Li Huo sat on the floor for another minute, his face still fixed on a vaguely shocked and fearful expression. Once he was sure the messenger was gone, he slowly reclined, laying on his back and spreading out his arms. 

“For once,” he said, “those old fogeys actually did something useful.” He was breathing heavily, a small gleam appearing in his eyes. “The sect formation completely failed to notice. The only person sent was some random messenger.”

He focused inwards on his Dao heart. There, tucked in the mysterious, partially filled dimension superimposed on his actual heart, was a spatial bag. It wasn’t anything special. The space inside was exceedingly small, barely enough for anything, and was already showing signs of deterioration. But it was still there.

Rogue cultivators like himself weren’t supposed to possess spatial bags, especially during the Dao Strengthening realm. Normally, the sect formation would’ve detected the bag during his interview, alerting the Elemental Dao Sect that his cultivation base didn’t line up with his possession of one. 

Following that, a disciple from the Stratums should’ve been sent on a mission. Their purpose would have been to gather more information, discreetly investigating the irregular cultivator in question. Well, as “discreet” as they could be. Li Huo had been periodically spreading out his soul sense, checking for any tails. He would’ve known if someone had tried to follow him. In the end though, that had turned out to be unnecessary. Everything had gone off perfectly, with the exception of the messenger appearing.

He had surprised Li Huo at first. Li Huo had wanted to panic, since the messenger’s appearance suggested that he had been found out. It had taken a lot of effort for him to keep his composure, forcing out a few awkward lines with difficulty. He’d then had to pretend like he was furious for the denial, carefully choosing to attack in a way that would seem plausible, but not threatening. A slight infraction that would cement his status as a rogue cultivator out of his depth in the messenger’s mind. 

All in all, his performance was terrible. Still, the messenger didn’t even bat an eye. He had simply made a snide threat and left. That would’ve been unthinkable for a rogue cultivator; any rogue cultivator skilled enough to survive had long gained enough experience to search for discrepancies and signs of trouble. 

Li Huo hated sect cultivators for not having to do that. They reminded him of his old self, naive and useless. Possessing the luxury to not have to live in worry. To stay arrogant while knowing nothing about the way things worked. Nothing at all. 

It was this ignorance that caused them to accept their fake reality. A happy and peaceful existence, built on top of a mountain of skulls surrounded by a sea of blood. His mother and sister killed, father broken, all for control of Spirit Tranquility Lake. Taking away his tribe’s lifeblood, the basis for all of the tales his mother had told him as a little boy. The source of the soul sense all tribe members had a chance to awaken. 

Li Huo’s face contorted into a snarl, madness evident. “And everything, everything for a stupid technique a council elder wanted to cultivate. A technique he probably hasn't used once since he succeeded in it.”

Power. That was what decided everything. The source of all his problems. And, now, the source of his solution. The tribal elders couldn’t have been the inventors of the storage technique. They were somewhat powerful for rogue cultivators, but nowhere near good enough to make a revolutionary innovation. Figuring out how to connect to the dimension where Dao hearts were located and store something there must’ve taken generations of research. 

Someone was backing his tribe. Someone with a grudge against the Elemental Dao Sect. Li Huo wasn’t complaining. By all means, they could take his tribe and sharpen it into a knife, ready to stab at the heart of the sect. As long as he was at the very tip of it. 

***

Su Nuolan watched, fascinated by the farmers working the rice fields. They labored with such attention, such commitment. During her journeys, she had encountered many sights. The flight of an almost mythical spiritual beast. The magnificent formation of an invaluable natural treasure. The awe-inspiring casting of a supreme technique. However, nothing could quite compare to the simple, unrestrained authenticity of a seemingly mundane scene. One wasn’t necessarily better than the other, but the second usually went underappreciated. 

She focused in on the activities occurring. Some farmers were slowly wading through the flooded land, closely inspecting the emerald green stalks of rice plants. Occasionally, they bent down and cut several stalks with a single swipe of a sickle, making a satisfying swish through the air. The sun was shining over their heads, relentless rays striking downwards.

While they worked, other farmers carried loose bundles of stalks out of the paddy, moving them off to be processed. Once those farmers reached their destination, they handed off the stalks to a group of women. The group then took the stalks and threshed them, beating the stalks repeatedly against a bamboo rack. When they finished, the women threw the remaining straws off to the side, beginning again with a new set. 

It was hard work. Trudging through the muddy water for hours on end, the unbearable heat their only companion. Having to walk back and forth constantly, legs aching with each step. Swinging the stalks and beating them, arms sore from the exertion. So why did they seem so happy?

“Lookin’ at the farmers, aren’t ya?” interrupted a member of the caravan. Nuolan turned, startled by the question. 

“You were starin’ pretty intensely at them,” he continued. “So, were ya?”

“Yes, I was,” Nuolan replied. “I was wondering why they seemed so happy performing hard labor.”

He grinned. “Actually, my cousin told me ‘bout this. Ten years ago, he said. Ten years ago was when it started."

“I don’t know which of them fellas talked some sense into the sect, but they made some big changes.” He scratched his head. “Started settin' quotas, which some farmers thought was gonna hurt, but they guaranteed prices. Stopped importing so much from other regions.”

“But why?” Nuolan said. “What’s the benefit?”

“Turns out that when ya treat people well, they work harder. That and the earnins' from lesser transport costs made it worth it.”

