The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over a hearty dinner.


    After hearing Han’s question, Lu Qingmo nodded. “No exaggeration earlier—it’s true.”


    “Before I came to Tianyue County, I dug into the lay of the land here. I’ve got a decent handle on the local powers.”


    “The founder of the Lingxuan Taoist Temple was a disciple of the Flying Immortal Sect, sent here to establish a foothold and pass down their teachings.”


    “It’s not just Lingxuan. Other forces in the county have big backers too. The Great Thunder Temple’s tied to Little Saint Temple, and the current head of the Golden Dragon Dojo trained under the True Extreme Sect.”


    “Little Saint Temple and True Extreme Sect are heavy hitters in Great Qi—both with Underworld Realm powerhouses holding the fort. The former’s in Qingzhou, the latter’s right here in Tianzhou. Their influence stretches across one province, sometimes more.”


    “Then there’s the Flying Immortal Sect—next level. Their history boasts a figure listed on the Mountains and Rivers Common People Roster. Even if that legend’s passed on, they’ve still got an immortal artifact anchoring the sect.”


    “The Yuan family’s tight with the Mo family in Tianzhou’s capital, and the Huang family’s ancestors were offshoots of the Huang clan in Qingzhou’s Zaiyi County, branching out here.”


    “The Mo family in Tianzhou and the Huang family in Qingzhou? Both are top-tier noble houses—big players in their regions, easily among the elite.”


    Han blinked, stunned. He hadn’t realized so many of Tianyue County’s top dogs were clinging to even bigger trees.


    Guess making it big really came down to connections and clout.


    “So they’ve all got heavyweights in their corner,” he mused.


    Little Saint Temple, the Mo family—sure, they were strong, but not world-dominating. The real standout was the Flying Immortal Sect. With a past titan on the Roster, they were up there with the Xuandu Monastery—top-tier, no question.


    Right now, Xuandu probably had the edge, but even without an active immortal, the Flying Immortal Sect was still a giant in people’s eyes.


    They’d been top dogs once, after all.


    Barring surprises, once the Xuandu Monastery’s current master passed, they’d slide into “used to be great” territory too.


    “It’s pretty standard,” Lu Qingmo explained. “Big sects and noble families almost always send disciples to set up branches or prop up proxies outside their main turf—scooping up local talent and resources to feed the machine.”


    “The best minds and wealth of Great Qi are getting vacuumed up by them,” Han said, marveling. “No wonder they keep thriving. The strong just get stronger, while lone wolves and second-rate factions? They’re stuck in the mud forever unless something wild happens.”


    Every major sect and noble house was out there hogging the world’s riches to fatten themselves up.


    They split the realm with Great Qi’s royals—technically the empire’s land, but really everyone’s playground.


    That’s why even the imperial court had to play nice with local powers. Some factions might look like small-time bullies, but mess with them, and you’re poking the bear behind them. Good luck with that.


    Bai Ruoyue frowned. “What about Xuandu Monastery, then?”


    “Why’s there no branch of theirs around here?”


    Han shot her a look—half exasperated, half fond—like she was a clueless kid.


    “Senior Sister, what’s Xuandu Monastery to Great Qi?”


    “The state religion, duh.”


    “So, you think they’ve got no presence here?” Han grinned. “The Ghost God Division is their presence!”


    Lu Qingmo nodded, not dodging the point. “To Xuandu, the Ghost God Division’s a talent scout and resource hub, no question.”


    “It’s their reward for helping the Bai clan claim Great Qi’s throne.”


    The Bai clan—Great Qi’s royal family.


    “Four centuries as the state religion, four centuries of the Ghost God Division…” Han whistled, impressed.


    Anywhere in Great Qi touched by civilization fell under the division’s watch—way scarier than what other top sects or families pulled off with their proxies.


    Han couldn’t even guess how much Xuandu had grown in four hundred years, but it had to be insane—leagues beyond the rest.


    “Xuandu Monastery might just be the top sect in the world,” he ventured.


    Lu Qingmo shook her head. “Not quite.”


    “Among the three kingdoms, Eastern Zhou’s the strongest—oldest too. The Academy of Sages is a fathomless powerhouse. Even top-tier cults like the Heavenly Mother Sect and the World-Crossing Path don’t dare push too hard there.”


    “Eastern Zhou’s Wu clan? Unmatched in martial prowess. If not for the Purple Sky Sovereign bursting onto the scene, they’d be the world’s number-one family.”


    You could hear the respect in her voice for the Academy of Sages.


    Qi’s Bai, Zhou’s Wu, Jin’s Sima—the royal clans of the three kingdoms, some of the mightiest families around.


    Pop quiz: which royal house is the weakest link?


    Han mulled it over, then glanced at Bai Ruoyue. “Senior Sister, the royals are surnamed Bai, and so are you. Don’t tell me you’re some long-lost princess?”


    She rolled her eyes. “If I were royalty, your head’d be the first to roll.”


    “How’d it go at the Waning Moon Pavilion today?”


    “Sorted it out,” Han said, recapping the day’s events.


