A familiar figure stood at the entrance of a shop, peering hesitantly inside.

She wore the white robes of an Eastern Sage Sect disciple. Her features were as striking as ever, though her eyes were dim and her face noticeably haggard. Yet, this weariness only enhanced her allure, lending her a fragile, pitiable beauty that stirred an instinctual desire to protect.

It was Lin Yu, one of the four surviving cultivators from Ding Ninth Manor.

During the chaotic retreat, she had been separated from Wang Ba. He had assumed she was dead, swallowed by the slaughter. To see her standing here, seemingly unharmed, was a surprise.

She survived, Wang Ba thought, clicking his tongue in amazement.

He held no particular affection for her, but having shared a brush with death, the petty grievances of the past seemed trivial. Seeing a familiar face in this new, hostile world brought a strange sense of comfort.

Cultivators possessed sharp senses. The moment Wang Ba noticed her, Lin Yu sensed his gaze.

She turned. When she saw him, her eyes instantly lit up.

She took a step toward him, her lips parting to speak.

But then, her head snapped back toward the shop interior, as if she had heard a command. A flicker of reluctance crossed her face, barely noticeable. She hesitated, cast a helpless, apologetic glance at Wang Ba, and then turned away. Taking small, cautious steps, she disappeared into the shop.

In the end, the two acquaintances did not speak.

Wang Ba watched her go without regret. He adjusted his grip on his supplies and turned toward South Lake. It was time to hunker down.

Two days later.

A group of Heavenly Gate Sect cultivators arrived at the chicken farm.

“All Outer Sect Left-Path Cultivators must be registered in the registry… You’ve already used a Spirit-Hosting Bamboo Slip? That’s for your soul. This is for your body. Come here, present your hand.”

An elderly cultivator took a small seal from his subordinate. He grabbed Wang Ba’s right hand and pressed the stamp firmly onto the back of it.

No ink was visible, but a cold sensation seeped into his skin.

“This is the Heavenly Gate Seal,” the old man said.

A cultivator standing beside him stepped forward, his voice grim. “In the future, if you encounter a patrol within the Sect, you must immediately infuse Spiritual Power to reveal this seal. If you fail to do so, you will be killed on the spot without mercy.”

Wang Ba’s expression darkened, but he obeyed. He channeled a thread of Spiritual Power into his hand. Immediately, a dark red square seal emerged on his skin, pulsing with a chaotic, gloomy light.

“Remember,” the old man added with a chuckle, “if you kill a member of our Sect or another Left-Path Cultivator while inside the Sect, this seal will alert the patrols. So… behave yourself.”

With that warning, the group turned and left.

Wang Ba rubbed the back of his hand, watching them go.

“‘Within the Sect’?” he muttered, his eyes narrowing. “So… if I kill someone outside the Sect, nobody cares?”

The implication was clear. The Heavenly Gate Seal was a leash, but it only extended to the Sect’s borders. Outside, it was a lawless void.

It was a strange system, but it fit his understanding of a Demonic Sect perfectly: Order is maintained only where it benefits the rulers. Chaos reigns everywhere else.

Wang Ba pushed the thought aside. He had no intention of leaving his farm anyway. His days were filled with a simple routine: drain the surrounding spiritual energy, feed the Rare Fowl, tend to the turtles, and sleep.

However, the very next day, three patrol cultivators descended on his farm.

“Who gave you permission to fence off this land?”

The three men radiated dangerous auras, their Spiritual Power surging. They landed with cold, aggressive expressions, clearly looking for trouble.

Wang Ba didn’t dare argue. He immediately infused Spiritual Power into his hand, flashing the Heavenly Gate Seal, while simultaneously using his connection to Yu Changchun as a shield.

“Senior Brother Yu of the Profound Puppet Path arranged this for this lowly one.”

“Senior Brother Yu?”

The three patrols exchanged glances. One of them, a gaunt, skeletal man, stepped forward. He stared intently into Wang Ba’s eyes, his pupils swirling with a strange, mesmerizing light.

“You aren’t lying to us, are you?”

At that moment, Wang Ba felt a sudden jolt deep within his consciousness.

Inside his Yin Spirit Abode, his Yin Spirit power began to spin rapidly of its own accord!

What is happening?!

He hadn’t activated any defenses, yet his soul was reacting violently.

Wang Ba suddenly recalled Yu Changchun mentioning the ‘Profound Soul Path’—specialists in manipulating souls and minds. Is this man a disciple of the Profound Soul Path? Is he using a Soul Searching technique on me?

Panic flared in his chest, but years of practicing the ‘Dao of Gou’ kicked in. Externally, he kept his face slack and his eyes slightly dazed, mimicking the effects of a trance.

“Yes… I am not lying to you,” he droned stiffly.

The three men looked at each other and nodded.

The skeletal cultivator blinked, and his eyes returned to normal. He turned to his companions, and after a brief whispered discussion, addressed Wang Ba again.

“Normally, enclosing empty land privately requires a fee of Spirit Stones. However, since Senior Brother Yu vouched for you, and this plot isn’t too large, we will waive the fee for this area.”

His tone hardened. “But if you expand further, you must pay one Low Grade Spirit Stone per mu of land, every month.”

