“That’s it!”

The realization hit Wang Ba like a bolt of lightning.

The Tendon-Severing Nematode!

Shopkeeper Lu’s description of the parasite’s effects replayed in his mind. If these worms functioned similarly to the Meridian-Unblocking Grass seeds—violently tearing through blockages—could they be used to trigger a Bloodline Breakthrough in Rare Fowl?

Sure, the nematodes were crude, weaker, and undeniably gross. But they were cheap.

Dirt cheap. They cost a twentieth of the price of low-grade Meridian-Unblocking Grass seeds.

With costs that low, he didn’t need precision. He could adopt a “shotgun approach.” He would infect every single Rare Fowl with a Tendon-Severing Nematode.

If even one chicken successfully completed a Bloodline Breakthrough and evolved into Spirit Poultry, it would prove the concept.

Once the method was established, no matter how abysmal the success rate, he would have a legitimate cover story. He could openly reveal his stock of Spirit Poultry.

“Where did these come from?” the Sect might ask. “A lucky experiment with pests,” he would answer.

Even if he had to hand the method over to the Sect, it didn’t matter. If they tested it and found the efficiency garbage? Well, that was just bad luck. The concept of fortune and luck is deeply mysterious; no one can truly predict it.

The priority now was to verify feasibility.

Wang Ba didn’t rush in blindly. During the day, he carefully selected twenty healthy Rare Fowl—ten males, ten females—marked them, and isolated them in separate coops.

Only after night fell did he creep over to the feed vat and retrieve twenty Spirit Stones.

His heart ached as he held them. Twenty Spirit Stones.

That was enough capital to buy over 130 male Rare Fowl. Once their lifespans were harvested, that would amount to nearly 800 years of life essence. Enough to propel him through the fourth, fifth, and even sixth layers of the Physique Strengthening Scripture.

But Wang Ba was a pragmatist. He knew that without a Spiritual Root, a Ninth Layer body cultivator was still just a mortal ant in the eyes of true cultivators.

A Laborer Disciple—the lowest rung of the Sect, responsible for hauling filth—would always be just a Laborer Disciple.

You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs.

For the first time, a glimmer of ruthlessness hardened Wang Ba’s eyes.

He raised the iron hammer.

BANG!

He swung with full force. The Spirit Stone, tough as diamond, remained largely intact, shedding only a fine mist of dust from its edges.

Wang Ba didn’t hesitate. He swung again.

BANG! BANG!

It was fortunate that he lived in this dilapidated manor in the middle of nowhere. If he were in the crowded alleys near the market district, neighbors would have kicked down his door hours ago.

Even so, by the time the sky began to gray with dawn, he had only managed to grind three Spirit Stones into powder.

If not for the strength and stamina granted by the Physique Strengthening Scripture, his arms would have fallen off long before sunrise.

“Pity. The amount of Spirit Stone powder mixed into the standard chicken feed is negligible,” Wang Ba muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “Otherwise, I could just use the feed.”

His ability to see lifespans also allowed him to perceive spiritual energy. He could see that in a hundred-pound vat of feed, the total spiritual energy didn’t amount to a fraction of a single stone.

It was truly just waste utilization.

Since he had so little powder, Wang Ba decided to wait a few days and feed the test subjects all at once. This would make it easier to compare data and observe the results.

“Wait. I forgot to ask the shopkeeper how to feed these nematodes…”

Wang Ba slapped his forehead.

After a moment of deliberation, he decided there was only one way to know for sure. He had to experiment.

He locked the door and lit a single oil lamp. With his hand wrapped in thick cloth, he carefully pinched a Tendon-Severing Nematode out of the gourd.

It was pitch black, a writhing line of ink. Upon closer inspection, he could see fine flagella vibrating at both ends and rows of microscopic, jagged teeth.

Perhaps sensing the nearby Spirit Stone powder, the creature went berserk. Its body twisted and elongated like a manic earthworm. Wang Ba could feel it straining, as if ready to tear its own body in half just to reach the energy source.

He hurriedly moved the jar of powder further away.

Only then did the nematode settle down, lazily writhing in his palm.

