Chen Ping used a hand formed of Qi to clamp the newly shaped ironwood core, holding it steady before his eyes.

The puppet engraving knife moved along the grain with surgical precision. It left behind grooves of uniform depth, their edges perfectly rounded.

One by one, the Spirit Gathering Mark and Soul Control Mark were carved into the core, nesting within each other to form a seamless energy circuit.

This was the twenty-third simplified Wood Wind Falcon core he had inscribed in the last three months.

His Success Rate had quietly climbed to thirty percent.

The table was littered with freshly completed components: pairs of wing bones etched with Flowing Wind Marks and sets of precision-carved joints. In the corner lay several assembled skeletons, their lines smooth, the empty sockets in their chests waiting for the infusion of Beast Soul Stones.

Their function was singular. They could fly clumsily and accept simple reconnaissance orders.

But they represented the most pragmatic path Chen Ping had found. He had completely abandoned the unrealistic, “all-purpose” blueprint from the Puppetry Primer—the trash manual that had caused countless explosions.

The black market at the start of the month was a chaotic mix of monsters and men.

But among the filth, there were people who knew quality.

Chen Ping, wearing a concealment mask, strolled through the stalls on the main street. He stopped at an inconspicuous spot in the corner.

The stall owner was a gaunt old man with drooping eyelids, looking perpetually half-asleep. His cultivation was at the fifth layer of Qi Condensation.

A few dusty, old Dharma Artifacts were scattered on the cloth before him.

Chen Ping didn’t speak. He reached into his robe, pulled out three completed Wood Wind Falcons, and placed them gently in the dust.

The three birds differed slightly in shape, but their skeletons all gleamed with the luster of fresh spirit wood.

The old man’s murky eyes finally shifted.

His withered fingers picked one up. He ran his thumb over the Flowing Wind Mark on the wing bone, testing the groove. Then, he flicked the torso core.

Thud.

A dull, solid sound.

“Low-grade.”

The old man’s voice was as raspy as sandpaper.

“New make? The technique is solid. You focused only on the essentials.”

He glanced up at the shadow beneath Chen Ping’s hood.

“Buyback price is thirty-eight Spirit Stones each. No haggling.”

Chen Ping nodded. The price was fair.

He took the small, bulging leather pouch the old man pushed across the table. Inside were one hundred and fourteen Spirit Stones.

“Elder,” Chen Ping said, his voice lowering to feign the confusion of a novice. “I am new to this art. I once saw a manual that described a wooden bird inscribed with Wind Blade, Sharp Metal, and Stability marks. It claimed to be an all-purpose combat puppet. I wonder… what grade would such a puppet be?”

The old man snorted.

His lips curled down in a scornful sneer, revealing yellowed teeth.

“All-purpose? Hah! That’s a game for Tier 2 Puppet Masters.”

He tossed the wooden bird back onto the table.

“You want to carve that much junk onto a Tier 1 Low-grade wooden frame? The Qi conflicts would blow your hands off. You want a bird that can attack, stabilize, and fly fast? Without High-grade or top-tier materials, give it up. That manual was probably written by some half-baked idiot to scam rookies.”

The words fell like the final piece of a puzzle.

The suspicion that had plagued Chen Ping for months was finally confirmed. His chest loosened. The mountain of Waste Residue and the frustration of countless failures didn’t sting quite as much.

It wasn’t that he was stupid. It was that the Puppetry Primer was garbage.

“Thank you for the guidance, Elder.”

Chen Ping nodded, his voice sincere.

He didn’t leave immediately. His eyes swept over the dusty items on the stall, finally landing on a thick booklet wrapped in black beast hide. The corners were worn smooth.

The cover bore faint, ancient ink characters: Hundred Varieties of Puppets.

“That one…” Chen Ping pointed.

The old man didn’t even lift his eyelids.

“Yellow Rank Mid-grade. It discusses wooden puppets. Better than the scammy trash you’ve been reading. One hundred twenty Spirit Stones.”

Chen Ping didn’t hesitate. He counted out the stones from the pouch he had just received and handed them over.

The old man swept the money away and pushed the book toward him, then slumped back into his drowsiness.

Back in his hut, Chen Ping eagerly opened Hundred Varieties of Puppets.

The pages were yellowed, the ink steady and clear.

There were no profound theories or promises of instant power. Instead, it was a practical manual. It listed step-by-step instructions for Tier 1 puppets, ranging from Low-grade to High-grade, progressing from simple to complex.

Each entry clearly defined the core function, the required inscription combination, material processing techniques, and the necessary Divine Sense strength.

Tier 1 Low-grade ‘Scout Falcon’ Function: Aerial Reconnaissance. Core Inscriptions: Spirit Gathering, Soul Control, Flowing Wind. Materials: Ironwood (10+ years), Hardwood wing spars.

Tier 1 Low-grade ‘Grasshopper Sentry’ Function: Subterranean Eavesdropping. Core Inscriptions: Spirit Gathering, Soul Control, Earth Listening, Concealment.

Chen Ping turned the pages, a sense of solidity settling in his heart.

This book was like a true master. It laid out the foundation of puppetry layer by layer, reliable and systematic. No delusions of grandeur—just the pursuit of achievable, singular functions.

This was the true entry point.

He put down the book and took a deep breath.

For the next few days, he forgot about time. He studied the lines, simulating the Qi flow in his mind. He practiced the material processing tricks—using specific vibration frequencies to soften ironwood joints, preventing cracks during assembly.

With the Hundred Varieties of Puppets as his guide, his technique soared.

He was no longer satisfied with just the Falcon.

He turned his attention to the ‘Grasshopper Sentry’.

This puppet was smaller, more delicate. In addition to the standard driving runes, it required the Earth Listening Mark and the Concealment Mark.

The difficulty was a tier higher than the Falcon.

First Attempt: While carving the Concealment Mark, his Qi wavered. A tiny splinter flaked off the groove edge. Instantly, spiderweb cracks shot through the core. Scrapped.

Chen Ping didn’t get angry. He cleaned up the debris, picked up a fresh block of ironwood, and started again.

He slowed down.

His Divine Sense merged with the tip of the knife. He felt the resistance of every wood fiber, adjusting his Qi output micro-second by micro-second.

The lines flowed like water.

An hour later.

A palm-sized wooden grasshopper sat in his hand. It was the color of withered grass, inscribed with faint, intricate patterns.

Success.

Chen Ping exhaled, a cold smile touching his lips. His puppetry skills had officially broken through to a new level.

Then, a thought struck him.

He calculated the time. Seven months had passed since he planted the Origin Nourishing ingredients in the Jade Pendant space.

Given the time acceleration of the spirit spring water… they should be ready.

Chen Ping rubbed his hands together, his heart pounding with anticipation.

He vanished into the Black Earth.