“This creature is the Rare Fowl. It is no mortal bird; it possesses spirituality. Mating and reproduction are notoriously difficult, and hatching is equally arduous. Therefore, you must tend to them with the utmost care.”

“Their feed consists of a precise mixture: bran from Spirit Grain, Spirit Bean Cake, crushed Spirit Stone powder, and meal made from Spirit Fish bones. All ingredients must contain a trace of spiritual energy. Occasionally, Discarded Spirit Worms will be delivered for their consumption…”

“Roosters take approximately three years to fully mature. Hens require four.”

“Once mature, a hen will lay a single egg every five to ten days.”

“The monthly tribute quota is strict: two fully mature, robust roosters; two fully mature, robust hens; and two hundred Rare Fowl eggs!”

“If raised properly, there will be rewards!”

“If the tribute falls short, there will be punishment!”

Wang Ba finished tidying his quarters, muttering the rules of the manor under his breath until they were etched into his memory.

Only then did he step out of his room.

Old Man Sun and his small folding stool were gone. The old man had seemingly retreated to his own quarters.

Wang Ba had no desire to strike up a conversation with the eccentric elder anyway.

Recalling the orientation given by Deacon Li, Wang Ba descended from the villa and made his way to the other end of the valley, heading straight for the West Garden Market.

This West Garden Market was not a hub for cultivators to exchange magical treasures. It was a marketplace for mortals.

Even cultivators had kin—parents, siblings, and children who lacked the aptitude for cultivation. These mortals often followed their powered relatives into the sect, and naturally, they needed a place to live and trade.

Thus, the West Garden Market naturally came into being.

Wang Ba wandered through the stalls, his eyes widening in amazement.

Although it was technically a mortal market, it existed under the banner of the Eastern Sage Sect. Consequently, scraps and cast-offs from the cultivation world frequently trickled down here.

He even saw merchants hawking Rare Fowl, Precious Pigs, and Colorful Ducks.

Unfortunately, Wang Ba couldn’t afford a single feather on one of those birds.

The cheapest items cost thousands of taels of silver. The expensive ones demanded Spirit Stones—a currency he had only heard rumors of.

He even spotted someone shady peddling low-grade cultivation techniques in a back alley.

Of course, those were equally out of his reach.

After prowling the market for half the day, Wang Ba managed to purchase only the barest essentials: a cooking pot, a stove, and some coarse rice and grains.

That small shopping spree completely cleaned him out.

He didn’t have a single copper coin left.

Fortunately, as a laborer disciple of the sect, he would receive a periodic stipend of silver. It wouldn’t be much—likely just enough to keep him fed and clothed—but it was better than starving.

With great effort, he struggled to haul his new possessions back up the mountain.

Back at the villa, he found an axe meant for splitting firewood. He chopped some timber, kindled a fire in his new stove, and set the pot to boil.

It wasn’t until night had fully fallen that he finally sat down to eat.

The meal was stark—just plain rice, no side dishes—but after a day of grueling labor, Wang Ba ate with relish.

Between mouthfuls, he solidified his resolve. Since he had no destiny with the path of immortality, he would keep his head down and work hard. If he played his cards right, perhaps in a few years, he could claw his way up to the position of an Outer Sect Deacon.

He remembered Deacon Li mentioning it before. While some deacon positions required cultivation, others could be held by capable mortals.

After all, the sect was vast and filled with menial, administrative tasks. Few haughty cultivators were willing to lower themselves to do such work.

Once he had status and savings…

He would go down the mountain, marry a few beautiful concubines, and live out his days in comfort.

That way, his transmigration wouldn’t have been entirely in vain.

After dinner, he stood up and walked out of the villa courtyard to aid his digestion. Truthfully, he just needed to escape his bedroom; the overwhelming stench of chicken droppings was nearly suffocating.

He genuinely didn’t know how Old Man Sun stood it.

Wang Ba stood in the open air, gazing silently up at the brilliant river of stars spanning the night sky.

Suddenly, a blinding sword light tore through the darkness in the distance, soaring straight into the firmament!

Closely following the light, a colossal, illusory human figure manifested in the night sky. The figure stood with hands clasped behind its back, releasing a long, resonant roar.

The sound reverberated through the heavens.

“My Dao is achieved!”

Heavenly thunder rumbled in response, momentarily dimming the starlight.

A few breaths later, voices rose from every corner of the Eastern Sage Sect, a chorus of congratulations echoing through the mountains.

“I wonder what realm that is…”

Wang Ba stared enviously at the brilliant lights illuminating the distant peaks. Straining his eyes, he could vaguely make out the shimmer of flying swords and magical treasures gathering like fireflies.

“What a pity…”

Wang Ba lowered his head, the light in his eyes fading into desolation.

