Five days later.

The group slipped back into the Wuji Market without fanfare. To avoid drawing the gaze of other loose cultivators, Li Qingdu had issued strict orders: split up, conceal your faces, and enter in waves.

They needed to keep the ripples of their expedition to a minimum.

After a tense hour of navigating the crowds, Qin Lu finally returned to the residence he hadn’t seen in over ten days.

As soon as he stepped through the gate, he spotted Feng Xi in the courtyard, diligently practicing her [Ignition Technique].

Her progress was palpable. The flame dancing on her fingertip was now the size of two fingers, burning with a stable, blue-hearted intensity. However, her cultivation base remained stagnant at the first level of Qi Refining.

“Not bad,” Qin Lu remarked, standing by the entrance.

The voice startled Feng Xi. She hastily extinguished the flame and rushed over, her face lighting up with genuine joy. “Master! You’re back from East Head Ridge?”

Qin Lu nodded, offering a practiced smile. “I am.”

To cover his tracks, he had told everyone—including his own servants—that he was merely going to the ridge to hunt demon beasts. The raid on the Immortal Crane Sect was a secret best kept buried.

He gave Feng Xi a few casual pointers on her spellcasting, then retreated to his master bedroom. He ordered a servant to prepare a large tub of clean water.

Once the servants withdrew, Qin Lu activated the heating array inscribed on the tub. He stripped off his tattered, blood-stained robe and sank into the steaming water.

The heat seeped into his bones, unwinding the tension knotted there.

Although the raid had lasted nearly two weeks, the actual combat had been compressed into a single, brutal day. Yet, that day of slaughter had left a mark on his psyche. A lingering sense of dread still clung to him.

He closed his eyes, replaying the scenes in the steam.

“Those two late arrivals… their timing was too perfect. They were likely heading to the Immortal Crane Sect on other business,” Qin Lu mused. “Elders of the Flying Swallow Sect, they said?”

He sank lower in the water.

“And Li Qingdu… he’s a man who holds a grudge like a starving wolf. Yang Zhen defeated him fairly in the arena, yet Li Qingdu orchestrated the extermination of Yang Zhen’s entire sect in retaliation. Vindictive doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Qin Lu sighed, scrubbing his face.

“At least luck was on my side. The chaos masked my true strength. No one knows I was the one who killed that square-faced cultivator.”

Only Gu Can had witnessed that kill. Later, on the spirit boat, Qin Lu had spun a tale that Wu Zheng had sacrificed himself to critically wound the man, allowing Qin Lu to finish the job.

The Gu siblings, bound by their own secrets, hadn’t exposed him. To the rest of the team, Qin Lu was just a lucky survivor.

“Huff—!”

Qin Lu exhaled heavily, resting his head against the rim of the tub. He stared at the ceiling, his hand absentmindedly tracing a fresh scar on his chest. A look of profound relief washed over his features.

“Whatever the politics, whatever the schemes… I survived.”

After soaking until the water turned tepid, Qin Lu dried off and donned a fresh set of robes. He walked to the center of the room, feeling refreshed and alert.

“Time to count the harvest.”

He tapped the [Storage Bag] at his waist. The magical spatial pocket opened, and a stream of items cascaded onto the floor.

Within moments, the room was packed.

Looking at the mountain of loot, a satisfied grin stretched across Qin Lu’s face.

First, the books. When Wei Feng and Wei Huang sacked the sect, they had stripped the Scripture Depository bare. During the distribution of spoils on the flying boat, Qin Lu had claimed nearly a hundred volumes that caught his eye.

There were calligraphy collections, local gazetteers, ancient history texts, and rubbing collections. There were also practical manuals on medicinal herbs, hidden weapons, and general cultivation world geography.

“I won’t be bored for a while. Finally, something to read.”

Qin Lu’s eyes sparkled. In this world without the internet, books were the only window to the wider realm. Besides, he had always been a reader.

As the saying went: In middle age, one should read more, stay informed, eat less, and get more sleep.

With a wave of his hand, he used the [Object Control Technique] to float the books onto his shelves, organizing them neatly.

Next were the artifacts. Over twenty magic tools and robes lay in a heap.

