“Seventh Uncle, Brother Wang is here to see you.”

Wang Ba’s arrival seemed to send a ripple of unease through the entire courtyard. As he passed, he noticed windows in the surrounding rooms being eased open just a crack. Behind those slivers of darkness, he could feel eyes watching him—gazes heavy with tension and fear.

He suppressed a sigh.

It was hard to believe that this destitute compound housed a family that had once produced a distinguished disciple of the Outer Sect.

A member of the Lu clan led Wang Ba into the second courtyard, guiding him toward a cramped side room.

The moment the door opened, a thick, choking stench of medicinal herbs assaulted his nose.

Wang Ba looked toward the bed. An old man lay there, eyes closed, his body so emaciated that he looked like a skeleton wrapped in parchment-thin skin.

Wang Ba struggled to reconcile this withered figure with the image in his memory—Shopkeeper Lu of the West Garden Market, a man who had been witty, refined, and always in control of the situation.

How could someone deteriorate so drastically in just over a month?

Confused, Wang Ba glanced at the Lu family member beside him.

The middle-aged man looked haggard, his eyes brimming with a deep, suppressed sorrow.

“After Second Uncle from the main branch passed away,” the man whispered hoarsely, “Fifth Uncle and Sixth Uncle couldn’t bear the blow and collapsed from illness. Seventh Uncle tried to hold everything together… but a few days ago, an old rival of Second Uncle came looking for trouble. The man didn’t use lethal force, but Seventh Uncle is only a mortal. How could his body withstand the shock…”

As he spoke, the rims of his eyes turned red.

Clearly, the catastrophic fall from grace over the last month had shattered his mental defenses.

Wang Ba remained silent, his expression somber.

On the sickbed, Shopkeeper Lu seemed to sense the disturbance. His eyelids fluttered open, heavy and slow. He struggled to focus, trying to match the silhouette before him with the faces in his memory.

After a long moment, a flicker of surprise and complex emotion crossed his gaunt features.

“Brother… Brother Wang… it is actually you?”

The short sentence seemed to drain him of all energy.

He struggled to sit up. The middle-aged man rushed forward to support him, and Wang Ba stepped in as well, reaching out to steady the old man’s arm.

The limb felt terrifyingly light, like a dried hollow reed. It felt as if there was nothing substantial beneath the sleeve.

Yet, Shopkeeper Lu’s hand suddenly clamped onto Wang Ba’s wrist.

His expression was one of genuine emotion. “That you would come… I never expected this. Truly.”

Feeling the faint tremor in the hand that gripped him like a withered chicken claw, Wang Ba forced a warm smile.

“Shopkeeper, I’m one of your regulars. Since you aren’t at the shop, it’s only natural I’d come to pay my respects.”

“True, true… What a pity…” The old man wheezed, a sad smile touching his lips. “I failed to acquire the Rare Fowl you entrusted me with…”

Supported by the pillows, Shopkeeper Lu sat up straighter. The conversation seemed to inject a spark of life back into him.

“It matters not,” Wang Ba comforted him effortlessly. “I will still come to you for business in the future.”

“Then I must… properly entertain… my guest,” Lu joked weakly.

The two men exchanged a smile, a brief moment of warmth in the gloomy room.

It was only then that Shopkeeper Lu noticed the bamboo basket at Wang Ba’s feet. He looked at it with confusion.

“This is…?”

“I’m a chicken farmer,” Wang Ba said with a grin. “If I’m not here to sell stock, why else would I be pestering you?”

“Selling chickens?”

Shopkeeper Lu paused, taken aback.

Before he could respond, the middle-aged man beside him frowned, looking troubled. “Brother Wang… we have already transferred ownership of the shop. We are no longer—”

“Silence!” Shopkeeper Lu glared at him, cutting him off with surprising sharpness. “Even if the shop is gone… cough… we rose from nothing as merchants. We must never forget our roots!”

He turned back to Wang Ba, his face filled with apology. “Brother Wang, coming to me to sell your wares… that is you giving me face. I appreciate it. However, the family is in dire straits, and with the market price of Rare Fowl skyrocketing, I fear I cannot offer you a fair price…”

“It’s fine,” Wang Ba waved his hand dismissively. “A hundred taels of silver will do. Or ten Spirit Stones.”

“Ten Spirit Stones?!”

The middle-aged man nearly yelped in shock.

What kind of golden-gilded Rare Fowl was worth ten Spirit Stones? Was this man here to kick them while they were down? Was this extortion?

Shopkeeper Lu, however, did not think so. He simply found it odd. After a moment of contemplation, he turned to his nephew.

“Anwu, go… go and fetch half a Spirit Stone.”

He looked back at Wang Ba, his eyes dimming slightly. “Brother Wang, half a Spirit Stone likely cannot even buy a male Rare Fowl in this market, but… it is truly the limit of what the family can mobilize right now.”

There was a profound sadness in his voice.

Once, he had handled transactions worth dozens, even hundreds of Spirit Stones daily without blinking. Now, scraping together half a stone left him strapped for cash. The humiliation was palpable.

“Seventh Uncle…” Lu Anwu looked pained. “That stone… it’s for…”

“Cough… Are my words wind to you now?” Shopkeeper Lu glared.

