“Market analysis failure,” Old Monster Skeleton growled, his face dark as a thunderhead. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, radiating a killing intent sharp enough to cut glass. “That kid wasn’t a Qi Refining insect. Our intel was fatally flawed.”

“Based on the damage patterns,” Daoist Centipede said, examining the corpses with clinical detachment, “the target is a mid-stage Foundation Establishment asset. Furthermore, he is heavily invested in body cultivation.”

“Hmph. No wonder that old fossil Jin Jue kept him close,” Daoist Ghost Wood scoffed, clutching his severed shoulder. “He’s a premium asset. But since he dared to liquidate my personnel, his account must be closed. Permanently.”

The failure of the operation was a bitter pill to swallow. Three Golden Core executives deployed, seven mid-level managers dead, and one executive grievously injured—all for zero ROI.

“Issue a global memo to the Sect,” Ghost Wood ordered, his voice dripping with malice. “Lock down all transit routes to the Qingyun Sect. Any unauthorized personnel are to be detained immediately.”

“Furthermore,” he continued, “put a bounty on the kid’s head. Spirit Stones, techniques, pills, artifacts—offer whatever it takes. I want every freelancer and rogue cultivator in the region hunting him.”

“Understood,” Centipede nodded. Then he frowned. “Is there a risk Jin Jue might extract him on the way back?”

“Negative,” Ghost Wood said with certainty. “The High-Grade Wind Escape Talisman is a one-way ticket. Once activated, the velocity is uncontrollable. Jin Jue is already halfway across the province. He overshot the target by hundreds of miles.”

“Good point,” Centipede agreed. “I will transmit the orders immediately.”

Meanwhile, halfway across the province.

Elder Jin Jue dropped out of warp speed, the cyan light fading from around him. He hovered in mid-air, face pale, gasping for breath.

Energy reserves: <10%. The burst of power required to repel the Centipede and Skeleton, combined with activating the talisman, had nearly bankrupted his True Qi. He pulled out his Spirit Plate, hoping against hope to see a blip. Scanning... No friendly signals detected. Jin Jue sighed, looking back in the direction he came from. "Sect Master... please don't let your stock value hit zero." He oriented himself and flew toward the Qingyun Sect. Following Sun Yi’s orders was the only logical course of action. In a small, nameless valley far from the battlefield. Sun Yi sat cross-legged, surrounded by the looted inventory of seven dead cultivators. "Let's audit the assets," he muttered, dumping the contents of the storage bags onto the ground. Item 1: Capital. A pile of Spirit Stones clattered out. Mostly low-grade trash. The only decent liquidity came from the late-stage leader's bag—about a dozen mid-grade stones. Sun Yi scoffed and swept them into his inventory. His own liquidity was orders of magnitude higher. Item 2: Consumables. Standard pills and talismans. Low quality. Sun Yi stored them for recycling. Item 3: Intellectual Property. Three jade slips: Seven Fiends Art, Blood Spirit Art, and Soul Refining Art. Sun Yi’s expression darkened as he scanned the manuals. "Proprietary technology of the Black Wind Stockade... and it's disgusting." The Seven Fiends Art optimized cultivation by absorbing "Fiendish Qi." The fastest way to generate this Qi was to torture living beings to death in a specific formation. The Blood Spirit Art was similar, refining blood drained from victims. The Soul Refining Art cannibalized souls to boost mental power. "Unethical business practices," Sun Yi muttered. He considered destroying them but hesitated. "However, the underlying code—specifically the body tempering algorithms in the Seven Fiends Art—might be useful for reverse-engineering. I'll archive them for R&D." He moved to the artifacts. He picked up a small black bottle. Popping the cork, a wisp of red-tinged Fiendish Qi drifted out—the distilled suffering of mortals. Sun Yi’s eyes went cold. "Disgusting." He tossed the bottle into the air and shattered it with a flick of his finger, dispersing the foul energy. Next, he picked up a small black flag. Faces contorted in agony shifted across its fabric. Scanning... Hundreds of mortal souls detected. Status: Tormented. Sun Yi’s killing intent flared, cold and sharp. He knew the Black Wind Stockade was a hostile competitor, but this... this was a violation of basic human rights. "Black Wind Stockade. Evil Spirit Valley," Sun Yi said, his voice dropping to absolute zero. "Your corporate charter is revoked." He crushed the flag. The trapped souls poured out, their screams of pain turning into sighs of relief as they faded into the afterlife. Sun Yi watched them go, his resolve hardening. He swept the remaining loot into his ring. "Now," he thought, pulling up his mental map. "Extraction strategy." Route A: Direct flight to Qingyun Sect. Risk: High. Enemy blockades likely. Route B: ... Sun Yi’s eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to run. He was going to make them regret starting this war.