Twenty-five spirit stones was the figure Liu Xiaolou came up with after working backward from what he thought these young masters could handle.

The spirit materials he asked them to collect were three times what was needed for a single formation disk. It wasn’t just to take advantage of them. When refining a formation disk, there’s always loss. If the loss came in under threefold, Liu Xiaolou would pocket the difference. If it went over, he was ready to cover it out of his own pocket.

Most of the materials could be bought with silver, about three thousand taels in all. A smaller portion needed to be exchanged with spirit stones, such as jade rings, but the total wouldn’t go beyond fifteen stones.

So for the thirteen young masters, the grand total came to forty stones plus three thousand taels of silver. That worked out to about three stones and less than a hundred taels each. If they drew directly from their household stores, or gathered the way Liu Xiaolou and Lord Xingde did, their costs would drop sharply, even down to two stones apiece.

Easily affordable.

Once a formation disk was successfully refined, each person could use it about five times. On the surface it looked far more expensive than before. But once they replenished the Bewildering Fragrance threads, the disk could be used again for another five rounds. Altogether, they’d only need to pay five stones: two to cover the Bewildering Fragrance, three for Liu Xiaolou’s profit. Their expenses would drop back to the same level as when they were at Shenwu Mountain.

The added benefit was that this formation disk would be in their own hands, making it much more convenient to use.

Liu Xiaolou didn’t try to hide any of these calculations. He laid everything out openly for the young masters and left the decision to them.

In the end he said, “If you really want a set of these formation disks, I recommend letting one person take charge. I’ll teach him how to activate it. It’s simple; anyone can learn it. Once he does, he can pass it along to the rest of you, and it’ll be even easier to use.”

The result was that the young masters bargained the price down to twenty spirit stones and accepted the deal. They nominated Yun Ao to take charge and handle matters with Liu Xiaolou.

After happily enjoying another spell of carefree days with Liu Xiaolou, the young masters gradually returned home. The only pity was that his stock of Bewildering Fragrance had run out, the formation disk hadn’t been repaired, and they couldn’t experience the joy of entering the formation again. It left things just a bit incomplete.

Seeing them off, Liu Xiaolou felt full of accomplishment and satisfaction at the spirit stones he had gained.

Out of the twenty stones, only about five to ten actually had to be spent, mostly on pine resin extract. The rest was pure profit. As for hiring a formation master to help, that was complete nonsense. A little illusion formation of this level, he could handle all by himself.

On top of that, every half a year or so he could expect another five stones, giving him a steady extra source of income.

In that bright, contented mood, he kept drawing out spirit stones for cultivation, continuing his assault on the fifteenth acupoint of the Foot Lesser Yang Meridian—the Toulinqi acupoint.

As early summer set in, Wulong Mountain entered the rainy season. Showers came often: a gust of wind drove a cloud across the peaks, a cloud brought on a burst of rain, a rain left behind a touch of coolness, and once that coolness faded the heat only grew stronger.

Having been back at Black Dragon Mountain for nearly two months, Liu Xiaolou found himself in a peculiar state. During his cultivation, he would gradually change his position with the changes in the weather. This wasn’t something required by the True Mysteries Scripture. It was an instinct he had developed as he cultivated.

It was like falling asleep. Everyone naturally chooses the position most comfortable for them.

Sometimes, before a rain, he would feel it coming and turn to face the dark clouds. When the rain passed and he opened his eyes, he would find himself turned a different way, sometimes even seated in another spot.

At other times, when mountain mists drifted and spread across Qianzhu Ridge, by the time they lifted he would already be sitting where the last tendrils of fog had faded.

With the rising and setting of the sun, with the bright moon and scattered stars, he changed his cultivation place again and again: under the veranda, on the eaves of the roof, at the tops of bamboo in the woods, along the mountain path beyond the courtyard. In all these places he had sat cross-legged and cultivated.

At times these shifts happened without his awareness, like waking up to find he had rolled into a different sleeping position.

Once, he started out sitting cross-legged in a crack of stone at the peak of Qianzhu Ridge. When he finished his cultivation he discovered himself wedged into Big White’s grassy nest, staring straight into the confused eyes of both Big White and Little Black.

Another time, he opened his eyes from cultivation only to realize he was on the most dangerous cliff ledge of the ridge, his knees nearly hanging in midair, nothing but a bottomless abyss beneath him. He had no idea how he had managed to sit there.

