A week had passed since that Spirit Testing Ceremony that shocked the entire sect.
Mo Fan had originally thought that with A-Song taken to the cloud heights, life in the servant quarters would quickly return to its former tranquility, like a stone cast into a lake—after the ripples, ultimately returning to stillness.
But he was wrong.
He had severely underestimated the cultivation world's masses' enthusiasm for gossip, and underestimated the lingering impact of his "Oscar-level" performance.
Early morning, Mo Fan hid in his small dwelling, cautiously peering through the door crack.
Outside the courtyard, several young people wearing outer sect disciple robes were pointing at his door, holding low-grade [ Image-Capturing Stones ] emanating faint light.
"Look, this is where that 'Lu Xiaoqi' lives."
"Tsk tsk, the fierce guy from the video who cried snot and tears, questioning the Golden Core elder?"
"Exactly! That line 'Why am I a waste Spirit Root?!' nearly shattered my Dao Heart. Now this video's gone viral in the market square, titled 'For Whom Does the Immortal Path Speak—Starting from Lu Xiaoqi's Tears.'"
"I heard there's even a remix version with funeral music, super moving..."
Inside, Mo Fan leaned against the door, covered in metaphorical black lines, his toes embarrassed enough to scratch out a three-bedroom apartment on the floorboards.
"What a disaster..."
He covered his face in agony.
Had he known the reach would be this extensive, he wouldn't have performed so intensely. Now look—he'd not only become "the genius's brother" but a famous "tragic clown."
These past days, even going to the outhouse, he could feel countless eyes staring at his back. Some sympathized, thinking him unfortunate; some mocked, laughing at his impotent rage; some even came specifically to see how many guts this "Golden Core-defying" servant possessed.
"Right now, I'm basically the cultivation world's 'top traffic internet celebrity,' and the kind selling misery at that."
This level of attention was catastrophic for a Necromancer who needed to develop discreetly.
To avoid exposing his secrets, Mo Fan had no choice but to lock himself in, not stepping out the front or side doors. Daytime servant duties could only be outsourced to Da Hu and the others for money.
As for going to the cliff bottom to level up? Not even worth considering. The moment he left the village, he'd definitely have several news-digging tails following him.
"This life is unbearable."
Mo Fan sighed, glancing at Mo Yan in the corner, also forced to standby mode wearing a mask and pretending to be a wooden post.
"Looks like I'll have to lay low for a while. After all, the 'Lu Xiaoqi' identity is temporarily locked into the 'heartbroken and self-isolating' persona."
Deep night, tranquil silence.
The servant quarters, noisy all day, finally quieted. The spectators dispersed, leaving only autumn insects chirping.
Mo Fan sat at the table, wiping his dagger by moonlight.
Suddenly—
A faint yet pure flowing light streaked across the night sky outside.
Mo Fan looked up alertly, seeing an exquisitely folded paper crane emanating subtle spiritual resonance. Like it had sentience, it passed through the dilapidated window lattice gaps and landed lightly on his scarred wooden table.
The crane carried a pleasant medicinal fragrance—the unique scent of the inner sect.
"This is..."
Mo Fan's heart stirred as he reached for the crane.
At his fingertips' touch, the crane slowly unfolded into a letter covered with writing. The characters were crooked with several typos and ink blots—clearly written by someone just learning to write.
It was A-Song's handwriting.
Seventh Brother:
I'm doing well. Don't worry.
The clouds here are so white, the buildings so large, even the floors are warm. The Sect Master isn't as fierce as I imagined—he's a good person who personally teaches me to read. Senior brothers and sisters are excessively polite to me, sending delicious spirit fruits every day.
But I still miss the roasted sweet potatoes from our courtyard. The food here makes me feel stronger (senior brother says it's spirit rice), but it doesn't have that taste.
Is Old Man Lü's health good? Has Er Ya gotten fatter?
Reading these naive yet sincere words, Mo Fan's lips unconsciously curved into a warm arc.
That child, even after ascending to heaven in one step, even after moving into the cloud-level Dao Asking Palace, still carried this muddy courtyard in his heart.
At the letter's end, a line of small characters:
Master gave me many greeting gifts for cultivation use. But I've only just started learning acupoint locations and can't use them at all. I heard outside things need money to buy—Seventh Brother, take these to buy something good to eat, don't save.
As the letter fully unfolded, a miniature storage array activated.
Clatter—
A crisp, pleasant collision sound rang through the silent dwelling.
A pile of crystal-clear Spirit Stones, like pouring beans, tumbled from the letter, instantly covering half the table. Atop the spirit stone pile sat three exquisite jade bottles.
Mo Fan froze.
He counted with trembling hands.
50 low-grade Spirit Stones.
And not the impurity-laden fragments, but full, rounded, spiritually abundant standard Spirit Stones!
Then those three jade bottles.
[ Item: Supreme Quality Qi Gathering Pills x 3 bottles (10 pills each). ]
[ System Evaluation: Inner Sect Pill Cauldron Peak special supply, no pill toxicity, medicinal effect five times that of ordinary Qi Gathering Pills. ]
[ Valuation: Priceless on the market. ]
"..."
Mo Fan stared at this table of wealth, throat somewhat dry.
50 Spirit Stones—enough to buy that Body Forging Record; those three bottles of supreme pills, if sold at the market square, would probably cause a stampede.
But for A-Song, the Sect Master's personal disciple, this might just be sand slipping through his fingers, pocket change casually given by elders.
"This is the cultivation world's... class barrier."
Mo Fan picked up a Spirit Stone, sensing the pure spiritual energy within, emotions complicated.
Before, it was always him saving from his teeth gaps, risking his life at the cliff bottom killing rats, stripping corpses, accumulating spirit fragments one by one, just to buy A-Song the most inferior medicinal bath.
And now it had reversed.
Whatever A-Song casually leaked exceeded Mo Fan's half month of desperate struggle in the back mountains, or more.
A powerful sense of disparity impacted Mo Fan's self-esteem, but quickly this emotion was replaced by rationality and a more practical ecstatic joy.
His eyes brightened as he rapidly swept the Spirit Stones and pills into his storage pouch.
"What does this mean?"
"It means my judgment is impeccable! This angel round investment already has over 1000% returns!"
Mo Fan rapidly calculated in his mind.
As long as A-Song remained in that position, as long as he remained that beloved genius, then Mo Fan possessed an endless logistical supply line from the cloud heights.
He didn't need to compete in the inner sect, didn't need to risk exposure taking high-difficulty missions. He only needed to maintain his position outside, play the "waste brother" role well, and resources would deliver themselves.
"This feeling of being a 'kept man'..."
Mo Fan patted his bulging storage pouch, smile becoming somewhat mercenary yet proud.
"Though it sounds bad... it's truly fucking wonderful."