The moment Zhu Laosan left, Han Yu mobilized his network.

He dispatched several crows to tail the man, while others fanned out to monitor the Green Grain Market and the rumored location of the “Small Gathering.”

The first day yielded nothing.

After completing his rounds at the spirit fields, Han Yu returned to his room, locking the door against the world.

In the dead of night, he began his true work. He circulated the Green Grain Qi Cultivation Method to stabilize his state, then shifted to the forbidden arts.

Blood Refining Art.

He spent precious energy to replicate essence blood, feeding the hungry rune etched into his chest. The blood talisman at his Tanzhong acupoint pulsed, inhaling and exhaling the crimson energy like a living heart.

Thump.

The fifth intricate pattern on the talisman finally solidified, locking into place with a visceral snap.

Blood Refining, Fifth Layer. Achieved.

Ninety-seven drops of essence blood now flowed through his veins. Unlike the tainted, chaotic blood of typical Demonic Cultivators, Han Yu’s power was pristine. It contained no foreign impurities, no screaming souls of victims—only his own refined strength.

In the cutthroat world of cultivation, this purity was unimaginable.

He exhaled a cloud of foul air. His survival chances had just ticked upward.

The second day passed. Zhu Laosan behaved normally, and the Green Grain Market remained calm.

The crows sent to scout the “Small Gathering” returned with a report relayed by the large raven: the location was a ghost town. Just an empty clearing in the woods.

It must be a scheduled event, Han Yu deduced.

On the third day, the clearing came alive.

Figures appeared, draped in wide robes with long sleeves. They wore masks, veils, or low bamboo hats to obscure their faces. The atmosphere was thick with paranoia.

One of Han Yu’s scouts flew a little too low. A nervous cultivator, sensing the bird’s faint spiritual energy, assumed it was a spy. With a flick of a finger, he fired a spell, blasting the crow out of the sky.

The bird survived, limping back to report, but the message was clear: the Small Gathering was real, and it was dangerous.

However, the most significant discovery didn’t happen at the gathering.

In a dense patch of woods outside the Wanchun Valley market, another crow witnessed a clandestine meeting. A man with glowing red eyes was speaking to a young boy flanked by guards.

The red-eyed man’s voice was smooth, dripping with poison. “Wanchun Valley watched your family die and did nothing. You are the last seedling of the Jiang Imperial Family. How long will you wait for revenge? How long will you endure the humiliation? Listen to me, and you will have the power to slaughter them all.”

The boy, the Fifth Prince of the Jiang family, was trembling. Consumed by grief and hatred, he had no resistance against such temptation. He knelt, pledging himself to the stranger and beginning his path into the Blood Refining Art.

Han Yu absorbed the information coldly. So, a Demonic Cultivator is poaching disciples right under the Sect’s nose.

He decided to shelve the matter of the prince for now. Instead, he summoned the injured crow.

The bird hopped forward, dragging a scorched wing. Han Yu gently fed it a Mystic Heart Fruit. It was an extravagant waste for a mere bird, but to Han Yu, it was necessary maintenance for a loyal tool.

Through the Spirit Nurturing Technique, the bird felt a natural affinity for him. Revitalized by the fruit, it chirped happily, rubbing its beak against Han Yu’s hand.

Caw!

The large raven, jealous of the attention, spread its wings and shoved the smaller bird away with a forceful flap. The scout tumbled beak-over-tail feathers before scrambling back up, looking thoroughly cowed.

Han Yu chuckled. He smoothed the injured bird’s feathers, then tapped the large raven on the beak. “He took a hit for the team. Don’t be so stingy.”

The large raven let out a grudging gulu sound and retracted its wings, allowing the smaller bird to snuggle against Han Yu’s palm for a moment longer.

A few days later, the Fifth Prince met the Demonic Cultivator again.

Han Yu had hoped to uncover a larger conspiracy, perhaps involving the terrifying Demon Blood Sect. However, further observation revealed the “master” was just a loose cultivator who had stumbled upon a blood manual. He wasn’t building an army; he was just fattening up the prince to use as high-quality “blood food” later, hoping to steal the royal wealth and live in luxury.

Small fry, Han Yu concluded. Perfect for a safe merit report.

On the same day, the surveillance on Zhu Laosan finally paid off.

