The Myriad Beast Department was vast, its seven divisions—Jia, Yi, Bing, Ding, Wu, Ji, and Geng—sprawling across the entire periphery of the Eastern Sage Sect.

Countless desolate hills were dotted with manors belonging to these seven sections. Some raised Precious Pigs, others tended to cattle, sheep, ducks, geese, or even Spirit Insects.

However, the largest in scale was undoubtedly the Ding Section, home to the Rare Fowl breeders.

Compared to the massive food requirements and demanding care needed for cattle, sheep, and pigs, the return on investment for Rare Fowl left other species in the dust.

Most crucially, even an ordinary person could raise Rare Fowl with relative competence.

Colorful Ducks and Jade Geese had voracious appetites and aggressive temperaments; a mortal without cultivation could hardly suppress them. Even the breeding issues that chicken farmers often complained about were trivial compared to the difficulties of breeding other Spirit Beasts. Only insect reproduction was easier, requiring less mental effort.

Consequently, nearly seventy percent of the manors in the Myriad Beast Department raised Rare Fowl.

This concentration, however, meant that when the plague ran rampant through the Sect, the Ding Section suffered the most catastrophic losses.

Song Lun of Manor Ding-16 was the perfect tragic example of these dramatic rises and falls.

Some time ago, a large number of Rare Fowl in his manor had been poached by an Elder’s Spirit Beast. Out of respect for the Head Chamber Elder of the Myriad Beast Department, the offending Elder had bestowed one hundred Spirit Stones as compensation.

Amidst the envy of his peers, Song Lun had waved his hand grandly, purchasing over two hundred Rare Fowl and pocketing a dozen Spirit Stones as pure profit.

For a time, he was unrivaled in prominence.

Counting his original stock, his manor housed nearly five hundred Rare Fowl. With such a flock, he no longer worried about the monthly tribute. He could even sell the surplus, saving a few Spirit Stones every month.

His life was visibly improving day by day.

But he never expected that before he could fully enjoy his good fortune, the sky would come crashing down.

A manor near Ding-16 suddenly reported cases of the Avian Plague.

Song Lun’s heart sank immediately. He moved quickly, severing all contact with that neighbor. He even forbade the Laborer Disciples delivering feed from entering his gates.

He maintained this strict quarantine for two months. Just when he thought he had been lucky enough to escape the wave of death, horror struck.

He discovered a single chicken in his coop, eyes drooping, standing limp and listless.

Although he swiftly culled the sick bird, the Avian Plague spread like ink dripping into clear water—rapid, dark, and unstoppable.

The second bird, the third…

Song Lun rose early and slept late, exhausting every remedy he knew. He became haggard, his eyes bloodshot, pacing his manor more like a trapped beast than a man.

Yet the spread remained merciless.

Soon, not a single healthy Rare Fowl was left in the entire manor.

They all lay prone, sickly and dying. At a glance, the coop looked like a field of small, feathered grave mounds. The sight made his heart bleed.

Although mass death hadn’t occurred yet, it was only a matter of time.

Perhaps tonight. Perhaps tomorrow morning…

The thought brought a wave of overwhelming grief. Song Lun couldn’t sleep. Holding a lamp, he wandered through the manor, inspecting each bird, desperately hoping to find one that could still be saved.

He walked a full circle. Not one had any spirit left.

“It’s over! It’s all over!”

Song Lun collapsed onto the ground, his face a mask of despair.

His once-splendid robes were stained with watery chicken droppings. His temples, which had only shown a few grey hairs before, were now almost entirely white. Compared to his former spirited self, he looked like a broken stranger.

This was the scene that greeted Wang Ba when he walked into the manor.

Song Lun was so consumed by grief that he didn’t even notice the intruder. It wasn’t until he caught sight of the white Daoist robe—the mark of a formal disciple—that he scrambled to his feet in terror.

“E-Exalted Immortal!”

Song Lun stammered, his mind dazed.

Why is an Exalted Immortal here at this hour?

Is he here to punish me?!

Fear seized him, and he babbled incoherently, “Exalted Immortal, I… I… it’s not my fault! It’s the Avian Plague! My chickens are all dying…”

Wang Ba’s heart was pounding just as hard beneath his disguise.

