Author Archives: sandy

Qiao Sinian chose Guiyang Prefecture.

Guiyang Prefecture was not a county—it had originally been established by the Chu Kingdom as a special administrative area for mining lead, tin, and other ores. Later, to facilitate management, it was given the same administrative rank as a county.

When Chu lost the war to Yue, the area fell under Yue’s control.

In terms of population, it was smaller than Yizhang and Linwu Counties.

One of the reasons Qiao Sinian chose it was that, during their journey south, they had passed through Guiyang Prefecture and stayed there for a few days. It was not an unfamiliar place.

Yizhang and Linwu, on the other hand, were south of the ancient Yangshan Pass road—territories she had never reached before.

Not knowing the customs or people there, she thought it would be foolish to choose blindly and risk failure.

The second reason was that Guiyang Prefecture was also responsible for minting coins, which meant many merchants passed through.

Where there were traders, there would be markets—and wider opportunities to sell goods.

Chen Wulang, who also wanted Guiyang, felt a pang of disappointment and began thinking of ways to persuade her later to trade places.

The second-highest bidder was Dou Dailang.

Not only had Xian Sanniang given him all her money, but other members of the Dou clan had also pooled their resources—together totaling over seventy thousand.

He chose Yizhang County, the region he was most familiar with.

With the two of them having made their selections, the remaining territory—Linwu County—naturally fell to Chen Wulang.

After verifying their funds, Zhou Li drew up contracts—specifically converting them into traditional characters before printing.

Since some of them were illiterate, Zhao Changyan read the contents aloud.

Chen Wulang asked to speak privately with Qiao Sinian before signing.

Qiao Sinian refused outright. She said her decision was one agreed upon by several backers, and talking to her alone would change nothing.

Then, without hesitation, she signed first.

Seeing that the matter was settled, Chen Wulang abandoned the idea of switching territories.

As the contracts were signed, the system’s voice suddenly echoed in Zhou Li’s mind:

“Congratulations, salesperson 0311. You have successfully completed your first interplanetary trade contract and fulfilled your initial trade quota. You may now return to your original world for half a month to restock goods.”

Zhou Li’s face remained composed, but excitement surged inside her.

She had been in this world for eight days!

Though most refugees were poor and could not buy much, their sheer numbers and constant demand kept business thriving.

Take grain and oil, for instance—cheap, essential goods. Even if they had to borrow, people were still stocking up.

The supermarket’s inventory was nearly empty.

If she didn’t return soon to restock, she’d have nothing left to supply her new distributors.

She told the three, “Decide quickly what goods you want and how much. Then pay your deposits.”

Afterward, she announced a new purchase limit: each membership card could buy no more than three units of any single item per day.

For example—no more than three jin of rice, three bags or boxes of flour, and three bottles or barrels of oil.

The moment the rule came out, panic spread among the refugees.

Especially those without membership cards—since only cardholders could enter the supermarket, they’d often relied on others to buy for them. But now, with purchase limits, cardholders would naturally prioritize their own families first.

Zhao Changyan said coolly, “You’re not like that fool Chen San—do you really think you can’t get your own membership cards?”

Her words successfully soothed the crowd.

Because she had managed the dealership bidding, many already felt close to her—or at least wanted to curry favor.

Now, reassured, they relaxed at once.

Someone asked boldly, “Chang Qiniang, do you know what kind of items the divine lady favors?”

Most had nothing of great age or fine craftsmanship. Their pots and bowls were ordinary—items far inferior to what the supermarket sold.

They did have coin money (lead and iron currency), but since Zhao Changyan had told them the supermarket didn’t accept “mortal money,” they’d never considered trading with it.

Recalling what Zhou Li had accepted before, Zhao Changyan remembered: Qiao Sinian’s wooden hairpin had been huanghuali wood, Xian Sanniang’s lacquer box was made of agarwood, and Madam Dou’s paperweight was rosewood.

These three timbers—huanghuali, agarwood, and rosewood—were all rare and precious, yet native to Chu-Yue lands.

Zhao Changyan said, “I don’t know for certain, but Xian Sanniang’s reasoning isn’t wrong. The Little Boss seems to prefer old items—or finely crafted ones.”

Indeed, that had been evident in the wooden artifacts she’d accepted before. And Yin Jiao’s brocade belt had won Qiao Sinian the dealership spot—it proved that the more intricate and difficult the craftsmanship, the higher Zhou Li valued it.

Still, most such items were already valuable. Ordinary refugees without background or luck couldn’t produce anything like that.

The man who asked sighed in disappointment.

Zhao Changyan added, “From what I know, this forest holds some rare woods—rosewood, agarwood, huanghuali… You could ask the Little Boss if she buys such timber.”

The man’s eyes lit up, and he thanked her eagerly before running to share the news with his family. But soon he came running back.

“Qiniang, you seem to know so much—do you also know what those trees look like?”

“I do,” said Zhao Changyan, “but what will you give me in exchange for that knowledge?”

He froze, then pulled out a small cloth bundle. Carefully unwrapping it, he revealed a few dozen copper coins.

“I only have this much left. Is it enough?”

Zhao Changyan accepted the coins. “Wait here.”

She returned to the supermarket.

Zhou Li was busy tying up final tasks before leaving.

Zhao Changyan respectfully presented one of the coins and asked, “Little Boss, how much would this coin be worth?”

Zhou Li tried listing it on the auction platform—but unlike before, where an automatic price appeared, both the starting and buyout prices were blank.

“Why’s that?” she asked the system.

“Because that coin isn’t part of the interplane currency network,” the system replied.

The coin bore the reign title of the Chu Kingdom’s founding king—but that era didn’t exist in other worlds’ histories.

Since it wasn’t recognized as a historical coin from those planes, its value was greatly reduced—unless someone from this world’s future happened to buy it.

But because of time-paradox laws, entities from different time points of the same world couldn’t make direct or indirect contact.

That is, someone living in AD 958 couldn’t trade through the auction platform with someone from AD 1000 in the same world.

Zhou Li frowned. “But didn’t Madam Dou’s paperweight have poetry on it that wasn’t from another world either?”

“True—but there are countless anonymous poems throughout history. If the piece had a known author, it wouldn’t have sold for 140,000 yuan.”

Zhou Li began to grasp the auction house’s pricing logic.

When she first arrived, the system had told her this plane was very similar to her own world’s Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms era.

If the civilizations were similar, the cultural artifacts’ values would also align.

And surely, this wasn’t the only plane with such parallels.

The buyers purchasing the refugees’ items were probably people from worlds with civilizations akin to this one.

Still, Zhou Li asked, “So… would newly made items from this world count as antiques in another plane?”

“No,” said the system.

That confused her. “If not antiques, why are they still worth so much?”

“The value,” the system explained, “lies in their production date. For certain buyers, objects from the same historical period of a parallel civilization have research value.”

Qiao Sinian’s hairpin fetched thousands because, age-wise, it was antique—and the precious wood added further worth.

Xian Sanniang’s lacquer box was valuable for its agarwood material and its mother-of-pearl technique from AD 936.

Yin Jiao’s brocade belt came from the AD 950 silk-weaving craft.

Madam Dou’s paperweight, meanwhile, was already a scholar’s antique—its rosewood composition and carved flowers and poems were just bonuses.

As for Zhao Changyan’s bluefish stone—it wasn’t antique nor intricate, but its present-day market value was legitimate.

Zhou Li stopped overthinking it.

Even if these items’ dates couldn’t pass carbon testing, once they were placed behind museum glass, who would really know whether they were from the Shang-Zhou era or last week?

She was about to tell Zhao Changyan the coin wasn’t worth much—

When suddenly, the auction listing updated with a “3.”

The system explained, “Though it’s likely treated as a replica, it isn’t entirely worthless.”

Like the “Five Emperors Coins” in her world—most were mass-produced modern replicas, yet they still had a market.

Zhou Li understood. “Three yuan per coin—minimum ten coins.”

Zhao Changyan exhaled in relief.

Money for money—it worked.

And given how worthless their local currency had become, earning enough for a jin of rice per coin was a miracle.

To the refugees, it was a glimmer of hope.

Zhao Changyan exchanged all the coins for cash, then asked, “Little Boss, I noticed you have books here. Do you happen to sell any that teach how to identify valuable woods?”

Zhou Li thought for a moment. Her little supermarket didn’t sell books—but she did recall the stationery aisle carried practice copybooks and children’s coloring books.

“Not yet,” she said. “But if you want one, I can get it for you.”

Zhao Changyan’s eyes brightened. “Thank you, Little Boss!”

Zhou Li added casually, “By the way, I’ll be leaving for a while. I’m trusting you to keep everyone calm while I’m gone.”

Zhao Changyan stiffened slightly, heart skipping a beat.

[Author’s Note]

[Owl emoji] [Calico cat emoji] [Lop-eared bunny emoji] [Upright bunny emoji] [Panda emoji]

☢️☢️☢️

Zhou Li planned to appoint three distributors.

One would come from the Dayue refugees, another from the Chu refugees, and the last spot would go to whichever side proved stronger.

She intended to create a tender document listing the basic requirements—to weed out the opportunists first—and then let the remaining candidates bid for dealership rights.

After printing the document, she handed it to Zhao Changyan.

Zhao Changyan stared at it for several minutes, confused. She wasn’t used to reading from left to right. Only after some time did she remember that the divine lady’s way of writing was different from that of mortals.

While Zhao Changyan studied the document, both the Chu and Dayue refugees erupted in commotion over the dealership matter.

But compared to the excited Dayue side, the Chu people were displeased—because Zhao Changyan hadn’t spoken to them first.

If someone hadn’t overheard her conversation with Qiao Sinian, they would still have been completely in the dark.

Old Chen sought Zhao Changyan out.

Before he could speak, Zhao Changyan said, “When I followed your group southward, you did not drive me away. For that, I remain grateful.”

Old Chen frowned. “If you’re grateful, then why did you hide something as important as dealership rights from me? Even when you first discovered the divine dwelling, you didn’t tell me privately right away.”

Zhao Changyan replied calmly, “As for dealership rights, I didn’t hide them from you—I simply hadn’t yet informed you. As for the divine dwelling, I did tell you immediately. I just didn’t expect the Dayue people to overhear.”

Old Chen: …

What kind of excuse was that?

Yet he couldn’t argue back—her words were airtight.

Her tone was polite, but he knew she was only being superficially courteous.

After all, his own supposed “kindness” toward her had been no more genuine—he’d only taken her in because he’d wanted to make her his grandson’s wife.

Trying to save face, Old Chen said, “Fine. Since I already know about it, there’s no need for further explanation. But if you truly wish to repay me, could you speak a few good words to the divine lady on my son’s behalf, so he might gain dealership rights?”

Zhao Changyan was inwardly disgusted. This old fox, pretending to be righteous, really knew how to push his luck.

She replied, “The Little Boss is fair and impartial. She will grant dealership rights based on merit, not favor. I only act as her messenger.”

She deliberately emphasized the words “fair and impartial.”

Old Chen caught her meaning but, thick-skinned as he was, pretended not to.

Zhao Changyan added, “In fact, the Little Boss has just given me an official document. I’ll be reading it aloud for everyone soon.”

Old Chen’s eyes lit up with anticipation. But Zhao Changyan only smiled faintly and tucked the paper away, saying she would read it once everyone had gathered in the morning.

That left Old Chen fuming and restless. He spent the entire night awake, calling a meeting of the Chen villagers to strategize.

*

At dawn, even before the supermarket opened, both the Chu and Dayue refugees gathered in the open space out front.

Once Zhao Changyan confirmed that all the key figures were present, she began to read aloud.

First: only three dealership regions would be opened at this stage—Dunzhou’s Yizhang County, Linwu County, and Guiyang Prefecture near Qitian Ridge.

Second: applicants must have at least 30,000 cash in liquid assets and must pay a 5,000 deposit.

Third: distributors must strictly obey supermarket rules and may not cross into another’s region. Violators would lose both their dealership rights and their deposit.

Fourth: profits and losses were each distributor’s own responsibility. However, if losses were caused by malicious competition, they could report it to the Little Boss, who—after verifying evidence—would punish the guilty party.

Fifth: dealership rights would last for three years. After the term expired, they could reapply through another round of bidding, but current dealers would receive priority renewal.

…

When she finished reading, many people who’d planned to compete alone immediately gave up.

