The village of Tianjia was ethereal and tranquil in the early morning.
Wen Shuangbai crouched outside the chicken pen, chewing on a fasting pill while inspecting the Mystic Heaven Mirror.
After entering the Sacred Tower, the mirror had lost its original communication function, now only displaying the seven major sects with some basic information.
[Qingling Mountain]
[Members: Six]
[Sacred Stones: Six]
Before bed last night, Wen Shuangbai had checked—the Sacred Stone count had been zero. But upon waking, it had jumped to six.
This Sacred Tower was surprisingly generous, paying out daily wages!
Pleased with herself, Wen Shuangbai skimmed over the other six sects.
Since it was only the first day, apart from the Qian Yuan Sect, which was down to three members, the other sects were still at full strength.
As for their Sacred Stone counts, Wen Shuangbai couldn’t see those.
The Mystic Heaven Competition determined rankings based on Sacred Stones. To secure a good position, they needed to keep their count high. But since the mirror didn’t reveal other sects’ numbers, the challenge was subtly amplified.
Not that it mattered—the more they collected, the better. More stones meant more money to exchange later.
Earlier, passing by the pigpen, she’d heard the three Qian Yuan Sect members wailing in despair—their piglets were badly injured, and one had even died.
With the Qian Yuan Sect at the bottom, Qingling Mountain was guaranteed not to be eliminated this round. All they had to do now was play it safe and reap the rewards.
Tucking the mirror away, Wen Shuangbai turned to Shen Hefeng, who was divining the day’s fortune. "Well?"
Shen Hefeng turned to her, his expression mournful. "It’s over. I think my turtle shell is broken…"
Wen Shuangbai: "?"
She leaned in for a look. The shell was covered in a mess of tangled black lines.
Shen Hefeng shot a venomous glare at Lu Jiayao, who was busy watching Xie Ziyin flip through the chicks’ yellow fluff for health checks. "It’s all Lu Jiayao’s fault! Yesterday, he insisted I divine what Yu Xiaoxiao and Yu Xiaoli talked about!"
Wen Shuangbai took the shell for inspection, unimpressed. "You actually did it for him?"
Shen Hefeng clutched his head in regret. "I did! I was curious if my shell could even answer that. But it just gave me a bunch of lines, and now it’s doing the same. It’s ruined…"
As an artifact cultivator, Wen Shuangbai found nothing wrong with the shell.
Last night’s lines, she figured, were just the shell’s way of refusing to answer.
As for today’s scribbles, she studied them for a moment before grinning.
"These look like stones," she declared, tossing the shell back to Shen Hefeng. "Definitely Sacred Stones. We’re in for a lucky day!"
Whether they were or not, she’d make sure they were.
Shen Hefeng: "???"
Not far away, Xie Ziyin finished the chicks’ checkup and headed toward the two crouching by the gate.
Wen Shuangbai glanced at the sky. In the village, daytime passed unnaturally fast—today even quicker than yesterday.
By the time Xie Ziyin had finished his examinations, the sun was already high, nearing noon.
She stood up, rallying her two protectors with renewed vigor. "Let’s go. Time to get rich."
She had a hunch about a certain spot where Sacred Stones might just drop.
---
The pavilion south of Tianjia Village.
Shen Hefeng carefully tucked every strand of hair under his Taoist hat, cleared his throat, and stepped inside to keep the appointment.
Wen Shuangbai and Xie Ziyin lurked nearby, watching from the bushes.
Last night, they’d exchanged intel. According to Shen Hefeng, the tallest woman in the pavilion had a son who once attended Qingling Mountain’s disciple recruitment.
Qingling Mountain had been founded five hundred years ago, uniting all surviving sects in Qingzhou after the Mystic Heaven Cataclysm.
Technically, wasn’t that woman’s son their senior brother?
Wen Shuangbai had no ulterior motives—she just wanted to know where their senior brother lived. Maybe pay a visit.
The midday sun was scorching. While cultivating the Yaoling Heart Technique, Wen Shuangbai kept an eye on the pavilion through the shrubbery.
Beside her, her fellow transmigrator was unusually quiet.
Since waking, he’d barely spoken, his face expressionless, as if someone owed him eight million.
Wen Shuangbai: "What’s wrong with you?"
Xie Ziyin: "Didn’t sleep well."
Wen Shuangbai couldn’t fathom it. "You had a Golden Silk Mat last night! How could you not sleep well?"
Xie Ziyin shot her a look. "Too soft."
Wen Shuangbai: "??"
The Golden Silk Mat was cloud-like, perfectly conforming to one’s spine. She’d slept dreamlessly, waking refreshed and energized. How could he possibly have struggled?
What, was he some kind of hardwood bed enthusiast?
Wen Shuangbai sighed, shaking her head. "A peasant can’t appreciate fine delicacies."
Xie Ziyin: "?"
Xie Ziyin nearly laughed. The reason he hadn’t slept well was entirely her fault.
The corner of his lips curled mockingly. "A dog’s mouth can’t spit out ivory."
Wen Shuangbai scoffed. "May you stay poor forever."