Zhu Laosan left the spirit fields but bypassed the main market. He headed straight for the Small Gathering. He donned a disguise, met with a shadowed figure, and then circled back to the Green Grain Market.

Later, Zhu Laosan and the “skinny monkey” cultivator emerged from the market together. They walked back toward the Small Gathering, laughing and chatting.

The crows couldn’t get close enough to hear the words without risking death, but the visual confirmation was enough. Zhu Laosan was conspiring with outsiders in a restricted, lawless zone.

The trap was set.

Early the next morning, Han Yu took the large raven and went to find Senior Sister Li.

He laid out everything his scouts had seen.

Senior Sister Li listened, her expression shifting from confusion to shock, and finally to cold fury. “Junior Brother Han… are you telling me the Jiang Fifth Prince is practicing demonic arts? And Zhu San is abusing mortals and conspiring with unknown rogue cultivators?”

She looked at the black bird perched on his shoulder. “Your crow saw all of this?”

“It did,” Han Yu said steadily. “Senior Sister, I have a request. When you report this to the Sect, please omit my name. Do not ask for a public reward, and do not mention my birds.”

Li frowned. “Why? This is a great service.”

“Zhu San targeted me because he knew I had resources—pills, rice, the Sunkwood Heart. He failed only because he didn’t know I had eyes in the sky,” Han Yu explained. “If the Sect announces my contribution and reveals my ability to scout with birds, I lose my advantage. Next time, the enemy won’t be so careless. I will be killed.”

He paused, letting the reality sink in. “Besides, if I remain in the shadows, I can continue to root out spies for the Sect.”

Senior Sister Li nodded slowly. “You are right. Caution is the way of the Dao. I will make sure the Master understands the need for discretion.”

She paused, her brows knitting together. “You mentioned Zhu San abusing mortals. What exactly did he do?”

“He had two women living with him,” Han Yu said, his voice dropping an octave. “My crow noticed one was pregnant. Recently, both women vanished. I thought he sent them home, but further investigation suggests… he disposed of them to clear his loose ends.”

“That animal!”

Senior Sister Li slammed her hand onto the table. “Even a vicious tiger doesn’t eat its cubs! He is worse than a beast!”

She stood up, her aura flaring. “Junior Brother Han, keep a close watch. Do not let him flee. If he tries anything, strike him down without hesitation! I am going to the Main Peak immediately. Even if we ignore the conspiracy, harming mortals in such a way is a capital offense in Wanchun Valley!”

She summoned her flying shuttle and shot into the sky, a streak of righteous anger.

Han Yu watched her go, his expression calm.

He returned to the fields and began his patrol, acting as if nothing had happened.

Zhu Laosan spotted Han Yu from his window. He cursed silently, then plastered a wide, obsequious smile on his face and stepped out.

“Morning, Senior Brother Han! Hard at work, I see!”

Han Yu nodded politely. “Just doing my duty.”

Zhu Laosan offered a few more flattering remarks before retreating into his stone house.

Zhu Laosan considered himself a man of gratitude. When Han Yu had helped him lift the restriction on his cultivation, he had been genuinely thankful.

For about two days.

Now, as he sat in the dark of his room, that gratitude had curdled into a black, oily envy.

Why him? Zhu Laosan thought, his fingers twitching. A snot-nosed brat with mere Four Spirit Roots. Just because he has a knack for spells and got lucky once, he gets to live like a king?

He pictured Han Yu swallowing Qi Gathering Pills. He eats them like roasted beans! Wasteful! Arrogant!

Where is the justice in Wanchun Valley? I used my wits to trade and survive, yet I was punished and nearly crippled. And now I’m expected to bow and scrape to this lucky upstart?

He reached into his robe, his hand closing around a small, cold packet in his Storage Bag.

Spirit Corroding Powder.

His breathing slowed, his heartbeat steadying. The jealousy cooled into a hard resolve.

Soon, he promised himself. Very soon.

I’ll poison him. I’ll strip his corpse of every pill, every stone, every secret. I’ll blame it on the Demonic Cultivators or the Spirit Beast Sect. No one will suspect Zhu San, the smiling, loyal lackey.

A sinister grin stretched across his face, distorted by the shadows. It was the first honest expression he had worn all day.

Suddenly, a voice boomed from outside his door.

“Zhu San! Are you in there?”