Thirty thousand in liquid assets? How could they possibly come up with that much money?

Someone sneered at Qiao Sinian, “Guess you’re out of luck.”

Before Qiao Sinian could respond, her aunt—Aunt Yin Jiao—spotted the supermarket door opening and rushed over with a bundle in her arms, becoming the first customer of the day.

Zhou Li saw she wasn’t browsing the aisles and immediately understood her intent.

“Want to exchange goods for cash?”

Aunt Yin nodded and opened her bundle, laying out the contents.

The first thing Zhou Li noticed was a belt.

[Purple-Ground Brocade Belt with Rhombus Pattern]
Year: 8 years old
Produced: AD 950
Owner: Yin Jiao
Starting price: 43,888 yuan (recommended)
Buyout price: 80,000 yuan (recommended)

Aunt Yin was nervous. To her, the whole bundle wasn’t even worth a thousand coins.

Her late husband had been conscripted into the army. Before dying in battle, he’d once won a victory—and this belt was among the spoils he had taken from some high-ranking noble.

She’d been wearing it ever since.

Zhou Li murmured to the system, “Just how many surprises do these refugees have hidden?”

System: “It’s both coincidence and inevitability. Some things seem ordinary in their time but are priceless in later generations.”

This silk-brocade belt, for instance—though not as fine as later examples—was extremely rare because such fabric rarely survived the centuries.

Even though it was only eight years old and technically not an ‘antique,’ it was still a rare artifact of its age—fetching a high price at auction.

As for the rest of the items, Zhou Li suspected Aunt Yin had brought out everything she owned.

But none of it was worth much.

Zhou Li kept only the brocade belt. “This belt alone can earn you enough to buy plenty here.”

The moment the belt was listed on the auction platform, it sold instantly at the buyout price.

When Aunt Yin learned how valuable it was, she was stunned. So that’s what nobles wear—a single belt worth so much!

Then joy overwhelmed her. Now Sinian won’t have to worry about money for the dealership bid!

It never even crossed her mind to let her son bid instead.

—Last time, when their noodles were stolen, she’d told him to stay and guard the rest, while they went to chase the thieves.

He failed even that—letting the noodles be taken.

“When they come to rob you, smash the noodles if you must, but don’t let them take them!” she’d shouted.

He’d mumbled, “But if they’re smashed, we can’t eat them.”

She’d nearly fainted from anger. “If they steal them, we can’t eat them either! Why let them have the benefit?”

She thought her son lacked his cousin Sinian’s fierceness.

So, when Sinian said she wanted to compete for dealership, Aunt Yin fully supported her.

She returned to Qiao Sinian, clutching the supermarket membership card, and said excitedly, “Sinian, you don’t need to worry about persuading the Dayue anymore—your aunt’s got money now!”

Qiao Sinian was surprised.

If her aunt was that confident, it must mean she had well over 30,000 coins.

Who’d have thought that pile of “junk” actually contained something so valuable?

Still, she insisted on partnering with Madam Dou.

“Auntie,” she explained, “even if we win dealership rights, going alone will leave us isolated. Working with the Dayue is our best path.”

She laid out her reasoning clearly.

By partnering with Madam Dou, she would be seen as half-Dayue herself—earning their trust. Meanwhile, the Chu would grow cautious of losing her allegiance and treat her more kindly.

Aunt Yin frowned. “Is that really necessary? You won’t even be selling in the same regions.”

Qiao Sinian said, “The divine lady is only opening three counties for now, but that won’t last. As word spreads, more people will come to compete for dealership rights. The more regions we control, the farther we’ll need to transport goods—and the more money that’ll take.”

Aunt Yin wasn’t a businesswoman, but Qiao Sinian’s logic was so clear that she nodded. “Then do as you think best.”

*

Zhou Li gave the refugees three days to raise their funds.

When the time came, she brought out a folding table and sat outside the supermarket to oversee the bidding herself.

Zhao Changyan laid out a few straw mats three meters away. The bidders sat cross-legged on them.

The bidding process was completely improvised—something Zhou Li made up on the spot.

She told them to write their total available funds on paper. The lowest bidder would be eliminated.

Afraid of being the lowest, everyone wrote down large amounts.

But very few could actually muster 30,000, so the first round eliminated three people right away.

Only six people had entered—half were gone in a single stroke.

The remaining three—Dou Dailang, Qiao Sinian, and Old Chen’s son Chen Wulang—breathed sighs of relief.

Their dealership rights were almost secured.

For the second round, Zhou Li announced, “The highest bid will have first choice of region.”

The three tensed immediately, each terrified of losing their preferred territory—and so they all put forth everything they had.

Zhou Li didn’t reveal their exact bids; she simply announced the order of results.

To everyone’s astonishment—Qiao Sinian was the highest bidder!

“How is that possible!?” someone cried.

Chen San shouted, “No way! She barely owns a few thousand coins! This must be favoritism—Zhao Changyan’s helping her!”

Zhao Changyan’s expression turned icy. “Are you questioning the Little Boss’s fairness?”

Chen San stuck his neck out defiantly, pretending to demand justice.

Everyone looked at him like he was a fool.

The divine lady had already rejected him—he couldn’t even enter the supermarket anymore. And now he dared to accuse her of corruption?

Zhou Li, aware he was just a pawn—someone his clan had pushed forward to take the blame—remained utterly calm.

She took a sip from her bottle of Wong Lo Kat herbal tea and said coolly, “And who do you think you are, to question me?”

Everyone flinched—but also found her words entirely fitting.

After all, she was the divine lady. Even if she wasn’t truly a god, the powers she’d shown made her far beyond any mortal.

Why would she owe an explanation to anyone?

Chen San’s face turned red as he choked on his own indignation.

Fearing Zhou Li’s wrath might fall on them all, Old Chen hurried to scold him publicly, pushing him down to silence him.

☢️☢️☢️

The rain came suddenly, catching everyone off guard.

Many refugees, who had thought they could get by without buying a tarp, woke up drenched and shivering under the pounding rain. Desperate, they scrambled to find any place that could shelter them.

There weren’t many trees on the mountain, and their leaves were too sparse to block the rain. No one dared hide beneath them.

So, they turned instead to those who had bought tarps and built makeshift shelters, begging to squeeze in under their covers.

Zhao Changyan opened her eyes the moment raindrops brushed against her face.

She had been sleeping near the supermarket’s awning, but the wind blew the rain sideways, soaking the tiles by the door.

She quietly gathered her things and leaned against the wall, half-sitting, half-dozing.

Then she heard footsteps approaching—quick, uneven, coming closer.

When she looked up, it was Qiao Sinian.

Qiao Sinian wore a bamboo hat and a straw raincoat, and she held another raincoat in her hand.

Meeting Zhao Changyan’s guarded gaze, her heart tightened. But reminding herself that her intentions were harmless, she steadied herself.

Without a word, she placed the extra raincoat beside Zhao Changyan and hurried back toward her family’s small shelter.

Zhao Changyan didn’t throw it away.

Though she was always wary of others’ kindness, she wouldn’t trample on sincere goodwill.

Still, wary of being accused of taking advantage, she didn’t dare wear it either.

…

That night, though the refugees were caught off guard by the rain, no real chaos broke out.

Yet everyone knew—it was merely the calm before the storm.

Both the Dayue and the Chu refugees wanted to settle here, to claim the “divine dwelling’s” resources for themselves.

Conflict over resources was inevitable.

*

The next morning, when the supermarket opened, Zhou Li immediately sensed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Both sides—the Dayue and the Chu—were now shopping in a coordinated, organized manner.

After food and water, knives had become the third most popular item.

Following closely were iron pots and stainless-steel basins.

Zhou Li whispered to the system, “They’re not about to start a knife fight, are they?”

System: …

Zhou Li thought for a moment. “That won’t do. I waited so long for these customers—if they kill each other, that’s bad for business! Every dead customer is lost revenue!”

System: “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t get involved in their conflicts?”

“Being a person means being flexible,” Zhou Li said sagely. “Our ancestors taught us the art of adaptation. I won’t interfere directly—but I can nudge things from behind the scenes.”

System: “Reasonable enough. But I’m not a person.”

Zhou Li: “…You don’t have to insult yourself like that.”

System: “So what’s your plan?”

“I’ll have them join the WTO—no, I mean, I’ll make them franchise the supermarket! Then I can mediate properly.”

Her plan was to model a franchise system—letting both Chu and Dayue factions buy wholesale from her and resell goods.

She would divide their trade territories, like modern business zones: “No same-brand stores within a hundred meters.”

That way, the two groups wouldn’t clash directly.

Once they became distributors, they’d focus on expanding their markets instead of fighting over scraps.

And if their ambitions grew later—well, then it would be business competition, not bloodshed.

Besides, even if she didn’t suggest it, profit would eventually drive them toward becoming middlemen anyway.

So why not take control of the system early?

Still, Zhou Li didn’t announce her idea right away.

She waited until demand for certain products started to level off. Then she said to Zhao Changyan, “You’ve worked hard these past few days.”

On the surface, Zhao Changyan stayed calm, but inside she jolted.

Did this mean her time as a store assistant was over?

She had noticed lately that most refugees had learned how to shop and understood the process well enough without guidance.

Her temporary job might be coming to an end.

Even though she had known this day would come, she couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed.

If she’d had a little more time, she might have gotten closer to the Little Boss—and her future plans would have had a higher chance of success.

She said, “It has been my greatest fortune to meet the Little Boss in my time of hardship. The Little Boss has blessed me with heavenly food… To serve you, no hardship would ever be too much.”

Her reply was deliberate.

If she said the job wasn’t tiring, it might sound like she hadn’t worked hard enough. Better to flatter Zhou Li a little—and emphasize devotion at the same time.

Zhou Li muttered to the system, “She must be from Shandong—so good at flattery.”

To Zhao Changyan, she said warmly, “You’re quick, smart, and capable. If I could, I’d keep you here forever.”

Zhao Changyan looked genuinely moved—almost startled. She was about to decline politely when Zhou Li continued,

“But a golden carp isn’t meant to stay in a pond forever. When it meets the storm, it becomes a dragon.”

The words struck Zhao Changyan to her core. She froze, trembling slightly, staring at Zhou Li in stunned silence.

System: “…You’re really something yourself.”

Zhou Li thought smugly, All those half-year communication courses finally paid off.

Zhao Changyan understood now—the divine lady had seen through her lineage and ambition.

And yet, the divine lady wasn’t displeased.

Her lips quivered. Just as she was about to speak, Zhou Li said, “I can’t keep you here, but fate has tied us together. I can offer you a chance to win people’s hearts—will you take it?”

“Yes!” Zhao Changyan blurted out too quickly, then quickly added, “Zhao Changyan thanks the divine lady for her heavenly favor.”

System: “You’re recruiting her as a franchisee, but she thinks you’re bestowing divine fortune.”

Zhou Li: “Soon I’ll have to start rationing supplies. Before that, I’ll make her my first distributor. Anyone wanting to resell goods will have to go through her. How is that not divine favor?”

The system was starting to appreciate human cunning.

Zhou Li explained her plan to Zhao Changyan, who instantly realized—this truly made her the “messenger of the goddess.”

A genuine divine appointment!

She dropped to her knees and performed a full ceremonial bow, the kind Chu nobles used to worship their gods.

Zhou Li: …

No need to go that far.

She had only chosen Zhao Changyan because the girl was clever.

With just a bit of embellishment, she could make Zhou Li sound powerful, mysterious, and untouchable.

Zhou Li had no real interest in playing a deity—but if the role made life easier, why not?

*

Zhao Changyan descended the mountain.

She first found Dou Dailang, who was leading the Dayue people in clearing shrubs and expanding their settlement.

“Chang Qiniang?” he said, surprised. “Why aren’t you in the divine lady’s dwelling?”

“I’ve learned,” Zhao Changyan said solemnly, “that the Little Boss intends to limit how much each person can buy.”

Dou Dailang froze, then thought of all the supplies he’d already stored and relaxed.

“So what if she does?” he said indifferently.

In truth, he was pleased.

With purchase limits, they wouldn’t have to worry about the Chu people buying everything up first.

Zhao Changyan said, “I know you’ve bought enough to last months. But are you satisfied?”

His brows lifted slightly. Of course he wasn’t.

And now he began to see her meaning.

She might be young, but her mind was sharp.

If she came all this way to talk, there was bound to be an opportunity behind it.

