“The Lei family presents a pair of guardian stone lions for the gate!”

“Panchun Teahouse presents a set of premium wine vessels!”

“Spirit Cuisine Restaurant gifts a long-lasting night-bright pearl!”

The Evergreen Wine Shop instantly became the liveliest store on the street.

Shen Rong stood on the steps, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. He raised his voice, projecting confidence. “Everyone, today is the first day of our trial opening. To celebrate, everyone present will receive a free small cup of our premium Spirit Wine, personally brewed by our master vintner!”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd.

A master brewer.

Premium Spirit Wine.

Even those who had stopped merely out of curiosity were now eager to try. Free samples were a time-honored tradition, but usually for cheap swill, not “premium” goods.

Seeing the enthusiasm, Shen Rong turned to his son. “Go bring a pot of the wine given by Fellow Daoist Cai.”

Shen Peng nodded and disappeared into the shop. Moments later, he emerged, carefully cradling a single ceramic pot in both hands.

It was small. Excluding the weight of the ceramic itself, it held perhaps one jin of liquid.

The crowd’s anticipation deflated instantly. Disappointed groans rippled through the street. They had expected a barrel, or at least a large jar, enough for everyone to drink their fill. A single pot? For hundreds of people? Stingy. Miserly.

Shen Peng ignored the jeers. A knowing, almost arrogant smile played on his lips as he popped the cork.

Pop.

Instantly, a rich, complex aroma exploded outward. It carried the earthy sweetness of high-grade Spirit Rice, layered with a mellow, intoxicating alcohol fragrance that seemed to hook into the soul.

The noise died. The street fell into a dead silence.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes locked onto the small pot in Shen Peng’s hands. Adam’s apples bobbed in unison as throats went dry. For the alcoholics in the crowd, it was pure torture; they swallowed saliva, their eyes burning with a sudden, fierce hunger.

“Me first!”

Someone shouted, shattering the silence.

The crowd surged forward like a tide, jostling for position. The smell alone told them everything they needed to know. While Spirit Wine was common, nothing in the Loose Cultivator Market smelled like this.

“My goodness… is this really something we can drink here?”

The first lucky taster downed his small cup in one gulp. His eyes widened, and he stared at the empty cup in disbelief. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes—genuine tears of moved emotion.

Green City was full of wine, but most of it was cheap, harsh swill brewed from inferior ingredients. This… this was nectar. It was several grades above anything they had ever tasted.

“That brother over there is crying! It must be good!”

“Wait, something’s wrong with the plan…”

In the crowd, the hired shills looked at each other in confusion. They hadn’t even started their scripted chants to hype the product, and the crowd was already in a frenzy. A single pot had ignited the entire street.

A wave of customers surged into the [Evergreen Wine Shop].

But as they reached the counter, many stopped dead, staring at the wooden price tags.

Fifteen Low-grade Spirit Stones per jin!

It was exorbitant. Established wine shops sold premium wine for five stones. The small back-alley workshops sold inferior swill for pennies on the dollar.

But the smell…

A male cultivator stood before the counter, his face a mask of internal conflict. He sniffed the air again, gritted his teeth, and stomped his foot. “I’ll buy it! Good wine deserves a good price! Give me a jin!”

Once the dam broke, the flood followed. A second buyer stepped up, then a third.

In less than an incense stick of time, forty jin were gone.

Fifteen stones a jin. Forty jin meant 600 Low-grade Spirit Stones.

That was six Mid-grade Spirit Stones—a fortune for a single day of trial operations.

Behind the counter, Shen Peng’s face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead. “Father, at this rate, the five hundred jin won’t last the afternoon.”

Shen Rong’s smile was stiff. “It seems we underestimated the demand. We need to talk to Fellow Daoist Cai again.”

Suddenly, Lei Yunna looked up from a glowing Communication Talisman. “Father, my own father just messaged. He wants ten jin set aside for him privately!”

“Master!” A servant rushed over. “The head chef of the Spirit Cuisine Restaurant is asking for a face-to-face meeting!”

Acquaintances, friends, business rivals—everyone was calling. The shop was busier than a century-old establishment on a festival day.

“Uh.” Shen Rong and Shen Peng exchanged a look of pure panic.

“Go,” Shen Rong ordered. “Find him.”

Shen Peng bolted out the door, nearly colliding with a waiter as he sprinted across the street and up the stairs of the [Awaiting Spring] teahouse.

He found Jiang Chen sitting calmly by the window, sipping tea as he watched the chaos below.

“Fellow Daoist Cai!” Shen Peng gasped, winded. “It’s selling like crazy. The stock won’t last three days!”

Jiang Chen didn’t even look up. “I only brought five hundred jin.”

“But—”

“Limit the sales,” Jiang Chen said, his voice calm. “Sell a fixed amount each day. Drag it out until I return next month. Hunger breeds desire.”

Shen Peng slumped. “It seems… that’s the only way.”

If a specialty wine shop closed its doors two days after opening due to lack of stock, it would be a joke. Rationing was the only option.

Jiang Chen set down his cup and stood. “This level of success will attract attention. Every brewery and wine house in Green City will be watching you now. Be vigilant. Don’t let success turn into disaster.”

Shen Peng nodded vigorously. “You can rest assured.”

“Good. I’m leaving now. See you next month.”

A few days later, back at the [Dongting] Immortal Sect.

It was late at night. Jiang Chen sat cross-legged in his Spirit Farm, the [Green Lotus Domain] active around him, accelerating the growth of the Moonlight Grass.

While the plants grew, he turned his attention to the [Mystic Wood Golden Body Art]. He had been studying the incomplete manual diligently, and tonight, something clicked.

He pulled up his attribute panel.

[Mystic Wood Golden Body Art: First Layer]

Effect One: Skin hardens like Ironwood.

Effect Two: Ironwood Resilience (Reflects a portion of physical damage).

Effect Three: Physical Resistance +10%.

Special Effect: Minor abrasions heal within three breaths.

Jiang Chen’s eyebrows shot up. “Is this really just the first layer?”

Three passive buffs and a regeneration factor. It was absurdly powerful for a defensive technique. If the first layer was this potent, what would the max level look like?

As he pondered, a familiar system prompt floated into his vision.

[Consume 5 years of Lifespan to raise Mystic Wood Golden Body Art to the Second Layer?]