Xie Ziyin: "??"
He turned to retort but froze when he noticed something wriggling at her waist.
A brush had stealthily poked its head out from her Crimson Fire Whip, only to duck back in when it met his gaze.
Xie Ziyin: "…"
Xie Ziyin: "What was that?"
Wen Shuangbai replied casually, "Oh, that’s my four-hundred-coin brush with a thirst for freedom."
Xie Ziyin’s eye twitched.
What nonsense was this?
Wen Shuangbai pulled the brush out, examining it fondly. "I bought this engraving brush for four hundred coins. Cheap, so it’s got… quirks."
Xie Ziyin studied it. "A brush spirit?"
"Yep." She tucked it away.
Xie Ziyin mused for a moment. "Where’d you buy it?"
Four hundred coins was practically a steal.
Wen Shuangbai scrutinized him head to toe before smiling sweetly. "Not telling. After all, I can’t spit out ivory."
Xie Ziyin: "……"
---
Meanwhile, back at the chicken pen headquarters.
Li Zhuohua sat rigidly on a rock, her sword resting across her lap.
The Flowing Rainbow Sword’s path was forged in battle, enlightenment found in combat. Nothing tormented her more than being unable to fight.
And yet, they’d been assigned chick-feeding duty. If only they’d gotten the paddy field monster-slaying job instead!
Li Zhuohua sighed for the thousandth time.
Earlier, Junior Sister Wen had assured her she’d get her wish soon.
But how soon was "soon"? Six days?
Each day felt like a year.
Li Zhuohua sighed again.
Then, her ears twitched. In an instant, she was at the chicken pen’s edge.
Inside, Lu Jiayao was digging up worms for the chicks. Startled, he looked up. "What? What’s wrong?"
Yin Xuan opened her eyes, flicking away the little yellow chicks perched on her hair one by one. She glanced into the distance and said softly, "Someone's coming, Junior Brother Lu. Put the chicks away first."
"Oh, right!" Lu Jiayao hurriedly gathered the chicks into his alchemy furnace for protection.
Soon, three men strode into view at the end of the gravel path—the remaining disciples of the Qian Yuan Sect.
[What are they doing here? They’re no match for Senior Sister Zhuohua. Are they coming to die?]
[Don’t be so harsh. They don’t seem hostile.]
In the scene, the three disciples wore apologetic smiles as they approached the chicken coop. "Junior Sister Li, we’ve come to apologize. Last night, we acted rashly, but upon reflection, we realize the fault wasn’t yours."
Li Zhuohua remained unmoved. She drew her sword and etched a clear line on the ground, stating bluntly, "Cross this line, and you die."
[How heartless! Our Qian Yuan Sect came to apologize in good faith. What more do they want?]
[I don’t trust them. Instead of figuring out why their pigs died, they’re here apologizing? I bet they’re trying to poison the chicks!]
[Stop projecting your own malice onto our sect!]
The three disciples exchanged subtle glances, their smiles growing more ingratiating—yet their feet inched closer to the line. "Junior Sister, we’re all from Mystic Heaven. Shouldn’t we stand united against the ghostly threats?"
As they neared the boundary, the sword in Li Zhuohua’s arms hummed a warning. She repeated, "Cross this line, and you die!"
The middle disciple stepped over the line, pulling items from his storage ring. "We couldn’t sleep last night, tormented by guilt. We brought you some medicinal pills and even our pig feed—you can use it for the chicks..."
Just as he pretended to fumble and drop the items—
Li Zhuohua lifted her gaze. Her sword, Liu Hong, flashed out, sending the offerings flying far away.
Before the disciples could react, thud—her blade pierced through the first disciple’s spiritual bone with lightning speed, as if fearing hesitation would deny her the kill.
The man’s expression froze, his hidden malice surfacing. "You—you—"
Thud, thud, thud. The three disciples collapsed one after another, kicking up dust.
Qian Yuan Sect—wiped out.
"Outrageous!" In the observation hall of the Purple Flame Realm in Dizhou, the Qian Yuan Sect’s peak master slammed the table, glaring at the woman reading a novel in the corner. "Xu Jingshu! Is this how Qingling Mountain teaches its disciples?! Our sect came in goodwill to deliver medicine. A refusal would’ve sufficed—why resort to murder?! Such brutality is no different from demons!"
Xu Jingshu looked up from her book, baffled. "Does your Qian Yuan Sect not understand human speech?"
"Zhuohua warned them twice: cross the line and die." She tapped her novel lightly, her tone gentle but firm. "My suggestion? Teach your disciples to comprehend words before joining the Mystic Heaven Grand Competition. Agreed?"
"And as for 'goodwill'..." Xu Jingshu rose, stepping toward the peak master. Her gaze locked onto his, her voice shifting into something eerie—each syllable laced with the oppressive weight of a half-saint’s curse. "If your disciples harbored ill intent, may their cultivation shatter, their lives end in misery. Do you dare swear to it?"
The peak master’s face drained of color. He retreated three steps, lips pressed tight, silent.
He didn’t dare.