It was in that moment he understood more deeply the importance of sitting posture. If his stance hadn’t been steady, he might have slipped to his death without even knowing it.

Dangerous, yes. But when it came to whether his cultivation felt smooth and unimpeded, he knew better than anyone.

It was very smooth, and highly effective.

As he thought back on his teacher, Master Sanxuan, and the little details of how he cultivated in those days, he began to find some clues. His master too, it seemed, had not always cultivated in the same place. He vaguely remembered waking up in the middle of the night more than once and finding his master seated elsewhere. At the time it had felt perfectly ordinary, not worth a thought. Only now, experiencing it himself, did he understand the reason.

Was it because of the True Mysteries technique? Or was it simply the inevitable result of reaching mid-stage Qi Refinement? But if that were the case, why hadn’t it happened back on Shenwu Mountain?

To test the idea, he decided to change his place of cultivation.

He went down the mountain and cultivated  for two days at his retreat in Wuchao Town. There, everything returned to normal: wherever he sat was where he stayed, without the slightest shift.

Then he went back to Wulong Mountain and tried again at several places: Tan Bajhang’s Dragon Horse Falls, Zuo Gaofeng’s Half-Acre Gorge, Dragon Mountain Wanderer’s Dragon Peak, the Bull-Horse-Deer Brothers’ Five Sons Peak, and Wei Hongqing’s Ghostdream Cliff. Through these trials he discovered a pattern: the closer he was to Qianzhu Ridge, the more his seated position would shift during cultivation.

On Dragon Peak, for instance, he might shift by a foot or so, his body turning slightly with the rising and setting of the sun. On Ghostdream Cliff, which lay closest to Qianzhu Ridge, the displacement reached three or four feet, with his body turning in line with the rising and setting of the moon.

At Half-Pine Plateau, directly on Qianzhu Ridge, the shifting and turning grew even more pronounced. And back in his little courtyard on the ridge itself, he again slipped into that state where he could never be sure where he would wake up.

Like some kind of ghostly trick.

With this puzzle weighing on his mind, he began quietly probing, putting his questions in a roundabout way to several seniors whose cultivation had reached late-stage Qi Refinement.

Dragon Mountain Wanderer said that when a cultivator experiences this kind of thing, it’s either “night wandering” or “sleepwalking.” The first is a heart-demon that arose during cultivation, the second is an illness. Either way, it’s not a good sign.

Huang Ye Xian offered a similar explanation, while Zuo Gaofeng said he had never encountered anything like it himself.

At that point he reached a loose conclusion: it had little to do with the cultivation technique and was most likely a problem with Qianzhu Ridge. He also realized this because he had entered the mid-stage of Qi Refinement and his senses had become sharper.

That was not a bad thing. It was a good thing.

After he successfully opened the two acupoints, Toulinqi and Muchuang, he suddenly understood, in a deep way, why his master stubbornly stayed at Qianzhu Ridge and refused to leave no matter how hard things got.

Although there was no spirit spring or spirit eye, Qianzhu Ridge was undoubtedly a geomantically blessed place. With the wind and clouds stirring, thunder and rain, and the cycles of sun and moon, opportunities arise there. At Qianzhu Ridge it was simply easier to feel those chances.

It was a shame his master died so early and so suddenly. He never told him many things.

Why die so young? How irresponsible. Liu Xiaolou flung a cup of wine onto the tombstone, burning with resentment.

Back at the small courtyard, the wind chime under the eaves suddenly rang out, ding-dong… ding-dong…

Fang Bu’ai appeared at the mountain path and stopped outside the gate. He bowed. “Senior, there’s a rogue cultivator named Wu Zhuzi asking to see you.”

Liu Xiaolou had never heard the name Wu Zhuzi before. “Who is this person? Have you heard of him?” he asked Fang Bu’ai,.

Fang Bu’ai shook his head. “This junior hasn’t heard of him either. I asked about his background, and he only said he’s a rogue cultivator from the south. He claims he came after hearing of Senior’s reputation. He doesn’t seem to mean any harm.”

Since the man hadn’t forced his way in and had been stopped by Fang Bu’ai, who was only at the third layer of Qi Refinement, it didn’t seem likely that he bore ill intent. Still, Liu Xiaolou wondered. What reputation could he possibly have? Could this also be about his formation? So “Let him come up,” he said.

Not long after, Fang Bu’ai led a middle-aged cultivator up the mountain. Then, without needing to be told, he stepped behind Liu Xiaolou, ready to draw his sword at any moment.