Whoosh.

A sharp whistle cut through the air by the shores of South Lake.

A figure clad in black combat gear leaped nimbly from a flying sword, landing softly in front of the chicken farm.

The newcomer possessed sharp, handsome features, though his brow was knotted with a lingering, murderous aura. It was the look of a man who had seen blood recently. Only when his gaze swept over the familiar fence of the chicken farm did the hardness in his eyes soften.

Sensing the disturbance, a female cultivator emerged from the farm. She wasn’t devastatingly beautiful, but she possessed a pleasant, durable charm that grew on you the longer you looked.

Seeing the visitor, her eyes widened in surprise.

“Shen Fu? You’re back?”

Shen Fu was equally surprised.

“Bu Chan? What are you doing here? Where is my Senior Brother?”

“Ahem…” Bu Chan’s face flushed a sudden, brilliant red. She stammered, avoiding his gaze. “I… I just came to help Senior Brother harvest the Jade Fire Spirit Berries. And… and to help feed the turtle. Senior Brother is inside.”

She quickly pivoted, changing the subject with practiced clumsiness. “By the way, wasn’t your mission supposed to last another six months? Why are you back so early?”

Shen Fu didn’t overanalyze her embarrassment. At the mention of his mission, his expression turned sour.

“Don’t mention it. Bad luck. The Heavenly Gate Sect disciple who hired us tried to rush his Foundation Establishment. He failed, suffered an Inner Demon backlash, and died screaming. The mission was canceled automatically.”

“Anyway, I won’t keep you. I need to see Senior Brother.”

Without waiting for a reply, Shen Fu brushed past her. Forming the hand seals Wang Ba had taught him, he stepped through the shimmering barrier of the Minor Golden Bell Array.

However, the moment he stepped inside, Shen Fu froze.

His heart skipped a beat. Instincts honed by three years of bloodshed screamed danger.

He looked up.

Not far away, perched atop a tall wooden stake, stood a magnificent, robust rooster. It stood on one leg, looking down at him with eyes as cold and indifferent as a veteran executioner.

The waves of Spiritual Qi radiating from its body were suffocating.

Senior Brother’s Spirit Poultry… why does it feel stronger than it did six months ago? Shen Fu thought, sweating internally.

He didn’t dare make any sudden moves. Instead, he forced a stiff, ingratiating smile onto his face and waved his hand slowly above his head.

“Ahem… Eleven? It’s me, Eleven! Alpha-Eleven!”

“It’s Shen Fu! Don’t you recognize me? I’m the one who used to feed you spirit worms. You used to poop on my shoulder when you were a chick… It’s me! Your master’s Junior Brother…”

The rooster on the perch narrowed its eyes. The indifference sharpened into hostility. Slowly, deliberately, it lowered its curled leg. Its wings spread slightly, revealing feathers that gleamed like tempered steel.

Shen Fu felt a chill run down his spine.

Wait. This thing… it actually wants to kill me?

Just as the tension reached its breaking point, Bu Chan’s exasperated voice drifted in from behind.

“You have the wrong chicken. That is Twelve. Alpha-Twelve.”

“Cluck.”

Hearing Bu Chan’s voice, the rooster let out a crisp sound. It retracted its killing intent, curled its leg back up, closed its eyes, and returned to its meditation.

It had deemed Shen Fu unworthy of further attention.

Shen Fu exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I swear there was only Alpha-Eleven when I left,” he muttered, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. “Who knew a monster like Alpha-Twelve would pop up in just six months?”

On the perch, the rooster cracked one eye open. A beam of cold light shot toward Shen Fu.

Shen Fu shut his mouth instantly.

He walked over to the pond, seeking safety under the massive peach tree. Its foliage had grown thick and expansive, resembling an imperial canopy that shaded half the yard.

Feeling he was at a safe distance from the psychotic rooster, Shen Fu whispered, “Bu Chan, I remember Alpha-Eleven was already a High Grade Spirit Poultry, right? Why does this Twelve feel even scarier?”

“Senior Brother says that even among High Grades, there is a hierarchy,” Bu Chan replied cryptically.

As she spoke, she pulled a large basket of Jade Fire Spirit Berries from her Storage Bag. The berries glowed with vibrant energy.

