

  Back in his modest courtyard, Chen Mo settled down with the thin book. By candlelight, he opened the pages and studied attentively, absorbing every detail about qi cultivation, meridians, breathing techniques, and spiritual sensing. For the first time since leaving the Azure Pine Immortal Sect, he felt like he was taking control of his own path, however slow and uncertain it might be.