“This senior… was quite something.”

  Ning murmured softly as he finished comprehending the scroll left behind by Patriarch Mi.

  The Pure Qi Sutra had three stages, often referred to as floors. Most cultivators who practiced this sutra stopped at the second floor; only a rare few managed to reach the third.

  This was not solely due to a lack of talent, but also because of time constraints. A cultivator had to change their cultivation technique after reaching the late stage. Thus, even if some possessed the potential to advance the sutra further, they often chose not to, as doing so might delay their overall Qi cultivation.

  Ning, however, had no such hesitation.

  He was a completionist. Stopping halfway would leave a bad taste in his mouth. Moreover, he had already reached the second floor, where his Qi had become noticeably purer. According to the scroll, advancing to the third floor would make one’s foundation even more robust.

  And in the cultivation world, foundation was everything, the beginning of all progress, the core that supported every future step.

  Ning had no intention of half-assing it, only to be asked later, “Did you even build a foundation, bro?”

  So naturally, he was fully prepared to reach the third floor. Ning focused on the scroll once more.

  A manual could describe the same technique, word for word, yet two cultivators might walk entirely different roads depending on how they interpreted it. In the end, cultivation was not about copying movements; it was about understanding intent.

  For Ning, the core of the Pure Qi Sutra was compression.

  Compress the qi within the body again and again, squeezing it tighter until impurities can no longer remain. Refine through density. Purity born from pressure. That was the route Ning followed, borrowing inspiration from concepts he had once learned on Earth: compression ratios, limits, and structural integrity.

  But the interpretation recorded in this scroll was different. Very different.

  Here, the Pure Qi Sutra was not about compression.

  It was about clashing.

  Instead of gently refining qi by pressure, the cultivator deliberately forced streams of qi to collide within the meridians. The violent impact would shatter impurities, shedding them like slag struck from molten metal.

  At first glance, the idea was reckless.

  Qi clashing within the meridians? One mistake, and the cultivator wouldn’t be refining impurities; they’d be refining themselves into a corpse.

  Yet Ning’s brow furrowed, not in dismissal, but in admiration.

  What impressed him wasn’t the concept itself. Ideas of violent refinement weren’t rare in cultivation manuals. What was rare was the method.

  The scroll detailed a precise rhythm of circulation, angles of collision, and subtle buffering techniques that allowed the qi to clash without spiraling out of control. Every clash was controlled and calculated.

  Someone capable of executing this within the narrow confines of the meridians would need two things:

  Extraordinary control over spiritual energy.

  And a mentality bordering on arrogance.

  Not confidence but arrogance.

  Because such a path left no room for hesitation.

  Without a spiritual sense, or something akin to Ning’s Know Thyself, attempting this method would normally be a fool’s errand.

  “Then again… a fool is called a fool because they only listen to themselves and walk their path regardless of opposition.” NIng mused.

  He remembered what he had heard about Mi Sheng, the Mi Family’s inner-sect genius, that he was extremely arrogant. It made sense; in these parts, anyone who could enter the inner sect was praised to the heavens.

  When Ning had first heard about him, he had assumed this senior was just another copy-pasted arrogant figure, no different from Xiao Hong. But now, sitting alone with the scroll, he understood the difference.

  In a world where supreme power could truly belong to oneself, such a mentality wasn’t entirely wrong. Ruthless focus, unwavering belief, and complete disregard for doubt, it could forge an extremely strong Dao heart.

  Of course, the downsides were just as clear.

  Such people rarely had many allies.

  The Mi Family’s current predicament was proof enough.

  Ning shook his head lightly.

  He didn’t possess such a demonic mentality.

  But what he did have was something else.

  His control over spiritual energy had reached a level even he hadn’t fully appreciated until now. Through constant refinement, archery practice, and meticulous circulation, his qi control had become refined.

  Especially, since he had increased his repertoire of qi control exercises. From splitting qi into fine threads, coating objects with thin, stable layers instead of flooding them, releasing power in short pulses rather than continuous flow, and even briefly reversing circulation to test his limits.

  Many experiments failed, but the ones that remained sharpened his foundation. Without such control, his earlier ability to fight so many beasts would have resulted in qi depletion much earlier.

  More importantly, with Know Thyself, this dangerous method ceased to be blind experimentation.

