“Unless… what?”

Wang Ba waited, but Old Hou’s mouth clamped shut.

“Don’t stop there! You can’t just leave me hanging like that!” Wang Ba pressed, his patience snapping.

But no matter how hard he pushed, Old Hou remained as tight-lipped as a dead clam.

In fact, realizing his own resolve was crumbling under Wang Ba’s interrogation, the old man didn’t even say goodbye. He frantically waved his hand, cracked his whip, and sent the donkey cart peeling away, the wheels skidding and drifting as he fled down the mountain path.

Wang Ba stood in the dust, fuming. “That old bastard!”

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He needed to process the crumbs of information he had just been fed.

“If Old Hou and Deacon Li are telling the truth, then the Physique Strengthening Scripture is nothing more than a carrot dangled in front of a donkey. It’s a lie designed to squeeze every drop of labor out of us, giving us the false hope of defying fate.”

“Unless you have a ‘Hidden Spirit Root,’ you are nothing. You aren’t a protagonist; you’re background scenery. A leek waiting to be harvested.”

“But… Old Hou implied there was a loophole.”

Wang Ba thought back to the subtle changes in Old Hou over the past few months. He recalled the grip strength the old man had just displayed—he had almost failed to hold him back.

“Old Hou has definitely reached the Ninth Layer.”

“Delivering chicken feed doesn’t pay well, and he doesn’t have a stash of wealth to buy expensive resources like ‘Meridian-Unblocking Grass seeds’. So, drugs are out.”

“Talent? Impossible. When I first arrived, he was wheezing after lifting a few buckets. A few months later, he’s sprinting up the mountain with hundreds of pounds of feed without breaking a sweat? That’s not natural growth.”

Wang Ba’s eyes narrowed.

“There is only one possibility… The Ascension Society gave him something.”

“The method for a commoner to defy the heavens—to forge a Spirit Root—lies in the hands of this Ascension Society.”

“But why? Why go to such lengths to incite and bribe lowly Laborer Disciples? What do they gain?”

The logic didn’t add up, and without more data, speculating was useless. Wang Ba shook his head and returned to his routine.

He continued to consume Spirit Poultry, tirelessly expanding his Yin Spirit power.

Every day after that, Wang Ba made it a point to harass Old Hou, trying to pry the rest of the secret from the old gossip’s mouth.

To his surprise, the man who usually couldn’t keep a secret to save his life had transformed into a stone statue. No matter how Wang Ba prodded or teased, Old Hou refused to spill a single word.

“The Ascension Society must have terrified him,” Wang Ba mused. “Their hold on him is absolute.”

While Wang Ba played his cat-and-mouse game, the Sect’s recruitment cycle officially began.

On the day of the ceremony, Wang Ba looked up from his villa.

The sky was alive. Countless streaks of brilliant light tore through the clouds, weaving a tapestry of Qi and power. It was beautiful, majestic, and suffused with a density of Spiritual Qi that made the air hum.

Wang Ba watched with envy for a brief moment before terror seized him. He scrambled back into his hut, slamming the door and hiding in the darkest corner.

He dared not look.

If one of those high-flying figures decided to glance down on a whim—a “spiritual check”—his painstakingly accumulated Yin Spirit power could be wiped out in an instant.

Deacon Li stopped by later that afternoon.

“The Sect has issued a decree,” Li said, standing outside the closed door. “Laborer Disciples are permitted to attend the Grand Recruitment Ceremony. You can guide new disciples, carry their luggage, and perform menial tasks. The Sect will reward you for your service.”

Wang Ba didn’t even open the door.

“I have to tend to the Spirit Poultry. I can’t leave them.”

“Are you sure?” Deacon Li pressed. “This is a golden opportunity to form connections with the new Inner Sect disciples. It’s a blessing!”

“I’d love to go,” Wang Ba lied smoothly. “But these Spirit Poultry are in a critical growth phase. If I leave and something happens, I couldn’t bear the guilt. I’ll have to miss out.”

He paused, then added a dash of cynicism. “Besides, will carrying someone’s luggage help me forge a Spirit Root?”

“I… well, fair enough.” Deacon Li sighed. “I’ll find someone else.”

As the footsteps faded, Wang Ba snorted. Connections? Blessings? Unless they were handing out immortality, he wasn’t interested.

Life returned to its monotonous rhythm. The grandeur of the recruitment ceremony faded, becoming just another memory in the dust of the mountain.

The only lingering effects were the rumors Wang Ba picked up during his supply runs to the market.

“You know that handsome lad from the Ding Section?” Shopkeeper Lu leaned over the counter, eyebrows wagging. “He got picked! An Inner Sect disciple chose him as a… ‘personal attendant.'”

