Is It Wrong to Bully the Novice Village for System Rewards?

Meanwhile.

Qi Yuan, completely unaware that Ji Chan’er had just “avenged” his self-inflicted slavery, stood outside his courtyard. He gazed at the desolate, lifeless surroundings, and a faint sense of melancholy washed over him.

This life… truly, is as lonely as snow!

Ever since the “incident” where he massacred everyone in sight, no fellow disciples dared approach within a ten-mile radius. He didn’t even have a neighbor. His attempts to blend in with the demonic cultivators of the Outer Sect had failed spectacularly; he was an outcast among outcasts.

Oh well. Excellence breeds isolation. It’s lonely at the top.

After a brief moment of narcissistic sighing, he casually hung a wooden sign on the gate: [CLOSED CULTIVATION. DO NOT DISTURB.]

He stepped inside and activated the System Teleportation without hesitation.

The population of Blood Refining Peak was already critically endangered. The few remaining survivors treated his Grade A Courtyard No. 1 like a forbidden death zone, giving it a wide berth. Theft was not a concern.

Besides, his “broken sword” had caused a massive catastrophe last time he left it unguarded. If he let it loose again, who knew what kind of unbearably awkward tragedy would unfold? The three or four surviving disciples outside might get wiped out, completing his unintentional genocide.

Whoosh—

Space warped.

The next moment, Qi Yuan appeared in a lush, dense forest. A hundred miles away stood a massive city-sized market.

He expanded his Divine Sense, sweeping the area to confirm no one had witnessed his arrival. Satisfied, he smoothed his robes and leisurely flew toward the market.

Moments later, Qi Yuan arrived at the Pill Saint Immortal Market.

Although this wasn’t his first visit, the sheer scale and prosperity of the place still impressed him.

Backed by the world’s premier alchemy sect—the Pill Saint Sect—this market had naturally evolved into the largest hub for pill trading in the entire Cultivation World.

Here, you could find anything. From the most basic Qi Gathering Pills to rare Heaven-grade elixirs, and even legendary Saint-grade treasures. As long as you had enough Spirit Stones, nothing was out of reach.

With a month before the Main Mission began, Qi Yuan decided to use the downtime to resolve his need for the Heaven-Mending Pill.

His goal was to visit the reclusive Pill Saint residing within the Pill Saint Sect and commission a custom batch.

Technically, both the Supreme Mystery Sanctuary and the Exquisite Sanctuary had their own Heaven-grade alchemists. But “Heaven-grade” was a far cry from “Saint-grade.”

Asking a Heaven-grade alchemist to brew a Saint-grade primary pill like the Celestial Zenith Body Tempering Pill was risky—maybe a 20% success rate. But asking them to brew a high-level Saint-grade pill like the Heaven-Mending Pill? You’d have better odds winning the lottery while being struck by lightning.

Qi Yuan’s materials were limited. He couldn’t afford failure.

He needed a true Pill Saint.

In the vast world of cultivation, alchemists were common, but those who could consistently refine Saint-grade pills were as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. Only three such individuals existed in the current era.

Two were elusive old monsters who hadn’t been seen in centuries—literal dragons who showed their heads but never their tails.

The only publicly active Pill Saint was the Supreme Elder of the Pill Saint Sect, Zu Chengzhi.

Even with Qi Yuan’s status as the Holy Scion of Supreme Mystery, he couldn’t just knock on Zu Chengzhi’s door. He had to book an appointment through the Precious Pill Pavilion in the market.

The Pill Saint Sect was notoriously secretive. They abhorred outsiders witnessing their techniques, keeping their mountain gates sealed tight since their founding. This paranoia protected their trade secrets and cemented their transcendent status.

If you wanted their pills, you came to the market and paid in Spirit Stones. They didn’t care who you were or who your father was. Cash only.

It was mid-afternoon. The wide avenues of the market were packed with cultivators, flanked by endless rows of stalls.

Since flight was prohibited within the market limits, Qi Yuan was forced to drift slowly with the tide of the crowd.

