Blue Cloud City was far more bustling than Jin had imagined. As he walked along the main street, the constant murmur of merchants, carriages, and cultivators blended into an unceasing current of sound and color. Banners bearing the emblem of the Feng Clan hung from several buildings, swaying gently beneath the sunlight, while the aroma of freshly prepared food mingled with incense and spiritual herbs displayed in small stalls along both sides of the road.

  His steps were steady, the new spear wrapped in black cloth secured across his back, the pouch of resources fastened at his side. The conversation with the Feng Clan’s elder protector remained vivid in his mind.

  The old man had asked, with a smile layered in meaning, whether he wished to stay a few more days to “recover properly.” The offer had been considered in silence. After all, the treatment received had been generous—perhaps excessively so. Yet the more he reflected on it, the stranger the clan’s enthusiasm seemed. A favor of that magnitude rarely came without invisible strings attached.

  With proper respect, he had declined, explaining that his body was already in perfect condition and that he needed to hurry to complete a mission assigned by the sect.

  He had expected insistence—perhaps an elegant excuse to delay him—but to his surprise, the elder simply nodded and ordered a servant to escort him to the exit. No obstacles. No pressure.

  And so now he walked alone along the city’s main artery, blending into the crowd. Merchants haggled loudly nearby, and here and there stood cultivators whose auras made it clear they were far from ordinary mortals. Everything was observed calmly, details absorbed without haste. Though his immediate destination was the northern gate, his mind remained in quiet analysis.

  Only two days of travel separated him from the city where his mission awaited. Maintaining a good pace would easily make up for the time lost to his injury. The spear’s position was adjusted slightly, followed by a faint, nearly imperceptible sigh.

  The incident with the crimson wolf and that demonic energy still lingered in his thoughts, but there was little point in dwelling on it. The “people above,” as the patriarch had put it, would handle such matters.

  Gradually, the city’s noise seemed to fade from his awareness.

  He had survived something that, according to the elder, even a Foundation Establishment cultivator would have found troublesome. His body had recovered at an absurd speed. And now he carried a spear that was supposedly only “slightly better” than the previous one… though instinct suggested otherwise.

  A faint smile touched his lips.

  The world of cultivation was vast and perilous—but also filled with opportunity. Walking beneath Blue Cloud City’s clear sky, it felt as though the first true step into that world had only just been taken.

  By the time he reached the northern gate, the bustle had thinned slightly, replaced by the steady flow of caravans and cultivators entering and leaving under the watchful eyes of the guards.

  The massive reinforced wooden gates stood wide open. Beyond them stretched the main road connecting Blue Cloud City to distant settlements.

  Off to one side, beneath the shade of a covered structure, stood a figure dressed in Feng Clan attire, holding the reins of a dark horse. The animal lifted its head upon sensing his presence and gave a soft neigh.

  He paused, surprised. Honestly, he hadn’t expected them to go to the trouble of retrieving and tending to his mount—much less bringing it to the gate to ease his departure.

  The servant inclined his head slightly as Jin approached.

  “Young sir, your horse has been properly fed and brushed. It suffered no harm during the incident.”

  The tone was respectful, though not excessively servile—as if the mere fact of being a sect disciple warranted a certain courtesy.

  A calm nod followed, though genuine gratitude stirred within. The horse’s neck was patted gently, confirming its good condition before turning back to the servant.

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  “Thank you for the trouble. Please convey my gratitude to the Grand Elder Protector.”

  Nothing more was added. In the cultivation world, words were unnecessary when actions had already spoken.

  With a fluid motion, he mounted the horse, secured the spear at his back, and fastened both pouches firmly at his side. For a brief moment, his gaze drifted back toward the city walls and distant rooftops.

  The Feng Clan had been hospitable—even generous.

  But his path did not lie there.

  The reins were turned. A light nudge of the heels.

  The horse moved forward, first at a walk, then into a steady trot along the packed earth road. Wind brushed against his face as the northern gate—and Blue Cloud City—fell behind.

  And this time, as the landscape gradually opened before him, he hoped no crimson wolf would choose to block his path.