“What advice does Chang Qiniang have for me?”

“Advice is too strong a word,” she said smoothly.

She had already prepared her pitch.

Before, she had convinced everyone that Zhou Li pitied mortals but could not touch karma, so she saved them through trade at low prices.

Now, she could use that same belief—and build upon it.

For example—there were still countless people across the land suffering from disasters and wars.

The divine lady could not personally visit every region, so she could only “spread her teachings” through her followers. These followers could buy goods in bulk from the supermarket and then sell them beyond Qitian Ridge—to the poor common folk who went hungry because of high prices and heavy taxes. That way, they could eat cheap, filling food.

Dou Dailang and his clan would take on the role of these “followers.”

When Dou Dailang heard this, his heart was immediately moved.

He hesitated deliberately, saying, “But if more people find out about this place…”

He still feared that others would come and snatch what he saw as their rightful share.

Zhao Changyan wasn’t surprised by his selfishness.

When she first discovered the supermarket, she too had wanted to keep it a secret. But after realizing the goods inside would never run out, she decided to tell others.

She said, “And what if they do know? As long as you have the dealership rights, you’ll always be able to buy more goods from the Little Boss. Whether you keep them for yourself or sell them—that’s your choice.”

Dou Dailang’s eyes brightened in sudden realization.

In truth, he’d already had the same idea.

When Chen San’s family started buying from others in the group, he had seen the business opportunity.

But since the goods came from the divine lady herself, he and the others were afraid that reselling them privately would offend her.

Now that she had lifted the restriction, he no longer had any reservations.

He decided to go home and discuss it with Xian Sanniang—since she was the one who controlled their money, her approval was essential.

…

The second person Zhao Changyan approached was not Old Chen, but Qiao Sinian.

Although Old Chen was a village head and technically had authority, his recent inaction had disappointed her.

A leader who couldn’t act fairly would eventually lose people’s trust.

The fact that no one opposed him now didn’t mean that would last forever.

Sooner or later, the Chu refugees would fall into chaos among themselves.

Instead of wasting time on him, she chose Qiao Sinian.

First, she wasn’t close to anyone else—only Qiao Sinian had shown her some goodwill.

Since the divine lady had given her a chance to win hearts, she had to make sure everyone understood: only those close to her could receive dealership rights.

Second, this was also her way of repaying the kindness Qiao Sinian had shown that rainy night.

Whether Qiao Sinian’s family could seize this opportunity and change their fate—would now depend on them.

…

After Dou Dailang told Xian Sanniang about the opportunity, she immediately recognized how rare it was. Together, they hurried to secure a place in the plan.

Unfortunately, they were a step too late—because Zhao Changyan had also told Qiao Sinian.

Qiao Sinian was tempted, but she knew she didn’t have enough funds to purchase large quantities of goods, nor could she protect them by herself.

So, she turned to the richest Dayue woman among the refugees—Madam Dou.

Madam Dou said, “If I wanted to cooperate, I could just work with Dou Dailang. Why should I partner with a Chu woman like you?”

Qiao Sinian said, “You’re not from the same clan as him, are you? You both speak the local tongue, but your dialects are different—I can hear it.”

Between the Chu and Dayue regions, the Tujia dialect system had three main branches, each with its own sub-dialects—sometimes even changing every five miles.

In recent decades, with northern migrants moving south, languages and accents had mixed, but Qiao Sinian could still tell the difference.

And indeed, she was right: Madam Dou shared a surname with Dou Dailang, but they weren’t of the same bloodline.

Dou Dailang’s ancestors were originally from the northern Yan region.

Generations ago, they’d come south to serve as officials in Lingnan, and to stabilize local control, one ancestor had married into the native Liao tribe.

Later, their family had angered the emperor and nearly been exterminated.

The surviving descendants of the Dou clan had gone into hiding among the indigenous peoples of the region.

As for Madam Dou—

She came from a Tujia village where women held authority.

Her village possessed a secret brewing technique passed down only among women. The rice wine could only be made by women, who supported their families through brewing.

This tradition lasted for centuries—until the imperial government banned private alcohol production and monopolized the trade.

Losing their livelihood, the village fell into decline.

Many of its people were forced to leave and seek work elsewhere.

Madam Dou’s grandmother had moved to a village near the Dou clan’s settlement and settled there.

Madam Dou said coldly, “And what of it?”

Qiao Sinian replied, “It means that when profits come, they’ll always favor their own people first. Even if you and Dou Dailang work together and he shares the gains with you, sooner or later someone will challenge you—claiming you’re not truly one of the Dous.”

She spoke from bitter experience.

Madam Dou frowned, clearly displeased by the implication, and turned to leave.

Qiao Sinian quickly said, “I’m not trying to sow discord—I just want you to avoid unnecessary losses.”

That piqued Madam Dou’s curiosity. “You mean, working with them will definitely bring losses?”

Qiao Sinian shook her head. “My mother used to divide her savings into four parts and hide them in different places. I asked her why, and she said, ‘To keep a thief from taking everything at once.’

“It’s the same with business—if you invest everything in one place, and something goes wrong, you lose it all. What if Dou Dailang’s caravan gets attacked by bandits? Or something unexpected happens? You’d lose everything.

“Chang Qiniang said the divine lady allows us to sell goods elsewhere, but we must follow her rules. One rule is that dealership rights are divided by region. For example, whoever gets the rights for Yizhang County can’t sell in Guiyang, and vice versa.”

Madam Dou understood at once. “So you mean, I could invest in both sides. Even if one fails, I’ll still profit from the other.”

That would be impossible for most people—their cards didn’t hold enough money to split between two ventures. Neither Dou Dailang nor Qiao Sinian would even look at such meager amounts.

But Madam Dou—she had more than a hundred thousand coins to her name. On either side, she could be a major partner.

Madam Dou said cautiously, “You couldn’t even protect your own pot of noodles. How will you keep your goods from being stolen?”

That stung Qiao Sinian deeply.

But Zhao Changyan had taught her—if she wanted to be strong, she had to face her shame and learn from it.

“I can hire more people and make them sign contracts,” Qiao Sinian said firmly. “This time is different. The dealership rights come directly from the divine lady—it’s divine authorization. If someone betrays me, they’ll have to bear the consequences.”

It was like an official issuing salt certificates to merchants—if bandits stole those certificates, the authorities wouldn’t turn a blind eye; they’d execute the thieves for the crime.

Qiao Sinian continued, “Besides, I have my own motives for coming to you… I want to join forces with your people. But as a Chu woman, the Dayue won’t trust me. I need you to be the bridge between us.”

[Author’s Note]

The wine mentioned in this chapter is actually Hakka women’s rice wine (“Niangjiu”).

The saying “A golden carp is not meant to stay in the pond; when it meets the wind and clouds, it becomes a dragon” has uncertain origins. It’s often attributed to the Northern Song writer Zhang Yong’s Jiechao (“On Self-Defense”): “A dragon is no creature meant to stay in a pond; without storm and rain, it cannot rise.”

Others claim it comes from Fengyun (The Storm Riders).

☢️☢️☢️

Although Zhou Li had done her best to protect her customers’ rights, human greed was limitless.

For the sake of profit, new methods of “robbing the rich to feed myself” kept emerging.

—They couldn’t steal the membership cards, but surely they could steal what was bought with them, right?

The Dayue woman and her daughter witnessed it firsthand: the noodles that Qiao Sinian had just finished cooking were snatched away—pot and all—by a man.

Though her aunt, cousin, and siblings ran after him, they were blocked by his accomplices.

By the time they found the culprit, the soup noodles were long gone. All they got back was an empty pot.

Afterward, they went to Old Chen to demand justice.

But the people from Chen Village rejected them, saying they weren’t of the Chen family and thus had no right to interfere. They united to exclude the Qiao family.

Old Chen might have been a village head back home, but away from their homeland, his authority and influence had diminished greatly.

Besides, deep down, his loyalty still leaned toward his own people.

Qiao Sinian, helpless, decided to seek help from Zhou Li.

But it was lunchtime—Zhou Li had gone upstairs to cook.

Zhao Changyan, who was tending the store, told her, “I already said, the divine lady will not entangle herself in mortal karma.”

Qiao Sinian’s eyes filled with tears, resentment welling up in her heart.

Zhao Changyan’s tone was cold. “Today you were robbed, so you ask the divine lady for help. Tomorrow someone else will be robbed, and they’ll ask the same. Over time, you’ll all become dependent on her. But the divine lady is here to cultivate, not to shoulder mortal burdens. When she leaves, and no one remains to solve your problems, will you blame her then?”

“But…”

Zhao Changyan snapped, “If I were you, I’d buy a knife. And the next person who dares offend you—feed the blade with his blood!”

Qiao Sinian suddenly remembered—Zhao Changyan was infamous as a fierce and ruthless woman.

Her behavior was often criticized, and she was shunned for it, but no one ever dared cross her.

In that instant, Qiao Sinian understood.

With grim resolve, she bought a set of “Yangjiang Eighteen Knives.”

The set contained four blades: a cleaver strong enough to split pig bones, a slicing knife for daily use, a fruit knife, and a pair of scissors.

Qiao Sinian handed the slicing knife to her aunt, the fruit knife to her cousin, and kept the cleaver for herself.

Her voice was hard. “If you want to bully us, then don’t blame us for being vicious. Life’s cheap anyway—let’s see who dares trade theirs for mine.”

In chaotic times, power belonged to those with strength—and the will to use it.

Those watching hesitated, their eyes flickering. Something subtle had shifted.

*

On the second floor of the house, Zhou Li stood by the window, quietly observing the scene below.

She thought Zhao Changyan’s approach wasn’t wrong.

She could, of course, intimidate the crowd by banning troublemakers from the supermarket.

But that wouldn’t solve things long-term.

People on the blacklist could simply send others to shop for them.

Even collective punishment couldn’t completely prevent it.

And if she got involved personally, what if things didn’t turn out as the people hoped—would they then blame her?

Zhou Li sighed regretfully. “Zhao Changyan sees things so clearly for someone so young. If only she’d keep working for me forever.”

The system said, “You could hire her as a permanent employee.”

Zhou Li shook her head. “Someone who can say things like that—she’s ambitious. She won’t stop here.”

Then she sniffed the air. “System, do you smell something burning?”

System: “No. But you might want to check the kitchen. Maybe the braised pork’s burning.”

Zhou Li: “Ahhhh! My beautiful pork belly!”

Twenty minutes later, Zhou Li packed lunch into a disposable box and brought it downstairs for Zhao Changyan.

Zhao Changyan was deeply moved.

She hadn’t expected such a rich meal from the Little Boss.

Though the meat looked a little charred, it smelled delicious.

She took a big bite and exclaimed, “I’ve never eaten such tasty meat! What kind is it?”

“Braised pork,” Zhou Li said proudly.

System: “…Proud of what? You used a pre-made sauce packet. The only thing you did was take the pork out of the freezer.”

Zhou Li thought indignantly, “I boiled it first! You have to parboil it to remove the smell—basic skill!”

Zhao Changyan was amazed.

Braised pork—wasn’t that made with pork? Why didn’t this divine version smell at all?

She murmured with awe, “Truly a dish fit for the heavens.”

Zhou Li: …

Whatever you’re imagining, it’s definitely not that.

*

While Zhao Changyan ate, Zhou Li took over her sales duties.

Fortunately, those who had already gotten their membership cards were now guiding newcomers themselves.

Every new customer arrived with confidence and purpose.

By the end of the afternoon, Zhou Li had secured over twenty new members for the supermarket.

Including Zhao Changyan and the morning group, there were now thirty-two members in total.

There were nearly two hundred people between the Chu and Dayue refugees, but since most registered by household, the number of cards seemed small.

Still, the total balance on those thirty-two cards exceeded 250,000 yuan.

Most had traded items worth under a thousand yuan. Only a handful, like Xian Sanniang, had balances near fifty thousand—and only Dou Girl had exceeded one hundred thousand.

*

Customers came steadily from dawn till dusk.

A few who tried to steal were immediately thrown out by the store’s protective barrier, shocking everyone else into obedience.

As darkness fell, the small supermarket shone like a beacon—its light guiding the desperate refugees.

On the grassy field about thirty meters away, the people made camp.

Perhaps influenced by the day’s events, the refugees—once divided simply into Chu and Dayue groups—had now fractured into dozens of smaller clusters.

