Flying boats, swords, and spirit beasts—every sect was full of them. Jin Wu didn’t see why they couldn’t just use a horse or even a mule cart. He lamented as he rode the Azure Crane toward Tianshi Lake City.

He didn’t object to the beast so much as to the cost: one spirit stone per day. At this rate, his investment in the kid was getting ridiculous.

But Healer Li had nothing to counter the Shadow Viper’s Kiss, so he was on his way to visit the old hag. That was also unpleasant—they hadn’t seen each other in over five years. Fifty would have been better.

Jin Wu shivered. “Stupid cranes always fly so high,” he muttered.

Not that he was afraid of heights. “It’s just… unnecessary to fly quite this high,” he insisted, more to himself than to the crane.

At least the trip would be fast. Heck, if he was paying for two days on this overgrown chicken, he was going to make it worth every last coin.

The city came into view, and the crane descended. As in most cities, flying was prohibited unless you were a high-and-mighty Golden Core or above.

Entering the city with his Sect token wasn’t a problem. They even called him “master.” No one had to know he was just the caretaker, after all.

Gathering his courage, rehearsing his greeting, and mostly convincing himself that this visit was necessary, Jin Wu stopped at the last alleyway in the Marketplace. It led to the run-down shop he hadn’t entered in what felt like centuries.

As he ran through a mental list of greetings—from “Hi Mei, it’s been a while” to “Most Esteemed Mistress Ling Mei”—he noticed a group of men clad in matching attire. Definitely military, he guessed, though not Royal Army. Twenty here meant two hundred close by—of that, he was sure.

The creaking sound of a door opening pulled his attention back to the alley, where a woman was stepping outside. Despite her age, she had the poise of a much younger person, strength and beauty distilled into a single presence.

“Are you going to stand there all day, or are you coming in?” Mei’s voice held the exasperation of someone addressing a child.

And there it was—that tone. He obeyed all the same.

“Hi Mei, it’s been a while,” he greeted, settling on the least formal of his options as he entered the dimly lit shop that smelled of rosewood.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice still thick with exasperation.

“Can’t an old friend just come for a visit?”

“General ‘Dragon Fist’ Jin Wu of the Royal Brigadiers, scourge of the northern lands and bane of the Hittites—kindly state your business or get out!”

“Ah, Mei, the good old days. Alright,” he said, lifting his hand to stave off the inevitable barrage of expletives.

“I need a hundred-year-old Golden Sparrow Root and seeds from a Dragon Vine.”

She thought for a second, her eyes narrowing. “Who was poisoned by the Shadow Viper’s Kiss?”

“A young disciple. He needs it badly.”

“One of your usual schemes, no doubt.”

“Nothing of the sort. Just a young man that needs my help.”

“Ha! And you rode a crane a hundred li to ‘help’ him,” she laughed knowingly, “tell your lies to that Sect Master of yours!”

“I have the root, but the Dragon Vine seeds I can't get until tomorrow.”

“I’ll wait,” he replied, folding his arms as if endurance alone would speed the process.

Mei’s eyes narrowed. “And shall I brew the elixir, too?”

“I trust you more than Li,” Jin Wu admitted, his tone uncharacteristically earnest.

Mei’s lips curved in a wry smile. “And how do you intend to pay for this?”

“I’ve got silver and spirit stones,” he replied, not meeting her gaze.

She waved her hand dismissively. “Do you think I lack money? Go brew some tea in the back, if you even remember how, while I prepare the other ingredients.”

With a half-smile, Jin Wu nodded, heading toward the back.

“We’ll settle your debts when I’m done,” she called after him, amusement edging her voice. Then she walked over to the door and bolted it, concern in her eyes as she glanced toward the alley.

----------------------------------------

“A small price to pay, she says,” Jin Wu muttered as he walked through the crowded streets. The early morning sun spilling over the city walls did nothing to alleviate his sour mood.

“Stubborn hag. Sisters-in-law are the peonies of relatives—docile and happy on the outside, thorny and cranky on the inside,” he grumbled.

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He stepped aside to let a young mother with a brood of children pass, Mei’s words still echoing in his ears.

“She’ll never understand—old soldiers don’t make good fathers,” he thought, justifying himself for the hundredth time.

But as he resumed his walk, his resolve wavered. “Still… I guess seeing the girl won’t be that bad,” he admitted, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anything else.

