A spirit beast pouch contained a space where tad beasts could live and cultivate. The higher the pouch’s quality, the larger its interior.
Even the smallest spirit beast pouch could easily hold an entire swarm of Golden Marrow Bees.
Naturally, pouches capable of storing living creatures were far more expensive than ordinary storage bags.
Unless Qi Ping sold his Blood Ginseng or Golden Marrow Honey, he couldn’t afford even the most basic spirit beast pouch.
“No way to get one right now. That’ll have to wait.”
“But how do I carry the Golden Marrow Bees?”
The outside world was too dangerous—without the bees, Qi Ping wouldn’t feel the slightest bit secure.
So, bringing them along was non-negotiable.
After racking his brain, he finally devised a workable plan.
“I can discreetly station a portion of the bees along the roadside, following from a distance. Especially in secluded areas—those are where bandit cultivators strike most often.”
“Once we near Greystone Market, the bees can wait outside. There are too many late-stage Qi Refining cultivators there, even Foundation Establishnt experts. The risk of exposure is too high. Inside the market, safety is generally guaranteed anyway.”
Greystone Market was jointly managed by several cultivation clans of Greystone County and the Greenpeak Sect.
Though Qi Ping didn’t understand why the Greenpeak Sect tolerated bandit cultivators in the region, the market was a vital source of inco for both the sect and the clans. Under normal circumstances, they’d never allow outlaws to disrupt it.
“As for the rest, I’ll carry about a hundred bees on .”
Qi Ping’s own strength was lacking. If ambushed, distant bees might not reach him in ti.
“There’s still a chance of discovery, but if I make the bees appear half-dead and disguise them with sothing resembling poison, anyone who notices will assu they’re captured specins. Unless inspected closely, no one will suspect the truth.”
Such deception wasn’t difficult for Qi Ping. Over the years, despite rarely venturing out, he’d stockpiled various toxins to safeguard his life.
None were particularly potent, but he had plenty of common poisons.
After so tinkering, a hundred Golden Marrow Bees lay limp as if poisoned, which Qi Ping then packed into a sturdy pouch.
…..
“Before heading to the market, et up with the others at the Society’s courtyard. Exchange recent news. If anyone’s going to the market, travel together—safety in numbers lowers the odds of bandit attacks.”
Old Zhou sipped wine lazily while offering this advice to Qi Ping, his wrinkled face flushed and his gaze slightly unfocused.
A tattered ancient to titled “Chronicles of Mountain and Sea Wonders” lay in his hands, though it was unclear if he could still focus on the text.
Qi Ping didn’t mind. This was just Old Zhou’s usual deanor.
After acknowledging the advice, Qi Ping bid farewell and made his way to the Fushou Society’s courtyard.
The Society’s base was an unremarkable compound at the foot of the Mistveil Mountains, built years ago by Old Zhou and others.
Its location was chosen for proximity to mbers—most worked spirit fields in Zone D of the Mistveil Mountains or nearby, fostering mutual trust.
The Society held one major gathering annually, which all attended barring ergencies. Smaller monthly etups allowed mbers to share news, seek aid, or arrange group trips to Greystone Market—attendance optional.
When Qi Ping arrived early at the familiar courtyard, two figures already sat at the stone table.
One was Wang Shan, the steady, warm-hearted middle-aged man Old Zhou had ntioned.
A Qi Refining fourth-layer cultivator with a kindly deanor and a slight paunch, Wang Shan raised several dozen first-tier Golden-Plud Chickens in the mountains, along with hundreds of non-tiered Blue-Plud Chickens prized for their at.
Every festival, he gifted each Society mber a plump Blue-Plud Chicken, earning widespread goodwill.
His helpful nature and aversion to pretension made him a trusted figure in the Fushou Society.
Qi Ping had sampled those chickens four or five tis—excellent for steaming, roasting, or braising. During holidays, mbers often bought extras from Wang Shan.
The other was “Sister Nan.” Unlike ethereal, fair-skinned female cultivators, her attire resembled a village woman’s, her face dotted with what looked like smudges or freckles.
But appearances deceived. Rumor placed her near Qi Refining fifth-layer, surpassing even Wang Shan in combat prowess.
Old Zhou once told Qi Ping that Sister Nan had been coly in her youth but gradually adopted this unremarkable guise for unknown reasons.
She cultivated first-tier low-grade Spirit-Nourishing Fruits on Peak 005 in Zone D, just two mountains from Qi Ping’s Peak 007.
Her secret talent lay in crafting spirit fertilizer—buying raw materials to produce affordable nutrient blends that sustained her orchard.
To Qi Ping, Sister Nan remained an enigmatic figure—sharp, capable, and formidable among low-level cultivators.
“Brother Shan! Sister Nan! Long ti no see!”
Entering the Society’s humble courtyard, Qi Ping greeted them warmly.
Since Old Zhou introduced him to the Fushou Society, these two had shown him kindness. When his Black Dwarf Bees had absconded months prior, aside from Old Zhou, none had searched more diligently than these two—a debt Qi Ping hadn’t forgotten.
“Little Qi! Half a year since we’ve seen you. When cultivation tires you, co visit more often! Drop by for chicken anyti!”
Wang Shan’s delight was genuine.
Five years earlier, when Old Zhou brought in the earnest young Qi Ping, many in the Society had taken a liking to him.
Qi Ping sensed that most here operated on mutual aid rather than petty scheming—a rarity. Perhaps the founders’ high standards for mbership explained both the Society’s tight bonds and its inability to expand.
Still, Qi Ping valued this camaraderie. For low-level cultivators, unity ant survival in a perilous world.
Sister Nan rely nodded, her deanor cooler.
Qi Ping understood her—reserved but reliable in crises.
After exchanging pleasantries with Wang Shan, Qi Ping steered the conversation to urgent matters:
“Brother Shan, Old Zhou ntioned bandit cultivators have returned to Greystone County. What’s the situation now?”
This concerned everyone’s safety—Qi Ping’s foremost priority.
At the question, both Wang Shan and Sister Nan’s expressions darkened abruptly…
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