    “That’s Mu Dongshan’s style—smooth but upright. Doesn’t pick fights, has friends across counties,” Lu Qingmo noted, nodding without prying further.


    “Aunt Mo, what’d Elder Ye want with you?”


    Her eyes flickered with something odd. “It’s about the Huang family.”


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    “What’s up with them?”


    What’s up? You tell me!


    “Over the past month or two, they’ve lost a Bone Forging martial artist, three Day Roaming cultivators, and a Manifestation master. They’re reeling—strength slashed hard.”


    “They only had two Manifestation and one Marrow-Washing to start with. Now a third of that’s gone.”


    “That kind of hit’s buzzing through the county capital. Other factions are circling, ready to carve up Huang’s interests while they’re down.”


    “It’s stirring chaos in the capital and the counties below. Huang’s grip on their resource points is slipping. Elder Ye said I might need to step in if it gets worse.”


    Han rubbed his chin, smirking. Well, damn.


    He hadn’t done the math before, but now? He’d kneecapped the Huang family single-handedly—wiped out a third of their top brass.


    Told you Lord Zhou’s petty streak was no joke. Believe me now?


    “Hmph, serves them right,” Bai Ruoyue huffed. “Good work, Little Junior Brother—give ‘em hell!”


    She knew bits and pieces—Han and Lu Qingmo rarely kept her in the dark.


    “They’re in for a rough ride,” Han said, grinning ear to ear.


    Huang’s pain was his gain.


    “No doubt,” Lu Qingmo agreed. “They won’t collapse or vanish, but they’ll lose ground—have to lay low for a while.”


    “And clawing that back later? Good luck.”


    What’s swallowed doesn’t come back up easy.


    That night, as they settled in, Bai Ruoyue watched Han and Lu Qingmo casually take adjacent rooms, leaving her “stranded.”


    Knew it!


    In the dead of night, a purple light shot skyward from a corner of Tianyue City. It vanished almost instantly, smothered by another force, but the ripple woke half the city—including Han.


    Who’s throwing a cosmic punch?


    He stepped outside, peering toward the source. It felt… familiar.


    The Waning Moon Pavilion’s direction?


    “That’s the sign of a Manifestation Treasure Pill finishing. Mu Dongshan pulled it off,” Lu Qingmo said, emerging beside him.


    “Wonder what kind it is—what it does,” Han mused, a little wistful.


    When would An Lang hit that level?


    “Doesn’t matter what type—with that grade, Mu Dongshan’s stock in Tianyue County just shot up,” Lu Qingmo said. “His skills probably leveled up too. Every Manifestation pill he nails sharpens his craft.”


    “Better skills? Works for me,” Han said, nodding.


    The sharper Mu Dongshan got, the surer Han’s pills would turn out.


    At dawn, Han bolted for the pavilion, leaving Bai Ruoyue with Lu Qingmo.


    The place was buzzing when he arrived—fancy robes and sect-colored garb everywhere, folks milling around.


    The doors weren’t even open yet.


    “Han!”


    Someone called out softly. It was Yuan Fang.


    Han sidled over, keeping his voice low. “Here for the master?”


    “We all are,” Yuan Fang explained. “That refining spectacle last night lit up the city. No one dared barge in then, but every faction sent people at first light to pay respects.”


    “You here for Overseer Lu?”


    Han grinned. “Nah, just me today.”


    His arrival turned heads. The crowd here? All reps from Tianyue’s nine big players. Lesser families wanting to congratulate Mu Dongshan had to wait their turn—jumping the line now would be a faux pas.


    Most didn’t know Han by sight, but Yuan Fang’s call tipped them off.


    The Black Cloud Town prodigy, huh?


    Word of him spread far—not just talk.


    No one dared question his right to be here, though. Those in the know knew who backed him.


    “Looking to hire the master?” Yuan Fang guessed, then shook his head. “He just finished a Manifestation batch—he’ll need a breather to recharge before taking on more.”


    “If your pills aren’t high-tier, Mu Wan could handle it.”


    “I’d rather the master do it,” Han said. “I’ve got limited herbs—need to max out the success rate.”


    A few overheard and snickered, saying nothing but oozing skepticism.


    The master’s at your beck and call, kid? Who do you think you are? Send your big shot backer instead.


    “If I get a shot at him, I’ll put in a word—maybe book you a slot later,” Yuan Fang offered. “Don’t get your hopes up, though—I’m not my dad.”


    Han paused, touched by the gesture. “Thanks, man.”


    The pavilion doors swung open, and Mu Wan poked her head out. Seeing the crowd, she gave a told you so look.


    “Miss Mu, any chance we could see Master Mu now? I’m here for the Huang family with a hefty gift to celebrate his triumph,” Huang Mingnian said.


    Han’s old pal looked rough—less polished, more shadowed and cold.


    No surprise there. His family’s top tier had taken a third-off hit out of nowhere, and now the vultures were circling, picking at their profits.


    Anyone’d turn grim under that.


    Funny thing? Everyone here was feasting on Huang’s misfortune—except Han, the guy who’d sparked it all.


    Han smirked inwardly. Hanging with a room full of enemies? Tough break, Mingnian.