Although Lu Anwu clearly struggled with the order, he carefully propped the old man against the headboard and turned to leave.

Moments later, he returned, holding a small fragment of a Spirit Stone—roughly equivalent to five fen—and presented it to Wang Ba.

Wang Ba accepted it calmly.

Lu Anwu’s face showed his displeasure, but he held his tongue. That is, until Wang Ba lifted the lid of the bamboo basket.

Lu Anwu peered inside and couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping his throat.

“This… This is Spirit Poultry!”

Shopkeeper Lu froze. He turned his gaze toward the open basket.

Inside sat a magnificent rooster. Its physique was robust, its feathers glossed with vitality, and its eyes darted around with an intelligence and vigor that far surpassed a standard Rare Fowl.

“This… Brother Wang, this is too much!”

Lu Shopkeeper immediately understood.

Wang Ba wasn’t here to extort them. He had named a high price as a joke, only to accept a pittance to preserve Lu’s dignity. He was effectively gifting them a treasure.

“Shopkeeper, say no more,” Wang Ba smiled, closing the lid. “Consider this a deposit. If you get your hands on more Rare Fowl in the future, just remember to save them for me.”

Lu Anwu couldn’t help but interject, his voice trembling with hope. “Seventh Uncle… with this Spirit Poultry, we can afford the medicine. Fifth Uncle and Sixth Uncle… they can be saved.”

Shopkeeper Lu, who had been ready to refuse the charity, fell silent.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly. “Anwu, go check on your Fifth and Sixth Uncles.”

Although confused as to why his uncle was sending him away at such a moment, Lu Anwu obeyed and left the room.

The air in the room grew heavy, the smell of medicine seeming to thicken. It was just the two of them now.

Shopkeeper Lu lowered his voice to a whisper. “Brother Wang, trouble yourself to check outside. Is anyone listening?”

Wang Ba felt a prickle of curiosity. He walked to the door, scanned the surroundings carefully, and then turned back to the old man, shaking his head.

Shopkeeper Lu let out a long, shaky breath. He motioned for Wang Ba to come closer.

“Come here.”

Wang Ba leaned in, bringing his ear close to the old man’s lips.

Shopkeeper Lu uttered only a single word, forcing it out with urgency:

“Go!”

…

Wang Ba walked through the filth-strewn paths of South Lake Village, his mind churning.

The stench of waste and poverty surrounded him, but he barely noticed it. Shopkeeper Lu’s warning echoed in his ears.

Go?

A great upheaval is about to shake the Sect?

Shopkeeper Lu clearly knew something. But the fear in his eyes told Wang Ba that he dared not speak the details. He had only offered one solution: leave the Sect.

What kind of catastrophe makes a man that terrified? Wang Ba mused, frowning. And what kind of upheaval would ripple down far enough to affect a lowly Laborer Disciple like me?

More puzzling was the Lu family’s behavior. If they knew a storm was coming, why huddle here in the slums of South Lake Village? Why not flee?

Are they planning a desperate gamble? Or is there a reason they cannot leave?

Doubts swirled in Wang Ba’s mind.

He had come today purely out of sentiment. Shopkeeper Lu had guided him in the past, and Wang Ba, adhering to his own code, felt the need to repay that kindness. Helping them with the Spirit Poultry was his way of balancing the karmic scales—he had done his utmost and satisfied his conscience.

He hadn’t expected to receive such a dire warning in return.

He didn’t doubt the old man. Lu had no reason to lie to him.

But deep down, Wang Ba did not want to leave the Sect.

It wasn’t out of loyalty. As a Laborer Disciple, the Sect was nothing more than an exploitative landlord. He had no love for the place.

But it was safe.

Despite the risk of exposure, the Sect offered a controlled environment. As long as he kept his head down, followed the rules, and didn’t court death, he could live comfortably.

More importantly, the Sect was a hub of resources. Even with inflation, he could access Rare Fowl and other cultivation supplies that were virtually impossible to find in the mortal world.

Outside the Sect? For a mortal with no backing, gathering resources was a nightmare.

If he went to a rogue cultivator market, carrying a Spirit Poultry would be like walking into a wolf den with a steak tied to his neck. He’d be torn apart before he could even haggle. Even with the power of his Yin Spirit to mask his aura, the risk was astronomical.

And then there was the shadow of the past.

There was a distinct possibility that a group of ruthless individuals was hunting for the Yin Spirit Great Dream Scripture. They had stalked Old Man Sun for fifty years. If that group still existed, and if he stepped out into the unprotected world…

No.

In Wang Ba’s view, the ‘Dao of Gou’—turtling up and developing discreetly within the Sect—was the optimal survival strategy.

However…

Shopkeeper Lu’s terror had been genuine. It planted a seed of doubt in Wang Ba’s calculated pragmatism.

Go, or stay?

It was a problem.

He passed the boundary of South Lake Village, finally leaving the cloying stench behind.

Ahead, the South Lake Market came into view, with its lush greenery and the azure waters of the lake shimmering in the distance. The sight usually calmed him, but today, his heart remained heavy.

Just as he relaxed slightly, a voice cut through the air behind him.

Cold. Stern. Commanding.

“You there. Are you called Wang Ba?”