The plan was set. That very night, the five of them set out under the stars, trekking through wild, desolate mountains. They walked all night, reaching a dense forest just before dawn. There, they hid among the trees, silently waiting for night to fall again.

Lu Zhongqiu was the grandnephew of the head of Tianlao Mountain. If their mission was exposed, the mountain’s sect would launch a full investigation. To stay hidden, they could only move at night and rest during the day.

Throughout the long day, Liu Xiaolou sat cross-legged, gripping a spirit stone in his hand, channeling its energy to push through the Zuqiaoyin. The last acupoint on the Foot Lesser Yang Meridian, and also the biggest primordial pool along it. Zuo Gaofeng had once told him that it took him three exhausting months and five spirit stones just to open that single acupoint.

Liu Xiaolou didn’t expect to succeed in just a few days. But being reunited with his close friends lit a fire under him.

He had always lagged far behind in cultivation, so much that he’d stopped caring. But now, he was finally catching up. He could almost see their backs ahead of him and that made the pressure even heavier.

Everyone else was pushing forward toward their goals. He couldn’t be the one who held them back.

When the moon rose once more, they set out again. Night after night they pressed on, until, by the third evening, they finally reached Jiashan.

Their first task was to study the terrain around Wulei Mountain. They identified two key spots Lu Zhongqiu would have to pass through, then rehearsed their ambush at both. Where to strike, how to position themselves, and in what order to attack.

When the drills were done, Zuo Gaofeng frowned. “If we act here,” he said, “we’ll need to think this through more carefully.”

Wei Hongqing nodded in agreement. Wulei Mountain was remote enough, true, and few travelers ever passed by. But the ground was too open, the trees too sparse. It would be hard to stay hidden. What was meant to be an ambush could easily turn into a blatant assault.

It wasn’t that they feared failing. With their lineup—one at ninth layer of Qi Refinement, one at eighth, one at seventh, and one at sixth—if they couldn’t take down a single cultivator at peak Qi Refinement in a surprise attack, they might as well call it quits.

What really worried them was that a direct fight would make too much noise and drag on too long, greatly increasing the risk of being discovered.

They kept moving toward Jiashan. About five li out from the market they reached their planned first ambush spot: Guangfu Bridge.

Guangfu Bridge was a stone span over an old channel of the Yuan River. The river had shifted its course a decade or so earlier, and the old bed had mostly turned to marshy ground. But the bridge was still standing and still used.

On paper, the bridge was perfect: If they closed in from both ends they could hit at point‑blank range. It would give them the best shot at staying hidden until the moment to strike, and the most sudden, decisive attack.

But after looking the place over, they all agreed they had to be ready for Lu Zhongqiu to avoid the bridge. Because of the dry winter, much of the old riverbed had exposed hard, dry mud. You could cross it without getting your shoes wet. And cultivators generally hate wet feet. Crossing on firm ground would also look more natural than deliberately taking the bridge.

So the bridge could be their best option. Or it could be useless if Lu chose the riverbed instead. That left one more piece to set up. They planned to rob a household on the road and plant the rumor that bandits had been on the Jiashan route. If Lu really did get killed, it would look like a common roadside robbery rather than a carefully targeted hit. The goal was simple: make sure Tianlao Mountain didn’t trace the attack back to Wei Hongqing.

They needed a target household. One with some wealth, but not so much power that anyone important would come asking questions. It had to be easy to hit, yet convincing enough to leave evidence behind. The Xie family estate, just outside Guangfu Bridge, fit the bill perfectly.

That night, three masked men kicked down the Xie family’s gate. Within moments, more than thirty servants and family members were knocked unconscious, including Old Master Xie himself, a cultivator at the fourth level of Qi Refinement, and his son, who’d reached the second.

In his youth, Old Master Xie had been something of a roughneck, answering duels and challenges from heroes across the land. But the path of cultivation had been unkind to him. Even past eighty, he was still stuck at the fourth layer, forever unable to cross the gap between early and mid-stage Qi Refinement.

One day, he finally gave up chasing immortality. He washed his hands of that life, built this little manor, and decided to enjoy his remaining years in peace.

For someone at his level, a quiet retirement was possible, as long as you knew the right people. And Old Master Xie did. The manor prospered; he married six wives, raised a brood of sons, and seemed to be living out his days in comfort and pride.

But no flower stays in bloom forever. Tonight, his fortune was about to run out.

Wei Hongqing and Liu Xiaolou had both been tied to prominent righteous families, either currently or in the past. To avoid drawing unwanted attention, they stayed out of it. So the ones who actually stepped in were Zuo Gaofeng, Tan Bajhang, and Fang Bu’ai.

