Yang Xiu crept through the forest, all her enhanced senses alert. Everything her eyes saw in the early morning light was exactly as it should be. None of the shadows were just a little too big. The bulge on the backside of that tree was just a knot, not a small person trying to conceal himself behind it. Nothing was out of place.

Her ears filtered out the bird song and leaves rustling in the wind and even three squirrels dashing through leaves a hundred yards away. She didn’t hear any of the sounds she wanted, though. Breathing. Cloth rubbing together. Wind whistling strangely around a body.

Neither did her nose pick up the scent of a human, not the slightest whiff of sweat or body odor. And if taste or touch could help her find Zou Tian, she had no idea how to accomplish such a feat.

She was close to calling the game when he quietly stepped out from behind her.

That was unexpected. There was no reason to give up when he clearly had her beat.

He put a finger to his lips before motioning for her to follow.

They moved silently east for several hundred yards before a smell hit her—a man who had not experienced the cleansing power of soap in weeks, maybe months. Zou Tian stopped and pointed, but she had already spotted him.

The man was older, well above thirty, and rough looking with a gnarled beard and wearing torn and stained clothes. And he held a sword.

A peasant holding a noble’s weapon was unusual. Very unusual. Only one type of person could possibly fit the picture her mind was painting. A bandit.

Yang Xiu shared a glance with Zou Tian. The boy wasn’t as adept at reading her questions as her brother or Master, but with familiarity of being together nearly constantly for days on end, he was picking up the skill.

Zou Tian pointed past the man and held up eight fingers. Then he pointed south and flashed his ten fingers five times before shrugging.

A camp. At least fifty men but probably more. And these eight were out doing something. Scouting. Hunting. It didn’t matter.

They needed to get back to the caravan and report.

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

It could barely be called midmorning when Benton reached Vermillion Incomparable Rain Town, and it only took him that long because he’d slowed to a regular walking speed when he’d started encountering people on the road. Not that there were many, mainly farmers from outside the walls dragging handcarts of produce to the market.

Most of them looked … ragged. Poor. As if everyone had fallen on hard times. They resembled the citizens of Prosperous Gray Forest Village in a way but only more so. Skinnier. Sadder. Clothes more torn. Nothing was patched. They looked worn down by life.

There was a malaise about them.

If the population Benton had seen so far was indicative of the state of the town, it was failing and failing fast.

When the Righteous Rain Sect had fallen, the village had been devastated because there were no longer any cultivators culling the spirit beasts, but Benton sensed none of the creatures anywhere near the town. Obviously, losing the sect would have been a huge blow to the local economy, but why had things gotten so bad?

There was only one explanation that fit the bill—incompetent or corrupt management. Or both.

Benton couldn’t help but feel for the kids raised in such a wretched town, but he was already trying to save the villagers. He wasn’t in a position to help all the children in Vermillion Incomparable Rain Town, too. Not yet. But hopefully, he could get some of them out of the miserable place.

First, he needed to get a better feel for what was going on. He extended his spiritual sense over the entire area. There were five cultivators in the Town, one near the center and the others to the northeast.

Benton wasn’t even able to speculate on what that quantity meant. Were they wandering cultivators? Representatives from the three sects? Cultivators trying to fill the void left by the Righteous Rain Sect?

Who knew?

He strolled up to the gate. There was no line. No one else was entering.

Two rough looking men in dirty clothes that in no way resembled uniforms accosted him. The only thing that made them look even a little officious were the swords at their respective hips, though the rust on the metal guard and ratty appearance of the sheaths did more to harm the image than enhance it.

“Tax of one silver to enter,” one of them said.

“Yeah. Right. Pull the other one,” Benton said.

Both their hands went to the hilts of their swords.

“If either of you pull those things out of their sheaths,” Benton said, “it will be the last thing either of you ever do.”

Both of them tensed.

“Are you both stupid?” Benton said. “Do you see these robes? I’m not a monk.”

“Anyone can pretend to be a cultivator. Don’t mean they are one.”

He pulled his spear from his spatial ring. “Can just anyone do that?”

They whispered to each other, but his new Foundation Establishment body came with all the best features included, like top of the line hearing. Which was really annoying when sitting above creaking wheels all day every day. But for listening in on hushed conversations, it was top notch.