The greatest sorrow for a man is to witness a world of limitless splendor, only to realize that none of it belongs to him.

Stimulated by the display of power, Wang Ba found that his earlier exhaustion had vanished. He abandoned the idea of sleep.

Instead, he lit an oil lamp and began to tour the manor, counting the chickens one by one.

It took a long time to get an accurate census of the flock.

Thirty-seven roosters.

Seventy hens.

Due to the darkness, he couldn’t clearly judge their maturity or egg-laying readiness, but the raw numbers alone triggered Wang Ba’s internal alarm bells.

“This number isn’t right!”

He frowned, his mind racing. “These Rare Fowl are notoriously difficult to breed.”

“If I calculate based on the roosters’ maturation cycle… to guarantee the full monthly tribute quota, I need at least thirty-six pairs of roosters staggered across different ages!”

“Similarly, hens take four years to mature. I’d need at least forty-eight pairs to ensure a stable cycle of replacement.”

But right now, the numbers for both roosters and hens were off.

This meant the flock was unbalanced. If he didn’t manage the pairing and breeding perfectly, within two years at the earliest, the population would crash. He wouldn’t be able to meet the tribute quota.

And the consequence for failing to pay tribute was summarized in one word: Punishment!

The rice paper hadn’t specified what the punishment entailed.

But Wang Ba had absolutely no desire to test the sect’s penal code with his own body.

“No! I need to check the hens’ egg-laying condition immediately!”

A discrepancy in numbers could be managed with planning, but if the current egg production was low, the disaster would be immediate.

Wang Ba was now wide awake, his anxiety overriding his disgust for the smell. He waded into the coop, ignoring the filth, and reached into the corner to grab a hen.

In his previous life, he had learned a trick from his mother for checking poultry. By simply placing a hand between the hen’s abdomen and thigh bones, he could feel if an egg was positioned to be laid.

However, he had severely underestimated his charges.

His hand grabbed nothing but air!

The large hen leaped up with explosive power, flapping its wings like a bird of prey and soaring straight onto the roof eaves.

It displayed an agility that was completely mismatched with its clumsy, bulky appearance.

“Cluck cluck…”

Perched high on the eaves, the hen turned its head and cackled down at Wang Ba, seemingly mocking his clumsy technique.

Wang Ba stood there, helpless.

He was a mortal. He couldn’t fly.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he refused to dwell on the embarrassment and shifted his target to another hen.

The result was identical.

Refusing to believe his luck was this bad, he lunged over ten times in a row.

To his utter speechlessness, he failed to catch a single chicken.

“It’s not that I’m incompetent,” Wang Ba panted, forcefully justifying himself in his heart. “It’s just that these Rare Fowl are too good at running!”

But the reality was undeniable. These Rare Fowl were not ordinary barnyard animals; their speed and strength far surpassed any chicken he had ever encountered.

Unwilling to give up, he tried seven or eight more times. Every attempt ended in failure.

He ended up panting, covered in sweat and reeking of foul odors.

“Stop trying. You can’t catch them.”

An aged, raspy voice suddenly sounded behind him.

Wang Ba spun around to see Old Man Sun, draped in his patch-covered Daoist robe, shaking his head slowly.

“Sorry to disturb you, Old Man Sun,” Wang Ba said, straightening up and looking apologetic. “I couldn’t sleep and wanted to check the hens’ egg-laying condition…”

Old Man Sun didn’t respond. He simply walked past Wang Ba to another corner of the coop.

He stretched out a trembling, withered hand.

Then, under Wang Ba’s astonished gaze, that trembling hand shot out like a viper striking. With effortless precision, Sun seized a large hen by the wings.

He twisted the bird’s wings behind its back in a fluid motion, immobilizing it, and tossed it toward Wang Ba.

“Practice the Physique Strengthening Scripture more,” Old Man Sun said, his face expressionless. “That thing strengthens the body. You need it.”

“Thank you, Old Man Sun!”

Wang Ba hurriedly caught the large hen, pressing it against his chest.

His heart was a mess of complex emotions.

He was shocked by Old Man Sun’s hidden skill—clearly, the old man was more than he appeared—but he was also crushed by his own powerlessness.

He couldn’t even catch a chicken.

And yet, he had dared to dream of seeking immortality? He had dared to covet the Dao?

It was a good thing he had abandoned those delusions.

Wang Ba mocked himself bitterly in his heart.

He adjusted his grip, his fingers sliding down the large hen’s plump abdomen to check the bones…

Suddenly, text floated before his eyes.

[Target Lifespan: 19.2 years] [Current Body’s Remaining Lifespan: 71.7 years] [Consumable Items: None] [Absorb/Deposit?]