Daoist Master Baoqing had extended an olive branch. The terms were simple: look after his lineage and legacy. It was a pragmatic transaction, fair and profitable. Of course, the title of disciple carried weight; it meant Wang Hao would be bound to the Treasure Clarity Pavilion, obligated to serve its interests.

Tempted but cautious, Wang Hao decided to probe further.

“Senior,” Wang Hao began, his tone respectful but steady. “Wanxiang City is teeming with Foundation Establishment cultivators. Why choose me?”

Baoqing’s expression was placid, the demeanor of a man who had seen too much of the world to bother with pretense. “I won’t hide it from you. In my youth, I spurned recruitment offers from every major faction. I burned bridges and offended many. My network in this city is… poor.”

The Golden Core master leaned back, his fingers drumming on the armrest. “Doing business is one thing; money clears many paths. But passing down a legacy? That requires protection. If you take my name, my enemies might hesitate. Furthermore, while cultivators are common, alchemists are rare. I cannot adopt a brood of children and raise them from scratch.”

Baoqing held up three fingers. “Including you, I have found three candidates. But an alchemist cannot just be Proficient in the Dao of Pills; they must have the potential to form a Golden Core. Without strength, you cannot guard the inheritance. My goal is to gather five such individuals and teach you as a cohort.”

Wang Hao offered a measured nod. The logic was sound—a business conglomerate needing an executive board with military capability. Whether it was the whole truth was a matter for later investigation, but for now, it felt authentic.

“Senior, may I have some time to consider?”

“Naturally,” Baoqing agreed easily. “I was once a rogue cultivator; I understand the need for caution. If you agree, come find me. If I am absent, inform Madam Xu. But do not deliberate forever. In three years, regardless of whether I have filled the five spots, I will begin the instruction. Miss the window, and the door closes.”

“Senior,” Wang Hao pressed, shifting to his primary objective. “About the Dustfall Pill?”

The value of the Dustfall Pill was theoretically comparable to the Spirit Severing Sword he was offering, but market dynamics told a different story. Magic Treasures, while expensive, could be bought with enough Spirit Stones. Resources that aided in Golden Core formation, however, were treasures that money often could not buy. Wang Hao feared his hesitation regarding the apprenticeship might sour the deal.

Baoqing chuckled, a rasping, dry sound. “Master and disciple are one thing; business is another. You have brought out Beast Rearing Pills, a spirit fruit tree, and a high-grade Magic Treasure. That is sufficient capital.”

The old master’s eyes glinted with a merchant’s cunning. “Of course, the true value of a Dustfall Pill transcends mere currency. If you were to bow to me as your master right now, I would hand you two Dustfall Pills immediately—at cost.”

It was a staggering offer. Wang Hao’s resolve nearly crumbled right there.

Seeing his hesitation, Baoqing waved a hand. “Fine, fine. You and I have some destiny between us. I will sell you one. Discuss the specifics with Madam Xu.”

Wang Hao had steeled himself for a high price, but Madam Xu’s quote still made his teeth ache.

“Madam Xu,” Wang Hao said, his voice tight. “The auction price for a Dustfall Pill hovers around two hundred thousand Spirit Stones. You are asking for two hundred and fifty thousand. Isn’t that a bit… black-hearted?”

The enchanting Madam Xu didn’t even blink. She smoothed her robes, her smile polite but immovable. “Fellow Daoist Han, you cannot calculate it that way. If we placed this pill in an auction, the foot traffic alone would drive up the prices of our other goods. The publicity value far exceeds the pill itself. By selling it to you privately, the Pavilion loses that exposure.”

She was a ruthless businesswoman. Wang Hao understood the concept of opportunity cost, but understanding it didn’t make the gouging any less painful.

In the end, he had no choice. He finalized the trade. In addition to the Dustfall Pill, Madam Xu bundled in three Foundation Establishment Pills, charging him forty thousand stones a piece—another extortionate rate.

Wang Hao suppressed the urge to slam the table. Forty thousand? With the resources in his mysterious farm, he could mass-produce those pills for a fraction of the cost. The markup was insulting.

Madam Xu, radiant and charming, watched him leave with the satisfaction of a predator who had just consumed a hearty meal. She had secured the Jasper Moon Fruit tree, the pills, and the Spirit Severing Sword. If she played her cards right at the next auction, she would make a killing far beyond what she had squeezed out of Wang Hao.

