Betrayal, in my mind, could only come from those close to you. As paranoid as I was, I half-expected it. Someone might even say it was all according to Keikaku.

But who was I kidding? I didn't have enough friends in this world for an unexpected betrayal to be possible. It was a sad thing if someone were to look at it from the outside, but something I had come to like. It wasn't like I was dying to make friends with teenagers with too much power in their hands.

Glancing at the chubby guy, I pondered my next move. Waiting to see if he would stab me in the back wasn't an option.

So, the question remained: what should I do next with this information?

I knew next to nothing about my chubby friend's cultivation stage or his strength. It would be unwise to immediately resort to violence. My close brush with death outside the sect had left me paranoid, the scar on my forearm a constant reminder to be cautious.

As if sensing my thoughts, the little turtle in my pocket poked his head out. I reached to pet him, feeling his hard reptile skin against my hand. It was harder than yesterday.

Was Speedy finally growing?

The Turtle Shell Body technique was said to have some effect on the turtle the user practiced with. Martial technique books were often filled with metaphors and convoluted explanations. It would have been simpler if there were only objective explanations, making learning easier and reducing training time. But perhaps this was how some cultivators thought they could leave their mark on the world.

The origin of the Turtle Shell Body Technique traced back to its creator's encounter with a turtle Monstrous Beast defending against attacks from a Nascent Soul Realm cultivator. Inspired by the turtle's formidable defense, the creator dreamed of attaining a similar level of defensive power. Despite the cultivator's superior strength, the turtle's shell proved resilient, forcing the attacker to exert significant effort to penetrate its defenses. However, the technique creator's experiments only yielded a mortal-grade technique, falling short of his aspirations.

Although at times the details seemed redundant, I found a certain charm in reading about the authors' experiences and their martial arts creation. While some narratives were clearly embellished with bravado and falsehoods, they were still entertaining in their own way.

After feeding Speedy and coaxing him back into my pocket for a nap, I briefly contemplated involving him in exercises. Yet, larger concerns weighed on my mind than the well-being of my favorite turtle and the potential effects of the Turtle Shell Body technique on him.

I nudged my friend, drawing his attention amid the bustling crowd. With our voices drowned by the said crowd, I whispered, "Is there anything you want to buy?"

Initially bewildered by the unexpected question, soon realization dawned on his gaze, and he caught the implication in my words.

Yes, I was offering to buy his silence, conveying that loyalty would serve him better than betrayal. Despite his strength, as an outer sect student, he would be naive to assume he could emerge unscathed from a confrontation with me. Even in a surprise attack, I was confident in delivering a decisive last blow.

Whether that last move would inflict harm upon him or not, just an injury was already akin to a death sentence. It would signify to others that he had either been an ex-prisoner who had managed to fend off his attacker or an aggressor who had instigated an altercation and emerged alive. Either way, it would likely prompt most to assume he possessed a substantial stash of spirit stones.

But out of all the potential reactions I had anticipated, and despite my numerous detailed plans, everything crumbled when the chubby guy regarded me with a puzzled expression as if I had sprouted a second head, and asked, "Why would I want to spend your hard-earned money? I didn't go through the pain to get any."

Well, that caught me off guard. I felt like a jerk for harboring such low thoughts about him, especially since my paranoia persisted despite his statement. I was not going to lower my guard anytime soon.

As a supposedly wise cultivator once said; Words are like wind, and cultivation pills are like drugs—the said "wise" cultivator being none other than myself.

Exiting the cafeteria, a new scene unfolded before me.

Pitter, patter...

Fat raindrops plummeted from the heavens, drumming against the cafeteria roof and the stony ground, producing brittle sounds.

The deluge persisted, forming small ponds and washing away the grime and dust from the stony paths.

Despite being drenched by the heavy downpour, I used my hand to shield my pocket to protect Speedy from the rain. While I, as a cultivator, could endure such conditions, he might succumb to a cold or worse.

Navigating down the cafeteria stairs, I remained vigilant as other disciples hurried past me. Despite displaying no signs of possessing spirit stones, I understood not to underestimate others' intelligence. Only a fool would assume others to be dim-witted.

But soon enough, as the rain beat down on me, my mind wandered toward the potential of using this rain to my advantage.

Should I attempt training in the rain? Practicing on wet ground could serve as a valuable test to assess the efficacy of my Rushing Bull Steps on slippery surfaces.

Well, I could consider that later, but with the rain my training session had to be cut short. Perhaps there was another activity I could engage in.

Reflecting on the recent events, I realized it wasn't wise to push myself to exhaustion during training, despite enjoying the revitalizing sensation that followed a rigorous workout. It felt almost magical compared to the usual muscle soreness I experienced after a strenuous day's exercise.

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Ah, yes! I could retrieve my monthly allowance.

By now, two months' worth of allowance likely awaited me, a modest sum of two spirit stones, but still better than nothing. It was a task I couldn't postpone any longer, and the current weather presented an opportune moment.

Descending the stairs, I reached the crosswalk nestled at the mountain's base, where numerous paths branched out to various destinations, most of which I had yet to explore. Fortunately, signs indicated the way to the library, arena, and dining hall, and after scanning the area, I located the Administrative Office.

The Administrative Office served as a platform where one could go to one of the outer elders to file complaints. Though grievances rarely resulted in resolutions in this cutthroat environment where individuals sabotaged each other's cultivation progress without a second thought.