Still, the Chu and Dayue camps stayed far apart.

With the supermarket as the center, the trampled dirt road before its door became their invisible border.

Chu on the left, Dayue on the right.

Dou Dailang and Xian Sanniang set up the mosquito net they’d bought earlier that day—an extra-large one with built-in supports.

They spread out a few straw mats inside, enough for their family of four to lie down comfortably.

Others saw this and realized they’d forgotten something crucial—they’d only bought food, not sleeping gear.

Luckily, the supermarket stayed open at night.

Around seven or eight, a second shopping wave began.

The only problem: there weren’t enough mosquito nets.

In modern times, most homes had window screens or used mosquito repellent, so few people still bought nets. Zhou Li’s small supermarket had stocked barely a dozen.

She added mosquito nets to her next supply list to ensure better inventory later.

Then she noticed something else in the stockroom and had an idea.

“There may not be enough mosquito nets,” she said, “but we do have waterproof tarps. It rains often here—you can use them to make shelters. They’ll keep the rain out and create enclosed spaces. Not as good against bugs, but you can burn mosquito coils to help with that.”

In her world, tarps were widely used—farmers covered produce on rainy market days, families made patio canopies, and car owners used them for shade.

Her late coworker, Zhou Hao, had once bought 1,000 square meters of tarp for cheap bulk pricing.

When Zhou Li took over the shop, she’d asked, “Why on earth did you stock so much?”

He had answered confidently, “Because buying over a thousand square meters gets you an 0.8 yuan discount per square!”

Each roll was two meters wide, ten meters long, costing 7 yuan per square meter wholesale and selling for 10.

The refugees were thrilled.

With tarps, they no longer needed to use banana leaves for makeshift roofs.

Dou Dailang bought one roll, cut it to size with his new scissors, and—working with others—built a large canopy over the mosquito net.

Normally by this time, everyone would be asleep.

But tonight, the mountaintop buzzed like a modern construction site.

The supermarket’s bright lights made them reluctant to waste the night.

By ten o’clock, when the store finally closed, people began to settle down.

*

Zhao Changyan didn’t sleep inside.

After work, she set up her own small “nest” outside the supermarket.

Zhou Li allowed it—there was a canopy overhead, so even in the rain, she’d stay dry.

To the refugees, this was proof of her divine status.

Why else would the goddess allow her to guard the entrance to her sacred dwelling?

Zhao Changyan let them believe whatever they wanted.

She hung her mosquito net, chased out the bugs inside, and was about to rest when Qiao Sinian appeared.

“Chang Qiniang,” she said softly, “the mountain gets cold at night. Why not come to our shelter? We’ve built a canopy—it keeps out wind and rain.”

“I’m fine here,” Zhao Changyan replied.

She understood perfectly—Qiao Sinian was trying to build alliances after suffering from isolation.

But Zhao Changyan was a lone wolf—fierce, untamed, and dangerous to approach.

Did they really think such a wolf could be tamed?

*

On the third floor of the self-built house, in the study, Zhou Li still hadn’t gone to bed.

She closed the curtains, opened her laptop, and quietly updated the purchasing list.

Her old inventory had been based on modern needs.

But now that she was doing interplane trade, the goods had to change.

If this venture succeeded, this world would become her first established market.

So the supermarket’s stock must match the needs—and the purchasing power—of its people.

No use buying luxury items worth tens of thousands if no one could afford them.

“First off, in a time like this, food and water are most scarce. I’ll order more affordable rice and flour. But, as they say, give a man a fish and he eats for a day—teach him to fish, and he eats for a lifetime. Since crops from the Americas probably haven’t arrived yet, I could introduce sweet potatoes, corn, and potatoes here. Whether they’ll grow them is up to this world.”

“Then, farming tools—their livelihood depends on those. I’ll need to ask Mom where to buy them.”

Before taking over the shop, Zhou Li had spent nearly a decade living in the city and knew little about local suppliers.

“I should also restock oil, salt, and sugar—and soybeans, since they’re so versatile.”

“Come to think of it, everyone here looks yellow and sickly. At first, I thought it was hunger—but real starvation makes your belly swell. Considering the environment, they might have schistosomiasis… I should get some over-the-counter antibiotics and antiparasitic meds.”

Then Zhou Li paused and deleted the medicine section.

Her small supermarket didn’t have a pharmaceutical license. She could use medicine privately, maybe even sell some quietly—but not through official sales.

If customers used their membership cards for medicine, it would mess up her books.

“Raw pumpkin seeds can deworm people,” she muttered, adding pumpkins to the list.

Along with pumpkins, she added sweet potatoes and corn—fresh produce that would occupy a new section in her store.

While she worked, rain began tapping softly on the window.

It was raining.

[Author’s Note]

Before interplane trade:
Zhou Li: “Mom, why did you build an illegal structure?” (referring to a 60 m² prefab warehouse)

After interplane trade:
Zhou Li: “Mom, do we still have space to expand the warehouse?”

☢️☢️☢️

Qiao Sinian was different from Zhao Changyan. She was not completely alone in the world.

She still had a younger brother, Qiao Wulang, and a younger sister, Qiao Jiuniang.

Their father and uncle had both been conscripted and died on the battlefield.

Fearing that the government would seize their cousin Qiao Erlang as well, their aunt led them to flee south with other villagers to escape the chaos of war.

At home, it might have been just the three siblings now, but to outsiders, they were still part of one household with their aunt and cousin.

As a member of the Qiao family, Qiao Sinian couldn’t spend the money from selling her hairpin recklessly.

Before buying anything, she had to think carefully.

After much thought, she decided that filling her stomach came first.

To save her the trouble, Zhao Changyan said directly, “If you want to buy the most food for the least money, aside from rice, noodles are your best option.”

The supermarket sold 5-jin bags of dried noodles for only 18.9 yuan.

According to the Little Boss, someone with a small appetite could get about fifty meals out of one bag.

Cooking them only required a pinch of salt for flavor—no need for other seasonings.

If she’d had cooking equipment last night, Zhao Changyan herself would have bought noodles instead.

Qiao Sinian quickly compared the value of rice and noodles. Eighteen-point-nine yuan could buy 6.3 jin of fine white rice, enough for thirty servings of cooked rice—or more if she made porridge, though that would leave her hungry again soon.

In the end, she decided on the noodles.

When Qiao Sinian left the supermarket after paying, the hungry stares surrounding her made her feel like a lamb surrounded by wolves.

“Sinian!”

“Elder Sister!”

Her aunt and younger siblings pushed through the crowd to reach her, shielding her from the refugees who might try to snatch the food from her hands.

But the Chu people ignored their attempts to block them and crowded closer.

“Qiao Sinian, what’s inside?”
“Is that food? What kind? It looks strange.”
“Are things in there expensive?”

Her aunt’s voice boomed like thunder. “Instead of standing here asking questions, why don’t you go in and buy something before it’s all gone?”

That woke everyone up.

Both the Chu and the Dayue refugees rushed to the entrance, pushing and shoving.

Arguments broke out over who would enter first, and soon fists were flying.

Since the Dayue group mostly consisted of members of the Dou clan, they were united and easily overpowered the divided Chu refugees.

Inside the store, Zhou Li raised her phone to record the chaos.

The system asked, “Aren’t you going to intervene?”

Zhou Li replied silently, “Article One of the Interplanetary Trade Code: remember, we’re here to do business, not to interfere in local civil disputes.”

The system fell silent—a mix of admiration and exasperation.

Zhao Changyan, curious about the “divine device” in Zhou Li’s hand, didn’t have time to ask before Zhou Li put it away.

Dou Dailang and Xian Sanniang had come in to buy supplies.

Other Dayue refugees either stayed outside to hold back the Chu people or entered to trade goods for money.

Because Zhou Li had accepted two wooden items earlier, the Dayue refugees thought she had a fondness for wood.

Soon the counter was piled with wooden sticks, carrying poles, chopsticks, and washboards.

Zhou Li: …

All of it was ordinary wood—barely worth anything.

When the Dayue refugees heard how little it fetched, they realized they were losing out and decided to keep their items instead.

Then Xian Sanniang boldly guessed, “Perhaps what makes my box and Qiao Sinian’s hairpin valuable are the wood, craftsmanship, and age.”

Indeed, Qiao Sinian’s hairpin was an old heirloom but simple in design, hence inexpensive.

Xian Sanniang’s box—technically a lacquer box—used luodian (mother-of-pearl inlay) craftsmanship, which required embedding thin pieces of shell into lacquered wood or instruments.

The Dayue refugees dared not ask Zhou Li directly, but they began searching their belongings for something similar.

“Child, where’s the paperweight your grandfather gave you?” a Dayue woman asked her small child.

The five- or six-year-old, busy pulling mountain leeches off her leg, turned to rummage through their basket.

After a moment, she pulled out a long, rectangular wooden piece and handed it to her mother.

The woman quickly presented it to Zhou Li.

The system scanned it.

【Zitan Wood Literary Paperweight】
Age: 196 years
Date of Origin: 762 AD
Owner: Dou Girl
Starting Bid: 35,000 yuan (recommended)
Buyout Price: 40,000 yuan (recommended)
[Note: More valuable as a matching pair.]

Zhou Li asked, “Is there only one?”

The woman didn’t understand her, so she pulled Dou Dailang over to translate.

Dou Dailang said thoughtfully, “It’s clearly part of a pair. If we find the other, the value will rise.”

The woman’s eyes widened, and she began searching through the basket herself.

Soon, she pulled out another paperweight.

The first was carved with poetry; the second, with flowers and birds.

Together they formed a set: 【Zitan Floral and Poetic Paperweights (Pair)】.

The auction’s starting price instantly rose to 80,000 yuan, with a buyout price of 140,000, since the carvings were exquisite and the verses held scholarly value.

Zhou Li: …

These “refugees” were turning out to be quite wealthy.

But she recalled that Dayue was rich in rare woods—agarwood, zitan, huanghuali, even the imperial golden nanmu.

Of course, common folk might not know their worth.

And not all wooden items were valuable.

If someone carved a hairpin out of huanghuali on the spot, it might fetch only 80 yuan.

Only aged pieces or those made with special techniques, like Xian Sanniang’s lacquer box, had real value.

Worried that naming the price might make the woman a target, Zhou Li asked, “Would you like me to issue the card directly, or would you rather reconsider?”

The woman froze for a moment, then said quickly, “Just give me the divine card.”

Outside, people were dying to know—how much had she gotten?

Her child started to cry. “Mother, I’m so hungry… it hurts.”

Zhou Li hadn’t forgotten about the leeches on the child’s body. She called, “Zhao Changyan, take them to get those leeches off.”

Among all the refugees, only Zhao Changyan had experience with that.

The woman was wary of the Chu woman’s origins but reasoned that, in a divine lady’s dwelling, no one would dare steal or harm her. So she followed Zhao Changyan into the restroom with her child.

While they were inside, Dou Dailang and Xian Sanniang kept shopping, and Zhou Li continued uploading items for auction.

Suddenly, the child’s wails echoed from the restroom.

Both Chu and Dayue refugees shuddered and turned fearful eyes toward Zhou Li.

Zhou Li: …

Do they really think this is a demon’s lair?

Soon, their attention shifted back to Dou Dailang and Xian Sanniang.

Dou Dailang emerged carrying two 5-kilogram bags of rice.

In his other hand was a blue plastic bucket half-filled with salt, sugar, and other supplies, with a straw mat and mosquito net tucked under his arm.

Xian Sanniang’s hands were full too—one holding pots and baskets, their handles tied together with string by Zhou Li, the other gripping a bucket filled with kitchen knives and bags of noodles.

They had decided to lead their clan to settle at the foot of the mountain.

They had brought farming tools and oxen with them, so their only concern had been food—and now that was solved.

“From the Yangshan Pass to here takes some time,” Dou Dailang told the Dayue people. “Go back and fetch those still waiting by the road. We’ll camp here tonight and head down tomorrow to choose a place for our village.”

“Why not just live up here?” someone asked.

“You’ll have to see if the divine lady allows that,” said Dou Dailang. “Besides, it’s far less convenient up here.”

Though there was a small grassy clearing, the terrain wasn’t flat.

He’d rather live below and come up to trade occasionally than climb up and down daily to hunt and work.

The Dayue refugees agreed and followed his plan.

On the Chu side, the old man and others were also debating whether to settle nearby.

