Wen Jie walked past the Five Elements Sword Sect’s gates, politely greeting the peak stage Qi Refinement Cultivator that guarded the entrance on his way out. Of course, that was not the only defence the sect had against invaders. Leaving was an easy task, but entry without the Five Elements Token in his possession would be a difficult endeavour. After all, the sect protecting array would activate the moment it detected foreign individuals encroaching upon their territory.

Standing at a height of 5’10, Wen Jie would not be considered short. However, it would hard to describe him as tall, either. His light brown eyes could not be said to perfectly contrast with his flowing black hair, that had been neatly tied up into a ponytail, but the resultant effect was not too displeasing to look at either. His skin was blemish free, of white complexion. His facial features, well, his nose was slightly too long, lips slightly too puffy and expression, too stern. He could be described as handsome, though among those who cultivated, he was nothing special. For the qi he cycled belonged to the heavens, and the heavens disdained imperfection.

He wore a flowing azure daoist robe, that was similar to the robes martial arts practitioners wore back on Earth, which had a symbol emblazoned upon it. Positioned upon the right side of his chest, was the symbol of a plain sword that cycled through five colours in quick succession, representing fire, water, wood, earth, and metal, respectively. The azure robes also carried a greater significance, for he had chosen a water-based Qi Cycling Technique.

One would assume that such an act would be the height of folly, but then one would be overestimating Qi Refinement cultivators. Wen Jie’s Flowing River Qi Cycling Technique had taken inspiration from the flow of water through a river, emulating the cycle of nature to cycle Qi within the body. He could not summon a torrent of water and neither was his Qi water attributed, it was simply a way to cycle his Qi and cultivate. Thus, all the Qi Cycling techniques at the first stage of cultivation essentially took different paths to reach the same end.

So, Wen Jie took a deep breath, and cycled his Qi through his body. A burst of energy coursed through his body, and he directed it towards his feet. The next moment, he broke out into a sprint towards the south-east.

His speed had not increased beyond the limits of a mortal, but Wen Jie felt next to no fatigue as he made distance towards his destination. On his right side, was a sheathed sword in a brown scabbard, tied tightly to his waist. On his left side, were three small pouches fashioned out of some sort of coarse animal hide, also tied securely to his waist. However, the first and the third were full of rocks, only the second contained a few different types of pills. His money pouch could only be placed next to his heart, gently tucked within his robes for safekeeping.

Such was the advice given to him by his seniors, for third stage Qi refinement cultivators had only barely crossed the threshold of mortality, and it was not impossible for mortals to steal or even kill, under very unique circumstances, a cultivator. It was an occurrence that had taken place before. His eyesight, perception and depth of vision might supersede a mortal, but Wen Jie had not yet reached a state where he could always be on constant guard every waking moment.

The surroundings would be a bit blurry if he were a mortal, for it was hard to sprint and enjoy the scenery at the same time. However, he was a cultivator. And while his guard might subconsciously lessen while in a city, the same would not be the case when he was travelling outside the sect, completely alone.

He ran freely on a flat, grassy plain, the soft ground under his feet slightly muffling the impact on his joints, even though he did not require such consideration. The area around the vicinity of a sect must be so, for if a sect were to be situated in an area of dense foliage, one would never see the ambush coming. The occasional lone tree or some common herb would attract his attention, but there was nothing that could attract his greed. He simply scanned them in an effort to maintain his vigilance.

Ultimately, his journey was uneventful. He saw a small village in the distance, though perhaps even a village would be too grand a description. Large tents formed out of a patchwork of different animal hides lay in the distance, placed haphazardly without neither rhyme nor rhythm. At one side, were six wooden caravans linked together to form a semi-circular shape, representing the righter most edge of the supposed village.

At the entrance, were two spear wielding men dressed in bright green robes, depicting the colour of commerce and wealth.

“Halt!” The guard on the left shouted, with far more intensity than required. “One spiritual coin for entry,” he boomed out, and Wen Jie wondered if the man really enjoyed the meagre power his position afforded him.

Wen Jie flicked a circular coin that was half the side of his palm, and had a unique logo emblazoned upon it, towards the guard. The guard casually plucked it out of the air, and nodded to Wen Jie.

He felt slight humour bubble up in his gut, for there were no walls that protected their makeshift village, let alone a gate to enter from.

However, the Copper Caravan Trading House, eccentric though their ways may be, were a power to be respected. Other pavilions focused on appearance, their caravans would never travel without mighty, intimidating beasts to pull the caravan, a set of hired cultivators to guard their property and lavish accommodation that would be draped in mortal gold. The Copper Caravan Trading House however, moved from place to place in a beat-up wooden caravan than even mortal traders would scoff at, large patchwork tents that spoke of failing finances, and no more than a dozen cultivator guards. The copper in their name was derived from the weakest mortal currency, their name as ironic as it could get.

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When asked about the reason, they explained that it was a part of their founder’s philosophy, for ‘to create wealth, one must understand how it is to go without’. Sounded like gibberish to Wen Jie, but ultimately anyone who tried to raise trouble for the caravan would die without a sound. Not those Qi Refinement hires guarding the gate, no Wen Jie did not think so.