  Safe. Or at least, as safe as such a method could ever be.

  Ning closed his eyes.

  Following the scroll’s guidance, he guided two streams of qi through his meridians, carefully, deliberately, then allowed them to collide.

  There was no explosion, just a subtle tremor.

  Again.

  And again.

  The process continued quietly. There was no dramatic sensation, no immediate breakthrough. To the naked eye, nothing had changed. Even the numerical feedback he usually relied on was absent since he was using the 3D model function.

  But Ning could feel it.

  Impurities flaking away. Qi growing sharper, clearer, like a blade repeatedly tempered against itself.

  After stabilizing the rhythm, Ning practiced for a while longer, slowly refining his control.

  Finally, he opened his eyes and let out a breath.

  “This deal…” he muttered, a faint smile forming, “…was worth it.”

  ...

  “So, are you returning to the sect, Brother Ning?” Patriarch Mi asked.

  As for why someone so much older than Ning addressed him as brother, it was simple.

  For the purpose of building connections.

  In this world, seniority wasn’t determined by age, but by strength. Those with the stronger fists stood higher, and Ning had already proven himself worthy of equal standing.

  If anyone found that demeaning, Patriarch Mi would only scoff. Cultivation wasn’t just about fighting; it was about human relations. Power opened doors, but connections kept them open.

  Just look at Ning. Without his earlier interactions, he wouldn’t have reached his current stage so smoothly.

  “Yes,” Ning replied as he carefully packed his belongings. “I’ve already recovered from my injury, and it would be rude to impose any longer. Moreover, my fields still need tending.”

  He handled the sealed containers with particular care; inside were barley seeds.

  He wasn’t lying.

  Although he and Old Zhou had an agreement to watch over each other’s fields during missions, Ning still felt uneasy leaving his land entirely in someone else’s hands. After all, those fields were built from his own effort and sweat.

  Of course, that wasn’t the only reason.

  The real reason was that he didn’t want to return alongside Xiao Fan.

  After everything that had happened, Ning had more than enough confidence in Xiao Fan’s ability to attract trouble. If he waited for Xiao Fan to come out of seclusion and traveled with him, Ning could already imagine the disastrous situations that would follow.

  “Still,” Patriarch Mi said, “I was surprised to learn that Brother Ning is also a spiritual farmer. I truly didn’t expect it.”

  That surprise was genuine.

  During their interactions, Patriarch Mi had found Ning knowledgeable and grounded. The two had even exchanged thoughts on crop rotation, spiritual soil balance, and plant compatibility, conversations that went far beyond surface-level talk.

  Y'know, someone like Ning whose fighting prowess was strong would usually engage in something more prestigious and profitable.

  Ning just shrugged it off. He knew that Patriarch Mi was just trying to flatter him and build a connection. He didn't hate such behaviour, since this was one of the most viable paths of survival in such a world.

  Ning's thought moved quickly, but he slowly reached into his pockets and handed over a thin parchment.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Please give this to Xiao Fan. Since I’m leaving early and can’t meet him, consider it an apology.”

  “Very well,” Patriarch Mi nodded. “Leave it to me.”

  The parchment contained several basic qi control exercises, not nearly as advanced as Ning’s own methods, but solid nonetheless.

  They were of little use to Ning now, but they were more than enough to build goodwill with Xiao Fan.

  As long as that guy didn’t drag him into unnecessary trouble, Ning was more than happy to stay on good terms.

  After all… the protagonist Halo could be quite useful when used correctly.

  ...

  Ning left the Mi Family estate just before noon.

  The road wound through low hills and sparse woodland, not dangerous per se, but far from safe. This stretch lay between towns, where patrols were rare and travelers scarce.

  Ning sat beneath a tree to escape the harsh sunlight and swallowed a fasting pill.

  At his current stage, a fasting pill was enough to sustain him for an entire day, though its taste was as bland as they came.

  A loud shout shattered the quiet peace.

  “HELP! SOMEONE. HELP! I’M BEING TARGETED BY BANDITS!”

  The voice was sharp, cracked, and utterly lacking in dignity.

  Ning paused mid-chew.

  Ahead, a man wearing the outer-sect robes of the Pure Qi Sect was sprinting down the road at full speed. His hair disheveled, as he tripped over absolutely nothing, barely catching himself before face-planting. His legs seem to be glowing with two talismans attached to them.

