Separated by the rippling surface of the Water Mirror, Yu Changchun watched intently.

Despite his sharpened senses as a cultivator, the magical surveillance only offered a visual feed; he had to rely on intuition to judge the rest. Within the reflection, Wang Ba rolled across the dirt floor, wailing in agony, his body contorted in a display of unbearable suffering.

Yet, for a fleeting second, Yu Changchun sensed a shift. Wang Ba’s struggles seemed to carry a sudden, explosive force.

“This… surely not?”

Yu Changchun’s eyes narrowed. “Could he have actually succeeded?”

Doubt flickered in his mind.

When the Buried Bone Secret Technique succeeded, the body—stimulated by the foreign bone—often exhibited immediate abnormalities, such as a surge in brute strength. But as Yu Changchun scrutinized the thrashing figure, he realized the burst of power was illusory.

He likely failed.

People in the throes of excruciating pain often unleashed the full potential of their muscles, appearing stronger than usual. It proved nothing.

Gradually, the screaming in the mirror subsided. Wang Ba lay flat on the ground, his chest heaving violently. His face was a mask of twisted muscles, but beneath the pain, a thick layer of desolation and despair washed over his features.

“He failed…”

Witnessing this, Yu Changchun subconsciously let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His tense shoulders relaxed.

A part of him had genuinely feared the brat had pulled it off.

After all, using a chicken bone for the ritual? Even he found the notion absurd.

He knew exactly how much preparation the members of the Ascension Society undertook for a bone replacement. The compatibility of the source, the preservation of the bone’s vitality after slaughter, the specific timing… even the miniature formation Wang Ba had drawn—a crude array any mortal could scratch out—had strict requirements for Spirit Stone placement.

If Wang Ba’s farce of an operation had succeeded, wouldn’t the Laborer Disciples who had their consciousness annihilated just to condense a spiritual root have died in vain?

Fortunately, reality held firm. Wang Ba had failed.

But this isn’t a bad thing, Yu Changchun mused.

With this brutal failure, the boy would realize that attempting the technique alone was nothing but pointless torture. He would understand that without the Ascension Society, there was no path forward.

“It is time for this Seat to make an appearance.”

Yu Changchun stroked his long beard. The Water Mirror in his palm shattered into mist and dissipated. With a casual wave of his sleeve, the small triangular flags planted around his room trembled, uprooted themselves, and flew neatly into the bag at his waist.

He closed his eyes, focusing inward. His cultivation aura rapidly collapsed, retracting into a specific bone deep within his body. Within moments, the oppressive pressure of a cultivator vanished, leaving him looking like nothing more than an aging, mortal Laborer Disciple.

It was a thorough disguise. Aside from his retained consciousness and intellect, his physical body now read as completely mortal. Even if a Qi Refining cultivator from the Sect passed by, they would spare him no second glance.

His five senses dulled instantly. The world, once sharp and vibrant, seemed to be covered by a thick layer of gauze—blurred and muffled.

Yu Changchun frowned at the loss of perception but accepted it as necessary for his covert movements.

He strode out, heading toward Manor Ding-87.

A pungent stench of chicken manure assaulted him as he arrived. Yu Changchun held his breath, fighting the urge to wrinkle his nose, and stepped into the courtyard.

The scene was visceral.

Wang Ba lay under the eaves, looking utterly wretched. The ground was slick with blood; the formation he had drawn was smeared by his frantic rolling, and the six Spirit Stones embedded in the dirt had dimmed significantly, their energy spent.

His left pinky finger was twisted at a gruesome angle, marred by a long, angry scar.

The formation was intended to accelerate healing and fuse flesh with bone. The result before him perfectly matched what he had seen in the Water Mirror: a botched attempt.

Yu Changchun adjusted his expression to one of benign concern and approached. Wang Ba was staring blankly at the sky, his eyes unfocused, seemingly unaware of the arrival.

The failure had evidently crushed his spirit.

Worried that his potential recruit might lose the will to live, Yu Changchun quickly spoke up, his voice warm and comforting.

“Wang… Brother Wang?”

Wang Ba jolted. His eyes slowly focused.

“Steward… hiss… Steward Yu?”

Wang Ba struggled to sit up, his movements weak and trembling. He tried to stand to offer a formal bow, but Yu Changchun stepped forward and gently restrained him.

“Rest, Brother Wang. There is no need for formalities.”

Yu Changchun sighed, his face full of admiration. “In all my years, I have never witnessed a Dao Heart as resolute as yours. The agony of bone replacement surpasses even the pain of a mortal woman in childbirth, yet you faced it resolutely. You, Brother Wang, are a natural seedling for cultivation!”

He did not stint on his praise, painting himself as deeply moved by Wang Ba’s grit. He announced that, touched by such determination, he had decided to grant Wang Ba the second volume of the technique immediately.

“However,” Yu added, his tone regretful, “the corresponding Supplies and high-quality bone sources are strictly controlled. Those can only be granted after one formally joins the Ascension Society. I hope you can understand my position.”

Wang Ba’s eyes reddened. Tears welled up and spilled over, washing streaks through the dust on his face. He looked ready to kneel and kowtow right there in the blood-soaked dirt.