Nuolan gave a slight nod, impressed. Elemental City lived up to its fame—even the farmers enjoyed a good life. It wasn’t like out in the sparser areas, where mortals subsisted off their work, barely eking out a livelihood. This was probably why she'd felt instinctively comfortable as soon as the caravan had neared the city; rice wasn't the only thing growing.

She actively started absorbing Qi, channeling it into her Dao heart. A wave of vitality washed over her. And her surroundings became more alive, for lack of a better word. Most of the vitality came from the vast rice fields, but a portion originated in the farmers, a more abstract version. 

She was still trying to grasp it. The vitality of plants had always been easy for her to understand. Plants were naturally alive, growing in the most literal sense. She’d only recently started to sense another type of growth—one that came from people. That was harder for her to understand. What did it mean for a person to grow? Not physically, but in an intangible way. Was growth the change in mindset? Was it the finding of purpose? Was growth an increase in cultivation base?

Nuolan had no answer. Even now, she could clearly perceive the vitality of the rice plants. It was drawn in from the soil, slowly flowing upwards and expanding to all corners of the crop. The vitality she saw in the farmers was inconsistent. One moment, it seemed strikingly clear. The next it became hazy and opaque. She hoped that she would figure it out soon. She was going to need everything she could get for the tournament. 

***

Wang Liangxing put the two natural treasures into separate receptacles. He channeled his Qi into the first one. “Cave 804,” he said. The aquamarine chunk of metal vanished. After he did the same with the other treasure, an oddly flexible piece of solidified water, he left the rewards storehouse. 

“Teleport me to the slums.” He appeared outside the mountain, against a backdrop of worn down shacks and shoddy mud-brick homes. I can’t believe Li Bian lives here. He started circulating Qi, pushing it down towards his feet. Next, Liangxing took off running, using the bursts of Qi he expelled to propel himself forward. Let’s get this over with. He continued to pick up speed as he ran. The wind blew roughly across his face, and he had to quickly twist to avoid the mortals in the streets multiple times. Their surprised faces almost made him satisfied with the trip. Almost. 

Li Bian’s house, if it could be called that, was somehow even more dilapidated than the buildings Liangxing had passed so far. This further worsened his impression of Li Bian; after he had all but caused a fiasco, he was still wasting his efforts. Disciples received a stipend of one hundred spirit stones a year. Most were used for cultivation, but there would always be a few left over. Despite nine-tenths of housing being reserved for mortals, Li Bian should have had enough funds to buy or rent a decent dwelling.

Wasteful and spoiled, Liangxing thought. If nothing else, Li Bian could’ve settled down in one of the caves in the mountains surrounding the sect, so it was obvious why he didn’t have enough spirit stones. Elemental City was a bustling and prosperous metropolis, hence there were countless options for indulgences. Food infused with Qi, underground and aboveground gambling, and the pleasure district were just a smattering of what was available. 

Apparently, Li Bian had fallen into the same trap many other disciples fell into—excessive decadence. Liangxing could already picture Li Bian’s situation. He probably eagerly awaited the distribution of spirit stones every three months. The moment he received them, he would lavishly spend them on everything except his own cultivation. Afterwards, he would drag himself back to his squalid shack, dwelling in self-pity until the cycle repeated itself a few months later. They never learn.

Liangxing knocked on the door, taking care to not accidentally break it. He had to wait for a good minute for Li Bian to answer. 

“Elder, my apologies,” Li Bian said. “I—no—this one is deeply regretful of your wait.”

“As you should be,” Liangxing said. That was unexpected. Was Li Bian always this respectful? He gave Li Bian a searching look and reached into his standard issue spatial bag, taking out a small glass bottle. “Here’s your reward. Don’t waste it.”

Li Bian eagerly accepted the pills, unable to conceal his excitement. After seeing his reaction, Liangxing was about to write off Li Bian’s previous politeness as a fluke. However, Li Bian promptly bowed, thanking him profusely. Liangxing frowned. Li Bian looked frightened, and started to redouble his gratitude, but Liangxing waved him off. Strange. 

Liangxing left, going back towards Six Dao Mountain. This time, he decided not to run, instead opting to stroll at a leisurely pace. Actually, he thought, there was always something strange about the way Li Bian erred. He and another disciple had been tasked with escorting an envoy from the Spirit Stone Empire. It was more of a ceremonial thing, since the envoy wasn’t in need of protection, and the policy of retributive action from most sects deterred the majority of cultivators anyway. 

Some degree of arrogance from the envoy was to be expected, and the other disciple would later confirm that for most of the mission Li Bian and him had ignored any grandstanding. However, when their mission was nearly complete, Li Bian had seemingly gotten fed up and made to attack the envoy. The other disciple quickly restrained him, but the envoy had still complained upon arriving at the sect. Fortunately for Li Bian, this was his first offense, and the envoy had appeared somewhat amused, so he had been let off with a warning.

What Li Bian had done was idiotic. So idiotic in fact, that it surpassed the standard of regular idiocy. Following the incident, he had become a common reference among bureaucrats, masking the strangeness of his actions. Why did he do it? From what Liangxing could gather—excluding his recent behavior—Li Bian was a typical debauchee. Why risk his comfortable lifestyle? Why not endure for a little longer? Also, Liangxing thought, he was the one who decided to take the mission in the first place.

Liangxing shook his head. People made terrible decisions every day. Li Bian had merely joined their ranks with gusto.