With a soft click, the heavy wooden latch slid back.

Li Meng pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway. The inn was steeped in the heavy silence of early morning. The main hall below was deserted, the air stale and still. Only a lone waiter slumped over the counter, his head resting on his arms as he dozed through the boredom.

Li Meng approached with silent footsteps and placed the heavy brass key on the polished wood.

“The two guests upstairs,” Li Meng asked, his voice low. “When did they depart?”

The waiter started, blinking bleary eyes up at Li Meng before glancing toward the open entrance. “Oh… at first light, sir. They left as soon as the sun broke the horizon.”

Li Meng nodded, turned on his heel, and strode out into the morning air.

Of course they didn’t wait.

Martial Aunts Wen and Han were Golden Core cultivators. High and mighty. It was simply impossible for them to lower themselves to travel alongside a mere Foundation Establishment junior like him. He hadn’t truly expected them to wait, but his curiosity lingered.

Why were they here?

Rumors of the ‘Bodhi Tree’ surfacing in the Western Region’s desert had been circulating for weeks. It wasn’t strange for the Sect to dispatch Golden Core elders to investigate such a treasure, but the secrecy piqued his interest.

Standing outside the inn’s main gate, Li Meng looked up at the vast, pale sky and let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Women… they truly are a stumbling block on the path to immortality.”

He shook his head, a wry smile touching his lips. Last night, his plan had been sound: extract intel on ‘Yellow Wind Valley’ from Wen Huanhuan. It should have been a simple interrogation disguised as conversation.

He hadn’t accounted for how intoxicatingly comfortable she would be.

Holding her soft, yielding body in his arms had been a trap more dangerous than any array. Combined with the severe Soul Exhaustion plaguing him, his mental defenses had crumbled. He hadn’t just closed his eyes; he had passed out, cuddling her like a mortal husband with his wife.

By the time he woke, she was gone.

Li Meng channeled his spiritual power. The wind howled around him as he rose into the air, soaring straight up like a hawk. From the Sword Nurturing Gourd at his waist, his worn-out Low Grade flying sword shot out, catching him effortlessly.

He oriented himself toward the northwest and accelerated.

The gourd-shaped storage artifact bobbing at his waist drew no attention. In the cultivation world, such shapes were common for storage artifacts. To the uninitiated eye, it was just a place to keep spare robes and spirit stones, not a lethal arsenal.

Days blurred into a monotony of gold and blue.

Li Meng traveled north, suspended between the scorching sun and the endless sea of sand. The Western Region was a testament to the vastness of heaven and earth—a brutal, beautiful void where life struggled to exist.

On the third day, a disturbance broke the horizon.

A massive sandstorm churned against the hard-packed earth ahead, but it wasn’t natural. Bursts of spiritual light flickered within the chaotic winds like lightning in a thunderhead.

Hovering at an altitude of a thousand meters, Li Meng slowed his ascent.

“A magical battle?”

Fights on the ground were usually the squabbles of Qi Condensation juniors. He retrieved his map from his sleeve, checking his coordinates. He wasn’t far from Yellow Wind Valley now—perhaps two days’ flight at his current speed.

He tucked the map away and banked his sword toward the east.

Detour.

He had no intention of meddling. He wasn’t some hot-blooded hero from a storybook; he was a pragmatist. Unless they were disciples of his own Sect, their lives were irrelevant.

Even if there was a jade-skinned beauty down there from some righteous Sect, what of it?

Beauty didn’t pay the bills. Without a controlled environment to interact, manipulate, and farm ‘Affection’ points, a random rescue was a poor investment. A single encounter was just that—a passing glance. Without follow-up, it was a waste of time and spiritual energy.

“Is that a Fellow Daoist from the Sword Inquiry Sect?”

A voice suddenly pierced the howling wind—clear, melodic, and desperate.

“Fellow Daoist, please! Lend me a hand!”

Li Meng paused. The voice alone evoked images of unmatched grace. A woman with a voice like heavenly chimes… logic dictated she would be a peerless beauty.

Rip.

Below him, the curtain of sand was torn open by a desperate slash of sword light. A graceful figure clad in white robes burst from the storm, riding the wind. She made it less than ten zhang before the living sands rose up like a tidal wave, swallowing her back into the maelstrom.

It was a fleeting glimpse, a ‘swan appearing briefly in the mist,’ but it was enough.

An ethereal, exquisitely pure face burned itself into Li Meng’s retinas. Simultaneously, a translucent window materialized in his vision.

[Name: Lu Zimo] [Age: 65] [Luck: 15,000] [Cultivation: Late Foundation Establishment] [Aptitude: Sword Spiritual Root (Innate Natal Sword Embryo)] [Affection: 0]

Li Meng nearly fell off his sword.

Sixty-five years old and already in Late Foundation Establishment? Sword Spiritual Root? And… 15,000 Luck?!

“A… A Child of Destiny?”

