Wan Lihan and Shu Fan finally crossed the threshold of the massive stone arches carved into the mountain peaks. Both seventeen-year-old Lihan and twenty-year-old Shu Fan collapsed onto a rocky ledge near the entrance, their muscles aching and their lungs burning from the grueling, day-long foot take up the steep canyon roads.
Thanks to his two years of intense, isolated training and pill-refining in the abandoned house, Lihan’s core cultivation had successfully solidified at the 4th Layer of the 15-Layer Qi Cleansing Realm. Beside him, Shu Fan sat at the 3rd Layer.
Lihan wiped the sweat from his brow, his face flat as he looked at his companion.
"How old are you, Shu Fan?""I'm twenty years old," Shu Fan panted, leaning his head against the cold stone. "How about you?"
"I am seventeen," Lihan replied smoothly. "
How did you step onto the path?
''Shu Fan pulled a frayed, cheap leather manual from his vest, offering a sheepish smile.
"I just took this basic manual book and learned from it. I was late to studying the techniques, to be honest. A traveling merchant gave this book to me two years ago. In this region, the local hidden sects distribute basic cultivation manuals to the mortal villages every two years. Anyone who manages to unlock their meridians within that time frame is granted a trial token to climb the mountain and attempt the official entry exams."
Before Lihan could ask further, a pair of loud, boasting rogue cultivators walked past their ledge, loudly sharing stories of their exploits in the lower cities.Not wanting to waste his time listening to mindless chatter, Lihan quietly left Shu Fan to rest and navigated the bustling entrance plaza on foot.
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The area was packed with traveling merchants and rogue vendors displaying crude weapons, beast pelts, and low-level minerals. As he walked, his eyes caught a crowd gathered around a small, open-air rogue auction.At the center of the stage, a merchant was displaying a rare glowing defensive paper—a Shield Talisman.Lihan’s eyes locked onto it.
He wanted to bid, but he quickly realized the merchants here weren't accepting mortal gold or silver coins. This was a barter market.
A rogue cultivator stepped forward, offering a low-level iron sword in exchange, successfully walking away with the single Shield Talisman.But Lihan’s calculating mind didn't want a single-use talisman.
He wanted the source. His eyes tracked the vendor's back crate, locking onto a thick, ink-stained script and a pristine, spiritual hair brush. He wanted the Talisman Manual and the Inscription Brush.Once the main auction dispersed, Lihan walked straight up to the seller's booth, his expression deadpan.
"How much for your manual book and the inscription brush?"
The vendor glanced at Lihan's plain black robes, scoffing as he packed his crates.
"Those are personal tools. They are not for sale for mortal coin."
Lihan didn't blink. He reached into his vest pouch and quietly displayed his palm.
"How about an exchange for ten homemade healing pills?"
The seller instantly froze. His eyes bulged as the rich, medicinal aroma of Lihan’s hand-cooked pills hit his nose. Ten whole healing medicines?! the vendor shouted frantic orders in his mind. This is an incredible deal! Healing pills are highly sought after by low-level fighters.
I can easily accept this trade and just look up the diagrams to make myself a new manual later!The merchant cleared his throat, trying to hide his excitement.
"Fine. We have a deal."
Lihan calmly swapped his ten healing pills for the thick Talisman Manual and the wooden brush, tucking them securely into his black robes. Satisfied with his resource gathering, he turned on his heel and walked back through the crowded market square to the rocky ledge where he had left his traveling partner.But the spot was empty. Shu Fan was gone.Lihan’s hyper-cautious instincts instantly flared
. He dropped low, tracking the scuff marks in the dirt until he turned a sharp corner into a dark, secluded rock crevice just a few meters away from the plaza.Lihan stopped dead in his tracks.Slumped against the jagged stone wall, his throat cleanly slit and his pockets completely turned inside out, was Shu Fan’s dead body. The cheap leather manual he had cherished was ripped to pieces, scattering paper across the blood-soaked dirt.