Most were lackluster—low-grade or mid-grade Rank One offensive tools. They were the standard issue gear looted from the outer disciples of the Immortal Crane Sect, not worth much coin.

However, one item stood out.

It was a gourd, shaped like a double-bulbed hourglass. Its surface was etched with mysterious, pale azure patterns that seemed to shimmer in the lamplight.

Qin Lu picked it up, weighing it in his hand. “I pulled this from the square-faced man’s bag. What is it?”

He extended his spiritual sense to probe the interior.

Immediately, he realized the gourd was more than a container. It held an internal dimension, a spatial pocket several cubic meters in size, filled with sloshing liquid.

“Wait… this is wine!”

A rich, heady aroma drifted out as he uncorked it. Qin Lu nodded approvingly. “A [Wine Gourd]…”

Curious, he retrieved a porcelain cup and poured a measure.

The liquid was crystal clear, yet possessed a viscous, oily quality. The scent alone was enough to clear his mind and lift his spirits.

Qin Lu ran a quick spiritual diagnostic to ensure it wasn’t poisoned, then downed the cup in one gulp.

Boom.

A stream of liquid fire cascaded down his throat. His eyes snapped open, shining with light. “Good stuff!”

The wine didn’t burn unpleasantly. Instead, it melted into a soothing warmth that radiated through his limbs, followed by a refreshing, minty aftertaste that lingered on his palate.

More importantly, his muscles began to hum with heat. The spiritual energy in the brew was actively nourishing his physical body.

“Incredible. This [Wine Gourd] must be a nurturing artifact,” Qin Lu deduced.

He had read about such treasures. You poured ordinary spiritual wine in, and the gourd’s enchantments would catalyze the liquid over time, enhancing its quality and potency. It was essentially an infinite buff generator for his constitution.

“I need to buy high-grade base wine to store in here. The more I drink, the stronger my body gets.” Qin Lu suppressed a chuckle.

He played with the gourd for a moment longer before turning to the rest of the pile.

The talismans and pills were standard fare available in Wuji Market, nothing novel.

However, the sheer volume was staggering. Qin Lu did a quick mental calculation. The market value of these miscellaneous items alone was nearly eight thousand Spirit Stones.

And then there was the crown jewel: the medium-sized Flying Boat.

Capable of carrying twenty passengers, such a vessel wasn’t even sold in Wuji Market. Its price would easily floor at three thousand Spirit Stones.

Combined with his share of the cash loot—five thousand Spirit Stones—Qin Lu’s total net profit from this single expedition was over thirteen thousand Spirit Stones.

Even Qin Lu, usually composed, felt his heart skip a beat.

“No wonder Gu Can and Gu Yue were so eager to fight for free when Li Qingdu called. The war business is booming.”

He shook his head, sighing with emotion. “Thirteen thousand… I’d have to draw talismans until my hands fell off to earn this much.”

With a wave of his sleeve, he swept the mountain of wealth back into his storage bags.

Looking at the four separate [Storage Bags] hanging from his belt, Qin Lu laughed. “I haven’t bought a single one of these. People just keep delivering them to me.”

He patted his belt. “With this capital, it’s time to push for the Great Perfection of the Qi Refining Realm.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Though, I ate so many pills to reach Level 9 that I think I’ve built up a drug resistance. The standard [Qi Gathering Pills] are practically candy to me now.”

“I need to visit the apothecary. I need something stronger.”

Qin Lu’s eyes gleamed with ambition. The path forward was paved with gold, and for the first time, he had the funds to walk it quickly.

Across the market, many cultivators who had returned from the raid were doing exactly what Qin Lu was doing—counting their spoils behind closed doors, grinning at their newfound wealth.

But none of them realized the storm they had unleashed.

The extermination of the Immortal Crane Sect, orchestrated by Li Qingdu, was not the end. It was a pebble thrown into a still lake.

News was already spreading. A sensation was building across Flowing Cloud Prefecture with terrifying speed.

Because of this battle, a large-scale war—the likes of which the prefecture hadn’t seen in centuries—was slowly, inexorably, beginning to churn.