  In the heart of Blue Cloud City, rising above rooftops, courtyards, and commercial streets, the Feng Clan stood like a city within a city. Internal walls, training halls, and spiritual gardens covered a vast expanse—a silent symbol of power. Among all its structures, one pagoda towered above the rest, tall and imposing, its curved eaves seeming to slice through the sky.

  At the top of that pagoda, two figures stood beside the carved wooden railing, watching the road that extended beyond the northern gate. Far in the distance, barely visible through drifting dust, the silhouette of a young rider grew smaller with every passing moment.

  The middle-aged man broke the silence without taking his eyes off the horizon. His voice was steady, restrained, yet tinged with doubts long held back.

  “Father, I won’t question your decisions… but I don’t understand.”

  A brief pause.

  “I agree with the spirit stones. Even the preferential treatment. But that spear…” At last, he turned toward the elder beside him. “You didn’t tell him—and I don’t know why—but a Low Earth-grade spiritual spear is not merely ‘slightly better’ than his original weapon.”

  The elder protector stood with his hands clasped behind his back, expression calm, almost contemplative. Wind stirred his sleeves gently while his deep, serene gaze followed the point where Jin had disappeared.

  A faint smile appeared.

  “That is precisely why I didn’t tell him,” he replied calmly. “If the boy had known its true value, he would have refused more firmly… or worse, felt indebted.”

  The man’s brow furrowed slightly.

  “But even for our clan, a Low Earth-grade spiritual weapon isn’t something handed out lightly.”

  A slow nod.

  “I know. And yet it was the correct decision.” His gaze shifted to his son. “That young man is not ordinary. Not only because of his martial talent. His body resisted demonic energy without contamination. His recovery speed is absurd. And most importantly…”

  His eyes gleamed with calculation.

  “He showed no greed.”

  Silence followed.

  “Power can be cultivated. Techniques can be learned,” the elder continued. “But character… that is far harder to forge. Today we gave him a spear.” His voice deepened slightly. “If one day he reaches greater heights, remembering that the Feng Clan treated him with sincerity may be worth more than any spiritual weapon.”

  Below them, the city carried on with its daily life, oblivious to the conversation above.

  The middle-aged man exhaled slowly, understanding—though still struck by the magnitude of the gamble.

  “Then… you believe he will go far?”

  The elder remained silent for a few moments before speaking again, eyes still fixed on the horizon.

  “You lack experience,” he said serenely, yet directly.

  The Feng Clan patriarch frowned faintly but did not interrupt.

  “It is true that he is currently only an outer disciple of the giant known as the Eight Celestial Peaks Sect. Among thousands—perhaps tens of thousands.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “But not every outer disciple can kill a first-rank beast corrupted by demonic energy.”

  A brief pause as wind stirred his robes.

  “He will undoubtedly become an inner disciple. It would not surprise me if he one day becomes a core disciple.” There was no exaggeration in his tone—only the cold assessment of someone who had lived long enough to recognize an exceptional seed. “And when he reaches that position… even a sliver of his goodwill could greatly benefit our clan.”

  The patriarch remained silent, though his gaze hardened slightly. The logic was sound. Even so, giving away a Low Earth-grade spiritual weapon remained a significant wager.

  The elder, however, had already shifted his attention.

  His spiritual sense expanded gently across the city—silent and intangible—passing over streets and rooftops before settling on a small figure standing along one of the clan’s inner terraces.

  Qin Er leaned against the railing, gazing toward the northern gate with an unusually quiet expression for someone so lively.

  A subtle smile appeared on the elder’s face.

  “On the other hand…” he murmured.

  The patriarch glanced sideways.

  “It seems Qin Er is fond of him.” His voice softened slightly. “When she enters the sect in the future, having a ‘friend’ will not be a bad thing.”

  The patriarch’s frown deepened.

  “Father… Qin Er is still a child.”

  A soft chuckle escaped the elder.

  “And he is still young.” His expression soon grew serious again. “I am not speaking of engagements or premature ties. I speak of connections.” Ancient wisdom glimmered in his eyes. “In this world, relationships are worth as much as strength. Sometimes more.”

  No immediate response came.

  Both men looked once more toward the distant road where the young rider had vanished minutes earlier.

  A trace of discomfort lingered within the patriarch.

  But for the first time since the spear had been given away, he began to understand—

  His father had not acted on impulse.

  He had simply seen several moves ahead.