Unlike the ten distinct layers of the Qi Refining stage, the Foundation Establishment realm was simpler, categorized into four broad tiers: Early, Middle, Late, and Perfection.

Qin Lu was now an Early Foundation Establishment cultivator, standing on the same tier as Gu Yue.

Flush with success, Qin Lu soared through the sky, his voice echoing over the canopy as he sang his way back toward the White Jade Market. However, his high-profile flight soon attracted unwanted attention.

Shriek!

A piercing cry cut through the air behind him.

Qin Lu’s heart skipped a beat, but his body moved faster than his thoughts. Years of combat drills and the enhanced reflexes of his new realm kicked in instantly. He twisted mid-air, his body spiraling to the side just as a white blur tore through the space he had occupied a fraction of a second earlier.

He stabilized and drifted back, putting distance between himself and the assailant.

It was a bird—a massive avian beast covered in pristine, snow-white feathers. Its beak was hooked and metallic, gleaming like a polished dagger, and its eyes radiated a cold, predatory intelligence.

“A Second-Stage beast,” Qin Lu muttered, his eyes narrowing. “A White-Plumed Sparrow.”

He recognized it instantly. Among the early Second-Stage beasts, this one was infamous for its speed and the high value of its materials. Its feathers, bones, and meat fetched a premium in the markets.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Qin Lu sneered, summoning his [Seven Star Sword]. The blade hummed as it materialized, the seven inlaid gems pulsing with light. “Attacking me?”

If he were still at the peak of Qi Refining, this encounter would have been a desperate fight for survival. He would have had to burn blood and risk crippling injury just to escape.

But now? He was a Foundation Establishment cultivator. They were peers.

“Come on!”

Qin Lu roared and charged, his sword leading the way.

The sparrow screeched in indignation. It was used to human cultivators fleeing in terror. Seeing this prey counter-attack enraged it. It tucked its wings and dove, its beak glowing with concentrated wind energy, turning itself into a living missile.

Clang!

Man and beast collided in a blur of motion, swapping positions in the sky.

Qin Lu spun around, flicking his wrist to clear the blood from his blade. He was untouched.

The sparrow, however, was listing heavily to the right. A deep gash marred its wing, ruining its aerodynamics. Its natural defense, usually impervious to Qi Refining attacks, had crumbled instantly under Qin Lu’s enhanced strength and the [Soft Wind Technique].

“Is that it?” Qin Lu laughed, the thrill of dominance surging through him. “You’re not as tough as you look.”

He didn’t give it a chance to recover. He accelerated, closing the gap.

The sparrow, possessing a rudimentary intelligence, realized it had made a fatal error. It shrieked in panic and tried to bank away, desperate to flee.

“Leaving so soon?”

Qin Lu extended a finger.

Pop!

A bullet of compressed air from the max-level [Finger Flick Technique] shot out, faster than the eye could follow. It punched through the sparrow’s uninjured wing with a wet thud.

The beast screamed as its flight failed. It began to plummet, tumbling uncontrollably toward the forest floor.

Qin Lu dove after it, a hawk chasing a broken pigeon.

“Chee-chee!”

The sparrow thrashed, trying to conjure a wind blade to ward him off, but its focus was shattered by pain and gravity.

Qin Lu intercepted it fifty feet above the ground. His sword flashed once—a clean, horizontal cut fueled by his vast new reserves of spiritual energy.

Shing!

The bird’s head separated from its body. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc, painting the sky before the corpse crashed into the earth with a heavy thud.

“A nice little windfall,” Qin Lu grinned, landing beside the carcass.

He surveyed the prize with satisfaction. The wings alone were worth a small fortune to artifact refiners, and the beak was a prized catalyst for wind-attribute weapons.

He swapped his combat blade for the sturdier [Shangqing Sword] and set to work. He was efficient, stripping the valuable materials—wing bones, feathers, beak, talons, and choice cuts of meat—in under an hour. Everything went into the [Storage Bag].

“Phew.”

He stood up, stretching his back. A [Cleaning Talisman] wiped the blood and gore from his robes, leaving him fresh and presentable.

He looked up at the sky. “Time to go home.”

This time, he didn’t sing. The encounter had sobered him up. He was strong, yes, but drawing attention was still a rookie mistake.

He performed the [Breath Concealment Technique], carefully suppressing his raging aura until it mimicked the signature of a Qi Refining Level Eight cultivator.

He summoned the [Flying Cloud Paper]—a necessary prop for his disguise—and drifted toward the White Jade Market at a modest speed.

The return trip was uneventful. Qin Lu joined the queue at the market gates, his heart beating a little faster as he approached the sensory array.

The light of the formation swept over him. It registered nothing unusual.

Qin Lu suppressed a grin as he walked through the gates. The deception held.

Strolling through the bustling streets, a profound sense of relaxation washed over him. He looked at the cultivators around him—haggling merchants, hurried mercenaries, arrogant clan scions—and realized with a jolt that none of them could kill him. The constant, low-level anxiety of being prey was gone.

“I’m safe,” he thought, savoring the feeling.

But he didn’t let it go to his head. He knew the adage: There is always a sky beyond the sky.

The White Jade Market was a small pond, but it had big fish. Thirteen Foundation Establishment cultivators resided here. One was the Market Master from the Demon Slaying Sect. The other twelve were independent powerhouses, nine of whom led aggressive clans or gangs that constantly fought for resources.

It was a chaotic ecosystem, and Qin Lu had no intention of joining the food fight.

He preferred the path of the outliers. There were two other Foundation Establishment cultivators in the market who remained neutral: Gu Yue, his friend, and Kong Mengli, the enigmatic zither player on the city walls.

“Make that three,” Qin Lu thought, smiling as he walked toward his home with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Today, the White Jade Market gains another neutral party. No sects, no gangs, no drama.”

“Just me.”