The three primary ingredients for the Origin Nourishing Pill required a full decade of natural growth to reach maturity.

However, under Chen Ping’s meticulous care—and the constant irrigation of spirit spring water—their growth rate had been accelerated twentyfold.

In just six months, he would be able to harvest the first batch.

Only then could he attempt to refine the Origin Nourishing Pill and force his cultivation level upward.

The market price for these pills was astronomical. A single pill cost fifty Spirit Stones—roughly the same price as a mid-grade Tier 1 Dharma Artifact.

In the past, when Chen Ping sold Qi Gathering Pills in the black market, he would occasionally buy an Origin Nourishing Pill for himself. But his Spirit Root talent was trash. Consuming a few pills yielded negligible results. To see any real change, he needed volume.

But he dared not buy in bulk.

Spending that kind of money would paint a target on his back. The black market was full of vultures watching for fat sheep to slaughter.

To survive, to maintain his low-key existence, he had to abandon the idea of buying his way to power.

Reality was cruel.

If he wanted to ascend, he had to swallow Origin Nourishing Pills like candy. And the only way to do that without dying broke—or murdered—was to refine them himself.

It is imperative.

“In the Dao of cultivation, haste makes waste,” Chen Ping murmured, recalling a line from an old text.

Since his cultivation was stalled for the next six months by the harvest cycle, he would turn his attention elsewhere. He refused to waste time.

He needed a force multiplier.

His mind immediately went to the ragged book he had scavenged from a street stall: Puppetry Primer.

The ambush by the bandits had left a deep scar on his psyche. His desire for self-preservation now far outweighed his hunger for realm advancement.

Talismans were powerful, but they were consumables. Once used, they were ash.

Dharma Artifacts were strong, but they drained his own Qi and Divine Sense.

Puppets were different.

Once refined, a puppet was a loyal soldier. It could fight, scout, and act as a decoy. It was an external limb that could be sacrificed without hesitation.

Mastering puppetry was equivalent to forging extra eyes and arms.

Chen Ping retrieved the book. The pages were yellowed, the corners worn soft. It was thin, covering only the basics, but it was exactly what he needed.

He sat down, cleared his mind, and began to read.

The Puppetry Primer opened with the origins and classifications of the art.

There were two main branches: Mechanism Puppetry and Soul Puppetry.

Mechanism Puppetry was engineering. It used spirit wood, metals, and stone as the chassis. The “muscles” were precision gears and levers, driven by Spirit Stones. The “brain” was a set of inscribed Spirit Patterns—referred to in the book as Inscriptions—activated by the user’s Divine Sense or a captured beast soul.

Soul Puppetry was the dark path.

It involved binding and refining living souls—harvested from tortured beasts or even human cultivators—to serve as the core. The process was gruesome, the backlash lethal. It was the domain of evil cultivators and desperate high-tier masters.

Fortunately, the Puppetry Primer focused on the orthodox, lower-threshold Mechanism Puppetry.

The book categorized Tier 1 Mechanism Puppets into four grades: Low, Mid, High, and Supreme. These corresponded roughly to the combat power of a Qi Condensation cultivator in the early, middle, late, and Great Perfection stages.

Chen Ping focused on the Low-grade section.

These puppets were constructed primarily from tough spirit woods like Ironwood or Blue Oak, with joints reinforced by minor metal components.

The core technology relied on two things:

Inscriptions carved directly onto the wooden skeleton.

A Beast Soul Stone—a special vessel containing a pacified beast soul—to act as the driver.

Low-grade puppets were limited. They could perform simple commands: Sentry duty. Heavy lifting. Casting one or two basic Arts like Wind Blade or Fireball. Their movements were stiff, but they felt no pain and knew no fear.

The book provided blueprints for several standard models: The Wooden Wolf. The Wooden Hawk. The Wooden Ape.

The process was brutally technical: Select material. Cut. Carve the skeletal core. Polish. Assemble. Inscribe the Spirit Patterns. Embed the Beast Soul Stone. Imprint with Divine Sense.

Chen Ping spent a full month on that thin book.

He read it until the words dissolved into his memory. He analyzed the blueprints until he could reconstruct them in his mind’s eye.

He obsessed over the Inscriptions.

The book listed over a dozen foundational patterns.

Mountain Mark: Durability.

Flowing Wind Mark: Speed.

Blazing Sun Mark: Heat/Fire damage.

Great Strength Mark: Raw physical power.

The combination, depth, and placement of these carvings determined the puppet’s stability and combat rating. One slip of the knife, and the flow of Qi would shatter the chassis.

But theory was cheap.

Chen Ping knew that to master the craft, he had to bleed resources.

He needed aged Spirit Wood. He needed a specialized Inscription Knife. He needed Beast Soul Stones. He needed Spirit Iron for the joints.

He checked his pouch. He was broke. The few Spirit Stones he had left wouldn’t even cover the cost of the wood.

There was only one solution.

Return to the grind.

Alchemy.

The Qi Gathering Pill was his bread and butter. Low cost, high demand, and he had the process mastered.

Chen Ping entered the Black Earth space. He approached the Qi Gathering Grass tree and harvested a fresh batch of leaves. He grabbed the necessary auxiliary herbs from his storage.

He fired up the cauldron.

The ingredients from the Black Earth were superior to anything outside. Combined with his improved Fire Control, the results were immediate.

Three days later.

Chen Ping slipped into the black market, his face obscured, carrying twenty fresh Qi Gathering Pills.

The results of this batch had surprised even him.

Using the leaves from the mutated Qi Gathering tree had spiked his Success Rate. Out of six attempts, he succeeded four times.

More importantly, the quality was exceptional.

Over half the batch was Mid-grade.

While he hadn’t produced any High-grade pills yet, the data was clear: older, more potent ingredients directly translated to better pills. The Black Earth was a cheat code for alchemy.

This time, Chen Ping avoided the shops. He didn’t want to leave a paper trail.

He found a quiet corner in the outer stall area, spread a cloth, and set up shop.

Qi Gathering Pills were hard currency. Even with the fierce price-cutting of the black market, quality spoke for itself.

Low-grade pills sold for 10 to 12 Spirit Stones. Mid-grade pills commanded double that—20 to 25 stones.

His twenty bottles vanished quickly.

He walked away with nearly four hundred Spirit Stones. Adding his meager savings, his war chest was back to around four hundred fifty.

Flush with cash, Chen Ping hit the material district.

He didn’t haggle. He needed specific tools.

80 Spirit Stones: A main trunk of 100-year-old Ironwood. Dense enough to carve multiple chassis.

30 Spirit Stones: A set of Tier 1 Low-grade Inscription Knives made of Fine Iron.

100 Spirit Stones: A bulk bag of generic Beast Soul Stones (approx. 100 pieces).

50 Spirit Stones: Refined Copper for joints and processed Beast Sinew for ligaments.

He kept the remaining ~190 stones. Puppets ran on money; he would need them as power cores.

Chen Ping returned to his Hundred Herb Garden.

He laid out the gleaming knives, the heavy timber, and the soul stones.

His eyes were cold and focused.

It was time to become a Puppeteer.