Lu chuckled. “Even if he never cultivates, his status has skyrocketed. One step to the heavens!”

“That Inner Sect Immortal…” Wang Ba asked, morbidly curious. “Male or female?”

“Oh, majestic! Extraordinary! A strapping man, only slightly less imposing than my boss!”

“So… a man.” Wang Ba grimaced. “Tsk, tsk.”

He felt zero envy for that particular “ascension.”

“Heh, don’t look like that. With your face, you couldn’t get that job even if you wanted it!” Shopkeeper Lu teased.

Then, his expression turned serious as he shared a juicy piece of news.

“But the real story? The Sect recruited a girl this year—sixteen years old, with a Superior-grade Spirit Root. A true genius! She alarmed the Elders so much that one personally took her as a direct disciple. Instant entry into the Inner Sect. It makes a man jealous enough to die.”

“Superior-grade Spirit Root…”

Wang Ba allowed himself a moment of longing. He would burn incense for a Low-grade root. A Superior-grade was the stuff of legends.

He shook off the daydream. “Let’s talk business. Did you get any Rare Fowl?”

Shopkeeper Lu’s face fell. “Don’t ask. A fresh batch came in, but the boss’s junior brother forced a buyout. Didn’t leave me a copper of profit.”

“Gone again?”

Wang Ba couldn’t hide his frustration.

The Avian Plague in the Ding Section was no longer a secret. It was spreading, and panic buying had set in. Someone was fanning the flames, driving prices into the stratosphere. A standard rooster now cost eight or nine fen of Spirit Stones—and that was if you could find one.

Wang Ba had come every day, but the cages were empty.

He regretted his caution. If he had risked buying more earlier, he would be sitting on a fortune—or at least enough Lifespan to break through.

But he didn’t have a crystal ball. He had missed the chance to intercept the market.

“What about the others?” Wang Ba asked desperately. “Precious Pig? Red Snow Cow? Wind Sheep? Colorful Duck?”

These animals offered similar Lifespan returns. The rearing methods were completely different—except for the Colorful Duck—but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Shopkeeper Lu shook his head. “Cleaned out. Not a live beast left in the market.”

He tapped his chin. “Wait. I do have about a thousand Tendon-Severing Nematodes left. Do you want them? I’ll package the whole lot for cheap.”

“How much for the pack?”

“Five Spirit Stones.”

“One.”

“Deal!”

Wang Ba stared at him. “…”

Is the profit margin really that flexible? I thought I was low-balling him to death!

Profiteer!

Shopkeeper Lu beamed as he cleared out his inventory of parasitic worms. As Wang Ba turned to leave, Lu grabbed his arm, his expression suddenly grave.

He looked left and right, checking for eavesdroppers.

“Brother Wang, take my advice. Stay indoors for a while. The atmosphere in the Sect… it smells wrong. Be careful.”

Wang Ba’s heart skipped a beat. “Did your backer discover something?”

Lu shook his head. “I don’t know anything specific. But I’ve been a merchant for a long time, and my nose for trouble is sharp. Something is brewing. You Laborer Disciples have no protection. Just remember: since ancient times, when turmoil strikes, it’s always the people at the bottom who die in the greatest numbers.”

Wang Ba stood silent for a moment. Then, he bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Shopkeeper.”

Back at the villa, Wang Ba fully embraced the hermit lifestyle. He sealed the gates and didn’t step a foot outside.

He ate Spirit Poultry until the taste made him want to vomit, but the results were undeniable. His Yin Spirit power had grown to ten drops.

His other major project was the worms.

Using his Lifespan system, he cultivated a “Version 2.0” of the Tendon-Severing Nematode.

[Target Lifespan: 1 Year]

Unlike the originals, which had a pathetic lifespan of 0.1 years, these upgraded parasites lived for over a year.

A test with a Spirit Light Talisman confirmed they were now First-grade Mid-tier.

Their speed was terrifying, and the pain they inflicted upon burrowing into flesh was double that of the low-tier version.

The only downside was the exchange rate. It took fifty of these mid-tier worms to grant him 1 year of Lifespan. Even if he consumed his entire stock, he would gain less than 30 years—equivalent to just five or six chickens.

Their only advantage over the Rare Fowl was breeding. They weren’t picky. As long as he had the corpse of a high-grade spirit beast to serve as a host, they would gorge themselves and lay eggs. No mood swings, no plagues.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a high-grade corpse lying around.

So, he waited.

The days passed in eerie silence. The chaos of the outside world seemed to have forgotten him.

Until one day…

His roof was torn off.