Wang Ba stood before the towering mountain gate, his neck craned back as far as it would go.

Beyond the colossal stone archway, piercing through the sea of clouds, floated islands of rock crowned with magnificent palaces. They drifted in and out of the mist like celestial dreams, ethereal and majestic.

Wang Ba considered himself a man of the world, someone who had seen his share of wonders. But standing before the true face of the Eastern Sage Sect, he couldn’t stop the shock from rattling his bones.

A profound sense of insignificance washed over him. He was an ant standing at the foot of a god.

“This,” Ye Lingyu said, looking up with a rare sparkle of pride in her honest eyes, “is the true entrance to the Sect.”

Wang Ba didn’t share her pride.

How could he? To this behemoth of an organization, he was less than a cog; he was a dispensable speck of dust, a Laborer Disciple with zero sense of belonging.

Yet, as he gazed at the floating palaces that shimmered with divine light, a complex knot of emotions tightened in his chest.

If things were different… if the world were kinder… he would have loved to truly belong here.

There was an old saying: To find shade, one must lean against a big tree.

If he could truly join the Sect, he wouldn’t have to scrounge for scraps. He could cultivate in peace, protected by these ancient walls. Perhaps, in a different life, he could have earned a place in one of those floating palaces. He could have grown step by step, mastered his power, and lived a life of dignity.

But the existence of the Ascension Society and the treacherous undercurrents of the Sect shattered that fantasy.

Reality left him only one choice: stay away. The farther, the better.

Wang Ba crushed the wistful thought instantly. He adjusted his expression, lowering his head in practiced humility.

“Immortal Ye, the disciple we asked earlier mentioned that the Wind Sun Market is on Wind Sun Mountain, just to the left of the main gate. Should we proceed?”

Ye Lingyu pouted, her cheeks puffing out. “Uncle, I told you! Stop calling me ‘Immortal.’ Just use my name!”

Wang Ba glanced at her.

If the sultry Lin Yu had made such an expression, it would have been a lethal combination of innocence and seduction—a look that could topple cities.

But on Ye Lingyu? It just made her look… simple. A bit dense, even.

Wang Ba’s face remained a mask of stone. “Understood, Immortal Ye.”

“Ugh!” Ye Lingyu groaned, burying her face in her hands. She rubbed her cheeks vigorously, then dropped her hands with a sigh of defeat. “Forget it. Call me whatever you want, Uncle.”

bouncing back instantly, she hopped over the threshold of the majestic gate.

Wang Ba followed, stepping forward to cross the line—

BANG!

He slammed face-first into an invisible wall of iron. The impact rattled his brain, sending stars dancing across his vision. He staggered back, clutching his nose.

“Oops!”

Ye Lingyu slapped her forehead, sticking her tongue out. “I forgot!”

She reached out, grabbing his arm. A faint warmth passed from her skin to his, and with a gentle tug, she pulled him through the barrier as if it were mere air.

“The mountain gate is protected by a Formation,” she explained sheepishly. “Those without Spiritual Power are barred from entry unless escorted by a disciple. I… completely forgot you don’t have any Spiritual Power.”

“It’s fine. No harm done,” Wang Ba mumbled, rubbing his throbbing forehead.

“You won’t need help leaving, though. The barrier only stops entry,” she added.

Wang Ba didn’t dare complain. His only goal was to deliver this walking disaster to the market and vanish before she—or her sword—got him killed.

Speaking of the sword, he glanced nervously at the blade strapped to her back. It was dormant now, quiet as a sleeping babe.

Strange, he thought. Why did it lock onto me earlier? It felt like it wanted to drink my blood. Now we’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, and it doesn’t even twitch.

He couldn’t figure it out. He could only hope the Third-Tier weapon was just senile.

Suddenly, Ye Lingyu gasped. She pointed frantically toward a distant peak, stomping her feet in excitement.

“Look! Look! It’s Fan Ming!”

“Fan Ming?”

Wang Ba blinked, following her finger.

His eyes widened.

Far away, amidst the swirling mountain mists, a colossal purple beast stood atop a crag. It shook its body, and its tail feathers fanned out in a magnificent, iridescent display, rivaling the finest peacock.

But… it wasn’t a peacock.

