“He looked. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.”

In a secluded mountain col overlooking Farmstead Ding Eighty-Seven, Yu Changchun held a shimmering water mirror in his palm, a smirk playing on his lips.

The rippling surface displayed a crystal-clear image of Wang Ba, eagerly flipping through the pages of the manual.

Beside Yu Changchun stood Old Hou.

The old man was unrecognizable. His eyes were dull and glassy, his face slack and expressionless. He stood rigid and silent, like a marionette with its strings cut.

Around them, small triangular flags were staked into the ground, forming a concealment array that blended their presence seamlessly into the surrounding rocks and trees. Even if someone walked right past them, they would see nothing but empty wilderness.

Yu Changchun chuckled to himself.

“Now that you’ve seen the technique, I don’t believe you can resist the temptation to come find me.”

He had absolute confidence in the bait he had cast. So far, every Laborer Disciple who had received the manual had eventually come crawling to him. This chicken farmer would be no exception.

“However… that fellow Li Zhi mentioned that this kid has a talent for nurturing Rare Fowl into Spirit Poultry,” Yu Changchun mused, his brow furrowing slightly. “Li Zhi even suppressed that news to keep the kid for himself. Hmm. A talent like that is valuable. I can’t simply refine away his intellect like the others. Tsk, that complicates the procedure significantly.”

Just as he was pondering the logistics, the dull eyes of Old Hou suddenly flared with an eerie light.

The old man’s jaw unhinged, and when he spoke, the voice that emerged was not his own. It was cold, mechanical, and unfamiliar.

“Is Yu Changchun present?”

Yu Changchun’s arrogance vanished instantly. He snapped into a deep bow, his posture dripping with subservience.

“This disciple is here! What instructions does the Chief Steward have?”

Old Hou’s face remained frozen, but the mechanical voice continued. “How is the progress on your end? Have there been any issues?”

“This disciple has successfully recruited over eighty laborers,” Yu Changchun reported quickly. “Just moments ago, I distributed the Upper Volume of the ‘Buried Bone Secret Technique’ to a new target as bait. I am currently monitoring him to ensure secrecy.”

He paused, hesitating for a split second before adding, “However… the various divisions are running short on laborers. If we continue to recruit aggressively, I fear it will attract unwanted attention…”

Old Hou stood stiffly in place, silent. It felt as though the consciousness possessing him was deliberating.

After a long pause, the puppet’s mouth opened again.

“You have done well. But you must maintain strict surveillance. We cannot afford a leak at this critical stage.”

“As for the shortage you mentioned… the upper echelons are already implementing a solution.”

Yu Changchun’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Is it… related to that Spiritual Spring that appeared outside recently?”

“Do not ask about things you should not know,” the voice cut him off, ice-cold and sharp.

“Yes! This disciple understands!” Yu Changchun lowered his head in terror.

The uncanny light in Old Hou’s eyes faded, and the old man slumped back into his dormant, puppet-like state.

Confirming the presence was gone, Yu Changchun straightened up. His face darkened, twisting into a sneer.

“Hmph! I call you ‘Chief Steward’ and you actually think you’re something special?”

He spat on the ground. “You’re nothing but a dog who betrayed his master to join halfway through! Once this grand undertaking is complete, we’ll see if you meet a good end!”

After venting his spleen and releasing the ‘evil fire’ of his rage, Yu Changchun turned his attention back to the water mirror.

His heart skipped a beat.

Wang Ba was gone.

Panic flared in his chest. He frantically manipulated the spell, rewinding the image until he saw Wang Ba retreating into the safety of his house.

Yu Changchun let out a long breath of relief.

“Stay put, kid,” he muttered, staring at the closed door in the reflection. “If you dare try to leave the village, don’t blame me for not giving Li Zhi face.”

…

Farmstead Ding Eighty-Seven. Inside the main house.

“It seems my guess was right. As long as I hide inside the house, Yu Changchun can’t see me.”