  Behind him came four pursuers. Three men and one woman. They moved quickly, tracking their prey.

  The fleeing youth was at the fourth stage.

  Ning assessed their cultivation level quickly. After all, it was the most clear indication of their combat prowess.

  The burly pursuer led at the fifth stage. Another followed at the fourth, while the remaining two lingered at the third.

  Ning finished his meal and prepared to leave. Just in case, he circulated the Turtle Breathing Exercise.

  He followed the Dao of mind your own business.

  If there had only been one or two attackers, he might have helped out of sect camaraderie. But provoking four opponents at once? At that point, one could only respect fate.

  The fleeing disciple stumbled again, nearly face-planting into the dirt, and then his eyes locked onto Ning.

  He had stumbled in such a way that he spotted Ning, who had been lying low.

  Hope ignited instantly in the disciple's eyes.

  “Brother!” he shouted hoarsely, his voice cracking. “I’m from the Pure Qi Sect, please help!”

  Ning’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t circulating Turtle Breathing at full strength, but it should still have been enough to keep him hidden. Was this man unusually perceptive? Or was it sheer luck?

  That thought was quickly dispelled when the man ran toward him even faster, eyes glossy with tears.

  “Brother! Grandpa! Help me! I will do anything if you save me."

  This was especially bad since the bandit's gaze followed the shout.

  Five pairs of eyes landed on Ning at once.

  Ning instantly realized the situation had turned dire. Without a shred of hesitation, he sprang up and ran.

  “Don’t let him escape! Su Jin, use the talisman!” one of the bandits roared.

  They hadn’t expected this. Most bystanders froze or panicked when caught in such situations; it was rare to see someone react so decisively, choosing flight the instant danger revealed itself.

  The man who shouted was bald and broad-shouldered, his voice booming like thunder.

  Su Jin clicked her tongue. “That talisman isn’t cheap, tsk. I thought we were saving it for the one who killed our boss.”

  “Don’t hesitate,” the bald man snapped. “If someone witnesses us killing a sect disciple, we’re finished. As for the killer, we can buy another after we get the loot from these two.”

  Hearing that, Su Jin flicked her wrist without hesitation.

  The talisman ignited, and the air seemed to twist.

  Ning’s vision blurred for a split second as he felt something constrict his movement.

  A confinement talisman.

  Moreover, it was a first-tier high-grade talisman, one enough to restrain a mid-level cultivator for several breaths.

  “…Tsk.”

  Ning’s eyes narrowed. This was truly a trouble falling from heaven.

  These people were clearly forcing him to act.

  The fleeing disciple barely had time to process what was happening before a bolt of qi slammed into the ground beside him, spraying dirt and gravel into his face. He yelped, rolled awkwardly, and somehow avoided breaking his neck.

  It was hard for Ning to believe he was now in this situation because of this guy.

  There was no hesitation. A fight was inevitable.

  Ning swiftly drew his bow and loosed arrows to slow their advance.

  “He uses long-range attacks, be careful!” the bald man shouted as he readied his sword.

  “Yes.”

  They moved immediately.

  That brief distraction was enough for the fleeing disciple to scramble to Ning’s side.

  “Thank you, brother! I thought I was going to die!” the disciple said hoarsely, his face still pale. “I’ll definitely reward you after you help me!”

  “Do you have any long-range attacks?” Ning asked immediately. “If so, use them.”

  He also kept some distance. Exhausted or not, one could never be too careful.

  “I have an attack talisman,” the disciple replied quickly, producing one out of thin air. “But I need some time to activate it.”

  A storage pouch?

  Only then did Ning realize how well-equipped this man was. His robes were clearly an artifact; despite rolling through dirt, they remained pristine. Moreover, the talisman he held carried a faint sense of danger even Ning could feel.

  A rich disciple. Perhaps even a disciple from a clan.

  Ning concluded quickly, then he spoke calmly, “Don’t worry. I’m also an outer-sect disciple of the Pure Qi Sect. It’s my duty to help a fellow disciple.”

  Was it shameless to say something like that after nearly bolting at the first sign of danger?

  …Perhaps. But Ning's primary talent was probably this mentality of his.