If Wang Ba’s eyes weren’t deceiving him, that majestic silhouette was clearly… a chicken!

A giant, purple chicken.

The creature buried its beak into its wing feathers, preening for a moment. Then, it suddenly spread its wings wide.

They were massive, seemingly large enough to blot out the sun.

And there, hidden beneath the primary feathers of each wing, sat a giant, vertical eye.

Wang Ba looked at the eyes on the wings, and his mind reeled. A sudden, nauseating wave of dizziness hit him, as if his soul were being sucked out.

Before he could process the sensation, the purple beast flapped its wings once.

Whoosh.

It vanished. Gone. Soared away into the nothingness as if it had never existed, leaving only a sense of unreality behind.

Wang Ba stood frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“I’ve heard Master talk about it so many times,” Ye Lingyu whispered, her voice filled with awe. “They say the Eastern Sage Sect was only able to establish its roots in the State of Chen because of Fan Ming.”

“I finally saw it…”

She was practically vibrating with excitement.

Wang Ba swallowed hard, his mind still reeling from the visual impact. “That Fan Ming… why did it look so much like…”

“Like a chicken?” Ye Lingyu finished for him.

“It is a chicken,” she said matter-of-factly. “But not a normal Spirit Poultry. It is the Divine Beast of all chickens!”

She paused, tilting her head. “Although… Master says the Fan Ming in our Sect isn’t complete.”

“Incomplete?” Wang Ba asked, his curiosity piqued. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” Ye Lingyu shrugged, spreading her hands. “Master never explained that part.”

She clapped her hands, dismissing the topic. “Alright! Enough sightseeing. Let’s find the market!”

Wang Ba suppressed his questions, but he etched the name Fan Ming and the image of the purple beast deep into his memory.

Perhaps it was an occupational hazard—after raising chickens for so long, anything related to the species felt like his business.

Wind Sun Market was the only marketplace for cultivators within the Eastern Sage Sect.

It sat on the slopes of Wind Sun Mountain, acting as a buffer zone between the core Sect grounds and the outer territories. Access was strictly controlled; one had to pass through the main gate first.

Rumor had it that the market began as an illicit trading spot for disciples. Over time, the Sect realized the utility, took control, and legitimized it.

It didn’t take long for them to find it.

Despite being called a “market,” it was more of a bustling city district. Buildings were arranged in neat, orderly rows like fish scales, and the streets were paved with clean stone.

There were no guards interrogating them at the entrance, much to Wang Ba’s relief. They walked in unopposed.

However, Ye Lingyu’s attire drew immediate attention.

Her purple robes marked her as an Inner Sect disciple—a rare breed. In the Eastern Sage Sect, Inner Sect disciples were the chosen ones, the future pillars of the organization. Even here, they were a rare sight.

Feeling the weight of too many eyes, Ye Lingyu ducked into an alley and changed into a spare set of white Outer Sect robes.

The crowd lost interest instantly.

The market was packed. With the Sect’s war mobilization in full swing, disciples swarmed the streets, buying supplies and selling loot. The flow of people was a literal tide; one misstep, and they would be swept apart.

Finding the ‘Myriad Treasures Pavilion’ in this chaos would be a nightmare.

After twenty minutes of fruitless searching, Ye Lingyu stopped.

“Uncle, this is too slow. Let’s split up. You take the east side, I’ll take the west. If one of us finds the Myriad Treasures Pavilion, we wait there. If not, meet back here in an hour.”

Wang Ba opened his mouth to suggest simply asking a passerby for directions. It was the logical thing to do.

But then, his gaze drifted past her shoulder and snagged on a signboard down the street.

His heart skipped a beat.

He swallowed his suggestion. He feigned hesitation for a moment, then nodded. “Ideally… yes. That sounds faster. Be careful, Immortal Ye.”

“You too, Uncle!”

Ye Lingyu waved and skipped off into the crowd.

Wang Ba didn’t move immediately. He waited, watching her bobbing head disappear into the sea of white robes. He scanned his surroundings, ensuring no one was watching him.

Only then did he turn.

He circled through the crowd, taking a meandering route until he stood before the shop that had caught his eye.

He looked up at the four large characters painted on the weathered sign, his pulse quickening.

Thousand Talismans Shop.