“None left,” Wang Hao said, shaking his head with a practiced, regretful smile. “I merely had the fortune to stumble upon two fruits on a remote islet. My companions divided the tree amongst themselves long ago.”

A flash of disappointment crossed the shopkeeper’s face. She couldn’t tell if he was lying or merely stubborn, but the message was clear—the source was not for sale.

“I came for more than just a Foundation Establishment Pill, however,” Wang Hao continued, shifting the momentum. “I have recently come into possession of another second-order spirit tree of significant value. I wonder if the Treasure Clarity Pavilion has any interest?”

Madam Xu’s professional mask remained steady, but her eyes sharpened with renewed hunger. “Oh? And what manner of tree might this be? More importantly, what is it that Fellow Daoist hopes to gain in exchange?”

Wang Hao didn’t waste breath. He produced a single Hundred Fragrance Spirit Fruit and offered it to her. “A second-grade, top-tier Hundred Fragrance Spirit Fruit tree. As for my price… I seek the Dustfall Pill held by Daoist Master Baoqing.”

The shopkeeper’s expression soured instantly. “Impossible. A single fruit fetches a thousand spirit stones, and the tree itself might command fifty thousand at most. You wish to trade that for a Dustfall Pill? Fellow Daoist, your appetite is far too large.”

“What if I add this?” Wang Hao reached into his storage bag and unsheathed the Spirit Severing Sword.

He had no intention of switching his primary cultivation method to the Sun and Moon Rotation Art. Without the specific metal-earth True Essence, he could never unleash the weapon’s true potential. To him, it was a gilded paperweight. While he could leave it for some future genius of the Wang family, the odds of a descendant reaching the Golden Core were slim. To let such a weapon gather dust for centuries was a waste; better to liquidate it now for a certain advancement.

“A lower-grade Magic Treasure…” Madam Xu gasped. She stared at Wang Hao as if seeing a ghost. She was now convinced he had plundered a high-level ruin; otherwise, how could a lone cultivator carry such a fortune?

Compared to the Grandmaster Golden Core Jade Liquid, which could fetch half a million spirit stones, a Dustfall Pill peaked at two hundred thousand. It was roughly equivalent to the market value of a lower-grade Magic Treasure.

The shopkeeper sized him up, her gaze lingering on his preternatural calm. “Fellow Daoist, with a Magic Treasure in hand, why not go to the auctions? You could easily buy any breakthrough catalyst you desire.”

“Auctions require invitations, and more importantly, they attract eyes,” Wang Hao replied, his voice dropping to a flat, dangerous note. “Trading with the Treasure Clarity Pavilion is a far quieter affair.”

He added a touch of calculated flattery. “Besides, I have more faith in the pills refined by Daoist Master Baoqing than those of unknown origin. Can you make this decision, Madam?”

She shook her head. “This is beyond me. It requires the Old Ancestor’s word. If you would be so kind as to wait, I will consult him.”

“How long?”

“The Master is currently at the furnace. It shouldn’t be more than half an hour. Please, enjoy this tea; I shall return shortly.” She bowed gracefully and vanished.

Wang Hao took a sip of the tea and felt a sudden jolt of clarity wash over his mind. Second-order spirit tea. He couldn’t help but admire the shop’s opulence; a single cup of this brew would cost a hundred spirit stones on the open market.

Twenty minutes later, Madam Xu returned with a beaming smile. “The Master wishes to meet you. The specific terms will be discussed face-to-face.”

Wang Hao felt a flicker of apprehension. Dealing with a Golden Core Master was always a gamble, but for Wang Guang’an’s path to the Core, he had to take the risk. He followed her into the backyard toward the Master’s private cave dwelling.

At the threshold, she stopped. “You may enter on your own.”

As Wang Hao hesitated, a boisterous, gravelly voice boomed from within. “Step inside, little friend! I’m not about to lose my reputation over a single Magic Treasure.”

A moment later, a man descended from the sky. He was a round, slovenly old man who looked as though he had spent a decade living in a chimney, his robes soot-stained and unkempt. Wang Hao’s heart skipped a beat as he felt the overwhelming, ocean-like pressure of a mid-stage Golden Core expert.

The old man, Daoist Master Baoqing, marched up and—to Wang Hao’s utter shock—boldly wrapped an arm around Madam Xu’s waist, squeezing her with a lecherous grin. “Go on, Madam Xu. Tend to the shop. I’ll talk business with the boy and join you later for… more details.”

This old lecher… Wang Hao thought, his mental image of a dignified Golden Core Master shattering instantly.

“Naughty old man,” the shopkeeper chided, playfully slapping his hand away before bowing and retreating.

Baoqing lingered, sniffing his palm with a look of pure bliss before turning his gaze to Wang Hao. “Inside, boy. Let’s talk.”

He tapped a token against the warding spells, and the cave opened. To Wang Hao’s surprise, the interior wasn’t a den of vice. It was a massive, meticulously organized alchemy chamber. Tools, herbs, and cauldrons filled every corner.

“I’m a rogue, free of sect rules,” Baoqing said, sitting at a stone table. “Don’t mind the mess. Name and origin?”

“Junior is Han Li,” Wang Hao lied smoothly, cupping his hands. “A member of a small family from the outlying islands of Wanxiang City.”

“A small family?” Baoqing chuckled meaningfully. “With your cultivation and these toys? You’re modest.”

“Junior merely had a few lucky breaks,” Wang Hao replied, keeping his face impassive.

“Luck is the only thing that matters in this world. I was a beggar before I found my first legacy,” Baoqing said, his voice suddenly turning sharp. “Now, let me see the sword.”

Wang Hao handed over the Spirit Severing Sword. The old man stroked the blade before injecting a surge of True Essence. The sword roared, erupting in a brilliant flash of spiritual light.

He can activate it? Wang Hao’s eyes narrowed. He must possess both metal and earth attributes.

“Fine craftsmanship,” Baoqing grunted, setting the blade down. “Rare attributes, decent power. I’ll trade you a Dustfall Pill for it.”

Wang Hao felt a surge of relief, but the old man wasn’t finished.

“I can smell the furnace on you, boy. You’re a second-grade, top-tier alchemist, aren’t you? Who taught you?”

“Junior’s talent is average,” Wang Hao replied cautiously. “I reached this level through trial and error. Why does Master ask?”

“Don’t lie to a master of the craft,” Baoqing said, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve taken in disciples over the years, but they’re all useless piles of trash. I’m looking for a proper heir. Someone to pass my robe and bowl to, so my legacy doesn’t die with me.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a tempting hum. “Join me. Study under my wing. With your foundations and my guidance, reaching the third order is a certainty. You’ll be a Master in your own right within the century.”

Wang Hao sat in silence, his mind racing. His family mentors, Wang Yanfeng and Wang Yanzhao, had reached their limits. To truly master the third order, he needed more than just a manual; he needed a living guide. If he hadn’t found the Pill Cauldron Sect’s legacy, he wouldn’t even be standing here today.