The following morning, Qin Lu and his party departed the mountain villa precisely on schedule.

The shared ordeal in the haunted tomb had forged a tighter bond among the survivors. Cao Mo, Wu Zhengtian, and Feng Xi, in particular, spent the journey huddled in the corner of the spirit boat, whispering in conspiratorial tones.

Gu Yue, having missed the excitement, wasted no time complaining. She badgered Qin Lu for leaving her out of such a “lively” event.

Qin Lu could only sigh, accepting the blame with resigned stoicism. He had genuinely intended to invite her, but the situation had been urgent, and her whereabouts unknown. Explaining this, however, was a futile endeavor against her playful indignation.

The journey fell into a steady rhythm: flight at sunrise, rest at sunset.

Two days blurred past in a haze of clouds and wind.

Qin Lu sat cross-legged in the cabin, eyes closed in meditation. The sheer scale of this journey had forced him to reevaluate his understanding of the Flowing Cloud Prefecture.

The territory was vast—staggeringly so.

Their medium-sized spirit boat, while slower than a Foundation Establishment grand cultivator, still maintained a brisk pace. Yet, after flying six hours a day for seven consecutive days, they had covered over twelve thousand kilometers.

In his previous life, such a distance would have spanned continents, stretching from the heart of Asia deep into Europe. Yet here, they had merely traveled between two neighboring factions—the Wuji Sect and the Demon Slaying Sect.

“The territory governed by the Wuji Market alone might be larger than my entire motherland back on Earth,” Qin Lu mused silently.

The scale of this world was terrifying. And yet, for all its vastness, the number of high-level cultivators remained pitifully small. The odds of ascending to immortality were truly infinitesimal.

“We should have arrived by now,” Qin Lu thought, calculating the distance.

As if on cue, a shout erupted from the deck.

“Everyone, come look! We’ve reached White Jade Market!” It was Cao Mo, his voice trembling with excitement.

Qin Lu opened his eyes, rising fluidly to join the others on the deck.

Following their gaze, the sprawling majesty of White Jade Market revealed itself.

It was a colossal city dominating the plains. Ancient, imposing walls stretching for thousands of zhang encased the settlement, exuding a sense of impregnable weight. Inside, the streets were laid out in a precise, geometric grid, dividing the metropolis into distinct districts.

From their aerial vantage point, the streets teemed with movement. It was a hive of activity, radiating prosperity and order.

“Tsk tsk, White Jade Market is indeed lively!” Qin Lu murmured, impressed.

The contrast was stark. This place was exponentially larger and more developed than the remote, provincial backwater of Wuji Market.

Smiles broke out across the faces of the cultivators on the boat. This was to be their new home. The more prosperous the city, the more comfortable their lives would be.

Cao Yunxi guided the vessel down, bringing it to a gentle landing near the city gates. The group disembarked, stepping onto solid ground with eager anticipation.

A transparent shimmering barrier covered the gateway. Two uniformed cultivators stood guard, meticulously inspecting every entrant.

The security here was visibly stricter than at Wuji Market.

Qin Lu noted this with secret approval. A rigid system meant stability. For someone whose plan was to stay indoors and quietly grind experience, strict order was exactly what he desired.

“Since we’ve arrived safely, let’s find an inn first,” Qin Lu suggested. “We can look for permanent rental housing once we’ve rested.”

“Agreed,” the group responded in unison.

They joined the queue, shuffling forward with the crowd. The three younger members were practically vibrating with energy, heads swiveling to take in every new sight.

Qin Lu stood beside Lu Xian, keeping his voice low.

“Old Lu, what’s the plan?”

Lu Xian let out a breath. “What plan can I have? I’ll head to the auction house and see if they’re hiring. It’s the only trade I know. Better to stick to what puts food on the table.”

“Makes sense. With your years of experience, you should land a position easily,” Qin Lu encouraged.

“Heh, that’s what I’m banking on.” Lu Xian chuckled, then nudged him. “And you? Going to set up a stall?”

“You must be joking. I haven’t hawked wares on the street in ages.” Qin Lu shook his head. “I plan to approach a specialized talisman shop. A direct partnership saves time.”

“You certainly have the goods for it. With the quality of your Golden Light Talismans, they’ll be fighting over you.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Qin Lu smiled, but his expression suddenly froze. He tilted his head, looking toward the top of the towering city walls.

A sound drifted down from above. The notes of a zither.

The melody was intermittent, sounding quite desolate, carrying a weight of melancholy that seemed to seep into the air itself.

He wasn’t the only one to notice. The entire crowd quieted, heads craneing upward.

Atop the battlements sat a woman in a flowing red dress, a thin veil obscuring her features. She sat cross-legged before a guzheng, her fingers dancing over the strings.

The music was hauntingly beautiful, a soft, weeping tune that seemed to strike deep into the soul.

The sight of the graceful figure in red against the gray stone of the wall captivated the crowd.

“Is she really that good-looking?”

Gu Yue’s hand waved in front of Qin Lu’s face, her voice dripping with dry exasperation.

Qin Lu didn’t blink. His gaze remained clinical. “That woman is in the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment.”

“Huh?” Gu Yue lowered her hand, surprised. “I could tell she was Foundation Establishment, but mid-stage? How can you see that?”

“Call it a natural gift,” Qin Lu deflected with a rogueish grin.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Gu Yue scoffed, though her irritation seemed to fade.

Qin Lu tuned her out, focusing on the whispers of the cultivators ahead of them in line. The gossip flowed freely.

The woman was Kong Mengli, a local celebrity of sorts. As for why a powerful cultivator spent her days playing sad songs on the city wall, the theories were endless.

But they all shared a common thread: a man. The consensus was that she played daily, waiting for a lover who had yet to return.

Qin Lu resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How clichéd. It was the stuff of cheap melodramas.

Gu Yue, however, had a different reaction. After hearing the rumors, her gaze toward the woman on the wall softened, turning into something approaching admiration.

Accompanied by the sorrowful soundtrack, the line inched forward.

Soon, it was their turn. Qin Lu stepped up to the light barrier, ready for inspection.