To make things look convincing, and to leave behind some “evidence,” Fang Bu’ai handled all communication with Old Master Xie. This kid put on a full show, using that intimidating swagger of the Pai Sect. His accent had that southern Xian lilt, close to the Lingnan region, as he threatened Old Master Xie and demanded he hand over his spirit stones.

But really... these days, what rogue cultivator would dare keep spirit stones lying around?

For a small-time cultivator’s family like the Xies, there was no way they’d have spirit stones sitting in their treasury. Any they managed to earn had long been spent by Master Xie to nurture his precious son. So, as expected, Zuo Gaofeng and his crew only turned up some gold, silver, and jewelry. Worth maybe five hundred taels in all.

Everyone knew the Xie family must have more hidden somewhere. It was impossible they only had that much. But this raid wasn’t really about the money. After sweeping up every bit of silver they could find, the men kicked over the tables and chairs in the main hall, smashed up what they could for good measure, and on their way out, set fire to a jujube tree in the courtyard before disappearing into the night.

With this little “incident” on record, when Mount Tianmu starts investigating later, chances are they’ll tie the Xie family’s case right into it.

Before long, word spread that the Xie family had been robbed by a gang of thugs. All the wealthy households around Jiashan were thrown into a panic. Everyone started hiding their silver and valuables underground. No surprise there.

Meanwhile, Lu Zhongqiu was already on his way back. This trip had gone just like the past few years. Smooth and efficient. He’d managed to secure all the key spirit ingredients needed for brewing Bamboo Leaf Green: thirty purple bamboo shoots, fifteen jin of ghost-skirt bamboo fungus, and eight taels of jade bamboo flowers. Altogether, the haul had cost him forty-five spirit stones.

That was cheaper than usual, which left him with fifteen spirit stones to spare. He’d already made up his mind. He’d quietly keep ten for himself, and turn in the remaining five to the sect accounts. That would earn him a nice remark on his record for being “competent and responsible.”

With that, his private savings would finally reach two hundred spirit stones. If he could get his cousin, Sect Leader Lu, to put in a good word for him, he might be able to exchange them for a Foundation Establishment Pill refined by the sect. And if he could become a Foundation Establishment cultivator, then marrying Miss Lu Yan would no longer make anyone whisper behind his back.

He had pursued her for years. Patiently, stubbornly. And with a few secrets held over her, his persistence had finally paid off. The proud woman had at last been moved by his “sincerity” and agreed to marry him.

The thought of it made his blood surge. Soon, he would be husband to Lu Yan, the inner sect’s acknowledged prodigy. A woman whose talent was said to rival even Lu Yuanlang’s. The image of sharing a bed with her, of being joined heart and soul, sent a wave of heat through him that he couldn’t quite suppress.

Yet amid that burning excitement, another name kept flashing through his mind. Wei Hongqing, the outer-sect steward. Every time he thought of that man, jealousy and rage clawed at his chest. Such a fine woman... how could she have spent five whole years beneath a filthy rogue cultivator like him? What had she been thinking? And once they were married, how was he supposed to face the whispers and ridicule of others?

It was humiliation. Pure, searing humiliation.

What unsettled him most, though, was Lu Yan herself. She had agreed to marry him, yes, but she refused to make it public, and she still wouldn’t share his bed. Clearly, a part of her still lingered on that man, Wei.

No. He couldn’t let that stand. He would find a way to drive Wei out of the sect, to erase him completely from this world. Given time, a few years maybe, people would forget he ever existed… and then, at last, she would truly belong to him...

He’d been turning the problem over in his head the whole way, and before he knew it he had wandered into Jiashan Market.

He didn’t stop at any of the inns along the market road. Instead he slipped carefully into a little roadside eatery, passed straight through without lingering, and cut out of the market toward a nearby estate. When he looked up he paused.

The big jujube tree by the manor gate... had it been struck by lightning? Why was it burned to that shape?

The main gate stood wide open and Old Master Xie stumbled out, wailing like someone who’d lost a child. “Young Master Lu, my boy. Please, you must do something for my family!”

Inside the gate they offered him tea and incense, and Old Master Xie told the whole story. His coquettish sixth concubine hurried over and, sitting on Lu Zhongqiu’s knee, dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief. Lu Zhongqiu’s temper flared.

“These southern Xiang bandits are getting bold,” he snapped. “Do they not know this is Tianmu Mountain’s turf? Don’t worry, Old Xie, I’ll get to the bottom of this. Whatever they took, we’ll make them return it ten times over!”