  “Y-you’re a good person,” the disciple said, his eyes shining with genuine relief. The heavens truly had eyes. After stumbling into a nest of bandits, he had at least stumbled upon a fellow disciple willing to help him.

  “Focus on activating the talisman,” Ning said evenly. “I’ll keep them busy.”

  The moment the words left his mouth, Ning’s bowstring sang.

  An arrow whistled through the air.

  Though the enemy held the numerical advantage, Ning had seized the initiative, and distance was on his side.

  He pressed it relentlessly.

  Another arrow flew before the first even landed, forcing the bandits to scatter instead of regroup. Ning stepped laterally, keeping them spread out, subtly herding them without their realizing it.

  One of the bandits twisted instinctively.

  The arrow grazed his thigh instead of piercing clean through.

  That was enough.

  “Poison!” the man cursed as his leg went numb, staggering backward.

  The toxin worked fast, designed not to kill, but to cripple.

  Ning didn’t spare the result a glance. He had already nocked the next arrow, feet shifting as he widened the distance once more.

  Then, a sharp spike of danger prickled his senses.

  “Fireball!”

  The fifth-stage Qi Condensation bandit finally acted.

  A roiling sphere of flame tore through the air, expanding rapidly as it flew. Ning reacted instantly, activating Shadow Step, his figure blurring as he slipped sideways,

  Only for a jet of water to explode from the opposite flank.

  A coordinated strike. It was clear that this group of bandits had done this before.

  The fireball forced him to dodge one way; the water spell cut off the other. The timing was tight, leaving no obvious escape route.

  Ning’s pupils constricted.

  Without hesitation, he unleashed his ultimate move.

  [Shadow Sneak]

  After reaching the great accomplishment of shadow steps, this was the move that Ning comprehended.

  By suppressing excess qi, steadying one’s breath, and moving along angles the eye naturally ignores, the practitioner could briefly slip out of an opponent’s focus. It did not make one vanish; it merely caused the enemy’s perception to miss them for a fraction of a heartbeat.

  That heartbeat was all that Shadow Sneak provided, but it was enough for Ning.

  His body seemed to melt into the shadow cast by a nearby tree, the water jet slicing harmlessly through empty space.

  A heartbeat later, Ning reappeared several paces away, crouched low, breath steady.

  Before the bandits could react, an arrow flew.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Each shot forced them to block, dodge, or retreat. Ning deliberately aimed not to kill, but to pressure, driving them backward, nudging their movements, subtly guiding them closer together.

  “Spread out!” the bald bandit roared.

  Too late.

  A poisoned arrow struck the fourth-stage cultivator’s shoulder. Another grazed Su Jin’s arm, the toxin seeping in. Panic crept into their movements, spacing tightening as instinct pulled them toward one another.

  The formation collapsed inward.

  Good.

  “Despicable! Using poison!” one of the bandits shouted, writhing in pain.

  Ning almost couldn’t help but retort. They were a gang of bandits ganging up on one poor, helpless cultivator, and they still had the nerve to call others despicable.

  With such thoughts, Ning adjusted his stance, swapping to a heavier arrow tipped with concentrated toxin. He fired low, forcing a leap, then high, forcing a block, controlling rhythm, dictating pace.

  Blades of wind slashed toward him.

  Ning rolled, loosening an arrow mid-motion. The shot clipped a sword, deflecting it just enough to ruin the follow-up strike.

  “Damn it, he’s herding us!” someone shouted.

  Realization finally dawned on the group.

  But by then, the bandits had been forced into a loose cluster, backs nearly brushing.

  Behind Ning, the disciple’s talisman began to glow faintly.

  The attack was swift, and the accompanying explosion was brutal.

  When the dust finally settled, no one remained standing, only scorched earth and scattered fragments of flesh.

  Ning stood there in silence, then lowered his gaze to the talisman that had burned itself into ash.

  This was a top-grade first-tier talisman. Fast and, more importantly, devastating. If he knew that this guy was going to launch such an attack, he would have to reconsider his earlier choices.

  “Yes! We did it!” the boy shouted, utterly oblivious to the weight of what Ning had just witnessed.

  Ning exhaled slowly.

  “What kind of talisman was that?” he finally asked.

