Whether this was truly the handiwork of “Rat-Head” Gou Mu or not, the craftsmanship was undeniable.

The map was concealed with terrifying subtlety.

Even with Wang Ba’s enhanced senses, he wouldn’t have noticed a thing without scrutinizing every square inch. The creator had clearly poured immense effort into the deception; an ordinary person would have been distracted by the salacious illustrations and the accompanying erotic storylines, completely overlooking the microscopic details hidden within the art.

Focusing intently on the red-painted toenails of the illustrated beauty, Wang Ba cross-referenced the hidden lines with his mental image of the Sect’s perimeter. He quickly realized the map was centered on South Lake Village, extending southward.

The entrance was actually located inside South Lake Village.

Upon reflection, Wang Ba had to secretly admire Gou Mu’s mix of boldness and caution.

South Lake Village was a slum—chaotic, filthy, and populated by the desperate. Cultivators, with their refined sensibilities, avoided such places like the plague. To dig a tunnel entrance there was the definition of “hiding in plain sight.”

Who would ever suspect that a secret passage connecting the Sect to the outside world lay beneath a pile of mortal squalor?

Even more surprising was the map’s complexity. It depicted a three-dimensional structure. From the entrance, one had to descend nearly a hundred feet underground. Below that lay a labyrinthine network of tunnels. Without the map as a guide, one would be hopelessly lost in the dark maze.

After studying it for half a day, Wang Ba let out a breath of admiration.

It was true what they said: A person might be given the wrong name at birth, but a nickname is never earned by mistake.

To single-handedly construct such a massive, complex tunnel system right under the noses of the Sect’s patrols… Gou Mu truly lived up to the name “Rat-Head.”

“However, I only have one chance.”

“To ensure absolute success, I must travel light.”

Wang Ba made the painful decision to leave almost everything behind.

The manor, his equipment, even his meticulously bred flock—Alpha-One through Alpha-Six, and the three precious third-generation chicks—would have to be abandoned.

He didn’t even dare to carry his full savings. He would take only a few Spirit Stones for emergency expenses.

Cultivators possessed terrifyingly sharp senses, especially regarding the fluctuation of Spiritual Qi. If he carried a sack of Spirit Stones, he might as well be lighting a beacon in the dark. Even a hundred feet of earth might not mask the signal.

Although his Yin Spirit could theoretically mask his presence, he had zero confidence in its ability to suppress the energy of Spirit Stones. He had used the Yin Spirit too few times in front of real cultivators to bet his life on it.

“I can, however, bring some Tendon-Severing Nematodes. They take up no space and serve as a hidden trump card.”

“I will leave in fifteen days. Rumor has it that the patrol disciples on the outer perimeter rotate shifts on that day. It should be slightly safer.”

After agonizing over the details all night, Wang Ba finally solidified his escape plan.

In short: In fifteen days, he would use Rat-Head Gou Mu’s tunnel to flee the Eastern Sage Sect, carrying nothing but his life.

After that?

Life and death are determined by fate; immortality lies with the Heavens.

Thinking of the uncertain road ahead, Wang Ba felt a momentary daze. But he quickly shook it off. There was work to do.

He headed to the market’s book pavilion and spent a few Spirit Stones on travelogues, geography gazetteers, and records of surrounding Sects.

Previously, Spirit Stones had been too precious to waste on books, and as a new initiate, he hadn’t felt an urgent need to learn about the wider world. Now, with his departure imminent, ignorance was a death sentence.

He needed to know where to go. He still didn’t know if the Physique Strengthening Scripture could truly help him condense a Spirit Root. Even if it did, he would need a new environment to seek further techniques and resources.

Finding a new Sect was the logical next step.

Ideally, he would have bought actual cultivation manuals, but the mortal book pavilion had none. Such treasures were only sold in markets exclusive to cultivators.

Within the Eastern Sage Sect, there was only one such place: the “Wind Sun Market.”

But that market was located near the core of the Sect. Unless one was a specialized servant for an Inner Disciple, a perimeter laborer like Wang Ba had no way to access it.

He toyed with the idea of trying to sneak in, but ultimately extinguished the thought.

He was leaving in two weeks. He could not afford any complications.