“That ring is valuable. Think we can take it?” Thug One said.

“Are you crazy? You have to be high ranked to use one of them rings. Means he’s high realm like the Town Lord. Besides, you couldn’t do nothing with it no way.”

Those guys weren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed.

“Who is this Town Lord you’re talking about?” Benton said.

The first one looked shocked that Benton had heard them talking, but the second, the one with two brain cells to rub together at least, nodded appraisingly.

“He’s a mighty cultivator,” Thug Two said. “Not gutter trash like you.”

Benton didn’t understand what the thug was trying to accomplish with that comment. If Benton had been a normal cultivator, both of the thugs would have been dead by now after issuing such an insult. Even he had to repress instincts he didn’t know he had when a mortal called him gutter trash.

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In fact, Benton decided there was no reason to fully push down that impulse. He reached out quick as a lightning strike and lightly slapped Thug Two. Lightly for a cultivator, that was.

The man’s head snapped around, and he flew several feet before sliding to a stop.

There were only a couple of realistic options Benton could think of for a mortal to be so insulting to a cultivator. Either the thugs were just that stupid, or they felt like their position protected them enough that they could run their mouths off with impunity.

Probably both.

On the other hand, Thug Two’s response had contained an interesting tidbit. Only sect members tended to refer to other cultivators as gutter trash, which meant that whoever he’d heard the phrase from was probably in a sect. Ergo…

“Is the Town Lord in a sect? Which one?” Benton said.

Thug One went from being completely at ease to being visibly terrified. “Righteous Rain. And if you touch us, they’ll come down on you. Hard.”

Benton frowned. “But I heard they’re all dead.”

“Those are vicious lies told by their enemies.”

Clearly, talking to those two—well, one, because the other was no unconscious—wasn’t going to get Benton anywhere, and he considered just ignoring them and going about his business. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he was about to establish a sect near the town, and he wanted his sect to last, meaning he needed a good foundation. And part of building a solid base was gaining an understanding of what was happening in literally the nearest settlement to him.

His only concern was that he didn’t know what he was walking into or if he’d be able to bluff the Town Lord like he had the Poison Claw Sect.

He nearly slapped his forehead at the thought. Of course. He was an idiot.

Someone was claiming to be a Town Lord, and that person had probably been a sect member. There was no way the three sects in Sixth Flawless Flowing City didn’t know about the person, meaning the person was acting with their tacit approval. There was no way any sane Town Lord, then, would do anything to upset the three sects, up to and including handling a friend of one of those very three sects as anything less than a special guest.

Even if the Town Lord were hostile toward Benton, the pin he wore on his robe combined with his cultivation being hidden from spiritual senses would surely make the Town Lord take a step back to consider how to proceed.

Honestly, Benton doubted a Golden Core cultivator was holed up in a flyspeck like the Vermillion Incomparable Rain Town, anyway. At best, the Town Lord was probably at Foundation Establishment, which just wasn’t a level that Benton feared since he’d advanced.

If Benton couldn’t talk his way out, he could always retreat. Or fight.

With any luck, the Town Lord would even be friendly, and trade relations could be set up between the town and the village.

“How about this?” Benton said. “If you take me to the Town Lord, I’ll give you a silver tael. I’ll even throw one in for your friend, even though he’s lying down on the job.”

The thug may have been stupid, but at least he was greedy. Two taels were more than enough to get Benton an escort to the Town Lord’s mansion, located at the center of the town. He idly wondered if Thug One would actually give the other one to Thug Two.

Somehow, Benton doubted it.

He was wary when he stepped inside, but the fact that there was only one cultivator present buoyed his courage. That and the pin worn on his left breast. And the thirty-nine Sect Points he had available.

It would only take twenty points to catapult him to Golden Core, leaving him plenty to add minor realms or techniques at a moment’s notice.

When he saw the Town Lord, though, Benton was pretty sure he wasn’t going to need any of that.

He’d read the term Fatty in a cultivation story before, but he hadn’t understood until he saw the guy. The dude belonged on one of those trashy reality shows about people who needed a crane to be removed from their house.

Benton didn’t know if the guy could even stand, much less fight. If a collared girl in a metal bikini were placed at his feet, she wouldn’t look out of place.