There was no broad farmland to till—but there was a goddess!

If they continued south to populated villages, they’d face rejection and taxation.

Here, at least, they might live under divine protection.

More and more Chu refugees leaned toward staying.

Old Chen finally said, “Then we’ll claim some land below the hill before the Dayue people take all the good spots.”

*

Zhou Li had no idea that a land dispute was brewing.

But she could sense the tension between the Chu and the Dayue refugees rising.

A Chu man came to buy salt, only to find it was gone.

“It must have been those Dayue people! They bought it all!”

To them, cheap salt being monopolized by another group felt no different from being robbed.

The Chu refugees grew agitated.

Zhou Li quickly intervened. “Salt? There’s more.”

She went into the storeroom and brought out a large box of table salt—fifty packs per box, with seven or eight boxes still in reserve.

Salt had a long shelf life, and since her small supermarket restocked only every few weeks, she always kept plenty.

That calmed everyone down.

Inside the restroom, Zhao Changyan had removed all the leeches from the child and rinsed her off.

“There’s something here that prevents infection and pus,” she said. “It’s called a band-aid. Buy some later and cover all her bites with them.”

The Dayue woman had already been surprised that this Chu girl spoke both the central dialect and the local tongue.

“My father was a scholar,” Zhao Changyan explained, “and my mother a native Tujia woman.”

That eased the woman’s wariness completely, and she thanked her repeatedly.

Looking at her, Zhao Changyan thought of her own mother and softened. “Also, Little Boss didn’t tell you how much money is on your card because she’s afraid others might overhear and get greedy. If you want to know, ask her quietly when no one’s around. If others ask, say it’s only a few thousand coins.”

The woman nodded gratefully.

Zhao Changyan then led the mother and child out and resumed her work as the store’s guide.

Uncertain of how much money she had—and fearful of being robbed—the woman bought only a few things: band-aids, some lollipops to calm her child, and buns to eat.

At checkout, she whispered through Zhao Changyan, “Divine lady, what if someone steals our divine card?”

Zhou Li said, “If it’s stolen, you can get a replacement.”

The woman bit her lip. “And if the thief uses it here to buy things—would you know?”

Zhou Li answered, “Of course. I recognize people, not cards. The cards are registered by name—only the rightful owner can use them.”

When the system listed items for auction, it created an account for each seller.

Money earned was transferred from that account into the supermarket’s membership card, meaning each card was bound to one unique account.

Even without names printed, each card had an owner’s information, and the system continuously monitored them.

The woman didn’t fully understand, but when she left, she deliberately handed the card to her child. “Put this in the basket, dear. Don’t worry about it being stolen—the divine lady said it recognizes its master and only we can use it.”

Little Dou girl licked her lollipop and nodded happily.

Everyone nearby heard her words.

Those who had been planning to “rob the rich to feed themselves” were left completely dumbfounded.

☢️☢️☢️

At this moment, there were already many cultivators gathered at the entrance of the secret realm. Mu Xing noticed that the party from the Yudao Immortal Sect he had encountered yesterday was also among them.

They had clearly noticed him as well.

Other than the white-robed young master, who looked at Mu Xing with a mix of disappointment and frustration at seeing him not only with Meng Ge but also with the Xu siblings, the rest showed little reaction.

After all, it had only been a chance encounter. Since Mu Xing had treated them so indifferently, they saw no need to force a friendly face onto him.

But Mu Xing’s gaze was fixed on another group: they wore pure white robes without a trace of any other color, their faces hidden beneath white hoods. The only thing visible was their hands at their sides, covered in strange golden runes.

When he looked their way, Xu Jiao pursed her lips: “What, even the Heaven’s Secrets Pavilion sent people this time?”

Hearing the faint dejection in her tone, Mu Xing asked: “Why? Is there something wrong with the Heaven’s Secrets Pavilion?”

Xu Ce answered in her place: “Not wrong, exactly. It’s just that the Heaven’s Secrets Pavilion specializes in divination and prophecy. When it comes to seeking fortune and avoiding disaster, none of us can compare.”

In other words: wherever treasures are to be found, the Heaven’s Secrets Pavilion knows first. Wherever danger lurks, they also know first.

So what’s the point of playing?

Sure enough, Mu Xing swept his gaze around and saw that many others looked displeased upon noticing the Pavilion’s cultivators.

Meng Ge said coldly: “Inside a secret realm, strength decides everything. If the Heaven’s Secrets Pavilion were truly so all-knowing, they would have unified both the righteous and demonic paths long ago. Why would they still be hiding away in the snowy mountains?”

Mu Xing instantly liked Senior Brother Meng a little more.

At some point, he had pulled out a folding fan. Its ribs were black jade, and its surface was painted with a delicate and flirtatious beauty.

No need to doubt—it was, of course, something Yue Fubai had stuffed into his disciple’s hands.

Tapping the fan against his palm, Mu Xing readily agreed with Meng Ge: “Senior Brother Meng is right. What’s there to be afraid of?”

“And besides,” he added with full confidence, “my luck’s never been bad.”

Xu Ce laughed heartily: “Then when we enter the secret realm later, we’ll be relying on Brother Meng and Brother Mu.”

Just as he finished speaking, his expression shifted, solemn: “The secret realm is about to open.”

From all directions, spiritual power surged toward the site. In the void, a radiant, shimmering “gate” slowly began to take shape.

Everyone raised their heads to watch. Once the light gate fully emerged, many could no longer hold back and rushed straight in.

The Xu siblings and Mu Xing all turned to Meng Ge.

Meng Ge gave a slight nod: “Let’s go too.”

With that, the four of them rose into the air and flew into the light gate.

Mu Xing did not notice that the tightly wrapped disciples of the Heaven’s Secrets Pavilion, along with a few scattered cultivators, only followed after he had gone in.

To Mu Xing, the feeling of entering the secret realm was very much like being pulled into one of those dream spheres: a moment of dizziness, a sense of weightlessness—then everything changed.

He found himself in a vast forest stretching beyond sight.

His first reaction was to check the signal talisman Meng Ge had given him. No response.

It seemed this secret realm had no intention of letting outsiders work together.

Still, at least his spiritual power worked, and his storage ring could be opened.

Mu Xing looked around, then looked up, but found nothing of note.

So he simply followed the path under his feet, strolling along unhurriedly.

After about fifteen minutes, he suddenly stopped, leapt lightly to a nearby tree, and concealed himself amid the thick foliage.

No sooner had he settled there than a white-robed figure appeared around the bend, hurrying toward the very spot he had just been standing.

Behind him was a huge white ape, and behind that ape, a group of slightly smaller monkeys.

Mu Xing raised an eyebrow: an acquaintance.

It was the very young master of the Yudao Immortal Sect he had briefly clashed with before.

Well now, had he gone and stirred up a white ape’s nest?

The white-robed youth clearly didn’t notice Mu Xing crouched in the tree. His steps were incredibly fast, and he sped past. But when the white ape reached Mu Xing’s tree, it suddenly stopped.

It looked up in puzzlement, sniffing the air with surprising sensitivity.

Mu Xing: ?

The next moment, the white ape lifted its head sharply, its dark eyes locking directly onto Mu Xing through the dense foliage.

A bad premonition rose in Mu Xing’s heart as he saw the ape abandon its chase of the youth without hesitation, leaping upward in a blur to seize the very branch where he was perched.

Mu Xing had no choice but to jump down, and the ape landed right behind him.

The rest of the apes quickly caught up, surrounding him in a noisy circle, some edging closer with curious aggression.

If Mu Xing wasn’t mistaken, the leader’s gaze actually held a strangely human-like affection and friendliness. He had just opened his mouth to speak when—suddenly—something white fell from the sky.

In the next instant, a violent flash of fire burst forth.

Startled, the monkeys scattered in shrieks, and someone grabbed Mu Xing by the wrist, dragging him away at full speed without looking back.

Mu Xing was utterly bewildered. Meanwhile, the white apes, terrified by what was not particularly deadly but extremely insulting—the blast of a weak explosion talisman—were completely enraged.

Shrieking furiously, eyes blazing with hostility, the entire troop charged at the two of them.

—And ahead, there was no path left. The pair was now surrounded by a troop of very unfriendly apes.

The white-robed young master let go of Mu Xing’s hand. Looking at the fierce troop of apes, he couldn’t help but say: “Y-you’re at the Golden Core stage, right? You should be able to deal with these white apes, shouldn’t you?”

But Mu Xing asked him instead: “Why did you suddenly come back just now?”

The young master glared at him: “At a time like this, you’re asking useless questions? Do you think I wanted to save you? Wrong. It’s just that you got surrounded by these apes because of me. I don’t want to owe you a karmic debt, that’s all!”

Mu Xing finally smiled, slowly tapping the folding fan in his hand: “Who said I was going to deal with them?”

Young master: ?

He stared, dumbfounded, as Mu Xing, fanning himself, casually walked toward the leading white ape without a trace of caution.

The ape, whose expression had been savage a moment ago, gradually calmed as Mu Xing drew closer. Its extended claws retracted, and it even rubbed its face against Mu Xing’s arm!

Its posture could only be described as utterly fawning.

“You—what did you do to them?” the young master exclaimed in shock. But because he had spoken, the ape’s attention returned to him, and he earned a vicious glare.

Mu Xing asked: “What did you do to provoke them?”

The young master said, aggrieved: “The moment I entered the secret realm, I landed right in this ape troop. With so many demon beasts, of course I was scared. And when I got scared, I pulled out an Explosive Talisman…”

And then he’d been chased by the furious apes for over a hundred miles.

Mu Xing: “……”

Good grief. Using Explosive Talismans twice in a row—it was no wonder the apes were so furious.

He looked at the troop of white apes, then asked the young master: “What’s your name?”

The young master snorted: “Finally thought to ask my name? I’m Ying Shu.”

Ying?

Mu Xing’s brow creased ever so slightly: “I’ve heard the sect master of the Yudao Immortal Sect bears that surname.”

The white-robed young master said proudly: “The sect master is my father.”

Mu Xing widened his eyes slightly at him.

Ying Shu said haughtily: “What, now that you know who I am, are you regretting ignoring me before? Too late—I won’t accept you trying to cozy up now!”

Mu Xing ignored him, instead thinking about his dreams.

In the dream, the sect master of the Yudao Immortal Sect and his wife had not had a second child.

And for cultivators of their level, conceiving offspring was extremely difficult. Judging by Ying Shu’s age, he wasn’t much younger than himself.

Two children in three years? Easier to dream of it than make it happen.

So, had something changed again?

Seeing Mu Xing silent with head lowered, Ying Shu thought his words had frightened him. After some hesitation, he added: “Hey! I actually don’t blame you too much. As long as you treat me better, I’ll let bygones be bygones!”

Mu Xing came back to himself, looked at him, and drawled: “This isn’t about whether you and I let bygones be bygones. Look at these white apes—do they look like they’re ready to let bygones be bygones with you?”

“Ah!”

Mu Xing grinned as he watched Ying Shu run in circles, chased by the angry apes.

After enjoying the spectacle for a bit, Mu Xing finally called out: “Brother White Ape!”

The leading ape actually stopped at his shout, turned, and looked at him.

Mu Xing thought, as expected: clearly, these apes had long since developed intelligence.

Smiling, he said: “This silly kid didn’t mean harm, he’s just a bit mischievous. It’s enough if you teach him a little lesson.”

Then he asked Ying Shu: “Don’t you have anything tasty, or some treasures in your storage ring? Hurry and take some out as compensation.”

Ying Shu, his clothes and hair in complete disarray, looking utterly bedraggled, cried out in despair: “Who keeps that kind of stuff in a storage ring!”

Mu Xing blinked: “Really?”

He lowered his head, rummaged in his storage ring, and pulled out a large pile of candied fruits and snacks. He popped one into his mouth and handed the rest to the white apes.

Mu Xing smiled: “Here, eat up. Don’t bother with that fool.”

The apes happily abandoned Ying Shu and crowded together, snatching up the food.

Ying Shu stared, dumbstruck, and muttered: “There are actually people who keep useless junk like that in a storage ring…”

Mu Xing tossed another piece of dried fruit into his mouth and disagreed: “What do you mean useless? Eating these makes me happy. Happiness is such a precious emotion—how can you call it useless?”

Ying Shu immediately retorted: “Mere indulgence of the palate only hinders cultivation!”

