Gensheng leaned against the cold Corpse-Nurturing Coffin, his fingertips rhythmically tapping the lid.
Linglan Country?
He pondered inwardly, feeling not a shred of fear. Fleeing was a craft he had mastered to perfection. Last time, he had been hunted by a Nascent Soul monster like a stray dog. This time, he had wealth, he had cultivation, and he had a powerful physical body fused with the Myriad Ghoul Casket.
If they actually crossed paths, he would vanish faster than anyone. Why fight to the bitter end? If he couldn't win, he’d simply leave, find a new hole, and go back to being an alchemist, earning his modest living. Was that not joy enough? To expect him to clash with a Great Sect for the sake of "dignity" or "face" was utter fallacy.
One's life is the only thing that truly belongs to oneself.
"However..."
Gensheng checked his storage ring. It was bulging with the spirit stones he had amassed over two years of alchemy. Among these destitute corpse-refiners, he was undeniably the wealthiest man. But no matter how much money he had, if his cultivation didn't keep up, it was all for naught.
Qi Condensation was, after all, just Qi Condensation. Before a true master, he was no different from an ant. Only by reaching the Foundation Establishment stage would he truly have the capital to settle down and survive in this cultivation world.
But a Foundation Establishment Pill was a treasure with a price but no market. Forget this backwater Qingzhou; even in Linglan Country, it wasn't something a rogue cultivator could easily obtain. As for the pill recipe? That was a fool's dream. Every sect guarded their recipes like their very lifebloods.
He hated the feeling of things being out of his control.
Reaching into his Yin-Fire Butterfly storage ring for something to distract himself, his fingers brushed against a few stiff booklets. The poetry collections. Along with them, he pulled out a small brocade box. Inside, hundreds of grey-blue butterflies lay as still as death.
Gensheng looked at the grey moths, and a thought struck him. Since obtaining them, he hadn't had the chance to study them closely. Between the chaos of the journey and the war at Maple Red Valley, they had slipped to the back of his mind. Now, with the Myriad Ghoul Casket fused into his body, he could finally investigate the origins of these creatures that the Yin-Fire Butterfly had cherished so dearly.
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He moved to a corner of the cavern and sat cross-legged. The spatial casket at his heart flared with light. Myriad tiny insect-runes surged through his meridians, flowing from his palms to envelop a single tiny grey butterfly.
Hum!
A massive stream of information crashed into his brain without warning.
[Species: Grey-Blue Ashen Butterfly] [Grade: Grade-3, High-Tier] [Attributes: Annihilation, Conversion] [Bloodline: Void-Lacewing Lineage] [Innate Ability: Wind of Ash. By channeling spiritual power and scattering phosphorus powder, it can directly decompose organic matter into basic particles, resembling flying ash.] [Nurturing Advice: Normal spiritual flora/vegetation.] [Evolution Path: None] [Breeding Conditions: Can only lay eggs in lands with active Spirit Veins.] [Quantity: 320]
Grade-3 High-Tier. No wonder the Yin-Fire Butterfly could use these to slaughter an entire town of mortals in an instant.
He recalled the day at Maple Red Valley—Chen Qingyun’s Nascent Soul Avatar, the black light from the toad, and Lu Zhaozhao’s world-splitting sword. If Jiang Guixian hadn't gambled his old life at the end, Gensheng would be a pile of meat paste by now.
I must establish my foundation.
Gensheng leaned back against the coffin, his thoughts racing. This wilderness was spiritually barren; resources were scarce. These corpse-refiners were so poor they’d probably pawn their own pants—where could he possibly find a Foundation Establishment Pill here?
He stood up and shouldered the massive Corpse-Nurturing Coffin. The weight pressing against his spine gave him an unprecedented sense of security.
At the far end of the cavern lay a wider expanse. Coffins of various sizes were arranged in a cryptic, eerie formation. Old Ghost sat cross-legged atop the largest ancient bronze coffin in the center, carefully wiping the patterns on the lid with a tattered piece of beast hide.
Gensheng walked up to him and set the coffin down with a heavy thud.
"Not bad," Old Ghost let out a dry chuckle. "Walking with a coffin on your back... now you show the true character of our rogue kind. You look quite the 'transcendental immortal' now."
Gensheng didn't bite. He went straight to the point. "Old Ghost, where can I get a Foundation Establishment Pill?"
"That is a forbidden fruit of the Great Sects. Not for the likes of us rogues."
Old Ghost shook his head. "In Linglan or Qingzhou, the recipes and herbs are all monopolized. Men of our station can spend a lifetime and never even see one." He pointed a skeletal finger at the hundred coffins surrounding them.
"Look at these people. Which of them wasn't a genius in their day? Which wasn't at the peak of Qi Condensation? But in the end, they all ended up like this—living with corpses, neither human nor ghost. All because they lacked that one tiny pill."
Old Ghost sighed, his breath smelling of decay. "For us to reach Foundation Establishment is harder than climbing to the heavens."
Gensheng frowned.
"However... it's not entirely without opportunity."
Gensheng’s heart skipped a beat.
"Three thousand miles to the south, across the Endless Swamps, there is a forbidden zone," Old Ghost whispered. "It is called the 'Abode of Ten Thousand Pills.'"