Wu Ming stirred awake from his deep sleep, his body sluggish. Out of habit, he reached toward the bedside table, fingers stretching for something that wasn't there. A second passed. Then another. He stopped and withdrew his hand.
A bitter smile curled on his lips. 'Right…'
He sat up, rolling his shoulders, feeling the dull ache from yesterday's exertion. His gaze swept across the room, luxurious for a insignificant outer disciple. Sunlight seeped through the cracks of the curtain, casting jagged lines across the floor.
His eyes drifted to the sword resting beside his bed. He picked it up, running a thumb over its surface, his mind already at work.
Twelve spirit stones. That was all he had. A meager sum, barely enough to last another six days if he wanted to cultivate properly.
He needed resources.
The Mind-Opening Lotus was a pipe dream. That rare treasure could push his Seed of Comprehension into a Wisdom Sapling, but it was far beyond his reach. What he needed now was a way to advance his cultivation.
But his talent was garbage.
So low that even if he trained without wasting a second, in the next hundred years, he could only hope to break through to the next major realm. For someone as ambitious as Wu Ming, that was unacceptable!
'If talent is lacking, then I'll just drown myself in resources.'
But earning resources? That was the real problem. Nothing about it was quick, and time was not something he had in abundance.
A loud voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Wu Ming! You dog, still sleeping? Did your scholarly ass rot away in bed?"
The crude voice jolted Wu Ming's mind back to reality. He silently activated his Seed of Comprehension, sorting through his memories.
Composing himself, he straightened his robe and picked up a folded paper fan, flicking it open with elegance. Adopting the air of a scholar, he adjusted his expression before stepping outside.
"Zhou Feng," Wu Ming drawled, tilting his head. "Your lack of respect wounds me. A man of culture must nurture his mind in the morning."
Zhou Feng was a short and bulky youth with a cocky smirk, he scoffed. "Nurture my ass. You just like being lazy."
Wu Ming sighed, tapping his fan against his palm. "Only those ignorant of the arts fail to understand the value of refinement."
Zhou Feng snorted. "Refinement? The last time you wrote a poem, even the chickens in the sect wanted to kill themselves."
Wu Ming waved his fan dismissively. "Common folk fail to appreciate my genius, so they might as well kill themselves."
Their banter continued, Wu Ming never dropping the scholar's pretense. This was how the old Wu Ming acted, and he had to keep up the facade.
Eventually, the conversation shifted.
"Tomorrow is the monthly resource collection," Zhuo Feng reminded him. "Everyone ranked between 1,500 and 2,000 has to go. You're still sitting at 1,888, yeah?"
Wu Ming nodded. "And you? 1,902 if memory serves."
"Still hanging in there." Zhuo Feng chuckled. "Speaking of which, did you hear? The black market has some interesting things this time around."
Wu Ming's eyes flickered, but his expression remained indifferent.
"Oh, tell me?"
Zhuo Feng leaned in, lowering his voice. "That Senior Brother Ma Zhong from the Martial Hall ran his mouth again. He told me this time, the black market is being run by Sun Sealing Sect and Copper Moon Sect. They just wiped out Scarlet Bone Demonic Sect, so there's bound to be a heap of demonic loot circulating."
Wu Ming hummed thoughtfully but shook his head. "My savings are pitiful right now. No point getting tempted."
"Doesn't hurt to look," Zhuo Feng shrugged. "It's not every day we get to see some good stuff."
Wu Ming agreed. Not for now, but in the future, he'd need to familiarize himself with that world. Official sect methods were slow. And those ambitious found other ways.
After a brief chat, Wu Ming and Zhuo Feng set off. The journey to the inner sect would take a full day of travel.
For three straight hours, they ran. No talking, just the sound of their footfalls against dirt and stone. The morning chill faded as sweat dampened their robes.
By midday, they stopped for a brief lunch. A dry, tasteless meal of preserved rations. No complaints. No wasted words.
Then, they ran again.
By nightfall, their legs felt like lead, but they pushed on until they reached a small inn. Only then did they finally rest.
At dawn, before the sun even rose, they set off once more.
The inner sect came into view just past noon.
Compared to the outer sect, the difference was like heaven and earth.
The air was thick with qi, making each breath feel spiritually nutritious. The towering buildings were carved with ancient runes, exuding a faint spiritual glow. Disciples clad in pristine Inner sect robes moved with an arrogance that made it clear that they were a class above.
Wu Ming observed them quietly.
Their strides were slow and unhurried. Unlike outer sect disciples, who rushed from one task to another like ants scrambling for crumbs, these people walked as if the world itself would wait for them.
It was the confidence that came with power.
Wu Ming snorted coldly.
After all, arrogance was only entertaining when you weren't the one being trampled underfoot.
—
Finally, they arrived at the resource collection hall.
A long line had already formed, filled with outer sect disciples ranked between 1,500 and 2,000. The process was simple. Each disciple stepped forward, presented their sect identification jade, and received their monthly allotment.
When Wu Ming's turn arrived, he handed over his jade slip.
A bored-looking elder glanced at it and waved a hand. A small pouch and a gourd floated toward Wu Ming while a young disciple noted down his name.
"Four spirit stones. One gourd of Black River Spiritual Water. Next."
Wu Ming accepted them without a word.
The Black River Spiritual Water had good qi-nourishing properties. Compared to a spirit stone, which provided twice the benefit of a cultivation session, this was even better. But the pitiful amount he received was at most worth three spirit stones in comparison.
Zhuo Feng received the same allocation. As they stepped aside, Wu Ming casually weighed the pouch of spirit stones in his palm.
Four spirit stones a month.
Pathetic.
If he wanted to advance quickly, this rate of accumulation was nowhere near enough.
'It's time to take some action.' Wu Ming's gaze darkened.