Fengle Restaurant.

As the crown jewel of the White Jade Market, this establishment was a testament to architectural grandeur. It towered seven stories into the sky, a complex arrangement of five distinct pavilions—East, West, South, North, and Central—linked by dizzying flying bridges that spanned the open air like silk ribbons.

Tonight, the complex was a beacon of light and sound. Lanterns blazed from every eave, and the roar of revelry spilled out onto the streets, drawing envious glances from the passing cultivators below.

In a luxurious private suite on the topmost floor, Qin Lu sat at the head of the table, surrounded by laughter and clinking porcelain cups.

To his left and right sat the core members of the Qin Sect.

They had gathered for one simple reason: to celebrate Gu Can’s successful breakthrough to Foundation Establishment.

Unlike Qin Lu, who treated his own breakthrough like a state secret, Gu Can had handled his success with the subtlety of a thunderclap. He had broadcast the news to the entire city, sent out hundreds of invitations, and booked a hundred tables at the most expensive venue in town. His style was unrestrained, bold, and entirely unapologetic.

Now, with bellies full of spirit wine and rare delicacies, the atmosphere was electric.

“Fellow Daoist Qin! I must insist on a drink with you.”

A figure strode into the private suite, beelining for Qin Lu with a cup in hand.

Qin Lu stood immediately, his smile practiced and polite. He raised his own cup to meet the guest. “Fellow Daoist, you are too kind. I should be the one toasting you…”

“Nonsense,” the man laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “In the cultivation world, strength is the only hierarchy. After witnessing your dominance on the Life and Death Arena, I’d be a fool not to pay my respects. That final strike? Vivid as if it happened yesterday…”

“You flatter me. It was nothing worth mentioning…”

They exchanged the standard pleasantries—warm words, self-deprecating humor, and mutual praise. To an observer, they looked like old friends. In reality, Qin Lu barely knew the man’s name. He was just one of the many Foundation Establishment cultivators in the market.

Gu Can’s banquet had cast a wide net, inviting friends, acquaintances, and influential strangers alike. Now that the formal dining was over, the guests were mingling, networking, and cementing alliances.

Ever since Qin Lu decapitated Kong Mengli, his stock had risen sharply. In a gathering like this, the weaker Foundation Establishment cultivators naturally gravitated toward him, eager to curry favor with the rising star.

Qin Lu, possessing the wisdom of two lifetimes, handled the social game with ease. He didn’t put on airs. He met every toast with a smile and every compliment with humility.

Gradually, a circle formed around him. A small clique of Foundation Establishment experts stood together, swirling their wine and trading the latest intelligence.

“Hey, have you heard?” one cultivator lowered his voice conspiratorially. “The Blood Demon has resurfaced. He was spotted near Mount Qingyuan, just north of the market. The Demon Slaying Sect is mobilizing a hunting party as we speak.”

“The Blood Demon? Hah!” Another cultivator, a burly man named Lao Qi, spat on the floor. “That jumping clown? He’s a dignified Foundation Establishment cultivator, yet he spends his days butchering mortals for blood arts? If I ever run into him, I’ll chop his head off with one swing!”

“Hehe, Lao Qi, stop blowing cow skin,” a companion jeered. “If you really had the guts, you would have petitioned Market Master Jiang to join the hunt ages ago. Why wait until now to talk big?”

Lao Qi flushed red. “Bah! I’m busy with business! The spirit requires it, but the flesh is tied down… otherwise, do you think I’d let him live?”

The group erupted in laughter.

Qin Lu sipped his wine, listening intently.

After a year in the White Jade Market, he knew exactly why the local authorities were so aggressive toward evil cultivators.

The ‘Demon’ in Demon Slaying Sect referred specifically to ‘Evil Cultivators.’ The ‘Slaying’ was not a suggestion; it was a mandate.

Legend had it that the sect’s founder, Ancestor Xie Jian, had been the sole survivor of a village massacre orchestrated by an evil cultivator before he began his path to immortality. Even after ascending to the Golden Core realm, the hatred in his heart never cooled. He left his original sect to establish this branch, driven by a singular, bloody creed: Exterminate every evil cultivator under the heavens.

Because of this, the suppression of dark arts here was far more brutal than in the Wuji Market.

The ‘Blood Demon’ they were discussing was a notorious fugitive—a Late Foundation Establishment expert who had been playing cat and mouse with the authorities for years, treating the Demon Slaying Sect like fools.

“Evil cultivators…” Qin Lu mused, swirling the liquid in his cup.

The conversation shifted gears as quickly as the wind.

“Speaking of old timers,” a thin cultivator piped up. “Did you know Zou Chang is back? He returned two days ago. That old man has been running himself ragged these past few years.”

“Hmm?” Qin Lu blinked. “Who is Zou Chang? The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It’s normal you don’t know him, Daoist Qin,” the cultivator explained. “He’s a senior of the White Jade Market, a veteran Late Foundation Establishment expert. But he’s been gone for years, so his fame has faded.”

“Why would a Late Foundation Establishment expert be running around outside?” Qin Lu asked.

“Ambition,” the man replied. “Ever since Zou Chang reached the late stage, he’s been obsessed with founding his own sect. He wants to be a Headmaster. He’s been scouring the wilderness for years, looking for a spiritual mountain with an unclaimed ley line.”

Another cultivator shook his head. “Easier said than done. Good spiritual land is rare. The top-grade mountains were carved up by the major powers centuries ago. Finding a vacant spot now? Impossible.”

“Exactly,” the thin cultivator sneered. “If you ask me, someone in Senior Zou’s position shouldn’t be looking for empty land. He should just find a weak sect with decent Qi, and then…”

He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows. The implication was self-evident.

“Hehe. You want him to invade and conquer? Careful. Try to swallow a bone that’s too hard, and you might choke to death.”

“True, true. Peace is precious…”

The group laughed again, moving on to lighter topics.

But Qin Lu remained silent, the words echoing in his mind.

Finding a spiritual mountain… Establishing a sect… Becoming a Headmaster…

“That actually doesn’t sound too bad,” he thought.

A seed was planted in his heart. A faint, ambitious smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

The night deepened.

The banquet ended in a chaotic chorus of farewells. Qin Lu said his goodbyes to a drunken, stumbling Gu Can, then gathered the members of the Qin Sect to leave.

Outside the restaurant, the group dispersed, each heading to their respective homes.

Qin Lu walked alone toward his residence.

The streets were still alive with activity. As he walked, he felt eyes on him. Passing Loose Cultivators pointed and whispered, their gazes filled with awe and curiosity.

Qin Lu adjusted his collar, feeling a prickle of discomfort. By nature, he was cautious. He preferred to be a ‘little transparent’—unnoticed and underestimated. This level of fame made his skin crawl.

“No helping it,” he sighed internally. “As my strength grows, the shadows recede. It’s inevitable.”

He stopped at a roadside stall, the aroma of roasted spirit-meat tempting him. The stall owner, a nervous Qi Condensation cultivator, nearly dropped the skewer when he realized who he was serving.

Qin Lu paid, taking a bite of the savory meat as he continued his stroll. Even though Foundation Establishment cultivators could sustain themselves on Qi alone (Inedia), the pleasure of food was a habit he refused to break.

He turned a corner, humming a quiet tune.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Ahead of him, a figure staggered out of the shadows.

The man was in a sorry state. His clothes were tattered, and dirty bandages were wrapped haphazardly around his torso. Fresh blood seeped through the cloth, staining the fabric dark red.