In essence, it was about as effective as a Human Resources Department in the mafia.

Despite its nominal function, the Administrative Office primarily dispensed monthly allowances to outer disciples, making it a familiar destination for most.

As I made my way toward the Administrative Office, the road resembled its counterparts, leaving one to speculate whether martial arts techniques had been used in its construction or if it was the result of slave labor. Although slavery wasn't practiced in this realm, it wasn't as though anyone would challenge a Nascent Soul Realm cultivator over such matters, especially not someone as formidable as the sect's founder, the Blazing Sun Immortal. He was above the Nascent Soul Realm.

Now that I pondered it, the notion of the Blazing Sun Immortal still being around was interesting. According to some tomes found in the library, immortals didn't succumb to the passage of time like mortals did. Also, it seemed useless for immortals to fight against each other since all that effort to reach such a stage would be wasted to satisfy some fighting urge.

So, the only logical explanation was that immortals went into hiding after reaching that stage. Or perhaps something was killing them? Well, not like it mattered to someone like me.

Even if the Blazing Sun Immortal did live, the likelihood of someone like myself crossing paths with them was next to none. Yet, the prospect of conversing with someone who had lived for centuries stirred my curiosity.

Arriving at the Administrative Office didn't take long. Despite its title, the building resembled more of an ancient Chinese castle, bustling with activity. Fortunately, the heavy rainfall meant fewer people were present, lending an air of tranquility to the surroundings.

Stepping inside, a warm feeling pushed against me like I had squeezed through something. In an instant, my damp clothes dried, leaving behind a lingering sensation of warmness.

I stood momentarily stunned. Even Liu Feng hadn't seen such a barrier around the Administrative Office. Then again, he had never come here when it was raining.

Clearing my throat and composing myself, I suppressed any overt display of astonishment to avoid appearing foolish. Yet, I made a mental note to delve deeper into the intricacies of arrays and barriers if there was ever a chance in the future.

Within the castle-like structure, individuals hurried about, some clutching papers while others bore the attire of outer and inner disciples. It was evident that the elder overseeing this place, despite being of outer rank, wielded considerable influence. Ordinarily, inner disciples seldom collaborated with outer elders, given their comparable status as inner disciples with a chance of reaching Foundation Establishment. Yet, the presence of inner disciples suggested otherwise, hinting at the elder's formidable authority within the sect hierarchy.

Drawing from Liu Feng's memories, I strode past the occupants with little regard, navigating through several chambers until I reached the end of the hallway. There, a wide opening greeted me, lined with individuals seated in cubicles separated by glass panels, reminiscent of a modern airport check-in counter, albeit steeped in Chinese architectural motifs.

The majority of the cubicles were occupied by attractive women, each attended by one or two young disciples. It seemed unlikely that all of them were there solely to collect their monthly allowance; rather, they appeared more interested in engaging the servants in conversation.

Regardless of the location, such people existed everywhere, even in the distant xianxia world. While I understood what and why they were doing this, I couldn't help but silently assess them. In my previous world, countless people would have given anything for the opportunity to embark on the wondrous journey of superhuman cultivation. But these guys were wasting this opportunity.

Yet, to each their own. Who was I to dictate how others should lead their lives?

Approaching one of the elder gentlemen stationed behind the glass, I leaned closer to ensure he heard me clearly. "Excuse me, sir. My name is Liu Feng. Can I withdraw my allowance?"

The old man scrutinized me with his gaze briefly before retrieving a crystal and placing it against the glass.

"Place your hand against the glass, young master," he instructed.

A shiver ran down my spine at the title "young master," eliciting a sense of repulsion within me. Nevertheless, I maintained a polite smile as I complied with his request. The crystal ball illuminated, displaying the number two.

The old gentleman nodded in acknowledgment, retrieving two spirit stones from beneath his desk and sliding them under the glass. "Have a good day, young master. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

"Thank you. Have a good day too," I replied courteously before making my exit.

Standing by the entrance, I observed the relentless downpour outside. Holding the two spirit stones in my palm, I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't truly need them. There wasn't much I needed to purchase at the moment. Perhaps later, when my cultivation reached a plateau, the one hundred spirit stone reward would prove more valuable. For now, it felt more like a burden.

If only there existed a banking service for spirit stones within the sect, perhaps the rampant killings could be curtailed. However, I doubted the inner sect was concerned with our affairs. We, the outer disciples, were akin to unpaid interns... underpaid interns. Relegated to menial tasks and serving as expendable pawns in conflicts, while the inner sect harbored those destined for true strength.

Glancing outside, I saw the rain trying to enter the building, only to be thwarted by a barrier at the entrance.

Wait, didn't the sect maintain a protective barrier around the mountain? Couldn't it be utilized to halt the rain?

Yet, as soon as the notion crossed my mind, I realized the logistical challenges. The sect grounds spanned vast expanses, akin to a small country. Traversing from one end to the other would require days, even for a Body Tempering cultivator. The sheer volume of water displaced for such a purpose would unnecessarily strain the barrier. Moreover, the rainwater was vital for nourishing the vegetation surrounding the sect, given the abundance of trees.

With this realization, I determined my next destination: the market. It was time to spend these two spirit stones.

I had to look out to ensure people didn't think I was one of those disciples who had been rewarded. Despite what was happening, disciples were still buying the needed cultivation resources. Only the big spenders were hunted, as far as I knew.

Who knows? I might stumble upon an ultra-rare technique.