Chapter 4: Opportunity
“My name is Liu Ying,” the woman said softly, her eyes alight with hope as she looked at Wang Jie. “I can see reflections in the sky, and I have an older sister who cultivates a wind-based technique. Over time, I realized her art allows her to sense any danger carried on the wind.”
She paused before continuing, “My elder brother and his friends always took me along on their trips, and I managed to steer them clear of trouble several times. But this time, my brother had just broken through to a higher cultivation realm and refused to listen to me. So…”
Wang Jie nodded in acknowledgment. “Yet you failed to sense the presence of the man in that house.”
Liu Ying sighed, her expression clouded by helplessness. “He’s far beyond my abilities. Unless he purposefully releases his aura, I can’t detect him.”
Noticing that Wang Jie remained silent, seemingly lost in thought, she summoned her resolve and said, “Ten vials of beast blood.”
Wang Jie arched an eyebrow.
[Ten vials? She must be more resourceful than she appears.]
“What’s your brother’s cultivation level?”
“Three Seals.”
He chuckled. “[She wants a Two-Seal cultivator—at least that’s what I seem to be—to handle this? Bold.] You have a lot of faith in me.”
Liu Ying glanced at his feet. “You’re not a bad person.”
“Nor am I a good one,” Wang Jie said lightly. Even so, he accepted the task. They discussed how she would deliver the payment, and then he took his leave.
[Ten vials of beast blood… That’s a generous sum.]
Mutated beast blood clots swiftly once the creature dies, and only a small amount can be collected in time. This blood contains Seal Power, which cultivators can directly absorb to increase their strength. Other items—beast bones, rare herbs—also contain cultivable essence. In short, acquiring such apocalyptic resources is the fastest path to advancing one’s cultivation.
Cultivators trade these materials as currency, while ordinary folk cling to gold or simple barter.
Outside the towering walls of Golden Hill Base, those in the wasteland longed for the safety within. The walls symbolized protection, though even inside, rigid divisions were evident. Without any interior fortifications, the gulf between areas was still obvious: just look at the roads.
Beyond the walls lay a landscape of waste, sewage, and rot—an unbearable stench lingering in the air. But the farther you ventured inside, the cleaner the streets and the finer the clothing of passersby. Though separated by no more than a single road, the chasm between the Sewage District and the Clean District was palpable.
Many spoke bitterly about the injustice, but in this post-apocalyptic world bereft of formal law, such divisions were necessary to keep chaos in check.
Wang Jie changed clothes and stepped forward—one foot still on muddy ground, the other landing on spotless paving. His grimy footprints trailed behind him, growing fainter as he made his way deeper into the city.
He lived in the Clean District, at No. 17 Bright River Road.
It was a modest two-story home. From the courtyard, one could glimpse the skeletal high-rises of the Sewage District. Beyond those ruins, the outer walls of Golden Hill Base were just barely visible.
When Wang Jie opened the gate to No. 17, he found a small, tidy courtyard on the other side.
A pale young man lay sprawled in a chair, his skin sallow, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he wore an expression of profound injustice, as though he refused to die in peace. Nearby on the ground lay a thick blanket, half-dragged off him.
Wang Jie paused to watch him.
Five seconds.
No movement.
Ten seconds.
Suddenly, the young man convulsed violently, coughing so hard he nearly toppled from the chair. He flailed his arms at Wang Jie, still choking.
Wang Jie approached him. “[Always the same performance. One day, he might fool me for real.] You pull this stunt every time. One day, you might not get up again.”
“Cough… Boss… cough…” wheezed the young man, Old Five. “You’re so cold… I was just… cough… trying to lighten the mood.”
Wang Jie ignored the complaint. “Where’s Old Nine?”
“Cough… upstairs… reading in the sun.”
Glancing upward, Wang Jie spotted a handsome young man on the second-floor balcony. Bathed in golden light, he read intently, every bit the refined scholar. Noticing Wang Jie’s gaze, he lifted his eyes, offered a gentle smile, then waved with the book in his hand.
“Old Nine—cough, cough—always reading. Completely useless,” Old Five grumbled. “Boss, take me out for some fresh air?”
Instead of answering, Wang Jie picked up the dropped blanket and tucked it around Old Five to keep him warm. “I may have found something that can heal your internal injuries. Wait till I return.”
He strode off without waiting for a reply.
Old Five blinked at his back. “You know, Boss, I’m starting to like coughing. Maybe let’s not fix it?”
But Wang Jie was already gone.
Old Five sighed and shot a glance at Old Nine, who merely shrugged with a faint, knowing smile before returning to his book.
Wang Jie’s home was No. 17. Right next door was No. 18. Without hesitation, he pushed the gate open and walked in.
Unlike the orderly No. 17, this courtyard was sealed off and engulfed in darkness—impossible to see from outside. Junk was strewn everywhere.
Wang Jie navigated the mess without reaction, descending the steps to an underground lab.
It was a chaotic space. Tangled cables slithered across the floor like serpents. Strange bones and stagnant pools of blood filled the air with a stench worse than any sewage. Lining the walls stood towering vats of green liquid that bubbled ominously.