A quarter of an hour later, Wang Hao emerged into the noise and dust of the Rogue Cultivator Square.

He needed to cleanse the palate of that transaction. He needed a win. He needed to pick up a “leak”—a hidden treasure undervalued by the ignorant.

The square was a chaotic sprawl of stone slabs and makeshift tents. It was the heart of the city’s black market, where treasures and trash mingled freely.

“High-grade Magical Artifacts! Clearance prices! One hundred stones!”

“Eighty-year-old Blazing Sun Flower! Roots intact! Plant it and watch it grow! Don’t miss it!”

The air was thick with the shouts of hawkers, though many of the more experienced stall owners simply sat in meditative silence behind their wares, letting price tags do the talking. It was much like the Green Bull Market, only larger, and the ambient pressure of the crowd was heavier—Foundation Establishment cultivators were a common sight here.

Wang Hao moved through the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the goods with the efficiency of a scanner. First-tier trash. Common herbs. He walked faster.

Near the center of the plaza, a commotion broke the rhythm of the market.

“What is this garbage? You swindler!” A cultivator was shouting, red-faced. “I planted this a month ago on a Third-Tier Spirit Vein! It hasn’t even cracked a shell!”

The stall owner, a burly rogue cultivator, scowled. “Watch your mouth. The seed still has vitality. If it didn’t sprout, it’s because your farming arts are incompetent.”

“Incompetent? On a Third-Tier Vein? Give me back my stones!”

“I told you,” the vendor insisted, though his voice wavered slightly. “It is a Divine Tree seed. They take time.”

Wang Hao paused, a cynical smile touching his lips. A Divine Tree seed? Here?

The term ‘Divine Tree’ was reserved for Fourth-Tier flora and above—legends like the Evil-Warding Thunder Bamboo, the Soul-Nourishing Wood, or the Spirit-Eye Tree. Even Nascent Soul True Monarchs might go their whole lives without seeing a sapling, let alone a rogue cultivator selling one on a street corner.

And even if it were real, a seed was worlds apart from a tree. A Divine Tree could take millennia to mature. Without a sect’s resources and a few thousand years of patience, a seed was just an expensive paperweight.

The argument escalated. The buyer, clearly a disciple of some local faction, was leveraging his status. The stall owner, fearing the organization behind the man, eventually caved. He tossed the Spirit Stones back and snatched the seed from the angry customer.

“Fake,” someone in the crowd muttered. “Obviously.”

“Rogue cultivators are all the same. Trying to pass off a peach pit as a phoenix egg,” another jeered.

A few curious souls asked the price, thinking to gamble, but when the burly owner barked, “Two hundred Spirit Stones,” the crowd evaporated.

“Disperse, disperse,” a passerby scoffed. “Only an idiot would pay that for a dead seed.”

The crowd thinned out, leaving the stall owner fuming and alone.

My turn, Wang Hao thought.

He approached the stall, adopting a casual, slightly bored demeanor. “Friend, mind if I see that seed?”

The burly man glared at him, his mood foul. “You looked. You want it?”

“If it’s a real Divine Tree seed, naturally I want it,” Wang Hao said, deliberately letting his aura flare. The pressure of the Fifth Layer of Foundation Establishment washed over the stall.

The vendor, a mere Second Layer cultivator, stiffened. His belligerence vanished instantly. “Here,” he said, tossing the seed over. “Look all you want.” He clearly didn’t expect a sale.

Wang Hao caught the object. It was unassuming, dull and gray.

But the moment it touched his skin, the interface of his Farm in his consciousness lit up.

Ping.

Wang Hao’s heart skipped a beat. Even if it wasn’t a legend, the system’s reaction meant it was a new, catalogable species. That alone was worth the gamble.

He opened the store interface in his mind’s eye, focusing on the analysis. The text scrolled into view, and Wang Hao’s pupils constricted.

[Item: Void Mulberry Divine Tree Seed]

Void Mulberry.

It wasn’t just a tree. It was the foundational material for spatial manipulation. The wood of the Void Mulberry was the primary component for high-grade storage bags and spatial artifacts. It wasn’t the rarest substance in the multiverse, but the supply was strangled by the great sects. A Golden Core sect like Baoqing’s couldn’t even mass-produce low-grade storage bags because the raw materials were strictly controlled.

Wang Hao suppressed a grin. He had come looking for a bargain, and he had found a fortune.