Even through the cloth, Wang Ba’s skin crawled. He had always hated bugs, especially ones that looked like this.

He hesitated.

“Do I really have to put this thing inside me?”

Yes. He planned to test the effects personally.

Shopkeeper Lu had demonstrated that the nematodes weren’t lethal to humans, but Wang Ba needed to know if they actually unblocked meridians. He was curious.

But curiosity was currently warring with a primal urge to vomit.

It’s a challenge of physiological and psychological limits.

Lu had let it crawl into his ear without flinching.

Wang Ba stared at the worm. Won’t this thing bore into my brain and start eating?

The image of his skull being hollowed out made him want to fling the creature across the room.

“Entering from the head is absolutely out of the question!”

But human orifices were limited. Eyes, ears, nose, mouth…

If the top was off-limits, that left… the bottom.

Wang Ba shuddered violently. Nope. Absolutely not. Too beautiful to imagine.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed a small knife, sterilized it over the lamp flame, and sliced a hair-thin cut on his finger.

“Hss! That stings!”

This was the maximum concession from a ‘tough guy’ who was terrified of needles.

Whether it smelled the blood or just had a natural fetish for holes, the nematode instantly perked up. As Wang Ba brought his finger close, the worm lunged, burying its head into the cut with terrifying enthusiasm.

A translucent panel flickered above it:

[Target Lifespan: 0.2 years (approx. 2.4 months)]

The next second, Wang Ba’s eyes bugged out.

FUCK!

That bastard Lu is trying to kill me!

The thought had barely formed before a tidal wave of agony crashed over him.

“AAAAHHH!!!”

It wasn’t just pain; it was a violation. It felt like a serrated wire was being flossed through his veins.

Cultivate? Circulate energy? Impossible. Keeping his consciousness from shattering was a heroic feat in itself.

Wang Ba, whose willpower was average at best, instantly collapsed. He curled up on the floor, bent into a tight ball like a boiled shrimp, shaking uncontrollably.

Thank the gods he had prepared.

Through the haze of white-hot torture, his trembling hand groped for the Spirit Stone he had set aside.

Almost immediately, the agony receded. The nematode shot out of his nostril, abandoning his flesh to wrap itself greedily around the Spirit Stone.

Wang Ba collapsed flat on his back, gasping for air like a drowning man. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Was it an illusion? The worm looked shorter. It had burned its own lifespan to tear through him.

“It works,” he wheezed. “But never again. I don’t care how effective it is—I am never doing that again!”

No wonder Lu sold them at half price. Who would pay money to be tortured?

He lay on the cold floor for a long time before he mustered the strength to pry the worm off the stone and stuff it back into the gourd.

Time for Phase Two.

He needed to verify if this worked on Rare Fowl.

He walked over to the cages. He wasn’t going to waste a fresh worm, so he grabbed the one he had just used. He pulled out a robust rooster from the twenty test subjects.

Steeling his heart, he tried to shove the nematode into the rooster’s nostril.

The rooster, seeing a delicious worm, immediately opened its beak to snap at it.

“Hey!” Wang Ba clamped the bird’s beak shut just in time. “It’s not food, it’s medicine!”

With a bit of maneuvering, the nematode successfully wiggled into the rooster’s nostril.

Wang Ba immediately scrambled back two steps, shooing away the other chickens. He stared intently at the test subject.

That pain had nearly broken him, a grown man and a cultivator.

Chickens were fragile creatures. They were neurotic and prone to stress. It was common knowledge that a loud clap of thunder could scare an entire coop of chickens to death.

If the pain triggered a severe stress reaction, the rooster might just drop dead on the spot.

That was the biggest risk. A high mortality rate wouldn’t ruin the “laundering” plan, but dead chickens were lost profits.

Wang Ba held his breath, his eyes locked on the rooster.

The rooster seemed to sense the tension. It froze, its beady eyes locking onto Wang Ba.

Man and chicken stared at each other in heavy silence.

One breath.

Five breaths.

Ten breaths.

The rooster tilted its head, looking at Wang Ba with an expression of pure, unadulterated confusion.

“Guh?”