Leaving the steward's office, Mo Fan didn't head straight for the back mountains.
He first returned to that dilapidated little courtyard in the servant quarters.
It was nearly noon, and the courtyard was eerily quiet. After experiencing the clamor of being besieged by countless busybodies these past days, and the enormous impact of A-Song's "meteoric rise," this already small courtyard seemed particularly empty and desolate.
Old Lü sat on the threshold, holding the iron spatula he used for cooking, staring vacantly at ants on the ground.
The dramatic ups and downs of these past days had come too fast.
One moment worrying about being expelled from the sect, the next their adopted child becoming the Sect Master's personal disciple; one moment having countless people trampling down their door, the next everyone keeping a respectful distance. This kind of plot that only existed in theatrical tales had landed squarely on this mortal old man's head, leaving his aged heart struggling to cope.
"Uncle Lü."
Mo Fan's voice interrupted the old man's daze.
"Ah! Xiaoqi!"
Old Lü snapped back to attention, the spatula clattering to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, looking at Mo Fan in clean clothes with even a bronze waist token hanging from his belt, his eyes showing a hint of awkwardness.
"You're..."
"I came back to pack some things."
Mo Fan entered the room, deftly stuffing a few changes of clothes and that copy of the Body Forging Record into his bundle.
"Cousin's illness can't be delayed any longer. I plan to take him to a more distant market town to have a look, and... I also want to clear my mind."
Mo Fan didn't explain much.
In this rigidly hierarchical world, the more explanations given, the more flaws emerged. Sometimes, a vague "distant place" could actually stop people from asking further questions.
After packing, Mo Fan walked up to Old Lü and pulled out a handful of Spirit Stone fragments from his chest—roughly equivalent to two or three low-grade Spirit Stones—and forcibly pressed them into the old man's calloused hands.
"Take it. Don't refuse—this is A-Song's filial offering to you."
Mo Fan gripped Old Lü's hands that tried to push back, his tone becoming especially solemn. "Uncle Lü, watch the house. Er Ya is still growing—don't skimp. If anyone dares bully you in the future, or if you encounter difficulties you can't solve..."
He paused, his gaze sharpening.
"Just invoke A-Song's name. Or go directly to the steward's office to find Steward Wang—tell him I sent you."
Now, to maintain his persona as "A-Song's benefactor," that fat Wang would definitely treat Old Lü's family like treasured ancestors.
"Ah... alright! I understand."
Old Lü gripped the cold Spirit Stones, eyes growing moist. He opened his mouth, seeming to want to say something like "be careful on the road," but looking at this youth who still smiled yet whose brow radiated an unfamiliar dignity, thousands of words ultimately became just a sigh.
"Go on then. Come back soon."
Mo Fan nodded without looking back.
Shouldering his pack and accompanied by the silent black-robed figure, he strode out through the courtyard gate, leaving behind this servant quarter filled with mundane daily life and trivial matters.
Old Lü stood in the doorway watching those two figures gradually recede into the distance, feeling empty inside.
He vaguely sensed that the "Lu Xiaoqi" who once cried from a broken leg and trembled from hunger had also disappeared into the clouds along with the genius A-Song.
The current one—he could no longer see through.
Five miles from the servant quarters.
This was already a dense primeval forest, rarely visited by people.
Mo Fan stopped. With [ Death Vision ] activated, after confirming no living person's presence within a hundred meters, the "honest man's" gentle expression on his face instantly vanished completely.
"Change outfit."
He removed the clothing representing a "law-abiding citizen," pulled out that [ Shadow Leopard Cloak ] emanating wild aura from his storage pouch, and skillfully draped it over himself. The massive leopard head hood came up, covering most of his face, leaving only eyes glinting with shrewd light in the shadows.
Behind him.
Mo Yan (Summon No. 001) also re-donned that [ Moon-Veiled Gauze ].
With the transformation, that expressionless dead face reappeared. Combined with the jet-black tight outfit and rusted sword on his back, a murderous aura naturally arose.
"This is how I should be."
Mo Fan rolled his neck, bones crackling like popping beans throughout his body.
"Whether deputy steward or genius's brother—those are all acts performed for the living, all illusion."
He looked down at the data panel still showing LV. 4 on his retina, eyes fervent.
"Only level, only attributes—those truly belong to me."
This time, his target was no longer those carrion rats worth only 1 experience point on the periphery, nor those tier-one early stage Spirit Beasts requiring effort to find.
He directly changed direction, heading straight for that place he'd been before—the Buffer Zone deep in the back mountains.
That was where Spirit Beasts truly roamed, a hunting ground where crisis and opportunity coexisted.
"Before, I had to calculate carefully and consider cost-effectiveness. But now..."
Mo Fan recalled the heart-stopping number the System displayed when he killed that LV. 8 Shadow Leopard—1000 experience points.
That instant surge was like riding a rocket.
Moreover, what he couldn't forget was the sensation of absorbing that complete tier-one superior Spirit Beast's essence. That feeling of his soul being instantly filled and sublimated, like the most potent drug in existence, was deeply carved into his marrow, stimulating every nerve.
That was the most primal craving for power.
"Killing a thousand rats isn't as good as killing one leopard."
Mo Fan licked his lips. "Since I'm leveling up, I'll take the most efficient path. Meet strength with strength, nurture war through war."
However, while strategically dismissive of enemies, Mo Fan tactically maintained his excellent "old schemer" traditions.
He didn't plunge recklessly into the deep mountains.
After entering the buffer zone's edge, he commanded Mo Yan, whose combat power had stabilized at late-stage Qi Condensation, to cleanly dispatch a [ Soft-Bone Rabbit ] (tier-one intermediate Spirit Beast) occupying a concealed cave.
This was a one-sided slaughter without suspense.
Possessing jade bones and sword arts instinct, Mo Yan didn't even need Summon No. 003's cooperation—using just three strikes, he pinned the rabbit renowned for agility dead against the rock wall.
[ Gained Experience: +150 XP ]
With his current cultivation level, intermediate Spirit Beasts could no longer satisfy Mo Fan's appetite.
More importantly, tier-one intermediate beasts typically didn't produce remnant souls—this was also why Mo Fan insisted on fighting above his level. Relying solely on killing same-level Spirit Beasts would be too slow. The current focus had to be absorbing remnant souls—that was where the bulk of experience came from.
Moments later, Mo Fan entered the cave. Enduring the stench, he commanded skeletons to clean out the excrement and weeds, then scattered insect repellent powder and laid down dry grass.
"Good. This is our new base."
This location was concealed with clear sightlines, allowing both offense and retreat.
"No rush."
Mo Fan sat cross-legged at the cave entrance, watching the sky gradually darken outside, not hastily attacking.
"Scout first, then strike. Proceed carefully, advance step by step."
He patted his storage pouch and released the repaired mechanical leopard, Summon No. 003.
"Go. Autonomous reconnaissance. Map out all high-tier Spirit Beast locations within five miles for me."
True hunters, before pulling the trigger, have often already waited a long time within their trap.