“Give me two. I’m starving,” Shen Fu said, eyeing the fruit greedily.

Bu Chan shot him a side-eye. Then, without a word, she dumped the entire basket into the calm water of the pond.

Splash.

The water exploded.

A massive black shadow surged from the depths. A giant white turtle, the size of a millstone, breached the surface like a surfacing submarine.

It stretched its long, serpentine white neck, unhinged its jaws, and inhaled.

Whoosh.

Like a whale feeding, it swallowed every single berry floating on the surface in one gulp.

BOOM.

The turtle crashed back down, sending a tidal wave of water crashing toward the shore.

Bu Chan, anticipating this, calmly raised a wooden shield spell to protect herself.

Shen Fu, caught off guard, frantically cast a barrier spell, but he was a split second too late. He was drenched from head to toe.

“Bu Chan!!” he sputtered, wiping pond water from his eyes.

“Here. Want some fruit?” Bu Chan asked innocently, holding out two berries she had saved.

Shen Fu was too angry to speak. He glared at her, snatched the berries, and bit into one aggressively.

Crunch.

Sweet, tart juice exploded in his mouth, followed by a rush of pure spiritual energy. It was delicious.

“So good… and so much Qi,” Shen Fu grumbled, tossing the second berry into his mouth. “How can Senior Brother bear to feed such treasures to these livestock? It’s a waste!”

Splash.

Another jet of water shot up from the pond.

Shen Fu flicked his wrist, condensing a sword shadow to deflect the droplets. “What? I can’t even complain now? So petty!”

That was the wrong thing to say.

The water in the pond suddenly froze.

Hundreds of droplets transformed into jagged ice arrows. They hovered for a fraction of a second, aiming directly at Shen Fu, before firing in a deadly volley.

Thwip-thwip-thwip!

Shen Fu’s casual sword shadow was shattered instantly.

“Holy—!”

He scrambled backward, pale with shock.

“Rice Bucket! Stand down!” Bu Chan shouted.

The ice arrows froze in mid-air, inches from Shen Fu’s nose. Then, defying gravity, they melted into water and flowed back into the pond.

Shen Fu stood there, heart hammering against his ribs. He looked into the water.

The giant white turtle stretched its head above the surface. Its dark brown eyes locked onto Shen Fu with terrifying intelligence. It stared at him for a long moment, then snorted and lowered its head to hunt for leftover berries.

Around it, smaller golden turtles gave the white giant a wide berth.

Having finished its snack, the white turtle swam to the edge of the pond and nudged Bu Chan’s leg.

Bu Chan sighed, patted the turtle’s smooth white head, and pulled another basket of berries from her bag.

“Eat up, you glutton.”

“Bu Chan… that thing…” Shen Fu whispered, hiding behind the peach tree.

“Don’t provoke Rice Bucket,” Bu Chan warned, glaring at him. “He has a nasty temper. If I didn’t feed him regularly, even I couldn’t control him.”

Shen Fu swallowed hard. The spiritual fluctuation coming off that turtle was monstrous—stronger than the rooster, maybe even stronger than some cultivators he knew.

He decided to stop asking questions about the animals.

“Where is Senior Brother?” he asked, changing the subject. “I still haven’t seen him.”

“He… he is behind the wooden hut. He’s busy,” Bu Chan said, her face turning pink again.

Shen Fu gave her a weird look. Why is everyone acting so strange today?

He walked around the hut.

There, he found Wang Ba squatting on the ground, back turned to him. In front of Wang Ba was a line of hens. Wang Ba was holding a specialized dropper, carefully inserting fluid into the rear of a Rare Fowl.

It was a clinical, precise operation.

Shen Fu didn’t understand what he was seeing, but he waited patiently until Wang Ba finished the last hen.

“Why are you back so soon?”

Wang Ba’s calm voice broke the silence as he capped the vial and stood up.

Hearing that familiar, steady tone, Shen Fu felt his tension melt away. He quickly repeated the story of his employer’s death.

“A Demonic Path cultivator rushing Foundation Establishment…” Wang Ba sighed, wiping his hands. “Walking the sword’s edge. High risk, high reward. Dying from backlash is a common fate.”

He turned around.

