Zhou Kai enjoyed a restful night’s sleep. The euphoric hum brought by his newly upgraded top-grade Spirit Root had not yet fully dissipated; his entire body felt light, agile, and brimming with untapped potential.

Knock, knock, knock!

He rose and pulled open the door. Standing in the morning mist was Xiao Zhang, the young clerk from the Baolu Pavilion.

“Alchemist Zhou, our young lady has returned. She requests your immediate presence at the pavilion.”

“Alright. Give me a moment to prepare, and I’ll be right there.”

As Zhou Kai saw the clerk off, Chen Ziyi approached with a tray of breakfast. Her eyes searched his face. “Husband, was that the Baolu Pavilion? Has something happened?”

“Likely a shift in Wang Qiaoqiao’s circumstances. She has business to discuss.” Zhou Kai took a bite of the food and glanced toward Chen Ziqing’s room. “I’ll be back soon.”

He left it at that. Last night’s “conversation” with Ziyi had been deep enough; he trusted that a woman with 90 Affection would know exactly how to handle her sister while he was away.

“Don’t worry, husband,” Chen Ziyi said, her smile gentle and supportive.

Once Zhou Kai was gone, Chen Ziyi’s expression shifted. She picked up a plate of delicate pastries and walked straight into Ziqing’s room.

Chen Ziqing was cross-legged on her bed, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was trying to capitalize on the rare peace she’d found the previous night. Sensing her sister, she opened her eyes. “Sister? What’s wrong? You look… different.”

“Ziqing… do you remember what we said when we were little?”

“When we were little?” Ziqing tilted her head, a mask of innocent confusion. “We said so many things. Like stealing honey from the kitchen or knocking down Fatty Wang’s kite?”

“Not those,” Ziyi said, her gaze pinning her sister. “We said we would stay together forever. That even if we had to marry, we would choose the same man so we’d never be apart.”

Ziqing’s heart skipped a beat. A blush crept up her neck, and she gave her sister a playful, bashful shove. “Oh, sister! That was just girl talk! We were kids. How can you take it seriously? It’s embarrassing! Besides… brother-in-law… his health is so poor…”

“Were they just silly words?” Ziyi’s voice dropped, becoming heavy with intent. “I’ve always held them in my heart. I thought it was a dream, but now…”

“Now what? Sister, you’re being very direct today.” Ziqing felt the walls closing in; her sister’s usual softness had been replaced by a sharp clarity.

“Ziqing, look at me. Our husband is not the man the Chen family thinks he is. He isn’t the man you think he is.”

Ziyi leaned in, her voice a low whisper. “His dantian is fully recovered. His wounds are gone. And…” she paused for maximum impact, “he is a second-grade alchemist!”

“What?!” Ziqing bolted upright. The “fragile little sister” act vanished instantly, replaced by wide-eyed shock.

“It’s true. When he sent me to the Baolu Pavilion, Wang Qiaoqiao herself gave me spirit pills as a gift the moment she heard they were for him. Why would a woman like her do that for a waste? Why did he insist on leaving the Chen family? He’s been playing them, Ziqing. He’s been hiding his true power the whole time.”

Ziyi watched the gears turning in her sister’s head. “He’s been getting close to Miss Wang. You know her—she’s a predator. If we don’t bind ourselves to him now, as sisters… there won’t be a place for us to even speak in this house soon.”

Ziqing’s mind raced with greedy possibilities. A second-grade alchemist! That meant a mountain of Spirit Stones, a buffet of pills, and a cultivation speed that laughed at low-grade Spirit Roots. It meant a real chance at Foundation Establishment.

This wasn’t the dying dog of a brother-in-law she’d pitied; this was a soaring dragon. Her sister was right—if a high-status woman like Wang Qiaoqiao crawled into his bed, two “concubines” from a minor branch would be tossed aside like trash.

“Sister… have you known all along?”

“I’ve always known. He trusts me.”

Ziqing bit her lip. She knew her sister was manipulating her, using Miss Wang as a boogeyman to force an alliance. But Ziqing saw the logic. Marrying a rising alchemist in his prime was the best deal she would ever get. Doing it with her sister? That was the ultimate hook to keep a man’s interest.

Her expression shifted. The shock died down into a look of “belated realization” and vulnerable dependence. She reached out and plucked at Ziyi’s sleeve.

“I didn’t know… I didn’t know he was so… magnificent.”

“Sister… if it means we stay together… I’ll do whatever you say.”

Ziyi smiled. She knew the act when she saw it, but as long as the sister was on the team, the performance didn’t matter.

In the quiet room of the Baolu Pavilion, Zhou Kai found a very different Wang Qiaoqiao.

She looked haggard. The vibrant, flirtatious energy was gone, replaced by dark circles and a brittle, defensive posture.

“Miss Qiaoqiao, my condolences.” Zhou Kai sat down, forgoing empty platitudes. In the cultivation world, death was the only constant.

“I imagine you know my father is gone.”

Zhou Kai nodded, waiting for the pitch.

“The family has made their move,” she said, her voice trembling slightly before she steadied it. “I’ve been stripped of my authority at the pavilion.”

Zhou Kai raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent.

“But,” she said, her eyes flashing with a desperate light, “my father wasn’t a fool. He left me a private hoard. Secret channels, suppliers, and buyers that only I know. I can still get you herbs. I can still sell your pills without the Chens or the Wangs ever knowing your name. And I, Wang Qiaoqiao… will take zero commission.”

“Aside from the cost of materials, every stone is yours.”

Zhou Kai’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a losing deal for you. What are the strings, Fellow Daoist?”

Wang Qiaoqiao locked eyes with him. “I need you to refine a Foundation Establishment Pill… within one year.”

The demand was staggering. Zhou Kai let out a low whistle, then smirked. He reached into his robe and placed a jade bottle on the table. He popped the stopper, and a pure, overwhelming medicinal fragrance filled the room.

Ten perfect, shimmering Spirit Gathering Pills rolled out.

“Top-grade…” Wang Qiaoqiao gasped. Her family’s best alchemists were lucky to see one of these a month. He had produced ten.

“I produce six per batch. I sold the mid-grades to you and kept these for myself,” Zhou Kai said casually. “The refining isn’t the problem. But ‘clever housewives cannot cook without rice,’ Fellow Daoist.”

He pushed the bottle toward her. “Purple Monkey Flower, White Dew Grass, Meridian Condensing Fruit… these aren’t just herbs; they’re strategic assets guarded by sects. If your father were here, maybe. But now?”

The weight of the situation crushed the air out of the room. Wang Qiaoqiao knew he was right. The quota for such pills was blood-soaked and rare. Without her father, she was just prey for her uncles.

“I understand your struggle,” Zhou Kai said softly. “You provide the materials, I refine, you sell. It’s fair.”

Wang Qiaoqiao leaned in, her voice a desperate whisper. “The main ingredients are hard to find, but the formula… it’s about Spirit Qi compression and meridian protection. I believe you can find a workaround.”

She gritted her teeth. “If you agree, I am willing to compensate you… by any means necessary.”

Zhou Kai noted the fire in her eyes but kept his cool. “One year is a strange deadline, Miss Wang. Why the rush?”

Her face paled. A look of raw panic and fury crossed her features.

“Because,” she rasped, “the elders in my clan intend to marry me off to Chen Xingze.”

“And they aren’t even making me his wife. They’re selling me as a Concubine.”