Wow. Just wow. Benton had no other words.

He scanned the Town Lord.

Affiliation: Vermillion Incomparable Rain Town Age: 35 Cultivation: Foundation Establishment – Minor Realm Nine Qi Available: ??? Techniques: ??? Spiritual Roots: C- Qi Aspect: Ever hungry consumer of all

Yikes. No wonder the guy had a weight problem. His qi aspect was literally gluttony. How did that even work?

From Su’s memories, guys like that should not be underestimated. The fat wasn’t just there as a result of them overeating. It was a form of stored energy that could be directly used to shield them or for great offense outbursts.

As Benton was finishing reading the status, the huge guy noticed him, looking a little apprehensive.

Benton cupped his hands. “Salutations, this one greets the Esteemed Town Lord. This one is called Chao Su.”

The Town Lord beamed. “Greetings Honorable Chao Su, Esteemed Friend of the Mighty Poison Claw Sect. Has the Esteemed Friend come from the city?”

“This one has, Esteemed Town Lord.”

The exchanged pleasantries for a while, and the Town Lord introduced himself as Fatty Ren.

Yeah. He literally called himself Fatty. Where Benton was from, calling someone fat was fighting words. Culture in a cultivation world was definitely different.

It turned out that the Town Lord been in Sixth Flawless Flowing City when the Righteous Rain Sect was destroyed. He’d rushed back as fast as he could given his girth, but the fighting was long over by the time he made it to the town. Since then, he’d done his best to re-establish what he could of the sect, managing to find four outer sect Qi Gathering members, and, with the blessing of the big three sects, tried to maintain order.

Benton offered him some of the street vendor food from his ring, and Fatty Ren was very thankful. Then, Benton offered to leave him the meat from a couple of spirit beasts to have his servants cook, and Fatty Ren became his best friend for life.

“So Fatty Ren, what exactly happened to the sect, anyway?” Benton said.

“We don’t know for sure, Friend Su. The attack happened in the middle of the night and was over in a matter of hours. Very few sect members who were present at the time were known to have escaped. The four Qi Gathering brothers and sister are the only ones I’ve found, but they didn’t see anything as the building they were in exploded before they could be roused. They know only that their lives were saved by an elder evacuating them. After, he woke them and directed them to run off and hide. I’ve been trying to track other sect members down, but they are difficult to find. Frankly, I’m running low on funds.”

Benton couldn’t imagine what just the food budget for Fatty Ren was, so he could well understand the Town Lord running out of money.

“Was there any description of the intruders who attacked your sect?” Benton said.

“A few mortals saw figures dressed in black, but that doesn’t really tell me anything. Many sects who want to hide their identities would wear black for a night ambush.”

“I see. And I’m assuming you have no leads on them?”

“Sorry. I’ve tried. And the sects in Sixth Flawless Flowing City have promised me all the aid I need if I find them. They disappeared without a trace, though.”

Both the Righteous Rain Sect and the Flowing Tiger Sect were ambushed at night by cultivators dressed in black and were wiped out nearly to a man. Benton’s guess was that the same demonic cultivators were behind both attacks, though they were twenty years apart, but he hadn’t heard enough facts from Fatty Ren to definitively draw that conclusion.

“Understood,” Benton said. “Well, thanks for indulging my curiosity.”

“No problem, Friend Su. How long are you in town?”

Fatty Ren genuinely seemed like a nice guy, if a bit incompetent, so Benton explained about the caravan and that they were on a mission of mercy to the Prosperous Gray Forest Village.

“Say, you said you were low on funds, right?”

Fatty Ren nodded.

“Do you happen to own the sect lands as Town Lord and highest surviving member of the Righteous Rain Sect?”

“I do. Are you interested in purchasing those lands?” Fatty Ren frowned.

A friendly cultivator who gave you food was great when he was just passing through town. One who intended to stay became a potential rival. It was best for Benton to make it clear that he would be departing at speed as soon as he could.

“No, I’ve already decided on hanging out near the village for a while, though I would be open to visiting just to keep on friendly terms. Maybe bring some dinner with me.”

“That would be most appreciated, Friend Su.”

“Back to the topic, though. I’m not interested in the lands, but let me ask, what shape are the buildings in?”