Chapter Five: Are You Treating Me Like a Beggar?

Yu Chuan’s senses extended throughout the woodshed and several yards beyond. If anything stirred, he would notice immediately. Without this vigilance, he could not settle into his cultivation.

He waited a long while, finding nothing amiss, then reached into his robes for his storage pouch. From it, he drew a bottle of Foundation Pill. A flicker of heat flashed across his eyes. The Foundation Pill’s reputation was legendary—he’d heard of it even as a child. Compared to the Marrow Cleansing Pill, this was a medicine of untold potency. Even the young acolytes at the county yamen would fight tooth and nail to obtain one.

It was said to give acolytes a chance to become disciples, to remake their spiritual root and lay a new foundation. Most acolytes never laid hands on one, meaning their cultivation would likely stall forever at the first stage of Qi Condensation.

He swallowed a Foundation Pill and silently began cycling the first-layer formula of the Qi Condensation Scripture, following the annotated instructions. Soon a scalding heat welled in his belly, spreading through his body with the flow of his spiritual power. At first, he endured it, but as the heat grew more intense, his belly seemed to boil, pain doubling him over.

So this is what it means to rebuild one’s foundation?

Yu Chuan grit his teeth, refusing to relent, pressing on with the first-layer incantation. Finally, the heat faded, and he found his cultivation much deeper than before. His strength was on a different level entirely, and his body felt leaner and more robust.

Since he meant to cultivate, he would forge his foundation to perfection—it was not yet time to break through to the second layer of Qi Condensation. Still, he studied the formula for the second layer, laying groundwork for his eventual breakthrough.

Soon, the Foundation Pill’s medicinal power was completely refined. Yu Chuan grinned, exhaling a long, turbid breath. He had no intention of advancing hastily before perfecting the first layer. The scripture made it clear: the Qi Condensation stage laid the groundwork for all future realms. Only with a solid foundation could one reach further heights. Otherwise, a weak base would become a shackle, forever limiting one’s progress.

He was about to swallow a second Foundation Pill when his eyes snapped up toward the window. The white oiled paper covering it showed nothing unusual. But in his senses, two figures were creeping toward the woodshed.

He understood at once—this place was a front for black deeds!

Wuyang County was hardly a peaceful place. Many young people who came here for trials ended up sold as slaves to local families, or degraded to playthings. His own Yu clan owned several large mines, staffed with slaves of mysterious origin. As long as one greased the right palms, the authorities turned a blind eye.

At this thought, Yu Chuan felt no fear—only anger. If even the inn harbored such filthy business, what kind of world was this? It was a living hell.

He sprang to his feet, donned his ghastly mask, gripped his dagger, stowed the storage pouch in his robe, and leapt onto the roof beam. Wasting his precious cultivation time infuriated him, but these two would have to pay dearly for it.

Soon, a faint haze crept into the room—a soporific smoke. Yu Chuan took care not to inhale any. Even holding his breath for an hour would not trouble him. Cultivators with spiritual power were worlds apart from ordinary mortals.

A thin board slid under the door, nudging aside the wooden bar that kept it closed. Clearly, these men were no strangers to such work.

The door creaked open. Two shadows rolled into the darkness. But when they pulled out hemp rope to tie him up, they grasped only empty air.

The two stiffened, ready to flee. But Yu Chuan, at some point, now stood at the door, dagger in hand, closing it behind them. “Since you’ve come, don’t even think of leaving.”

The pair assumed fighting stances, but in Yu Chuan’s eyes, they looked like two ridiculous rats about to cross arms and scrabble at each other.

One drew a short blade and lunged at Yu Chuan.

A flash of cold light, a spray of blood. Half an arm and a head thudded to the floor, the black scarf for a mask still tied around the severed head.

The remaining man, seeing this, realized he’d run into a deadly foe. His legs gave out and he collapsed before Yu Chuan.

“Spare me, master! We had no choice…”

Yu Chuan laughed coldly. “Nonsense. Do you even know what happens to those you kidnap? Tell me you don’t, and I’ll send you on your way.”

The man knocked his head to the ground frantically. “They… they’re sold!”

“Where?”

“Blackwind Stronghold—they have an iron mine. All of them are sent to work there.”

As Yu Chuan interrogated him, a sudden explosion sounded behind him! Blood, entrails, and flesh splattered everywhere, some landing on Yu Chuan, while the man before him was drenched head to toe.

Bottles rolled across the floor, shimmering with an aura of treasure.

Yu Chuan wasted no more words, dagger in hand, advancing on the man.

“Please, master, don’t—don’t kill me! I don’t want to die! No—”

The plea ended abruptly. Yu Chuan wiped his dagger on the man’s clothes, pulled away the mask, and saw it was the innkeeper from earlier that day—a cowardly rat, capable only of petty evil.

He sheathed his dagger and gathered the spoils: a bottle of Foundation Pill, two bottles of Bone Tempering Pill, three bottles of Marrow Cleansing Pill, and a short-handled iron hammer.

This was no place to linger. He had to leave quickly.

After packing up his loot, Yu Chuan, still masked, slipped out the door, vaulted to the second floor, and moved like a phantom onto the rooftop. With a few silent leaps, he vanished into the night.

This rotten Wuyang County was a perilous place—he would have to be careful.

Soon he reached a bustling night market, removed his mask, and changed his clothes. Wandering about, he found a group of scrawny beggars.

“I’ll pay you to catch some rats for me. I’ll buy them with silver.”

The head beggar nodded eagerly. “No problem, young master. Catching rats? That’s our specialty! If you want every rat in this county, we’ll get them for you!”

Yu Chuan waved his hand. “I don’t need that many. Just enough for my purposes.”

He wondered why all the items he acquired were things only cultivators could use—medicines and treasures. In the mundane world, aside from the mask, he had nothing of value. Perhaps even that mask was no ordinary object—he simply hadn’t discovered its qualities yet.

Not long after, the beggars brought a bulging sack, squirming with movement.

“Young master, here are your rats. Take a look!”

Yu Chuan hefted the sack. “Good—this should suffice.”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a handful of silver shards.

The head beggar’s smile vanished. “That’s all? Are you trying to cheat beggars?”