Mu Xing chuckled once, not bothering to argue.

He waved to the apes and started strolling forward again.

“Where are you going?” Ying Shu called after him.

Mu Xing said casually: “Just walking wherever the road leads.”

Ying Shu thought about it, then followed behind.

After a while, Mu Xing stopped, turned his head, and asked: “Why are you following me?”

Ying Shu lifted his chin: “There’s only one road here. Who said I was following you?”

“Fine.” Mu Xing didn’t bother to argue and kept walking.

The sky gradually darkened.

Trailing behind, Ying Shu grumbled: “This secret realm even has nightfall? We’ve been walking forever—no end in sight, and not a single person around. What kind of lousy place is this!”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

“The Yudao Immortal Sect?”

Mu Xing felt this name was very familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before.

Beside him, Meng Ge knew that he had always been living with Yue Fubai in the human cities and might not know much about the cultivation world, so he explained: “The Yudao Immortal Sect is one of the seven great Daoist sects.”

When Mu Xing heard this, he finally understood.

One of the seven great Daoist sects—the Yudao Immortal Sect.

The very sect to which his parents, who had dug out his spiritual root and abandoned him, had belonged.

He immediately lost interest in speaking with this group of people, waved his hand, and said: “No sect, no clan, just a nobody.”

He looked at the female cultivator before him: “May I ask if you could step aside and let us pass?”

Xu Mengyue, also a daughter of a prestigious sect and a favored child of heaven, naturally felt uncomfortable seeing Mu Xing’s attitude.

But she did not want to cause further trouble, so she said nothing, and moved aside: “Please!”

Seeing Mu Xing and Meng Ge’s departing figures, the white-robed youth snorted: “Doesn’t appreciate others’ kindness!”

Xu Mengyue also said: “Since they don’t accept our goodwill, there’s no need to insist. Let’s go, junior brother.”

But the male cultivator behind them gazed at the now-empty staircase, deep in thought.

Xu Mengyue noticed and asked curiously: “Senior Brother Wei, what’s wrong?”

That Senior Brother Wei came back to himself and smiled: “It’s nothing, I just felt that the cultivator traveling with Meng Ge seemed somewhat familiar.”

Yet he couldn’t remember where he had seen him.

After all, with that appearance and bearing, if he had seen him before, it would be impossible not to have any impression.

Xu Mengyue shook her head: “I’ve also never heard of any sect producing such a genius.”

A sixteen-year-old Golden Core cultivator—even within the seven great sects, such a person would be carefully nurtured as a core disciple.

Up until now, none of them had suspected that Mu Xing was not a Daoist cultivator.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Meng Ge led Mu Xing to a room on the east side of the second floor.

Before they could knock, the door opened from inside.

Standing there was a lively, pretty young girl in red, who smiled brightly when she saw them: “Finally, I’ve been waiting for you two.”

She looked curiously at Mu Xing.

Meng Ge and Mu Xing entered. Inside the room, besides the red-clothed girl, there was also a tall man whose left half of the face was covered with a black birthmark, giving him a fearsome appearance.

Meng Ge gave a simple introduction: “Xu Ce, Xu Jiao. They are siblings.”

Then he looked at Mu Xing: “Mu Xing, a disciple of one of my uncles.”

When Xu Jiao heard the introduction, she was surprised: “A disciple of your uncle? Are there really Daoist cultivators who would be friends with Lord Wuchang?”

Meng Ge shot her a cold glance: “Who said Mu Xing is a Daoist cultivator?”

What?

The Xu siblings immediately turned their eyes toward Mu Xing.

Xu Jiao looked him up and down in shock: “Stone-face, you mean to say, this Brother Mu Xing is a cultivator of demonic Dao?”

Mu Xing nodded, smiling: “That’s right.”

Xu Jiao blurted out: “What path do you cultivate?”

Seeing Meng Ge’s gaze sweep over her, she realized her slip and laughed: “I was just asking casually.”

The four of them were all young. Aside from the taciturn Meng Ge, the other three were open and straightforward, and they quickly grew familiar.

Hearing Mu Xing say that he had always lived among immortals and didn’t know much about the cultivation world, Xu Jiao warmly began sharing with him all sorts of stories and gossip about the world of cultivators.

After an hour passed, Xu Jiao already regarded him as a good friend.

Meng Ge and Xu Ce went downstairs to fetch food.

Xu Ce said: “Although my sister looks gentle, deep down she’s the proudest of all. It’s rare for her to get along so well with Brother Mu.”

Meng Ge thought for a moment, then said: “Not just Xu Jiao.”

Including himself, Xu Ce, and even those disciples from the Yudao Immortal Sect earlier who couldn’t help but approach.

Brother Mu seemed to naturally win the goodwill of cultivators.

Xu Ce understood what he meant, and said with surprise: “Could it be related to the path Brother Mu cultivates?”

Meng Ge shook his head: “I don’t know.”

Xu Ce then asked: “You should at least tell me, which sect Brother Mu belongs to?”

Meng Ge said coldly: “No sect. If you want to know, ask him yourself.”

As soon as the two entered the room, they heard Xu Jiao let out a cry of indignation.

Xu Ce quickly strode inside. Seeing the two sitting there safe and sound, he breathed a sigh of relief and asked: “What’s wrong?”

Xu Jiao glared at Mu Xing: “Brother, do you know what Mu Xing just said to me?”

Xu Ce asked curiously: “What did he say?”

It turned out that as the two were chatting, the topic had turned to cultivation.

Xu Jiao had said: “It took me a year to advance to Foundation Establishment. Then I was stuck at the Golden Core bottleneck for five whole years, and only succeeded after gaining a fortunate opportunity. You’re so young, how did you progress so fast? Don’t tell me you were nourished with spirit medicine from the womb, and were already at Foundation Establishment the moment you were born, just waiting for your mindset to catch up?”

But then the person beside her looked blank and asked: “Bottleneck? What’s that?”

Mu Xing truly didn’t know what a bottleneck was.

“Isn’t it just cultivating all the way—when you reach Foundation Establishment, you advance to Foundation Establishment, and when you reach Golden Core, you advance to Golden Core?”

Xu Jiao: ???

She looked at Mu Xing like he was a monster: “When you advance in cultivation, your spiritual power is already full, but you’re still just one step away from breaking through. That’s the bottleneck every cultivator experiences.”

She carefully asked Mu Xing: “Every cultivator has to go through this. So… just now, you were only joking with me, right?”

“……”

He didn’t want to lie, so he simply stayed silent. And he thought to himself, My master never told me either.

Then Xu Jiao let out a cry filled with both shock and indignation—that was the very sound Xu Ce and Meng Ge had heard.

After hearing Xu Jiao explain the reason, the two of them: “……”

At that moment, six eyes turned toward Mu Xing in unison.

Mu Xing blinked innocently: “Don’t look at me, I don’t know either.”

Xu Ce cautiously asked: “Brother Mu, may I ask, under whose tutelage do you study?”

Mu Xing replied: “My master’s surname is Yue, his name is Yue Fubai.”

The Xu siblings were a little confused, for Yue Fubai was enigmatic and mysterious, and even his true name was rarely known.

Meng Ge added expressionlessly: “His master is Lord Lianhua of the Demonic Sect.”

The Xu siblings gasped and looked at Mu Xing with strange expressions: “So he is a personal disciple of Lord Lianhua.”

Mu Xing pointed at the food boxes they had brought back: “Let’s eat first.”

The two of them set the food out on the table.

Mu Xing tasted a few bites and felt the cooking was a bit rough, but since he wasn’t someone to dwell on food, he said nothing.

The four of them had each reserved a room upstairs. After dinner, they returned to their own rooms.

With nothing else to do, Mu Xing meditated for a while, then took out a storybook from his full storage ring.

The author of the storybook was named Hanjiang Diaoxue—the very same Tian Can Tudou official bookseller.

The works of Hanjiang Diaoxue were wildly popular. Who would have thought that a grand figure of the Demonic Sect would indulge in such leisure?

Hanjiang Diaoxue was none other than Yue Fubai.

In the past, he had loved writing romantic and erotic storybooks and was very famous in that world. Many guessed he was a scholar who enjoyed amorous pursuits.

But from nine years ago, Hanjiang Diaoxue’s style had changed drastically. The stories were still about romance and flirtation, but now there was always an adorable little child character.

At first, when he wrote like this, people disliked it. But the little children in his stories were always so smart, cute, and lovable—sweet and endearing.

Very quickly, readers couldn’t resist and were hooked.

From then on, he created a whole new genre of romance storybooks.

Mu Xing’s storage ring was stuffed with dozens of such storybooks.

He flipped through one slowly. For some reason, he felt a vague unease tonight.

After half an hour, Mu Xing stood up, opened the window, and flew to the roof of the inn.

The moon was round tonight. Unlike the silence of a mortal city’s night, this cultivator city was ablaze with lights everywhere.

Lying on the roof with his hands under his head, the gentle night wind brushed against him, and his heart gradually calmed. Closing his eyes, his consciousness blurred, and he drifted into sleep.

—

Thousands of miles away, atop a snow mountain.

The mountain was covered in eternal snow, and there was no road from the foot to the peak. Mortals could not find a path up, and even cultivators rarely ascended lightly.

For this was the Heaven’s Secrets Pavilion.

The most mysterious place among all the immortal sects.

On the cold cloud platform, a white-haired, white-robed man—the Master of Heavenly Secrets—opened his eyes: “Found you.”

Sixteen years ago, he had arranged for that child to be abandoned by the Yudao Immortal Sect.

For the next seven years, that child’s whereabouts had always been under his watch.

But starting from the seventh year, all traces of that child’s fate and destiny seemed to have been erased by some unfathomable force.

For nine whole years, he had lost all information about the child.

Now, he had finally sensed him again.

Yet what he “saw” surprised him greatly: the stars connected to that child were shrouded in auspicious purple qi—clearly an extremely favorable omen.

In those nine missing years, what on earth had happened to the child?

Lowering his eyes, he pondered for a long time, then lightly shook the golden bell on his wrist.

Soon, someone ascended the cloud platform, eyes lowered, bowing: “Pavilion Master.”

“Yun Hua, I have a task for you…”

Moments later, the figure departed silently.

The Master of Heavenly Secrets looked at the starry image in the water mirror, swept his hand, and the mirror shattered, leaving nothing behind.

—

The next day, Mu Xing, along with Meng Ge and the Xu siblings, ate and drank their fill, then came to the entrance of the secret realm outside Dongling City.

Meng Ge said: “According to estimates by powerful seniors, the secret realm should open around noon.”

He took out several talismans and handed them to Mu Xing and the Xu siblings: “Once we’re inside, we may get separated. With these sensing talismans, we can regroup quickly.”

Mu Xing realized that although Meng Ge looked cold, spoke little, and wasn’t easy to approach, he was thorough in all things and indeed a very reliable teammate.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Wuchang Jun opened his mouth, as if to argue, but then remembered—having known this scoundrel for centuries, he had never once won a war of words against him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he chose instead to spare himself the aggravation.

He handed Mu Xing a blood-red miniature sword, no longer than a finger.
“If, one day, you are in need, pour spiritual power into it and shatter the seal. You may make one request of me.”

Mu Xing privately thought that this Wuchang Jun, being squeezed dry by his master, looked rather pitiful.

But that didn’t stop him from accepting the gift.

He received it with both hands, flashing the same brilliant smile as Yue Fubai:
“Thank you, Uncle Wuchang.”

Expressionless, Wuchang Jun nodded, then turned to Yue Fubai.
“The Dongling Prefecture has a secret realm about to emerge.”

That, in fact, was his real reason for coming.

Yue Fubai replied lazily, “A secret realm? And what’s that got to do with us? You think people of our standing need to snatch opportunities from little rogue cultivators?”

Wuchang Jun glanced at Mu Xing.
“Your disciple has already reached Golden Core. Do you really plan to keep him hidden away forever?”

Yue Fubai froze.

Wuchang Jun’s tone turned cold.
“I know you don’t care for worldly matters. But the Dongling secret realm is of the highest grade—Nascent Soul cultivators and above are barred entry. The great sects of both righteous and demonic paths have already chosen disciples to explore it. This is an excellent chance for tempering.”

Yue Fubai fell silent, gripping his folding fan tightly as though weighing it over.

Wuchang Jun didn’t press, merely waited quietly.

