Autumn bled away, surrendering the world to the bite of winter. Mid-November brought a brutal chill to Wuji Market, accompanied by heavy, goose-feather snow that smothered the streets in white.

The wind was bone-piercing. Most loose cultivators, lacking the fortitude to endure the magical freeze, retreated indoors to hibernate through the season. The bustling market grew silent and desolate.

Yet, on Willow Street, the Qin Manor remained an island of eternal spring.

Inside the compound, servants moved about in light clothing. High above the roof tiles, the falling snowflakes hissed and vanished before they could touch the ground.

The protective arrays were running at full power, maintaining a constant, balmy temperature within the walls.

Feng Xi stood at the main gate, watching Qin Lu’s figure disappear around the corner. Beside her, the young maidservant Chu Xiaoyi shivered phantomly, despite the warmth.

Their Master was disciplined. Snow or shine, he headed to the forest for his daily sword practice.

“Sister Xi,” Chu Xiaoyi chirped, a playful grin on her face. “Isn’t today the day?”

Feng Xi turned back toward the courtyard, her lips curving into a smile. “Yes, it is time for the monthly allowance. Go gather everyone in the main yard. I need to fetch the funds.”

“On it!” Chu Xiaoyi cheered, dashing off.

The Qin Manor employed eight servants in total. They handled everything from cooking and laundry to the unpleasant task of emptying the night soil.

They didn’t work for free. Qin Lu was a generous master, and he delegated the payroll duties to Feng Xi.

The wages, of course, were paid in gold—the lowest currency of the cultivation world, but a king’s ransom for mortals.

Feng Xi returned to her room and unlocked her heavy chest. She retrieved a solid gold bar, placing it on her desk. She didn’t bother with a scale or a chisel.

She raised a finger. Spiritual energy hummed.

Shing.

Using the [Cutting Technique], she sliced the soft metal with surgical precision. In moments, forty identical ingots sat on the table. She swept them into a cloth bag and headed out.

In the courtyard, the staff was already lined up. Steward Chen and Chu Xiaoyi stood at the front.

Since Feng Xi had been tested and found to possess a Spiritual Root, her status had skyrocketed. She was no longer just a head maid; she was a cultivator-in-training, second only to the Master. The servants bowed their heads in genuine respect.

“Steward Chen,” Feng Xi called out.

The solemn-faced steward stepped forward, extending both hands. Feng Xi placed ten taels of gold into his palms.

“Thank you for your hard work, Steward Chen.”

“It is my duty,” Chen bowed deeply before retreating to the line.

“Chu Xiaoyi.”

Feng Xi went down the roster. Chu Xiaoyi received eight taels, while the remaining six servants received five taels each.

In total, she distributed nearly three pounds of gold.

In the eyes of a cultivator, this amount wasn’t worth half a Spirit Stone. It couldn’t even buy a bowl of wontons at a high-end stall. But for these mortals, it was a fortune.

Every servant, Steward Chen included, hoarded these wages. It was their ticket to a wealthy retirement in the mortal world, where they could live like minor nobility.

“Alright,” Feng Xi said after the last ingot was handed out. “Back to work.”

“Yes, Miss Feng!” the group chorused.

Life in the manor had transformed them. Months of drinking water diluted with spiritual energy and eating leftovers of spiritual rice and demon beast meat had strengthened their constitutions.

They were vibrant, their skin clear and muscles dense. Barring accidents, these servants would easily live past eighty, free of common ailments.

To gain longevity, wealth, and status—this was why mortals fought tooth and nail to serve in the cultivation markets.

As the group dispersed, Feng Xi watched Chu Xiaoyi’s retreating back. She nodded to herself, her resolve hardening.

She returned to her room, gathering a bundle of herbs she had been stockpiling. After checking her inventory against a list, she headed for the secluded rear courtyard.

The back of the manor was mostly empty guest rooms. Feng Xi entered one that had been repurposed for storage.

In the center of the dusty room stood a three-foot-tall bronze vessel. An alchemical furnace.

She wiped the dust from the heavy lid. Her goal today was ambitious: she wanted to brew a specific medicinal liquid.

Months ago, Qin Lu had granted her access to his library. In a miscellaneous text regarding mortal martial arts, she had found a recipe for a “Body Tempering Fluid.”

The book claimed it could cleanse a mortal’s marrow and grant them enough internal power to become a “Martial Arts Master.”

Feng Xi wanted to give this power to Chu Xiaoyi.

“The ingredients match,” she whispered, double-checking the low-grade herbs against the book.

In the mortal world, this recipe would cause wars between clans. Here, it was trash, the ingredients costing her only two months of allowance.

“Master said the theory is simple,” she murmured, recalling Qin Lu’s casual lectures. “Burn out the impurities, extract the essence, and fuse it.”

She took a deep breath. “I can do this.”

Snap.

She cast the [Ignition Technique]. A flame sparked at her fingertip and shot into the furnace, activating the fire-gathering array at its base. The bronze began to hum with heat.

“Activate the array… check.”

“Add herbs, melt into juice… check.”

“Fuse with spiritual energy…”

Feng Xi’s brow furrowed. She fed the herbs into the furnace one by one, her mind replaying Qin Lu’s instructions on thermal control.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and rolled into her eyes, stinging sharply. She didn’t blink. She entered a state of absolute focus, her spiritual sense wrapping around the melting slurry inside the furnace.

Time lost its meaning.

“Phew…”

Feng Xi exhaled sharply, cutting the flow of spiritual energy. The fire array died down.

She wiped her drenched face and peered into the cooling furnace. She reached in, expecting to scoop out a viscous liquid.

Instead, her fingers closed around a solid, spherical object.

She pulled it out. A single, pale green pill sat in her palm.

Feng Xi stared at it, bewildered.

“It was supposed to be a liquid,” she muttered, turning the pill over. “Why did it turn into a pill?”

She poked it. It was hard.

After a long moment of confusion, she shook her head and slipped the pill into her pocket.

“I have no idea what I did. I better wait for Master to come back and ask him if it’s poisonous…”