“Yes, yes, yes! This lowly one understands!” Wang Ba nodded furiously, pretending to be grateful while secretly regretting he hadn’t fenced off more land to begin with.

Though, knowing these vultures, they probably wouldn’t have waived a larger plot anyway.

The three cultivators didn’t leave immediately. They took out several boundary stones from their Storage Bags and drove them into the ground around the farm’s perimeter, casting sealing spells on them.

Clearly, the rent rule wasn’t an idle threat. They were marking their territory.

Even barren wasteland without a Spirit Vein costs money, Wang Ba thought, watching them work. I am truly impressed by the Heavenly Gate Sect’s creativity in extortion.

A realization struck him regarding the Heavenly Gate Seal.

“They only protect people inside the Sect… probably to force weak cultivators to stay here and pay rent,” he mused. “If you leave, you die. If you stay, you pay. It’s a perfect trap. One link interlocking with another.”

Wang Ba shook his head helplessly.

Ten days later.

Wang Ba stood by the newly dug pond, his expression grim.

Below him, the water churned. The Yellow-Throated Stone Turtles, seeing their master, paddled over frantically, slapping the water like starving tigers pouncing on prey.

This batch of turtles had exceeded his expectations. Their transformation was taking longer than the Rare Fowl, yet their hunger was insatiable.

They hadn’t absorbed enough Spiritual Qi to complete their evolution into Spirit Turtles. They needed food—rich, high-energy spiritual food.

Wang Ba rubbed his temples.

Yellow-Throated Stone Turtles were omnivores. They ate grass, and they ate meat.

However, unlike the Rare Fowl, they couldn’t digest Spirit Stone powder. He couldn’t just mix dust into their feed to boost their intake. They needed Spirit Plants (which he didn’t have) or Spirit Meat.

He did have Spirit Meat. He had the Spirit Poultry.

But feeding Spirit Poultry to turtles? Even for just a few days? It was insanely extravagant.

“The cost is going to break me,” he muttered.

He suddenly appreciated the Eastern Sage Sect’s wisdom in focusing on Rare Fowl. Chickens were garbage disposals—they ate spirit bugs, failed pills, grain chaff, and fish bones. They turned waste into profit.

The Heavenly Gate Sect, however, offered no such ecosystem. He couldn’t exactly feed the chickens human bones.

“Forget it! I have no choice. I have to kill the hens to feed the turtles!”

Wang Ba gritted his teeth. He grabbed a few Spirit Poultry he had just harvested Lifespan from, slaughtered them, and tossed the carcasses into the pond.

The water boiled.

In seconds, the twenty-odd turtles tore the chickens apart. They devoured everything—meat, cartilage, and bone.

“These guys don’t even have teeth…” Wang Ba watched in horror at their bite force.

His frown deepened.

“This is unsustainable. I need to increase the chicken population massively. Otherwise, I won’t be able to meet Yu Changchun’s quota, let alone feed these gluttonous turtles when they start breeding.”

“But more chickens means more feed. I can’t scavenge enough by myself.”

Back when he was a Laborer Disciple, he had fantasized about escaping to a hidden valley and raising chickens in secret. Now, he realized how naive that was. Without a massive supply chain of resources, mass farming was impossible. And if he did succeed, the sheer scale would attract attention, ruining his low-profile lifestyle.

I need the Sect. I need a large faction to act as a parasol.

Staying in the Heavenly Gate Sect, despite the extortion, might be his best option for now.

A few days later.

The Yellow-Throated Stone Turtles finally completed their transformation.

[Current Lifespan: 99.7 Years] [Current Lifespan: 98.5 Years] [Current Lifespan: 100.4 Years]

Physically, the evolved turtles hadn’t changed much in size. However, their shells had turned a brilliant, burnished gold, giving them the appearance of living treasures. Ironically, the signature yellow throat was now less distinct against the golden body.

“Lifespan is consistently around 100 years. Compared to the 50 or 60 years of a Spirit Chicken, they are indeed long-lived.”

“But the price…”

Wang Ba did the mental math. One Yellow-Throated Spirit Turtle had consumed the equivalent of two Spirit Chickens during its evolution.

“It’s a loss.”

Two Spirit Chickens could provide about 12 years of harvestable Lifespan. More importantly, they could be sold. Based on current market prices, a male Spirit Chicken fetched two Spirit Stones.

That meant getting 10 years of Lifespan from a turtle cost him roughly four Spirit Stones in lost revenue.

Buying Spirit Poultry directly was even worse—nearly seven stones for a male. The market was rigged to buy low and sell high, exploiting the producers.

“I can’t afford to sell the chickens, and I can’t afford to feed them to the turtles.”

Wang Ba squatted on the ground and scratched a list of problems into the dirt with a stick.

Solve the cheap chicken feed problem.

Find a cheaper alternative for turtle feed.

Scale up Rare Fowl breeding.

“If I can solve these, I can accumulate Spirit Stones. Then I can buy Human Puppets to handle the manual labor, and I can move to the market district to cultivate on the Spirit Vein.”

“Cultivation is the foundation. Everything else is just a means to an end.”

Just as he finished his planning, Yu Changchun arrived with news.