After a long time, Yue Fubai finally spoke, his eyes full of worry as he looked at Mu Xing.
“Ah, my little Xingxing has grown up without ever really seeing the treachery of human hearts. What if he goes out there and someone bullies him?”

Wuchang Jun: “…”

But Yue Fubai kept going, still fretful.
“Xingxing is naturally gentle and kind. Out there, whether righteous or demonic, those little bastards are all cunning as foxes. I can’t help but fear Xingxing will suffer.”

Wuchang Jun: “…”

Watching the stern demon lord’s temple vein start to throb, Mu Xing had a terrible feeling that if his master went on any longer, Wuchang Jun really would draw his sword in fury.

He hurriedly stepped forward and cut in:
“Master, you’re overthinking it. I’m strong and clever—I won’t be tricked so easily!”

Yue Fubai still sighed, though he knew in his heart Wuchang Jun was right.

He could shield Xingxing, yes—but was that truly good for him?

His disciple was a cultivator, a prodigy. He shouldn’t be coddled under wings forever, unable to gain real growth and tempering.

Yet Yue Fubai couldn’t stop worrying.

He had once mocked others for being sentimental and indecisive, but only now did he realize—he himself had been carefree simply because he had never had anything weighing on his heart.

After much thought, he finally found what he considered a good idea.
“The secret realm won’t open for a while yet, will it? I’ll refine a batch of talismans and protective artifacts for you first…”

“Yue Fubai!” Wuchang Jun finally lost patience, his cold shout cutting him off.

He looked at Yue Fubai as if staring at some addle-brained fool.
“Your disciple is a Golden Core cultivator, not a three-year-old baby! Why don’t you just suppress your own cultivation and go in there with him?”

Yue Fubai’s eyes lit up.
“That’s an option too!”

Clang!

That was the sound of Wuchang Jun drawing his sword.

---

Half a month later, with a storage ring full of treasures, Mu Xing cheerfully set off under his master’s reluctant, worried gaze.

Yue Fubai loved playing the idle noble and preferred life in mortal cities, so Mu Xing had always lived alongside him in such places.

As a result, he was genuinely curious about the wider world of cultivators.

Beyond the city gates, ten li east, stood a travelers’ pavilion.

That was Mu Xing’s destination.

Earlier, Wuchang Jun had proposed sending one of his disciples to accompany Mu Xing into the Dongling secret realm, so they could look after each other.

Cultivators’ senses far surpassed mortals’. Even from a distance, Mu Xing spotted a slender black-clad figure standing by the pavilion.

As he drew closer, the other turned.

Mu Xing almost thought he was seeing a younger version of Wuchang Jun!

The youth looked eighteen or nineteen, his features fine and delicate, but his complexion was deathly pale, as though plagued by chronic illness. And his face bore the exact same stiff, expressionless cast as Wuchang Jun’s.

Right now, those pitch-black eyes fixed unblinkingly on Mu Xing, and he awkwardly tried to curve his lips into what must have been meant as a friendly smile.
“Are you Junior Brother Mu Xing?”

Mu Xing: “…”

Honestly, brother, it’d be less creepy if you didn’t smile at all.

He nodded.
“I am Mu Xing. May I ask Senior Brother’s name?”

The black-clad youth answered, “My name is Meng Ge. Master Wuchang sent me to wait here so we can enter the Dongling secret realm together.”

Though his face showed little, in his heart he was very curious about this junior brother.

After all, his usually icy master had, for once, spoken more than a few words—telling him to look after Mu Xing on the journey.

That was truly rare.

Meng Ge had long since heard of this Mu Xing.

In fact, throughout the demonic path, the disciples of several grandmasters all knew that the elusive Lianhua Jun Yue Fubai had taken on a disciple he treated like his very own heart’s treasure.

But Yue Fubai’s whereabouts were always a mystery, and no one had ever seen Mu Xing.

At first sight, Meng Ge was stunned.

Not because he was bewitched by Mu Xing, but because this junior brother’s spiritual aura was so pure and gentle—it was almost unbelievable.

If he closed his eyes, Meng Ge thought: If someone told me the one standing before me was a spirit herb overflowing with aura, I wouldn’t doubt it.

But suspicions aside, there were questions not suitable to ask someone he’d just met, so he kept them to himself.

Meng Ge was very mindful of his role as senior brother. As they traveled together, he carefully explained the general situation of the Dongling secret realm to Mu Xing, and even mentioned that he had two more companions they’d meet at the entrance.

He explained, “In this kind of secret realm, for safety and to protect opportunities, most people form teams with those they know and trust. Junior Brother Mu, do you mind?”

Mu Xing shook his head.

Meng Ge wasn’t talkative. Once he’d said everything important, the two continued their journey quietly.

Several hours later, they arrived at Dongling City.

Compared with the mortal cities Mu Xing had lived in before, this city—filled with cultivators—was clearly different.

As soon as he entered, he saw that most passersby were cultivators, their appearances and weapons varied and strange. Shops on either side glimmered with treasure light, as if afraid others wouldn’t notice their wares were extraordinary.

Meng Ge led Mu Xing into an inn.

The first floor served food, and when they stepped into the lively hall, quite a few eyes darted toward them.

Most looked at Meng Ge. But after a glance at him, their gazes naturally shifted to the young man at his side.

Clearly the two were together, but why was a righteous-path cultivator walking with a demon-path one?

In this world, righteous and demonic cultivators weren’t locked in blood feuds. Still, since their Dao differed, they rarely mixed well—more like rivals with an uneasy truce.

Such stares were nothing new to Meng Ge. His face remained frozen as ever, and he led Mu Xing straight toward the stairs.

But at the steps, someone blocked their way.

It was a group of young men and women in white Daoist robes.

At their head was the youngest-looking, only fourteen or fifteen, with fine features and a proud air that screamed of being spoiled.

He didn’t even glance at Meng Ge—his gaze went straight to Mu Xing, his tone far from polite:
“Why are you walking with this demon?”

Meng Ge turned his head toward Mu Xing.

Expressionless as always, but from his eyes Mu Xing could read the silent question: Is he your friend?

Mu Xing was wondering the same thing.

He tilted his head at the boy, who stood higher on the steps and thus looked down at him, and asked curiously,
“Do we know each other?”

The youth snorted. “We don’t. I just saw you with this demon and didn’t want you to suffer.”

Mu Xing sensed no malice from him, so he politely smiled and said, “I won’t. Please let us pass.”

The boy frowned. “Are you really that stupid? Do you even know who this is?”

He pointed at Meng Ge. “Disciple of Wuchang Jun. Brutal killer. A little demon himself!”

Meng Ge’s face stayed blank, but his hand had already found the hilt of his sword.

Mu Xing moved faster.

Yes, he was a gentle-tempered little celestial boy—but only as long as no one provoked him.

He and Meng Ge had only just met, but even so, Mu Xing could feel the other’s intent to look after him.

And besides, Meng Ge’s master, Wuchang Jun, was a friend of his own master’s, and had just given him a precious gift.

In short: Meng Ge was his person.

Insulting him was unacceptable.

Mu Xing furrowed his brows slightly, looked at the boy, and said something that seemed unrelated:
“I’m sixteen years old, and already a Golden Core cultivator.”

At once, all the bystanders in the hall turned to stare.

A sixteen-year-old Golden Core? Where had this youth come from? Why had no one heard of him?

The boy in white froze.

Then he saw the exceptionally handsome, almost otherworldly youth before him ask softly:
“Do you know why I cultivate so quickly?”

Without thinking, he asked, “Why?”

Mu Xing smiled, clear as moonlight:
“Because I never meddle in other people’s business.”

The boy in white: “…”

“Pfft!” A laugh slipped out from somewhere in the room.

That broke the dam—soon several chuckles followed.

The boy realized Mu Xing was mocking him for being nosy. His face flushed crimson as he glared furiously, about to retort, when a female cultivator behind him caught his sleeve.

She spoke gently to Mu Xing:
“My junior brother is young and rash. Please, fellow Daoist, don’t take offense. He meant no harm.”

Mu Xing nodded.
“I’m not offended. I already scolded him back on the spot.”

The female cultivator: “…”

Forcing a smile, she said, “I am Xu Mengyue of Yudao Immortal Sect. May I ask, Fellow Daoist, from which sect do you hail?”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Yue Fubai had lived free and unrestrained for centuries, but after taking his very first disciple, it was as if he suddenly had something tying him to the mortal world. His care for Mu Xing was painstaking and wholehearted.

Because Mu Xing’s spiritual roots had been damaged, his spiritual power often flowed unevenly during cultivation. Yue Fubai, with his deep reserves, would every three days pour his own spiritual power into Mu Xing’s body to nourish and repair his meridians. He also supported this with all kinds of rare treasures of heaven and earth, slowly mending his disciple’s roots.

If word of this got out, no one would believe it.

A cultivator’s spiritual power was immeasurably precious—how could anyone spend it so recklessly on another person?

Even more unthinkable: a cultivator’s meridians were vital. To let another person’s spiritual energy enter without any defenses was courting disaster. If that person harbored the slightest malice, the consequences would be unimaginable.

But Yue Fubai, moved by the attachment of taking his first disciple in hundreds of years, gave Mu Xing all his affection. And Mu Xing, utterly ignorant of the unspoken rules of the cultivation world, felt nothing amiss.

Then came cultivation itself.

At first, Yue Fubai had planned to consult some of his infrequent “wine-and-meat” friends on how to teach a disciple.

But before he could, Mu Xing revealed staggering talent—no matter what technique he learned, his progress was breathtaking.

Yue Fubai decided at once: his little disciple was a genius. And geniuses could not be measured by ordinary standards.

So he stopped asking others for advice and simply taught Mu Xing by pushing him to his limits.

Aside from cultivation, he insisted Mu Xing also learn the refined arts—poetry, music, painting, calligraphy. After all, how could a disciple of Yue Fubai be a boor with no taste for elegance?

Fortunately, Mu Xing had the accumulated knowledge of his previous lives, and his natural gifts were extraordinary. He absorbed knowledge like a sponge—everything Yue Fubai poured into him, he not only accepted but mastered with grace.

Most importantly, even with all these “extras,” his cultivation speed never slowed.

Foundation Establishment in three years.
Core Formation in six.

At sixteen years old, he was already a Core Formation cultivator—a rarity across both righteous and demonic paths.

And unlike the great sects’ direct disciples, nurtured since birth with the finest resources, Mu Xing had only begun cultivating at seven. Worse, his spiritual roots had been destroyed and had to be painstakingly repaired, deliberately delaying his Core Formation.

One day—

Mu Xing was speaking with Yue Fubai when he suddenly sensed something.

Yue Fubai smiled:
“Ah, an old friend has come to visit.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a black-clad figure appeared in the hall.

With a single glance, Mu Xing’s heart tightened—the man radiated a suffocating aura of blood and slaughter, so intense it nearly became tangible. For an ordinary person, even looking at him once would have shattered their spirit.

The man’s eyes gleamed faintly with bloodlust. He looked past Yue Fubai, fixing directly on Mu Xing.

Mu Xing felt as though a ferocious beast had locked onto him. His spiritual energy stirred instinctively, ready to defend at a moment’s notice.

Yue Fubai frowned:
“Heibai, you’re frightening my good disciple.”

At once, the crushing pressure lifted from Mu Xing’s shoulders.

The black-clad man withdrew his aura and looked strangely at Mu Xing.
“So this is the precious disciple you’ve been hiding from us?”

With the pressure gone, Mu Xing could study him properly: sharply defined features, undeniably handsome but deathly pale, eyes dark as ink with occasional flashes of ominous scarlet.

Unlike Yue Fubai, this man looked every bit the image of a demonic cultivator.

Yue Fubai had been annoyed at his uninvited entrance, but once his disciple was mentioned, his annoyance vanished.

“What do you mean, ‘hiding’? My Xingxing just devotes himself to cultivation. He has no time for the gaudy temptations of the outside world!”

He turned to Mu Xing.
“Disciple, this is an old friend of your master’s. He follows the path of slaughter—not exactly a good man, but strong. If you meet tough opponents out there, just invoke his name.”

Mu Xing understood at once—this was one of his master’s allies.

He bowed respectfully.
“Junior Mu Xing greets this elder…”

He hesitated—he couldn’t just call the man “Old Heibai,” could he?

The black-clad man forced a smile.
“The world calls me Lord Wuchang.”