“Steward… your kindness… this lowly one…”

“None of that,” Yu Changchun interrupted gently. “Seeing you reminds me of my own youth, the hardships I faced seeking the Dao. If not for the help of fellow Daoists back then, I fear I would be nothing but dust.”

Feigning a moment of melancholic nostalgia, Yu Changchun produced the second volume of the Buried Bone Secret Technique and placed it in Wang Ba’s shaking hands.

“You failed this time,” Yu said, his expression turning serious. “You cannot attempt the ritual again soon. Your body needs at least half a month to recuperate. And listen to me—when you practice this second volume, you must find a superior bone source. You were lucky this time; failing to replace a finger bone didn’t harm your foundation. But if you try this on a limb or a vital area and fail? You may never have the chance to walk the path again.”

Wang Ba nodded frantically like a chicken pecking rice. He even scrambled to grab a piece of paper and a charcoal pen, scrawling down Yu Changchun’s advice with reverent seriousness.

The boy was clearly completely won over.

Satisfied, Yu Changchun prepared to leave, but Wang Ba hesitated. A look of internal conflict crossed his face before settling into resolve.

“My Lord, please… wait a moment. I have a gift for you.”

Yu Changchun suppressed a sneer.

A gift? For me?

What could a measly Laborer Disciple possibly offer a Qi Refining, eighth-layer cultivator? A few Spirit Stones? He frankly looked down on such scraps.

Still, the sentiment distinguished Wang Ba from the other parasites who only wanted to extract benefits from him.

“Fine,” Yu Changchun thought, feeling magnanimous. “I’ll humor him, then politely decline.”

He watched as Wang Ba stumbled into the hut. Moments later, the boy emerged, his right hand gripping a rope tied to the legs of six Spirit Poultry.

The chickens squawked, bursting with vitality and rich Spiritual Qi.

“Steward Yu,” Wang Ba panted, holding them out. “Your great kindness is something this lowly one cannot repay. I have nothing else of value, and I possess no talents other than raising poultry. These are Spirit Chickens I bred myself. Unfortunately, they are only Low Grade, but they represent my sincerity. Please, I beg you to accept them.”

Yu Changchun, who had been ready to wave his hand in refusal, froze.

Six Spirit Chickens?

He did the mental math instantly. This was a significant sum. He couldn’t bring himself to reject the “sincerity” of such a dedicated junior.

“Ahem.” Yu Changchun cleared his throat. “Since you put it that way, I cannot trample on your good intentions. I will accept this to give you face.”

With a thought, he mobilized a sliver of Spiritual Power from the hidden bone in his body. A palm-sized bag flew out from his sleeve, hovering in the air. The mouth of the bag opened, and with a unseen force, the six Spirit Poultry were sucked inside.

The bag snapped shut and flew back into his sleeve. He patted it with genuine care.

Wang Ba’s jaw dropped. “Th-that is…?”

Yu Changchun, now in an excellent mood, smiled. “That is a Low Grade Spirit Beast Bag. It can store living creatures, up to a cubic zhang in volume. It is worth several times more than a standard Storage Bag of the same grade.”

“How… how many Spirit Stones would that cost?” Wang Ba asked, his eyes burning with undisguised envy.

“It is not something mere Spirit Stones can buy. One needs luck and connections,” Yu Changchun chuckled, his demeanor toward Wang Ba becoming increasingly amiable.

He finally understood why his Junior Brother valued this laborer so highly, going so far as to personally request his protection.

These chickens were simply too fragrant!

He had watched Wang Ba slaughter several birds earlier as if they were trash, yet the boy still had six more to give away. Just how many did he have?

If this laborer could provide a steady stream of Spirit Poultry—even Low Grade ones—it could support the cultivation of the Blood Bone Dao, a technique notorious for its consumption of flesh and blood.

With enough resources, Yu Changchun could reshape his true body, perhaps even elevate his spiritual root aptitude to rival his Master’s level.

The more he thought, the more excited he became. He looked at Wang Ba not as a disposable pawn, but as a prized asset.

I am glad I didn’t kill him earlier, he thought, feeling a wave of relief.

Slow and steady. For a talent like this, I must motivate him with benefits and bind him with emotion. Using the Human Puppet method to control him would be like killing the goose to get the eggs—a foolish last resort.

Having solidified his plan, Yu Changchun didn’t linger.

“Rest well, Brother Wang.”

He bid a hasty farewell. Since he wasn’t recruiting Wang Ba today, he had other potential candidates to inspect.

Under the eaves of the quiet manor, Wang Ba watched the steward disappear.

He struggled to right a wooden chair and collapsed onto it heavily. His face remained a mask of pain and exhaustion, and he continued to channel his Yin God power, maintaining the illusion of the twisted, scarred pinky finger.

But in the privacy of his mind, the reverence vanished, replaced by a cold, biting cynicism.

He pretended to flip through the second volume of the Buried Bone Secret Technique with fanatical zeal, while his internal monologue screamed.

That old dog Yu Changchun… he took six of my Spirit Chickens and he’s still monitoring me!

He talks about ‘fellow Daoists’ and ‘helping juniors,’ but he didn’t even leave a single Spirit Stone in return. Cheap bastard!

Wasted all that acting…