Wang Ba felt the spinning droplet of power in his Yin Spirit Abode finally slow to a halt. He slumped against the wall, letting out a heavy sigh.

He couldn’t afford to keep burning Yin Spirit power like that. It was too precious.

It was strange, though. Logically, he had watched the two men walk away. Yet, the drain on his Yin Spirit hadn’t decreased until he broke the line of sight.

And there was another puzzle. Yu Changchun was a Qi Refining cultivator; it made sense that he had techniques to spy on people. But why did Old Hou trigger the Yin Spirit’s detection warning as well?

Is Old Hou also a Qi Refining cultivator?

No, that’s obviously impossible.

Wang Ba couldn’t figure it out, so he pushed the question aside. He looked down at the thin booklet in his hands.

His mind drifted back to the contents he had just devoured.

The theory behind the technique was simple. Terrifyingly simple.

The Buried Bone Secret Technique.

Like the Physique Strengthening Scripture, it claimed to help mortals condense a Spirit Root. But the methodology was completely opposite.

The Physique Strengthening Scripture was a path of evolution. It used the power of time—days and months of accumulation—to gradually transform the mortal body into a vessel capable of birthing a Spirit Root.

By the tenth layer, the body would be primed, and the Spirit Root would form naturally.

The problem was the difficulty. According to Wang Ba’s estimation, reaching that stage required immense time and likely some external catalysts. For a normal mortal without a Hidden Spirit Root, it was virtually impossible to complete within a human lifespan.

That was why Deacon Li and Old Hou had said, “If you don’t succeed in three years, you never will.”

In Wang Ba’s view, the Physique Strengthening Scripture was a scam that technically wasn’t a lie. It could defy the heavens and change fate—if you had infinite time. But most people didn’t.

The Buried Bone Secret Technique, however, took a shortcut.

What is a Spirit Root?

The manual offered a profound explanation: A Spirit Root is a channel. A connector between the flesh and the Heavens.

Without a Spirit Root, a body cannot absorb Spiritual Qi. Without Spiritual Qi, one cannot nourish the self, birth Spiritual Power, or wield the forces of the universe.

So, the solution was brutal logic: If you don’t have a connector, transplant one that works.

The creator of this technique was undeniably a mad genius.

They had tried implanting everything capable of holding Qi into the human body: Spirit Stones, spirit wood, magical herbs, artifacts, talismans, pills… even the flesh, skin, and fur of Spirit Beasts.

In the end, they found the perfect medium.

Bone.

And not just any bone. There was a hierarchy of quality.

Spirit Beast bones were the lowest grade.

Cultivator bones were middle grade.

But the highest grade—the supreme material—was the bone of a mortal who possessed a Spirit Root but had not yet begun cultivation. A virgin vessel.

Furthermore, the location of the transplant mattered.

The pelvic bone was the foundation, the most critical anchor for nurturing a Spirit Root. Next were the skull and the sternum.

According to the text, replacing any bone in the body with a “Spirit Bone” would accelerate the birth of a Spirit Root. If practiced alongside the Physique Strengthening Scripture, the speed of cultivation would skyrocket.

“So… Old Hou must have implanted a bone,” Wang Ba murmured, a chill running down his spine. “That explains how he reached the ninth layer so quickly. I just don’t know which bone he replaced… or if he used a beast’s bone or a human’s.”

There was another detail that surprised him.

The scroll contained complete, detailed instructions on how to perform the surgery.

Some procedures, like replacing a finger bone, were simple enough for a mortal to perform on themselves.

But the complex ones—the pelvis, the skull—required the precision of a cultivator to survive. Attempting those alone was suicide.

And then, there was the catch.

The end of the scroll bluntly stated the technique’s fatal flaw: This method violates the Harmony of Heaven.

Even if the transplant succeeded, the user would be haunted by the residual will lingering in the foreign bone. This “rejection” would lead to mental confusion, hallucinations, and agonizing torture.

The solution to this madness?

Naturally, it was recorded in the Buried Bone Secret Technique: Lower Volume.