But as fate would have it, the more one tries to avoid accidents, the more they pile up.

…

Early the next morning.

Wang Ba stood in his courtyard, staring in silence at the human-shaped hole smashed through his newly repaired roof.

“Cough, cough… Uncle, I… I really didn’t do it on purpose this time…”

A figure stumbled out of the wreckage.

It was Ye Lingyu.

She was dressed in a pristine purple robe, though she currently looked like a refugee from a coal mine. Her fair face was smeared with soot and dust, giving her otherwise ordinary features a strange, chaotic charm.

However, Wang Ba—who had spent months staring at chickens with zero libido—felt absolutely nothing.

Or rather, he dared not feel anything.

The girl might seem dim-witted, but that purple robe screamed a terrifying truth: Inner Sect Disciple.

Shopkeeper Lu mentioned that the Sect recently recruited a female cultivator with a High Grade Spirit Root. Could this be her?

Wang Ba forced a sycophantic smile onto his face. “It’s fine, it’s fine! Immortal Master, are you injured? Did the fall hurt?”

Internally, his mind was racing cold calculations.

Age matches. Status matches. She must be the prodigy.

Knowing this only made him want to distance himself further.

He was about to defect. He could not afford to be entangled with a high-profile genius. Someone like her, admitted directly to the Inner Sect, would definitely have powerful eyes watching her. If he got too close, his secrets would be exposed.

So, he bowed lower, his attitude respectful but his words purely perfunctory.

Ye Lingyu, surprisingly, seemed to have matured slightly since their last meeting. She sensed the polite distance in his voice—the distinctive “shooing away” tone of a fearful servant.

She didn’t get angry. Instead, she flushed with shame.

She had destroyed this poor man’s roof twice. She had no face to remain here.

Blushing furiously, she scrambled down the hill. But after a few steps, she stopped, turned back, and shoved something into Wang Ba’s hand.

Then she turned and ran, muttering curses at the sword in her grip.

“It’s all your fault, you stupid sword! I told you to find me a spirit beast to refine, why do you always crash into people’s roofs?!”

“When we get back, I’m telling Master to melt you down and reforge you!”

The sword hummed, vibrating with an almost aggrieved tone.

“Oh, you feel wronged? Hmph! Just don’t fly into houses anymore!”

With a wobble, she activated the sword and flew off, her flight path unsteady and drunk-looking.

Wang Ba watched her go, then looked down at the object in his hand.

His eyes widened.

“A Middle Grade Spirit Stone!”

It was a perfect square, deep azure and translucent. In the morning light, it refracted a dreamlike brilliance.

He looked at the smashed roof. He looked at the stone.

Suddenly, having his roof destroyed didn’t feel like such a tragedy.

One Middle Grade Spirit Stone was equivalent to one hundred Low Grade Spirit Stones.

Forget a laborer; even an ordinary Outer Sect disciple would struggle to produce one of these casually. Yet this silly girl had tossed it to him like a piece of candy, just for an apology.

The wealth gap between the Inner and Outer Sects was truly grotesque.

But as the initial shock faded, anxiety set in.

This stone was a hot potato.

A Middle Grade Spirit Stone wasn’t a hundred taels of silver. It was a fortune. If Ye Lingyu’s master—or anyone jealous—found out a lowly laborer was holding this, Wang Ba could be accused of theft or worse.

Although he was leaving soon, what if they came for him before the fifteen days were up?

The safest option was to return it.

But a laborer couldn’t just walk up to the Inner Sect.

I have to give it to Deacon Li, he thought grimly. I’ll ask him to return it on my behalf. But I need witnesses. If I give it to him privately, that greedy leech will swallow it whole.

He began to plan the handover. But before he could find Deacon Li, someone else arrived.

A donkey cart rolled up the path.

“Old Hou? And this is…?”

Wang Ba looked at Old Hou, who was driving the cart, and the stranger standing beside him. He plastered a look of confused humility on his face.

Old Hou acted like a completely different person today. He dismounted the cart with stiff reverence, bowing slightly as he gestured to the stranger.

“Brother Wang,” Old Hou said, his voice hushed. “This is the Manager of the Ascension Society.”