Mu Xing quickly followed:
“Greetings, Uncle Wuchang.”

Yue Fubai scoffed from the side:
“What ‘Lord’? You’ve killed so many people they call you Wuchang the Reaper!”

Though he teased, Mu Xing was no longer the ignorant child of nine years ago.

In nine years, he had learned much of the world.

Wuchang Jun—one of the nine grandmasters of the demonic path. A cultivator who entered the Dao through slaughter, his combat prowess was among the highest of the Nine.

As for reputation… he surpassed the other eight.

Because this senior cultivated slaughter, he enjoyed killing.

He was like a walking inspector of the cultivation world—righteous or demonic, any who committed crimes feared falling into his hands.

But such pickings were far too few to sustain his path of slaughter.

So every hundred years, Wuchang Jun would seal his memories and powers, reincarnating into the mortal world. Each time, he emerged as a harbinger of bloodshed, leaving rivers of corpses in his wake.

His most infamous feat was thirty years ago, when he reincarnated as a general during a time of chaos. In a single campaign, he buried 400,000 enemy soldiers alive.

His ferocious reputation was well-earned.

Mu Xing thought: So it’s him—that explains why the aura of blood and slaughter around him is so strong.

Wuchang Jun stared at Mu Xing for a long moment before finally turning to Yue Fubai.
“This is really your disciple?”

Yue Fubai’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean by that?”

Wuchang Jun said coldly, “If you told me the boy standing before me was a disciple of some great immortal sect, I wouldn’t doubt it.”

Instead of taking offense, Yue Fubai raised his brows proudly.
“You think so too? I agree. My disciple’s bearing is a hundred times more transcendent than those so-called righteous sect disciples.”

Wuchang Jun’s face stayed cold.
“Is that something to be proud of?”

“How is it not something to be proud of?” Yue Fubai shot back. “Those righteous sects—grandmasters as numerous as clouds, disciples in the tens of thousands—and yet none of them produce a student as outstanding as mine.”

For once, Wuchang Jun had no retort.

Then Yue Fubai casually extended his hand toward him.

Wuchang Jun frowned.
“What do you mean by that?”

Yue Fubai smiled lazily.
“My disciple is meeting you for the first time today. Isn’t it only proper you give him a meeting gift?”

Wuchang Jun’s expression darkened.
“…If I recall correctly, nine years ago you swaggered into my place and forced me to hand over a top-grade artifact as a meeting gift for this very same disciple.”

Yue Fubai looked at him in mock shock.
“You still remember something from nine years ago that clearly? Can’t you be a little less petty?”

Wuchang Jun: “…”

“And besides!” Yue Fubai said righteously. “That time was to celebrate my receiving a beloved disciple. This time it’s for my precious disciple himself. Entirely different matters!”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Zhou Li asked the system, “How are they? Are their lives in danger?”

The system replied, “They’re only mildly hypoxic. They’ll recover in about half an hour.”

Hearing that, Zhou Li stopped worrying about them.

Then she turned to Zhao Changyan. “Why don’t you work as my shop assistant?”

Zhao Changyan was puzzled. “Shop assistant?”

“To introduce the goods and prices, and explain how the membership card works. The wage is fifty yuan a day, with one meal included. But it’s only temporary—once everyone understands how the supermarket works, there won’t be a need for a guide anymore.”

Zhao Changyan understood and quickly agreed with delight. “I’ll do it!”

*

The refugees were terrified by what had happened to Chen San and his brothers.

Even though greed still flickered in their eyes, none dared make another move after witnessing such “divine power.”

When Zhao Changyan came out unharmed, Dou Dailang immediately approached her. “Young lady, has the divine lady grown angry?”

He didn’t know if there were other taboos surrounding the divine lady—rushing in recklessly might bring disaster.

Since “Chang Qiniang” had already met her and come out safe, she must know the rules.

Zhao Changyan said, “The divine lady is not angry with anyone, but she does have rules everyone must obey.”

The crowd perked up their ears.

“First,” she began, “the divine lady’s powers are vast. No one must even think of stealing, looting, or breaking things under her gaze. If you do, you’ll share the same fate as Chen San.

Second, this is the divine lady’s dwelling, called the ‘Good Life Supermarket.’ But she dislikes being called a divine lady, so you may respectfully address her as ‘Little Boss.’

Third, everything inside must be exchanged for money. Earlier, someone said, ‘A divine lady should save the world for free.’ That is wrong. The Little Boss is merely traveling here to cultivate. The disasters of this world are not her karma. If she gives you food for nothing, she becomes entangled in your karma.

Thus, she helps mortals through trade—once payment is made, the karmic tie is severed.”

Zhou Li’s toes curled so hard she could’ve drilled holes through the supermarket floor.

She thought, Zhao Changyan really has a knack for hype. What a waste she’s not in public relations.

But as a princess of Southern Chu, Zhao Changyan carried natural authority—whatever she said sounded credible, reason or not.

Among the crowd, Chen San’s family muttered bitterly, “And how is that different from a merchant? We don’t have any money.”

Zhao Changyan heard and asked, “Does everyone know the current grain prices?”

Dou Dailang answered, “In Shaozhou, Dayue, it’s seven hundred wen per dou.”

A Chu refugee said, “In Yuezhou, it’s eighteen hundred wen per dou.”

The Dayue refugees gasped. “Eighteen hundred per dou!?”

No wonder the Chu people kept heading south. Compared to that, the taxes in Dayue didn’t seem so unbearable.

The Chu refugees looked embarrassed.

Zhao Changyan ignored their rivalry and continued, “Here, the Little Boss sells fine white rice for only three wen per jin—that’s just thirty-six wen per dou.”

The crowd was stunned.

The next moment, they surged forward as if the door would burst.

Zhao Changyan said sharply, “Have you already forgotten the Little Boss’s rules—and Chen San’s fate?”

The reminder worked. They froze instantly.

She continued, waving Zhou Li’s banner high and setting order among them.

“The Little Boss has no karmic tie with us. We have not worshipped or offered prayers to her—she may leave at any time. Those unwilling to follow her rules may leave now.” She said this pointedly to Chen San’s family.

They glared at her, unwilling to go but too afraid to argue.

Zhao Changyan went on, “Since no one is leaving, I’ll take that as agreement. Now, I’ll act on behalf of the Little Boss to explain how things will work.

The Little Boss knows everyone is poor and may not have money. So she allows you to exchange goods for divine currency. This money is not ordinary—it is heavenly money. Once exchanged, it will be stored in a divine vessel—this card.”

She held up the supermarket membership card.

“With this card, you can buy anything inside. Of course, only if you have enough in it.”

The refugees stared in wonder.

“That’s a divine tool?”
“How much can it hold?”

“As much as you like,” Zhao Changyan said.

They quickly realized how convenient it was.

Usually, when traveling, they had to carry heavy strings of copper coins—bulky and noisy—or rolls of silk to cut up for trade.

But this thin card was far lighter and easier to keep.

Zhao Changyan concluded, “Now you may discuss what to trade for divine currency. Once you decide, line up and see the divine lady to make the exchange.”

The first to step forward was Dou Dailang from Dayue.

He presented a tiger pelt respectfully to Zhou Li.

Zhou Li had the system scan it and list it on the auction platform.

【Tigress Pelt】
Age: 1 year
Date of Origin: 957 AD
Owner: Dou Dailang
Starting Bid: 1,000 yuan (recommended)
Buyout Price: 3,000 yuan (recommended)
[Note: Tigers are protected endangered species. The auction house strictly limits sales of tiger and tiger-derived goods.]

Zhou Li noticed the listing said “restricted,” not “banned.”

Meaning tiger pelts could be sold, but were discouraged.

Thus, the price was kept very low.

Zhou Li told Zhao Changyan, “Heaven cherishes life. This pelt can only be exchanged for 1,000 coins.”

Zhao Changyan was astonished—a tiger pelt, prized by nobles, worth only that much here?

But that phrase—“Heaven cherishes life”—seemed to explain it.

She asked Dou Dailang, “Why not sell it to the aristocrats?”

Dou Dailang said, “Officials seize whatever they fancy. If I bring it out, I’d be giving it away, not selling it.”

He hesitated, then asked, “Does the divine lady dislike killing?”

Zhou Li’s refined accent sounded like that of the Central Plains, and though he understood her, he turned to Zhao Changyan for confirmation.

She nodded.

Dou Dailang sighed. “This is the most valuable thing I have.”

“This will get you a thousand coins,” Zhao Changyan said evenly. “It’s your choice.”

He went off to discuss it with his family.

Seeing him leave, a Chu woman rushed forward to take her chance.

“Div—Little Boss, I have something to trade,” she stammered.

She pulled a hairpin from her hair.

【Huanghuali Wood Flower Hairpin】
Age: 117 years
Date of Origin: 841 AD
Owner: Qiao Sinian
Starting Bid: 2,000 yuan (recommended)
Buyout Price: 3,000 yuan (recommended)

Qiao Sinian felt nervous.

It was just a wooden hairpin—not an official piece, not made by a master craftsman.

It had been her mother’s dowry, passed down through generations.

She didn’t hope for much—just enough to feed herself for a month.

She looked at Zhou Li expectantly.

Zhou Li seemed distracted for a moment before saying, “This hairpin is worth 3,000 coins. After a forty-five-coin fee, you’ll receive 2,955. Would you like to convert it?”

After Zhao Changyan translated, Qiao Sinian froze, then broke into tears of joy. “Yes, divine lady!”

Zhou Li loaded the money onto a card and handed it to her.

Holding the thin “divine tool,” Qiao Sinian felt dizzy with disbelief.

Zhao Changyan said, “All items inside are marked with prices. If you can’t read, call me for help.”

Qiao Sinian blushed. “I’ll need your help then. Thank you, Chang Qiniang.”

She didn’t know Zhao Changyan personally—only that she called herself Chang and was the seventh in her family.

Following the other refugees’ lead, she too had once mocked Zhao Changyan when Chen San slandered her.

Now, faced with her kindness, she felt ashamed.

Zhao Changyan, eager to make a good impression on Zhou Li, didn’t show any disdain for the Chu people.

Outside the supermarket—

When Dou Dailang saw that Qiao Sinian’s simple wooden hairpin was worth more than his tiger pelt, he felt bitter but quickly calmed his own people.

Like the Chu refugees said, they were all destitute—driven to wander by crushing taxes and famine.

If they still had valuable goods, they wouldn’t be refugees.

Even his treasured tiger pelt was barely worth anything—what could the rest possibly trade?

Then his wife, Xian Sanniang, said, “Husband, try this jewelry box.”

“That’s your dowry chest,” Dou Dailang said.

But Xian Sanniang insisted. So, with cautious hope, he returned to the supermarket carrying it.

【Agarwood Lacquer Box Inlaid with Mother-of-Pearl】
Age: 22 years
Date of Origin: 936 AD
Owner: Xian Sanniang
Starting Bid: 31,680 yuan (recommended)
Buyout Price: 50,000 yuan (recommended)

Zhou Li was stunned—this jewelry box was that valuable?

It was the most expensive item she had seen yet.

She was about to name a price but hesitated. “This isn’t yours. I need its owner to confirm the sale.”

It was a precaution against theft and murder for profit.

She couldn’t stop crime entirely, but she could at least make people wary.

Dou Dailang wasn’t surprised that Zhou Li knew—the divine lady saw all, after all.

He went and brought Xian Sanniang inside.

When Zhou Li gave the price, Xian Sanniang was equally shocked.

The plain little box from her vanity was worth that much?

She sold it immediately.

Nearly fifty thousand coins loaded onto their card—Xian Sanniang tried to hide her joy as she discussed with her husband how best to use the money.

To stay safe, they told the others the box had only fetched two thousand.

No one would dare question the divine lady’s word.

Meanwhile, the Chu refugees watched Qiao Sinian.

They wanted to see if she would really buy something from the divine lady’s dwelling with her new card.

Before long, Qiao Sinian emerged holding a bag of noodles.

[Author’s Note]

Stop asking why the “tigress pelt” is specified as female. In historical trade records, male and female tiger pelts were priced separately. According to A Study of Song Dynasty Prices and the Treasury of Precious Things, male tiger pelts were larger, thicker, and had prettier patterns—worth up to 10 strings of cash in Emperor Ningzong’s reign—while female pelts were smaller and less striking, thus cheaper.

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