“This puppet… has potential.”

It wasn’t just a tool for running errands or acting as a proxy in dangerous markets. It was a combat asset.

Han Yu studied the construct, his mind racing with tactical possibilities.

In terms of raw power, its offense and defense mirrored a mid-grade Magical Artifact of the early Qi Refining stage. Compared to Han Yu’s current strength, that was underwhelming. But against the average low-level cultivator, it was a juggernaut.

Even a mid-stage Qi Refining cultivator couldn’t guarantee penetrating its defenses with every strike, nor could they easily shrug off its attacks.

But its true value lay in its versatility. It could disguise itself as a human. It could speak. It could act as a decoy. Its utility far outstripped the flying sword Han Yu had just purchased for one hundred and fifty Spirit Stones.

Han Yu dressed the puppet in black robes and named it “Li Ya.”

He activated his spiritual arts. The Phantom Body Technique and the Vision Confusing Technique—both derived from the Thousand Illusions Secret Art—flared to life.

Instantly, the small room was crowded. Five identical Han Yus stood in a circle.

Three were intangible phantoms. One was the puppet Li Ya, its features shifted to perfectly mirror Han Yu. The last was Han Yu himself.

Han Yu surveyed the scene and nodded, satisfied.

Perfect.

Whether engaging an enemy or fleeing for his life, this array of decoys would create chaos. The puppet from the traveling merchant had been a trap; this Sect-forged puppet was a lifeline.

As he stored the puppet away, his plans for the future crystallized.

Wanchun Valley had treated him well. As he slowly revealed his talents—first with the spirit crow, now with his cultivation speed—the Sect had responded with trust and resources.

If he revealed a little more, would they double down on their support?

He had no desire to leave. Being a rootless Rogue Cultivator was a miserable existence. Being a Demonic Cultivator meant living like a rabid dog. And the Spirit Beast Sect… they were wolves in human skin. Wanchun Valley, with its relative fairness and order, was the best place for him to put down roots.

But I must be careful, Han Yu thought. I cannot reveal the Blood Refining Art, the Spirit Root Refining Art, or the full extent of the Thousand Illusions Secret Art.

He needed to present a “safe” anomaly. A talent that looked like a natural mutation of a standard spell.

The Vision Confusing Technique.

It was a standard illusion spell. If his version was strictly better than the manual, it could be explained away as exceptional affinity rather than forbidden arts.

Having settled on a strategy, Han Yu calmed his mind. He gripped two pieces of Thousand-Year Sunkwood Heart and began his circulation cycle.

In his Dantian, the second leaf of his spiritual seedling slowly unfurled. The fifth layer of Qi Refining was drawing near.

Early the next morning, after his routine inspection of the Spirit Fields, Han Yu prepared to head to the Technique Pavilion to find Deacon He.

Before he could leave, Senior Sister Li flagged him down.

“Junior Brother Han, did you hear about the Spirit Beast Sect’s envoy yesterday?”

Han Yu shook his head.

Senior Sister Li’s expression was grim. She relayed what she had learned from her master, Elder Lu.

“The Spirit Beast Sect claims their past aggression was all a misunderstanding caused by Demonic Cultivators. To ‘prove’ their goodwill and ‘vent anger’ on our behalf, they executed the Emperors and Empresses of both the Xiyue Kingdom and the Nanli Kingdom. They razed five cities in each nation to the ground.”

Han Yu’s eyes widened. Ten cities?

“Countless mortals dead. Thousands displaced. All under the banner of ‘friendship’ with Wanchun Valley,” she spat. “The Sect Leader was furious. He rejected their ‘gift’ and sent them packing.”

She sighed. “Now, the Sect has to clean up their mess. We’re dispatching a group of older disciples—those with no hope of breaking through—to the mortal kingdoms. They need to stabilize the chaos before the Spirit Beast Sect ruins our reputation completely.”

Han Yu felt a chill. To slaughter royalty and destroy cities on a whim… the Spirit Beast Sect was truly cruel and brutal. He was fortunate to be here, not there.

He thanked Senior Sister Li for the news and mounted his flying sword, heading for the main peak.

The security at the mountain gate was tight. The arrays hummed with power, a reaction to the envoy’s visit. Han Yu’s identity jade flashed, and the green barrier parted to let him through.

He landed outside the Technique Pavilion. Near the entrance, a scene caught his eye.