He gaped at the floating text. This wasn’t just a genius; this was a protagonist. A monster favored by the Heavens. With a Luck stat of 15,000, this woman could probably trip over a rock and find an ancient legacy. Calamities turned into blessings around people like her.

Just like now. She was in danger, and ‘coincidentally,’ she ran into him.

The calculation in Li Meng’s eyes shifted instantly. The ‘Wealthy Sage’ saw a high-yield investment.

“Fellow Daoist, do not panic!” Li Meng roared, his voice laced with righteous authority. “I am coming to aid you!”

He dove.

His hand formed a seal, and he slapped the Sword Nurturing Gourd at his waist. A golden talisman shot out, burning with the brilliance of a miniature sun.

It streaked toward the sandstorm, transforming mid-air. The talisman expanded, the light solidifying into a massive, ten-zhang-long Golden Geng Spirit Sword. The pressure it radiated was heavy, metallic, and sharp enough to cut the wind itself.

“Fellow Daoist, watch out!”

He shouted the warning a split second before impact.

BOOM!

The Golden Geng Spirit Sword slammed into the heart of the sandstorm like a divine judgement. The tornado was pierced through instantly. The sword’s momentum was unstoppable; it drilled into the desert floor, unleashing a shockwave of violent, razor-sharp Spiritual Power.

The sand exploded outward, clearing the battlefield in a single breath.

The dust settled, revealing the combatants.

“A Five-Tailed Gold-Devouring Scorpion?” Li Meng muttered, his eyes narrowing.

The Demon Beast was massive, easily larger than a carriage and stretching five zhang in length. Its carapace gleamed with a metallic luster, looking as if it were cast from pure gold. Five distinct tails lashed behind it, clicking menacingly.

“A Level 5 Demon Beast…”

Li Meng’s brow furrowed. A Level 5 beast was comparable to a cultivator at the Grand Perfection of Foundation Establishment. This specific species fed on rare ores; its body was harder than most magical artifacts. Its defense rivaled that of some Level 6 beasts.

Freed from the sandstorm’s suppression, the white-robed female cultivator wasted no time shooting into the sky.

The scorpion hissed, its golden pupils locking onto the two humans hovering above. While it could fly, the sky was not its domain. It seemed to weigh its options in a surprisingly human manner.

With a fluid motion, the massive beast dove headfirst into the sand.

The earth rippled like water, and in the blink of an eye, the creature vanished.

“Such agile eyes,” Li Meng mused. “It realized it was outmatched instantly. It must be close to unlocking its spiritual intelligence.”

Standard beasts fought to the death. To actively avoid battle and flee… this scorpion was essentially an embryonic demon. Given a few more decades, it would fully transform.

Lu Zimo adjusted her disheveled robes and flew toward Li Meng. She stopped a respectful distance away, her chest heaving slightly.

She was breathtaking. Even covered in dust, her temperament was cold and transcendent, like a lotus blooming on a snowy peak.

She cupped her hands in a formal salute. “Many thanks for your assistance, Fellow Daoist!”

Li Meng stroked his beard—a affectation he adopted for his ‘Li Feiyu’ persona—and chuckled warmly. He exuded the air of a benevolent, wealthy senior who threw high-grade talismans around like confetti.

“Think nothing of it. We are all seekers of the Dao; how could I stand by and watch a Fellow Daoist fall?”

His voice dripped with righteousness. He sounded like a hero from the legends.

Lu Zimo’s eyes flashed with genuine admiration. In the cultivation world, people who helped strangers without asking for payment were rarer than phoenix feathers.

“I am a Rogue Cultivator, surnamed Lu, given name Zimo,” she introduced herself, her tone respectful. “Fellow Daoist’s righteousness is admirable. This humble woman is in your debt.”

Rogue Cultivator?

Li Meng practically choked on his own saliva. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Who are you trying to fool?

A Rogue Cultivator with 15,000 Luck? Impossible. A Rogue Cultivator with a Sword Spiritual Root? Even less likely. The great Sects would have snatched her up before she could walk. She was obviously hiding her identity, playing the ‘pig to eat the tiger.’

Li Meng maintained his benevolent smile and returned the salute.

“I am ‘Li Feiyu’ of the Sword Inquiry Sect. Is Fellow Daoist heading toward Yellow Wind Valley?”

Surprise colored Lu Zimo’s features. “Does Fellow Daoist have the same destination?”

She nodded lightly. “Yes, that is indeed my intention.”

Li Meng beamed at her, his expression radiating safety and reliability.

“Then why not travel together? The Western Region’s desert is treacherous, rife with hidden dangers. We can look out for one another.”

Lu Zimo hesitated.

The desert was dangerous. The Five-Tailed Gold-Devouring Scorpion was proof enough of that; without this mysterious ‘Li Feiyu’, she would have been forced to burn vital essence to escape, sustaining heavy injuries in the process.

She looked at Li Meng—this man who claimed to be from the Sword Inquiry Sect, who had saved her with a casual wave of his hand.

She made her decision.

Lu Zimo cupped her hands again, bowing slightly lower this time.