He scratched the back of his head, a rare flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “What will I even say? ‘Hey, I’m your dad; sorry for abandoning you thirty years ago!’” He snorted, half-amused, half-terrified at the thought.

A loud, aggressive voice yanked him back to the present.

Up ahead, a group of five men in black-clad uniforms were arguing with a street vendor over a batch of steaming buns. Jin Wu’s eyes narrowed. The soldiers’ uniforms were unfamiliar, embroidered with a dark silver emblem he didn’t recognize, but he didn’t need to know their insignia to sense trouble. The way they sneered, the way they brushed off the vendor’s pleas—it was all too familiar. He’d seen men like this before. Men who thought the world was theirs to bully.

He hesitated, momentarily torn. The sensible part of him whispered to keep his head down and continue to the Golden Dragon Trading Company to buy the Dragon Vine seeds. But curiosity won out. Besides, if these were indeed the kind of men he suspected, getting a feel for them wouldn’t hurt.

Adjusting his pace, Jin Wu shuffled closer to the scene, adopting the hunched gait of an unassuming old man. With his back slightly bent and a blank, harmless expression on his face, he slipped into the crowd that was now gathering around the stall.

“Hurry up! We don’t have all day,” growled a soldier who seemed to be in charge.

“It’ll be a couple of minutes, Sergeant,” the vendor replied, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Just then, a heavy-set man in gold-embroidered azure robes appeared at the edge of the crowd. He radiated self-importance and strode forward as if he had the situation well in hand.

“They’ll get what’s coming to them now. That’s the Guild Master!” a young boy next to Jin Wu whispered, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

The man cleared his throat loudly. “What’s going on here? Our Willow Court Guild won’t stand for you lot roughing up our members!”

The soldiers chuckled, clearly unimpressed. They whispered among themselves, smirking.

The sergeant turned to face the Guild Master, his aura flaring to peak Foundation Establishment.

Crack! The sergeant’s slap rang through the marketplace, sending the Guild Master sprawling to the ground.

One of the soldiers snickered and handed a silver tael to his comrade, who accepted it with a grin.

“You should be grateful to serve the Black Crow Mercenary Company!” the sergeant sneered, delivering a swift kick to the fallen man’s side. “We’re here to keep things under control, whether you like it or not.”

He turned back to the vendor, barking, “Give us our buns! Now! Or I’ll burn down this whole market!”

The crowd began to disperse, wary of the growing hostility. Moments later, the vendor handed over a dozen bags of steaming buns, muttering under his breath as the soldiers tossed a few coins his way—nowhere near enough to cover the cost.

“We’ll have to eat fast. We still have to escort that master to the Trading Company,” Jin Wu overheard one of the mercenaries comment.

"Eating while walking. A soldier’s lot," he thought, watching them go, his expression neutral but his mind churning. He waited until the crowd thinned, then continued toward the Golden Dragon Trading Company, keeping his head down for several streets.

"Mercenaries," he muttered. "Who would hire them here, and why?"

----------------------------------------

The Golden Dragon Trading Company was bustling with customers—a large building with seven floors where you could find anything a cultivator might require.

On the second floor, where all manner of exotic plants were displayed, Jin Wu begrudgingly handed over eighteen gold taels to the clerk and received a small packet of seeds.

"Robbery," he muttered as he put the packet in the inner pocket of his robes.

Suddenly, the floor became quiet as an overpowering aura permeated the floor. A stately figure, clad in midnight black robes with a moon embroidered in silver threads on the breast, walked in surrounded by the five mercenaries from the shop.

He headed straight for the clerk who had just helped Jin Wu.

Jin Wu's back instantly became hunched, and his "old man" persona surfaced. A cane appeared in his right hand from somewhere, and he leaned on it as if it was the only thing keeping him from teetering over.

"You!" he shouted, pointing at the clerk. "I need all the Dragon Vine Seeds you have."

The clerk's semblance went pale, and Jin Wu could see him shaking.

"I… I… I… just… sold… the… last… of… them…" he replied, stuttering while pointing at Jin Wu.

The Master’s eyes narrowed as he turned to look at Jin Wu, his aura pressing down like a mountain. Still hunched over and leaning heavily on his cane, Jin Wu squinted up at the Darkmoon Master as if he couldn’t quite make him out.

The Master’s voice was like a blade cutting through the silence. “Old man, hand over the Dragon Vine Seeds. Now.”