An old man in the blue robes of an Outer Disciple stood talking to a teenage boy dressed in the grey garb of a Laborer. They shared the same nose, the same chin—clearly grandfather and grandson.

The boy’s eyes were red and swollen. He wiped tears from his face with dirty sleeves.

“Grandfather, please… don’t go…”

The old man smiled, a look of bittersweet acceptance on his weathered face. “Silly child. Don’t speak like that. My aptitude is poor. I have reached my limit in this life.”

He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Your father was born without roots. Your roots are even fainter than mine. If I don’t take this opportunity… if I don’t earn the Keepsake Token and the resources the Sect is offering… our family’s path to immortality ends with me.”

“The Sect has been honest,” the old man continued softly. “It is a dangerous mission, yes. But death is not guaranteed. If I survive, we prosper. If I don’t… well, if we miss this chance, we will never see such rich rewards again.”

Han Yu walked past them, his face impassive, but his heart heavy.

The suicide squad.

These were the disciples Senior Sister Li mentioned. Men and women sacrificing the dregs of their lives to pave a road for their descendants.

Han Yu entered the Technique Pavilion and approached the counter.

Deacon He looked up from his ledger. “Han Yu? Back so soon? Do you have more Minor Merits to burn on spells? Or are you looking to further your artifact refining?”

“Deacon He,” Han Yu bowed respectfully. “I am not here to buy today. I came to ask for your guidance.”

Deacon He blinked, then chuckled warmly. “Oh? You trust my judgment?”

“The Sect has not assigned me a Master yet,” Han Yu said. “I practice alone, and sometimes… I get confused. There is no one else I can ask.”

“Fair enough.” Deacon He leaned back, looking pleased. “I have a moment. Ask away.”

“It’s about the Vision Confusing Technique,” Han Yu said. “I’ve run into a strange issue. My results don’t match the description in the Jade Slip.”

“How so?”

“The manual says that a successful cast creates a momentary illusion to trick the enemy—a flash of falsehood to create an opening for attack or retreat. It emphasizes that the image is fleeting. Is that correct?”

“Naturally.” Deacon He nodded. “It is a low-level distraction spell. It destabilizes quickly.”

“That is the problem,” Han Yu said, feigning confusion. “The illusions I create… they don’t disappear immediately. They linger. Have I practiced it wrong? Or is there something wrong with my Spirit Breath?”

Hmm?

Deacon He frowned, scrutinizing Han Yu.

What kind of question is that?

Are you telling me your spell is more stable than the textbook perfection?

“Is this true?” Deacon He asked suspiciously.

“I can show you,” Han Yu offered.

Deacon He stood up abruptly. “Not here. The pavilion’s suppression arrays forbid spellcasting. Come with me to the practice platform.”

He signaled an Inner Disciple to man the counter and led Han Yu out.

Outside, the grandfather and grandson were gone.

They arrived at the practice platform. Deacon He waved away the juniors trying to bow to him and pointed to an empty range.

“Show me,” he commanded. “Cast it on that target.”

Han Yu faced a wooden dummy about ten paces away. He gathered his Spirit Breath—suppressing the true depth of his power—and cast the Vision Confusing Technique.

Shimmer.

In the blink of an eye, the wooden dummy vanished. In its place stood an exact replica of Deacon He, hands clasped behind his back, looking stern.

Deacon He’s jaw dropped.

He walked up to the illusion, circling it. It didn’t flicker. It didn’t fade. He reached out and poked it. His finger passed through the image like smoke, but the visual form remained perfectly intact.

Incredible.

A standard Vision Confusing Technique should have shattered the moment it was touched, or faded within a breath. This… this was stable.

“This is your Vision Confusing Technique?” Deacon He asked, his voice rising in disbelief.

Han Yu nodded.

“This is bizarre… truly bizarre.” Deacon He clicked his tongue, looking from Han Yu to the illusion. “This level of stability is usually only seen in the Shadow Creation Technique, and that requires mastery of much higher principles. How can a basic confusion spell achieve this?”

He watched as the illusion finally began to fade, dispersing only when Han Yu cut the flow of Spirit Breath.

Deacon He’s eyes lit up with the fervor of a man discovering gold in a river of mud.

“Han Yu,” he said, grabbing the young man’s shoulder. “Come with me!”