It was said that each Copper Caravan moved around with one expert, who was so terrifying that there was simply no need for any more. The cultivation level of said experts is unknown. Wen Jie did not intend to test their bottom line. Ultimately, the trading house was known for fairness and high-quality goods, and that was what Wen Jie was here for.

He moved past the guards and headed for the largest patchwork tent that lay situated in the centre of the camping ground. He could read the various signs as he passed by the tents, and he was truly impressed by the variety of services that they provided. A brothel, an establishment for immortal liquor, a restaurant that serves spiritual beast meat, they seemed to have it all. However, Wen Jie was a mere outer sect disciple, and their prices were beyond him.

Spiritual ores were naturally formed in the environment, either due to the density of spiritual qi in an area, or due to an accumulation of spiritual qi over a long period of time, transforming the nature of regular ores. Spiritual ores were then refined into spiritual stones, of equal shape, density and size for their regularization as a universal currency. Spiritual stones had nigh endless uses, but the most important one was that a cultivator could use them to either replenish their spiritual energy stores or use them to absorb and cycle Qi, thereby speeding up their cultivation. Though such a process wasn’t without its drawbacks.

However, even the lowest grade spirit stone was unattainable for an outer sect disciple like Wen Jie, and thus the concept of a spiritual coin needed to exist. Hundred spiritual coins equated to one spirit stone of low grade.

As an outer sect disciple, Wen Jie received 25 spirit coins a month, along with one Qi Establishment level pill to aid in his cultivation. But most of it was used for his own cultivation. His own pilfering activities had to remain within boundaries, or eventually even the outer sect elders would be forced to take action. He presently possessed 88 spiritual coins, of which he had just lost one to the entry fees.

He entered the tent labelled ‘Grand Emporium’, only to lightly gasp the moment he entered and saw the sight inside. Weapons, tens, no perhaps hundreds of different types of weapons rested across the boundary of the tent, in display cases constructed out of a wooden exterior and a glass front, allowing the cultivator to browse freely, but not touch them without permission. At the centre of the pavilion sat a kindly looking old man, who was perusing through a withered book with rapt intensity. He was seated on a plain wooden chair with mild cushioning, behind a large wooden desk with a glass panel display. Other displays dotted the surroundings around the old man, containing various objects that included scrolls, pills, talismans, metals, and heavens know what else.

It was almost as if the man cared little for what he sold, and even littler for the possibility of theft.

Wen Jie would love to spend time and sift through the items in search for gold, but it would serve little purpose to lust for items that he could not possess. As for theft? Ha, he did not wish to die just yet.

He coolly walked towards the old man, not being surprised when he could not see through his cultivation. After all, he was at the bottom of the rung, so how was it surprising?

“Senior, are you perchance in possession of some mortal sap?” Wen Jie asked with politeness and patience, for one could never know what may offend the old ones.

“Hmm. Mortal sap?” the old man mused, shifting his gaze from the tattered book towards Wen Jie, sizing him up and down. “It has been a while since one so young has requested such an item from my Copper Caravan Trading House. You are quite filial,” he added, looking at Wen Jie with some praise in his eyes.

Mortal sap could help a mortal very minimally extend their lifespan, but its main purpose was to prevent any sickness or ill health for the rest of their lifespan. It was not a cure, but rather prevention, and could only be taken once in a mortal lifespan.

“Thank you for your praise, senior,” Wen Jie respectfully clasped his hands and bowed deeply.

“Oh, it’s nothing, and I hardly deserve to be called your senior. One mortal sap costs 50 spiritual coins, if you purchase two it will cost you 80 spiritual coins. How many would you like to buy?” The old man nonchalantly waved his right hand as he answered.

“I would like to purchase two, honored shopkeeper," Wen Jie changed the term of address, but did not dare disrespect the mighty cultivator facing him

“Very well," The old man replied with a wry smile, and processed his request.

Thus, Wen Jie had finally completed a long-term goal of his. He acquired the mortal sap after six years of cultivation, at the price of many outer disciples’ suffering. But the path of cultivation was narrow, and for one to rise, another must be suppressed.

So he went, out of the Copper Caravan Trading Pavilion and towards his home town. Filled with happiness and hope, despite having spent the majority of his wealth.

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At age 21, the cultivator named Wen Jie would encounter a calamity. Such was ordained in the Book of Fate. If he were to survive this calamity, his cultivation prospects would soar and he would receive a great fortune on the road to cultivation. However, failure could only have one outcome. Death.

Fate alone did not lead Wen Jie down this path. The first crossroads was the moment the cultivator asked him if he wished to step on the path of immortality. Fate was not perfect. Destiny could be used to change fate. However, Wen Jie never truly could accomplish something beyond his capability. He could not think out of the cage that he was within. His thoughts were his own, and they did not defy the trend of the world.

Thus, Fate brought this calamity on his doorstep. However, he did not even qualify to be its target. He was just an ant to be crushed along with the vortex, an afterthought.

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At one moment, he was on top of the world.

The next, at the bottom of the abyss.

Such was the world of cultivation.

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