“As for why these three sects have their fangs bared at Wanchun Valley, I am merely a merchant. I do not sit in the halls of power, so I cannot give you the ‘why’ with certainty.”

The traveling merchant’s voice, transmitted through his puppet, echoed in Han Yu’s mind.

“But I can tell you this: the Spirit Beast Sect, the Mystic One Sect, and the Little Sky Net Sect are not sharing the same bed.”

The merchant paused for effect. “Outside the Spirit Beast Sect, in the Ten Thousand Beasts Market, demonic cultivators practice the Blood Refining Technique in broad daylight. They sell ‘spirit beast essence blood’ that anyone with a nose knows is harvested from humans. The fact that the Spirit Beast Sect permits this is damning. Their collusion with the demonic path is not just a rumor; it is policy.”

“Once you walk that path, there is no turning back. The Mystic One and Little Sky Net Sects are merely opportunistic vultures, not accomplices.”

“The Spirit Beast Sect is playing a winner-takes-all game. Either they race ahead, devouring Wanchun Valley to fuel a rise that can challenge the Spirit Sword Sect, or they will be annihilated by Ye Guxing’s blade. They have no middle ground.”

“If you force me to guess,” the merchant continued, his tone darkening, “I suspect the Spirit Beast Sect targets Wanchun Valley not just for land or spirit stones, but for biomass. They want the people. The disciples. The entire populations of the Nanli and Xiyue Kingdoms.”

Han Yu felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.

Biomass.

Was the Spirit Beast Sect intending to render millions of mortals and cultivators into blood food to fuel their demonic ascension?

It was madness. A level of depravity that threatened to turn the entire Southern Region into a slaughterhouse. And the fact that the other two sects were content to watch this horror unfold, hoping to scavenge the scraps, was equally chilling.

“It is a strange time,” the merchant mused, shifting topics. “Two years ago, in the Central Heaven Region, I heard whispers of unrest. Violence. Chaos. They said it was the most turbulent era in living memory.”

“I returned to the Southern Region only to find the same storm brewing here. The Four Great Sects circling Wanchun Valley like sharks. It is peculiar, no? These regions are separated by millions of li, yet the chaos seems synchronized. As if the whole world has suddenly decided peace is out of fashion.”

Han Yu dismissed the merchant’s philosophical musings. The troubles of the Central Heaven Region were too distant to matter. He needed actionable intelligence, not global politics.

“One final question,” Han Yu transmitted, cutting to the chase. “I am willing to trade the Thousand-Year Sunkwood Heart, but I must know the buyer. Who is it? And what do they intend to do with it?”

“If you cannot answer, then you can keep your pills. The deal is off.”

The merchant didn’t hesitate. “The buyer is a member of one of the eight Royal Families of the Southern Region.”

“He is an heir apparent. Favored, legitimate, poised to take the throne. But he suffers from a bizarre affliction: ‘Earth Excess Syndrome.'”

“Normally, it manifests as bloating or lethargy. But in severe episodes, his flesh stiffens. He becomes rigid, like a clay statue—a literal earthen figurine. You can imagine the difficulty of governing a kingdom when you are occasionally a statue.”

“He approached me in secret. He is desperate. He believes the concentrated Wood Qi of a Thousand-Year Spirit Wood Heart can suppress the Earth Qi in his body, allowing him to ascend the throne.”

“Such treasures are hoarded by the great clans in the Central Heaven Region. My only hope was to scour the Southern Region. Meeting you, Honored Guest, was a stroke of fortune.”

Han Yu frowned. “How does a mortal contract such a bizarre spiritual illness?”

The merchant chuckled. “Vanity. Greed. The usual.”

“Mortals and cultivators alike are born with the Five Elements. It is the foundation of life. But while we have Spirit Roots to guide that energy, mortals do not.”

“Think about it. A man born in poverty wants wealth. A wealthy man wants power. A king wants immortality. He wants to fly.”

“The sects forbid royalty from cultivating, but rules are just words to men born above the law. I suspect this heir tried to force his way onto the path of immortality.”

“My guess? He attempted to practice a metal-attribute technique from the Spirit Sword Sect. The metal energy destroyed his internal wood element. With the wood gone, the earth element ran rampant. Earth Excess.”

“A mortal without a Spirit Root trying to cultivate is like a child playing with fire. He burned his own foundation. It is pathetic, really.”

“Pathetic,” Han Yu agreed dryly. “But profitable for you.”

Han Yu mentally narrowed the list of suspects. Only the Great Zhou or Great Desert Dynasties had the resources to hire a high-level smuggler like this merchant. And only a prince of a major power would have the arrogance to steal a technique from the Spirit Sword Sect.

“Luck,” the merchant deflected. “So, do we have an accord?”

“Two months,” the merchant proposed. “Three at the most. My puppet will wait here with the sign. If you do not come, the deal dies.”

“I will try to find the Qi Refining Spirit Boosting Pills. If I fail, I will offer the Jade Spirit Berry seeds.”

“I have little interest in seeds,” Han Yu replied coldly. “Find the pills. Or something equivalent.”

Han Yu commanded Li Ya to turn away, ending the conversation.

He had no intention of trading the Sunkwood Heart easily. It was a strategic resource. And from the merchant’s description, the “spent” hearts Han Yu had already drained of energy wouldn’t suffice. The buyer needed the active Wood Qi to treat his condition. That meant selling a pristine, high-value heart.

The price would have to be astronomical.

Li Ya moved silently through the dense forest, traveling ten li before arriving at the location of the “Small Gathering.”

It was a grim affair.

A collection of figures, wrapped in layers of cloth and concealment charms, huddled in the clearing. There was no shouting, no hawking of wares. Deals were conducted in whispers or silent hand signals.

The air hummed with low, indistinct murmurs.

Through Li Ya’s eyes, Han Yu scanned the goods. It was a primitive barter economy. Herbs for pills. Pills for talismans.

Most of the items were trash. The pills were standard Qi Gathering Pills, far inferior to Han Yu’s own supply. The magical artifacts on display looked damaged or of low quality. One man was even selling a bowl of fresh essence blood, likely harvested from some unfortunate beast—or person.

Han Yu was about to disconnect and recall the puppet when a hulking figure strode into the clearing.

The newcomer stopped at the edge of the market. In his hands, he held a strangely patterned pouch and a badge shaped like a snarling beast head.

Han Yu’s heart skipped a beat.

A Spirit Beast Sect Keepsake Token? And a Spirit Beast Bag?

He immediately directed Li Ya to intercept the large man.

“Fellow Daoist,” Li Ya transmitted. “Is that a Spirit Beast Bag?”

The man turned, his voice muffled by a thick mask. “It is. Caught a Spirit Beast Sect spy. Killed him. Took his loot.”

He hefted the badge. “This token can grant entry to their sect, for those brave or stupid enough to try.”

He shook the pouch. “And this bag allows you to carry a spirit beast with you, anywhere, anytime.”

The man’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “You interested?”