Jin Wu tilted his head, cupping his hand behind one ear. “Eh? What’s that, young man? You want… dragon wine beads?”

The mercenaries behind the Master exchanged glances, some stifling smirks. One muttered, “This old coot’s gone senile.”

The Master’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to speak more clearly, his tone dripping with impatience. “Dragon. Vine. Seeds. You just bought them. Hand them over, or you’ll regret it.”

"Try speaking louder in this ear," Jin Wu answered, turning his head so his left ear pointed toward the man.

"I said, give me the Dragon Vine Seeds," the frustrated Master screamed.

"You don't have to scream, young man. I can hear perfectly well," Jin Wu answered. "From my left ear," he added to no one in particular.

"Dragon Flower seeds, you say. Yes, I just bought some. They're great for my stomach. You see, last night, I had some fish soup my daughter made for me, and I think the fish was a little spoiled. Not that it tasted bad. My daughter can cook like an angel. But I think the fish was a little past its prime. Have you noticed that you can't get good fish anymore? That lake has gone dry ever since all these people moved in. I tell you. This used to be a nice little city, and then all these foreigners started moving in, and it's just gone downhill."

"Shut up and hand over the Dragon Vine Seeds, old man, or you'll regret it!" the Master screamed, his face reddening.

"Dragon Vine Seeds? No, those things are poisonous! About ten years ago, I mistook Dragon Vine Seeds for Dragin Flower Seeds and spent five days at the healer's. I won't do that again." Jin Wu answered.

"Let me tell you, there's nothing like Dragon Flower Seeds for the stomach. One time—oh, it must be fifty years now—I was hunting with friends and ate rotten meat. I spent all that trip with my pants on my ankles, if you know what I mean. The things that came out of me. Uff and the quantity. Where was I? Well, my friend Cang Ron—a tall, burly guy, but as nice as can be— gave me some Dragon Flower Seeds. It was the only thing that saved me."

The Master’s face twisted in barely-contained rage. The mercenaries shuffled uncomfortably, clearly wondering if they should intervene but too entertained (or perhaps intimidated) to step in just yet.

“Old man,” he hissed, voice barely above a whisper but sharp as a dagger, “I don’t care about your bowels. Hand over the Dragon Vine Seeds this instant, or I’ll make you regret ever setting foot in this shop,” his aura flaring dangerously.

Jin Wu squinted up at him again, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Ah, Dragon Vine Seeds, you say? You must be mistaken. I just took Dragon Flower seeds. Let me show you, ” He patted his robe pockets slowly as if searching for something, his face a mask of innocent confusion. “Now, where did I put them…?”

Finally, his hand emerged with the small, empty seed packet, and he stared at it with mock surprise. “Oh dear! Seems I… ate them already.”

The Master’s mouth fell open in shock, and his face turned an alarming shade of crimson. “You… ate them?” He looked like he might explode.

Jin Wu nodded enthusiastically. “Why, yes! Wonderful for the digestion, you know. Bit bitter, but they did the trick.” He clutched his stomach theatrically, letting out a long, exaggerated groan. “Though… I must say, they’re feeling a little… volatile.”

And then, with perfect timing, Jin Wu let out a loud, echoing fart.

The smell hit instantly—a thick, sulfurous odor that seemed to spread like a cloud across the shop floor. Nearby customers recoiled, covering their noses. The clerk turned an alarming shade of green, and even a few of the mercenaries stumbled back, gagging and swearing.

Jin Wu looked around innocently, waving his hand in front of his nose. “Good heavens, was that me?” he exclaimed. “Must be those seeds! I tell you, they really get the pipes moving!”

One of the mercenaries muttered to another, “We need to get out of here before that stench gets worse.”

The Master, struggling between rage and revulsion, pulled his robe over his nose. “You… disgusting old fool!” he spat, his voice muffled. “I’ve wasted enough time on you.”

As the entourage stormed off, Jin Wu let the “frail old man” persona slip for just a moment, allowing himself a small, sly grin. He shuffled out of the store, a trail of disgusting air following him.

As he left, Jin Wu reached into the back of his robe, producing a small pouch with a yellow sulfurous powder, and tossed it in an alleyway.

“Always clean up after yourself,” he thought, smiling as he walked back to Mei’s shop, one hand brushing the pocket with the Dragon Vine Seeds. Now, to see if Mei’s brewing skills were as sharp as her tongue.