“High-Grade Foundation Consolidating Pills! Selling at a tearful loss! Only two hundred Spirit Stones a pop!”

“Step right up! Fresh thousand-year Silkworm Mother Grass from Moonlit Valley! Yours for five thousand Spirit Stones!”

“Ancestral Secret Recipes! Selling my family heritage to pay debts! Cures all rare diseases, infertility, and… performance issues! Guaranteed results or your money back!”

Amidst the cacophony of hawkers, Qi Yuan spotted a familiar figure. He paused, blinked, and then walked over, intrigued.

As he got closer, he heard a heated argument.

“Boss, that batch of pills you sold me last time was garbage! I spent tens of thousands of Spirit Stones at your stall! I’m a VIP customer! How dare you scam me?!”

The stall owner, a grizzled old man, sighed deeply.

“Young brother, I’ve been selling here for decades. My reputation is rock solid. Rave reviews across the board. The pills work. Clearly, it’s your method of consumption that’s the problem.”

“My method?!” The customer’s voice cracked. “How can I eat a pill wrong?!”

“Look, Crimson Sun Pills can quickly revitalize a man’s… vigor. But they aren’t candy beans. You bought a thousand of them. Did you eat them by the handful?”

The stall owner gave him a look of profound pity.

“All drugs have tolerance limits. The more you pop, the less they work. It’s basic alchemy.”

He leaned in, whispering loudly enough for the crowd to hear.

“Young brother, if you really can’t get it up anymore, the pills won’t help. I know a few divine physicians who specialize in dead wood…”

“SHUT UP!”

The customer—an incredibly ugly man in green robes—jumped as if his tail had been stepped on.

“Nonsense! This Daoist… I mean, I am vigorous! I am mighty! I am a tiger in the sheets! You’re running a black shop! You’re swindling people! Give me my Spirit Stones back or I’ll flip this entire stall!”

The stall owner didn’t even flinch. He smiled—a cold, fake smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“The Pill Saint Immortal Market strictly prohibits violence. The enforcers don’t play nice. Go ahead. Flip it. See what happens.”

The crowd of onlookers was growing larger by the second, snickering and whispering.

The green-robed man’s face turned the color of a ripe tomato. Realizing the situation was spiraling out of control, he sputtered a few impotent curses in a flustered rage, then covered his face with his sleeve and fled.

He realized the danger. If he kept making a scene, someone might recognize him.

If the cultivation world found out that the Celestial Zenith Holy Scion had erectile dysfunction… the shame would be legendary.

The green-robed man hadn’t gone ten steps when he saw a familiar face blocking his path. He instinctively shrank his neck into his collar.

“Qi… Junior Brother Qi? What a coincidence. Why are you here?”

Qi Yuan looked at him, speechless.

How did this guy become a Holy Scion?

Does the Celestial Zenith Sanctuary not check for dignity during the interview process? Or morals?

He swallowed the urge to roast him and kept his expression bland.

“Yes, I just arrived. I didn’t expect to see Senior Brother Piao here.”

Hearing that Qi Yuan had just arrived—and hopefully missed the argument—Piao Genshuo let out a visible sigh of relief. He coughed dryly, straightening his spine.

“Ahem. I was just… inspecting the market. Quality control. Turns out most of these stalls are scams.”

He gestured vaguely behind him.

“If Junior Brother Qi needs pills, stick to the official shops. The street vendors are trash.”

Qi Yuan smiled politely.

“Actually, I’m heading to the Precious Pill Pavilion. I plan to commission Senior Zu of the Pill Saint Sect for a custom refinement.”

He paused, looking at Piao Genshuo thoughtfully.

“Senior Brother Piao, your network is extensive. Do you happen to have any acquaintances inside the Pill Saint Sect?”

This guy was a clown, but he was a well-connected clown.

As the saying goes: Having connections in court makes the official work easier. Even in the high-stakes world of cultivation, sometimes it all came down to who you knew.