  “Oh! That was a Fire-Lightning Blast Talisman,” the disciple said proudly. “One of the protective talismans my sister gave me. Fortunately, I was able to use it today to slay evil. After all the things these guys forced me to endure, this is retribution."

  He seemed completely unbothered by the carnage.

  Then again, in this world, killing was normalized.

  Only Ning, being a transmigrator, found the scene unsettling. Still, he pushed the thought aside as the disciple continued.

  “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Sun Jing. I survived thanks to you, I’m truly grateful.”

  He cupped his hands respectfully.

  “It was just my duty,” Ning replied, waving it off.

  “But my sister always says we must properly thank those who help us,” Sun Jing muttered. “The problem is… I’ve used all my escape and attack talismans. I didn’t bring anything else.”

  Ning watched silently as the boy rummaged through his storage pouch.

  Is this guy about to fleece me after saying I would get rewarded? Ning wondered.

  “…Ah.” Sun Jing suddenly froze, his hand still buried in the storage pouch. After a moment, he looked up, clearly flustered. “I… I don’t have anything right now. So how about this? I’ll give you your reward after I return to the sect?”

  Sun Jing was nervous. Anyone would be angry after risking their life only to be told the promised reward would come later. If their positions were reversed, he wasn’t sure he would react kindly either.

  Ning didn’t answer immediately.

  He stood there, eyes lowered in thought, replaying the entire sequence in his mind, the ambush, the talisman, the mess that had spiraled far beyond his expectations.

  This whole situation hadn’t been something he’d planned for in the first place.

  After a brief pause, Ning nodded. “That’s fine.”

  Relief washed over Sun Jing’s face so quickly it was almost comical.

  For Ning, however, the decision was simple. This encounter had never been about profit to begin with, and at this point, pushing for compensation would only entangle him further in an already troublesome affair.

  The two quickly agreed to settle the meet up later through communication talisman,

  Afterward, Ning asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice, “By the way… why were you being chased?”

  Sun Jing fell silent, then anger surfaced in his expression. “I was completing a mission nearby when I overheard a conversation. It was about a disciple who had apparently killed the boss of this bandit group. When they saw my sect robes, they assumed I was working with the killer and started chasing me.”

  Ning blinked. “I didn’t expect them to be so loyal.”

  “That’s the thing, they’re not!” Sun Jing said heatedly. “They weren’t seeking revenge. They said the boss had a treasure, and the killer probably took it. They thought I knew something.”

  Ning’s expression froze.

  “Moreover,” Sun Jing continued, “they only dared to chase me because my cultivation was low. If I hadn’t had so many escape talismans, I would’ve been caught long ago.”

  “A treasure… taken by a disciple?” Ning muttered.

  In an instant, cause and effect clicked into place.

  The disciple who had killed the bandit boss and taken the treasure was almost certainly Xiao Fan, the same Xiao Fan who had mentioned completing a bandit extermination mission.

  So this entire mess…

  They were cleaning up his aftermath.

  Ning felt a headache coming on.

  He had even thoughtfully given Xiao Fan a gift before, and this was the return gift?

  The worst part was that Sun Jing’s talisman had been too powerful. Any valuables the bandits carried were gone, reduced to nothing.

  Overall, it was a terrible deal.

  They were nothing more than scapegoats.

  “Senior Brother, are you alright?” Sun Jing asked, noticing Ning’s frown.

  “I was just thinking about something,” Ning replied. “What are you planning to do next?”

  “Um… I’ll probably rest at Redhorn Village, then continue my mission,” Sun Jing said after a moment’s thought, completely missing the twitch at the corner of Ning’s lips.

  “I see. Then good luck,” Ning said. “I’ll be returning to the sect.”

  He didn’t try to dissuade him. Given Sun Jing’s exhausted and injured state, Redhorn Village, the closest settlement, was the obvious choice.

  This guy will probably run into Xiao Fan next and get dragged into another set of shenanigans.

  He offered a silent prayer for Sun Jing’s future.

  Then Ning turned and vanished in a blur of shadow.

  His first goal after returning to the sect was finalized. Cleanse himself thoroughly later. Incense included.

  This might sound metaphysical, but the chances of this happening were not zero.

  Alas! This entire mission has been tainted by Xiao Fan and spiraled from there.

  ...

  Thanks for reading~