    “No need for gifts. Grandpa just finished and isn’t up for visitors. Come back in a few days,” Mu Wan said, brushing them off without a hint of hesitation.


    Top faction heirs? She’d seen ‘em all growing up—no big deal.


    “Fair enough,” Huang Mingnian and the rest agreed, no complaints.


    Mu Dongshan was Manifestation-grade and a master alchemist—top-tier in Tianyue County. Who’d dare grumble?


    They’d half-expected this—probably wouldn’t see him today.


    But knowing’s one thing; skipping the visit’s another. The master might not care if you showed, but he’d sure remember if you didn’t.


    Then Mu Wan spotted Han, her face lighting up. She waved him over. “Han, come in! Grandpa was just telling me to fetch you—he’s waiting!”


    “No need to trouble yourself, Miss Mu,” Han said politely.


    The crowd turned as one, jaws dropping.


    This kid—what’s his deal? He’s got that kind of pull?


    They’d come begging and got nada, but the master was sending for him?


    What’s he got that we don’t?


    Resentment simmered—faces fell, pride stung—but with Mu Wan right there, no one dared vent.


    Only Cao Qu from Lingxuan Temple pieced it together.


    “You tight with the master?” Yuan Fang whispered, stunned.


    Han chuckled. “We hit it off right away.”


    “Got anything for him from the Yuan family?”


    Yuan Fang caught on—Han was offering an assist. “No need to bother—”


    “What bother?” Han cut in. “Hand it over.”


    After Yuan Fang’s earlier kindness, passing along a gift was the least Han could do.


    Yuan Fang shot him a grateful look, handed over a wooden box, and watched Han head inside.


    “Come on, hurry up! Grandpa’s been waiting—kept nagging me to get you,” Mu Wan said, her tone warmer than yesterday.


    Mu Dongshan’s success had clearly rubbed off on her.


    The others could only watch them go, their figures fading from view, a sour taste lingering.


    We’re out here getting less respect than some backwoods nobody.


    When Han met Mu Dongshan, the old man’s face showed fatigue, but his eyes blazed brighter than ever.


    Nailing that batch had clearly shifted something in him.


    “You’re finally here, my friend!” Mu Dongshan grabbed Han, thanking him profusely.


    Han laughed, half-embarrassed. You’re a legend across counties—where’s the dignity?


    Once the gratitude settled, Mu Dongshan vowed, “Rest easy—I’ll fire up the furnace today. Five days, tops, and your pills are done.”


    “Thanks, Master.”


    “My granddaughter mentioned you’re after herb seeds?”


    “Yeah,” Han said. “You know I’m from the Tai Bai Dojo. We’re thinking of growing some herbs—building up our reserves, opening a new path forward.”


    Mu Dongshan nodded, getting it. Tianyue’s nine big players controlled all kinds of resources—herbs were a hot commodity, and every faction was training their own alchemists.


    Cultivation couldn’t escape that need. Better to rely on yourself than beg others.


    The five-day timeline factored in the seeds too—Mu Dongshan planned to hook Han up big, both as a favor to him and a nod to Tai Bai Dojo.


    An alchemist thrives on friends, after all.


    Tai Bai’s daytime strength? Well worth the alliance.


    With the refining and seed deals locked, Han handed over his ripened herbs.


    Mu Dongshan gave them a thumbs-up. “Full potency, no leakage—top quality.”


    Then came a few Three Yin legacy recipes. The master took one look and roared with approval. “Brilliant formulas!”


    “Don’t worry, my friend—I won’t leak these or refine them for sale later. Once we’re done here, no one else’ll know they exist.”


    Normally, handing a recipe to an alchemist meant they could use it down the line. But Mu Dongshan had a hunch.


    He figured Tai Bai Dojo might lean on these unique recipes once they trained their own alchemist.


    After a quick think, he decided to “forget” them—no sense souring things with Tai Bai or Lu Qingmo.


    Seeing new recipes, broadening his horizons—that was reward enough. The finished pills? He didn’t need ‘em.


    Han thought to himself, Aunt Mo nailed it—this guy’s slick.


    But those Three Yin recipes relied on herbs the Mountain God cultivated—stuff you couldn’t find outside. No substitutes yet? Good luck refining.


    Bet you didn’t see that twist coming.


    Han passed along Yuan Fang’s gift too.


    “From the Yuan kid? I’ll take it,” Mu Dongshan said, barely glancing at it.


    Gifts had their own unspoken rules—everyone knew the drill.


    Stepping out, Han saw the crowd hadn’t fully cleared.


    “Brother Han! Been months since we last crossed paths,” Huang Mingnian said, striding up with a broad smile.


    Among this lot—all profiting off Huang’s woes—Han, the one not kicking them while they were down, looked like a saint to him.


    “Didn’t expect to run into you here—what a pleasant surprise!”


    Han grinned back. Oh, Mingnian, I’ve got plenty more surprises up my sleeve.


    Some might turn that smile into a scream, though.


    Mingnian had always had it in for him—coveting his treasures, plotting his death—but the guy kept up a flawless front. Way smoother than his brother.


    Han had to hand it to him—You’ve got the makings of a big shot.