“Stop dragging your feet and cure Old Five,” muttered a wild-haired man wearing thick glasses and a raggedy lab coat spattered with red and black. “If he keeps coughing like this, I’ll fall into depression.”
Wang Jie tossed the man a small glass vial.
He caught it, frowning. “What’s this?”
“Hibiscus Tears.”
The man’s eyes widened. He tossed aside his tools and scrutinized the vial with undisguised excitement. “[No way… Hibiscus Tears in my hands? Incredible.]”
Wang Jie watched him. “Will this heal Old Five?”
“Certainly.” The man’s grin turned eerie behind his spectacles. “Not bad, kid. This stuff is incredibly rare. Mutated Hibiscus is dangerous enough to scare off top cultivators. Where’d you even snag this?”
[He won’t stop prying unless I change the subject.]
“Maybe it can also heal your wounds,” Wang Jie suggested.
“I don’t need it,” the man snapped.
“Are you sure? It’s worth a try.”
Wang Jie dropped the matter, fishing out vials of beast blood and a mutated beast tooth from his coat. He flung them toward the scruffy doctor.
The man sniffed the tooth and grimaced. “Worthless. You’re better off absorbing this one for your own cultivation. And the beast blood…” He opened the vial, took a quick whiff, and shook his head. “Also useless.”
He cast them aside. “Humans cultivate, and so do beasts. Their materials change day by day. If you harvest them at the wrong time, they might do nothing at all. If you want Old Nine’s leg healed properly, I’ll need to experiment. Unless, of course, you find a Three-Eyed Wolf King. That beast’s essence is as potent as these Hibiscus Tears. Otherwise, you’ll just have to be patient.”
Wang Jie frowned. “[Didn’t he say it was almost healed?] ‘Didn’t you mention Old Nine’s wound was nearly done mending?’”
“It is. But I need more tests. If you’re not in a hurry, wait.”
Wang Jie paused, weighing his options.
Moments later, the doctor whooped with excitement. “This is amazing—absolutely amazing! Anyway, why are you still here?”
Wang Jie shrugged. “I need a flower that’s been growing for thirty-three years.”
“Here.” The man lobbed a twisted, mutated blossom at him.
Taking the flower, Wang Jie left the lab. As he stepped outside, the world blurred, and the surroundings faded into a gentle gray mist. He had entered the Farmland Dimension.
Wang Jie attempted to place the flower into his Green Sprout, only to watch it slide through without response. Retrieving it, he returned underground. “[He tried to pawn off a random flower on me.] ‘This isn’t thirty-three years old.’”
“Why are you being so precise?” the doctor complained. “You’d better buy one if you’re that picky.”
Wang Jie had no more to say. Leaving No. 18, he cast a glance at No. 17 but did not enter, instead heading toward the Sewage District. Though he owned the place in the Clean District, he rarely stayed there these days. He and Wild Grass—another guide—had a separate place in the Sewage District.
From the second-floor balcony of No. 17, Old Nine silently watched Wang Jie depart.
Wang Jie traveled to No. 3 Landfill, taking the fifth turn to the right. That was the location of Wild Grass’s home. Whenever he returned to Golden Hill Base, he often stayed there.
But today, there were uninvited guests.
He sensed them even before he stepped inside. After a brief pause, he knocked on the door.
“You actually knock on your own door?” came a woman’s voice. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal a striking figure clad in ornate iron armor. Two men stood behind her—one of them was Gray Claw, another guide Wang Jie knew.
Wang Jie studied her calmly. “[She’s dressed like she belongs in the Clean District, not here.] ‘Who are you?’”
Gray Claw stepped forward, lowering his voice so only Wang Jie could hear. “They’re important clients. They want to catch a Snow Steed. You know those, right?”
Wang Jie raised an eyebrow. “That regal giant wolf?”
Gray Claw nodded. “We just need to guide them. They’ll do the capturing. The reward is generous, and, crucially, you’ll become the Zhao Clan Hunting Team’s exclusive guide.”
Wang Jie turned to him. “They’re from the Zhao Clan Hunting Team?”
The woman cut in, “We’re from the Zhao Clan itself. The Hunting Team is one of our assets. Making you their exclusive guide is merely a matter of saying so—assuming you lead us to the Snow Steed within three days.”
Wang Jie frowned. “[Why the rush?] ‘Why three days?’”
“You don’t need to know that,” she said coldly. “Gray Claw insists you’re the best guide in Golden Hill. I expect you to meet that standard.” She spoke as though Wang Jie had already agreed. “But if you fail, don’t bother returning to Golden Hill Base.”
Wang Jie’s eyes hardened. He neither accepted nor refused.
Passing by him, the woman murmured, “If you hadn’t bothered knocking, you wouldn’t have landed this opportunity.” Then she headed off.
Gray Claw clapped him on the shoulder. “We leave at dawn—east gate. Be there.” With that, he followed the woman.
Wang Jie watched them go. [The Zhao Clan… so that’s who I’m dealing with now.]
If they were leaving in the morning, there was little time to prepare.
He shut the door behind him and headed back out—he still needed to search for that thirty-three-year-old flower.
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation