Hark, travelers! Should this tale please thee, grant thy blessing with a sign of approval!

––––––

Wang Lin, his gaze clouded with contemplation, broke the silence. “What tidings do you bring? What aid do you seek from me?”

Wang Hao, with a sigh that echoed through the humble chamber, replied, “Alas, Wang Lin, your strength is but the meager flame of the Third Layer of Qi Condensation. You cannot hope to stand against Lu Yunjie, whose power blazes at the Sixth Layer. He holds the favor of our masters, for he possesses the alchemist’s touch. Hope has fled me. Yet, in these harsh years within the Hengyue Sect, you alone have been a true friend. I beseech thee, brother, if fortune smiles upon your cultivation, avenge my name by slaying Lu Yunjie!!” He clenched his fists, his knuckles white with despair.

Wang Lin met his gaze and nodded, a solemn promise etched upon his face.

A bitter smile twisted Wang Hao’s lips. “Brother Tiezhu, what ails me? While the breath of life still lingers, speak your needs. Claim the spirit pills, the treasures within my reach. Take them, if it pleases thee.”

Wang Lin, his heart heavy, locked the secret of his folk remedies and medicines deep within. He shook his head. He yearned to aid Wang Hao, yet the task seemed insurmountable, for their third senior brother wielded the power of the Sixth Layer. Doubt gnawed at his resolve.

Though his spiritual senses were keen and he had toiled for two decades with gravitational techniques, he had never tasted true battle against his peers. Wang Lin dared not overestimate his capabilities.

Seeing Wang Lin’s silence, Wang Hao brushed dust from his worn robes, a final act of acceptance. “Brother Tiezhu, your potential far surpasses mine. I often recall the trials at the foot of the mountain… it feels like a fleeting dream, lost to the relentless march of time…” Another sigh escaped his lips as he turned, his spirit broken. His form faded into the haze, swallowed by the distance.

“The strong devour the weak… strength is the only language understood in this realm… is this the true path of cultivation?” A profound realization struck Wang Lin, leaving him rooted in place, gazing blankly at the heavens above.

In that moment, Wang Lin experienced a flash of epiphany.

This was no sudden surge of power, no instantaneous leap in cultivation. It was a dawning awareness, a subtle shift in perception. Such enlightenment did not directly enhance one’s strength or perception; it deepened one’s understanding of the universe’s hidden laws.

Wang Lin perceived the raw, unyielding cruelty of the cultivation world, the brutal dance of survival. To truly walk the path of immortality, one must first embrace the harsh realities that defined it.

“Must the predator’s mentality truly be a foundation for those who seek immortality?” Wang Lin murmured to himself, exhaling a long, thoughtful breath.

He stirred and vanished, his form melting into the shadows.

As he prepared to return to the sanctuary of the Medicine Garden, a strange pull drew his attention towards the guest quarters where disciples of the Xuandao Sect rested. After a moment of silent deliberation, he moved in that direction.

Even before he reached the threshold, a voice, laced with flamboyant boastfulness, echoed from within.

“Hear me, brothers of the Hengyue Sect! My flying sword is a marvel, one of the peerless treasures of the Xuandao Sect, known as the Ziwu Golden Sword! Ask, and you shall hear tales of its might. I risked much to procure it. But a solemn vow is required – none shall reveal it at the exchange meet three days hence, lest I retract my offer!”

“Truth or boast, brother? Is this trinket as wondrous as you claim?” Skepticism dripped from the questioner’s voice.

“I, Li Shan, have never tasted falsehood! Doubt me if you will, for I can find a buyer elsewhere!”

Wang Lin observed that the room was far from ordinary. A crowd had gathered, a blend of disciples from both sects. He stepped inside, his gaze settling upon a young man of perhaps twenty years, his face square and earnest, his eyebrows thick. He held aloft a small, copper coin sword, shimmering with an ethereal blue light, as he addressed the assembled throng.

Around him, some of the Xuandao Sect disciples wore uneasy expressions. One, unable to bear the charade, coughed pointedly. “Junior Brother Li Shan speaks true, the Ziwu Money Sword is indeed counted among the treasures of our Xuandao Sect. However, truth compels me to state that the creation in Junior Brother Li Shan’s hand is… a mere imitation, albeit one with some limited efficacy.”

Several Hengyue Sect disciples exchanged glances. Finally, one, a cultivator of the Fifth Layer of Qi Condensation, whom Wang Lin recalled bearing the surname Zhao, approached Li Shan. A hushed exchange followed, and something was passed between them. Finally, both men smiled, signifying a successful transaction.

“A mere sword of mortal iron, flecked with scraps of spirit gold, and he sold it? The Xuandao Sect’s treasures are but smoke and mirrors!” A disciple of the inner circle, one who knew the true value of such things, sneered.

“Respected elder, you misjudge the matter,” Li Shan retorted, his voice sharp. “My esteemed brother merely pointed out that the object is not genuine, yet your own Hengyue sect has eagerly offered coin. If one wishes to acquire it as a curio, there could be no finer specimen!”

“Elder brother Li, you are mistaken,” the Hengyue Sect disciple, Zhao, countered, his tone light. “I seek not to collect, but to bestow it upon my father upon my return home. My family are butchers, and this sword is perfectly suited for their trade!” He erupted in laughter.

Li Shan, unperturbed, responded with a grin. “You have purchased it, and therefore, I care not for its fate. Now, I offer you a treasure of immeasurable worth: The Invincible Black and Gray Stinking Thunderbolt! This, I swear, is no fabrication, and I shall prove its potency before your very eyes!”

With these words, he produced a black sphere and hurled it against the nearby wall. A thunderous crack resounded, and a network of spider-web fissures spread across the surface, plunging the area into pitch black. A foul, nauseating stench filled the air.

“Behold the Invincible Black and Gray Stinking Thunderbolt! Though not of earth-shattering power, this, my unique hidden weapon, guarantees that no one shall escape its mark! The black and gray stain is eternal, clinging to its victim. But the scent… ah, the scent is crafted from the painstakingly collected bodily fluids of dozens of bizarre beasts. It is, without a doubt, the ultimate weapon of disgust!” Li Shan declared, pride swelling in his voice.

Those assembled gaped in stunned silence. Some of the female disciples recoiled, pinching their noses and retreating. Even Wang Lin was taken aback, and a sweep of his spiritual sense caused a strange expression to cross his face.

The disciples of the Xuandao Sect appeared deeply embarrassed. Li Shan, however, was infamous for his bizarre creations, and few dared to provoke him. The thought of being struck by a stinking bomb was deterrent enough.

This Invincible Black and Gray Stinking Thunderbolt was renowned within the Xuandao Sect, almost rivaling the treasures held in secret vaults.

“What say you? I have invested greatly in this endeavor, and the edict remains the same: it must not be unleashed in the competition three days hence, or I shall rescind my offer!” Li Shan’s face was stern, but within his heart, he danced with glee. *’Fools! The more I protest, the more you will desire it! Hehe, a spectacle will unfold. The elders shall heap praise upon my return, and perhaps even reward me with enchanted armaments!’*

With a gleam in his eyes, he resumed his hawking.