By nature, he preferred to stay low and invisible. Impersonating a formal Sect Disciple using his Yin Spirit power was a capital offense. If he had any other choice, he wouldn’t be taking such a insane risk.

But he had no choice left.

Gritting his teeth and frantically steadying his mind, he forced his face into a mask of cold indifference.

“I want all these sick chickens,” Wang Ba said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I won’t take them for nothing. This is for you.”

He played the role of the aloof, superior cultivator to perfection.

With a wave of his hand, he tossed down two healthy Spirit Poultry he had kept hidden using his Yin Spirit power.

Seeing two Spirit Poultry appear out of thin air, Song Lun’s doubts vanished instantly. Only a true cultivator could do such a thing. Although he was puzzled why anyone would want plagued chickens, the moment he realized the two Spirit Poultry were payment, he froze.

Then, a surge of ecstasy washed over him!

Two Spirit Poultry!

If he offered these to the Sect, it could exempt him from nearly two years of tribute! Even with Ding-16’s high quota, it would buy him a massive amount of time.

The pressure crushing his chest vanished instantly. His withered heart began to beat with hope again.

“But… Exalted Immortal, these are all sick chickens. They won’t live long…” Song Lun hesitated, his fear of the Sect forcing him to offer a cautious reminder.

He didn’t want to ruin the deal, but he didn’t dare deceive a disciple. Offending a formal disciple was far worse than missing a tribute quota.

“No need for words,” the ‘Sect Disciple’ said coldly.

“Yes! Yes!”

Song Lun breathed a sigh of relief. I warned him. He told me to shut up. It’s not on me anymore.

He hurriedly turned to find some rope to bind the sick birds.

“Stop,” the disciple commanded. “Get out. Do not enter until I call you.”

“Yes! Understood!”

Although he didn’t know what the Exalted Immortal intended to do, a Sect Disciple’s word was like an imperial decree. Song Lun didn’t dare disobey. He bowed deeply and retreated, clutching the two Spirit Poultry tightly to his chest as if afraid they might vanish.

Once Song Lun was gone, Wang Ba let out a long breath.

He sensed the Yin Spirit power swirling around him and relaxed the illusion slightly to conserve energy.

Then, he began his work. The schedule was tight.

He moved through the coop, touching each Rare Fowl one by one.

[Current Lifespan +2.1 Years] [Current Lifespan +1.8 Years] [Current Lifespan…]

Fortunately, the birds were too sick to move, allowing Wang Ba to harvest them efficiently.

Even so, by the time he finished draining over four hundred chickens, the moon hung high in the midnight sky.

Looking at the field of dying Rare Fowl, a flicker of heartache passed through Wang Ba’s eyes.

If I had the time to cure them and let them evolve first… how much lifespan could I have harvested?

Unfortunately, he had no time for cultivation or breeding. He had to resort to killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.

Of course, without the Avian Plague, he never could have bought so many Rare Fowl for the price of two Spirit Poultry. No sane breeder would sell such a quantity otherwise.

To him, the fact that they were sick made no difference. The lifespan was real.

Finished with Ding-16, he immediately moved to another nearby manor that had been hit by the plague.

This manor was lower in rank, with a smaller flock of only two hundred and forty birds. Wang Ba bought the entire lot for fifteen Spirit Stones. The owner wept with joy at the unexpected bailout.

Wang Ba repeated the process, touching each bird in the darkness.

By the time he finished, the horizon was turning the pale white of a fish’s belly. Dawn was breaking.

The night’s hard labor had not been in vain.

His stored Lifespan had skyrocketed to approximately 1,810 years.

Despite holding such an immense amount of time within him, he felt no physical change aside from boundless energy.

He didn’t consume the lifespan immediately. Instead, he quietly slipped back into his own manor and locked the door before opening his interface.

[Current Lifespan -576 Years]

Physique Strengthening Scripture: Seventh Layer—Completed!

[Current Lifespan -1,152 Years]

Physique Strengthening Scripture: Eighth Layer—Completed!