His face wasn’t handsome. It was plain, almost forgettable. But there was an aura of tranquility around him that made the chaotic world feel distant.

Shen Fu respected his Senior Brother immensely, but on this point, he disagreed.

“Senior Brother,” Shen Fu argued gently. “I know the risks are high, but so are the rewards. Look at the others who joined with me and Bu Chan. Their aptitude was worse than ours, but after switching to the Heavenly Gate Sect’s techniques, they are already at Qi Refining Level 5. I’m still stuck at Level 3.”

“They are burning their future potential for a momentary spark,” Wang Ba smiled, his voice devoid of judgment. “Do not let their speed unsettle your Dao. Stick to your own rhythm.”

Shen Fu didn’t fully agree, but he knew Wang Ba meant well. He dropped the subject and began recounting his experiences over the last six months.

Wang Ba listened quietly, nodding occasionally.

Shen Fu talked for a long time, his cold exterior dissolving into the chatter of a younger brother returning home. Finally, he recounted his embarrassing encounter with Alpha-Twelve and the ice-spitting turtle.

Wang Ba chuckled.

“Twelve inherited his mother’s combat instincts, but he is antisocial. I put him on guard duty because he doesn’t like crowds. He doesn’t know you, so naturally, he identified you as a threat. If Bu Chan hadn’t been there, you would have lost a limb.”

“As for Rice Bucket…” Wang Ba shook his head. “That guy has a terrible temper and holds a grudge. Unless you reach Qi Refining Level 7 or 8, do not provoke him.”

Shen Fu’s face fell. He had hoped Senior Brother would help him vent his anger, not tell him he was too weak to fight a turtle.

Wang Ba reached into his robe and tossed two items to Shen Fu.

A Storage Bag. And a wooden token.

Shen Fu checked the bag. It was filled with pre-cooked Spirit Poultry—dozens of them.

His expression changed instantly. He shoved the bag back.

“Senior Brother, I can’t take this!”

“I promised to help you with tasks, but I haven’t done anything yet! I’ve only been leeching benefits from you. I have no face to accept this!”

Wang Ba pushed the bag firmly back into Shen Fu’s chest.

“Take it. If your cultivation is too low, how can you help me in the future?”

“With these supplies, you should be able to break through to Qi Refining Level 4. You might be slower than the demonic cultivators, but you will have a solid foundation. You will avoid many calamities.”

Shen Fu hesitated, clutching the bag.

Wang Ba stared into his eyes, his expression serious.

“Shen Fu. Remember this. Do not touch those demonic techniques circulating in the market.”

“In this world, nothing comes for free. Every shortcut has a price.”

Shen Fu looked at Wang Ba. He took a deep breath, nodded heavily, and put the bag away.

“I understand, Senior Brother.”

He didn’t say thank you. The debt was etched in his heart, deeper than words.

“Good. Adjust your state, then take this token to the Wood Tower Dwelling. Go cultivate.”

Wang Ba smiled and patted Shen Fu’s shoulder.

Shen Fu bowed deeply and turned to leave. As he stepped out of the farm, the warmth vanished from his face, replaced once again by the icy mask of a killer.

Standing outside the wooden hut, Wang Ba watched Shen Fu’s figure disappear into the distance. He waved his hand, extinguishing a water mirror spell he had been using to monitor the perimeter.

Three years, he mused.

Perhaps, in the beginning, he had only intended to use Shen Fu as a tool. A pawn for survival.

But humans are not grass or trees. We are not made of stone.

Over three years of interaction, Wang Ba had come to accept this young man. Shen Fu was proud, defiant of heaven and earth, and possessed a killer’s instinct—yet beneath it all, he retained a pure, childlike heart.

Of course, Wang Ba’s generosity wasn’t entirely altruistic. The Low Grade Spirit Poultry and the Wood Tower Dwelling token were simply things he had outgrown.

“Qi Refining Level 8…”

Wang Ba clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze drifting toward the horizon where the sun was setting over the lake.

“The Spiritual Qi in the Wood Tower is no longer sufficient for my speed.”

In the distance, the scene of Bu Chan playing with the giant white turtle looked like a painting.

“It is time,” Wang Ba whispered to himself.

“Time to move to the Spirit Water Courtyard.”