Chapter 138

Chapter 138: Zhi Upper Realm

The appearance of star-break count meant one thing: this art couldn’t be completed until he reached Star-Breaking Realm. Only after breaking stars would he know his own count.

Since it had appeared, he would gather it.

Bone-Motion Art required five sprouts, just like Myriad-Stars Finger. Maybe it would surprise him.

For now, he needed lockforce.

Only two days remained until his exercises.

Looking across the star map of Lock Interspace, their ship was headed for the border of Nebula Stream—a place packed with trading houses. Materials, ships, formation scrolls, Chen Artifacts, pills… everything moved through that region.

When the ship finally docked, Miao Tai said, “Lord, we’re here.”

Wang Jie stepped out and looked up.

Above, massive worlds rotated in rings. Ships rose and fell like birds, and the air itself felt crowded with voices.

Docked ships filled the surrounding space—and their arrival drew more than a few glances.

Miao Tai led him through bustling streets until they stopped in front of a tiny shop.

It was small enough to look like a kiosk compared to the elegant towers around it.

Yet the line for it stretched all the way to the end of the street, blocking other storefronts—and no one dared complain.

“Lord,” Miao Tai said, “this is where you send messages to Black-White Heaven. The price depends on distance and target.”

He hesitated, then added, “It’s expensive. And there’s a rule: if you don’t get a reply, you pay double.”

Wang Jie lifted an eyebrow. “That’s reasonable. They even compensate you?”

Miao Tai’s expression went flat. “They compensate the shop.”

Wang Jie blinked. “Why?”

“Because you wasted the shop’s time,” Miao Tai said. “And it’s also meant to warn people who dream of forcing a connection. Every message carries risk. Delivering it can offend someone. It costs time. So the shop charges for the danger it takes.”

Wang Jie glanced toward the street, thoughtful. He wasn’t sure whether the Grand Elder would even reply. And if the fee depended on the target…

His message wouldn’t be cheap.

Before long, it was his turn.

Inside, a young attendant lay sprawled behind the counter, bored. He didn’t even look up, just toyed with a pet and spoke lazily. “Write the recipient’s status, name, and location.”

Wang Jie stared at the paper and pen.

He didn’t know her status inside Black-White Heaven. He certainly didn’t know her location.

“And if you don’t know?” he asked.

“Then you pay the ‘don’t know’ price,” the attendant said, still not looking up. “And we don’t guarantee your message will reach anyone.”

Wang Jie picked up the pen and wrote three words:

Zhi Xing Xue.

He slid the paper across the counter.

The attendant glanced at it—and stiffened.

He looked at Wang Jie. Looked at the paper again. Then looked back, eyes suddenly sharp. “Someone from the zhi family?”

Wang Jie nodded.

The attendant’s posture straightened as if someone had struck his spine. “What is your relationship to this member of the zhi family?”

Wang Jie thought for a moment. He didn’t know the cleanest way to phrase it, so he said, “She sent me to Lock Interspace. She used the Nebula Stream alone.

“And she wasn’t alone. There was someone with her. Zhi Ye.”

The attendant went white.

“Zhi… Zhi Ye?” he stammered.

Wang Jie nodded.

The attendant swallowed hard, took a shaky breath, and forced a respectful smile. “What message would you like to send?”

“How much?” Wang Jie asked.

“No charge for now.”

Wang Jie paused. “Then I’ll speak and you write.”

“Of course.” The attendant gripped the pen like it mattered. “Please.”

Wang Jie said evenly, “This disciple obtained a treasure in Yi Sword Heaven and wishes to present it to Senior. Signed, Wang Jie.”

The attendant wrote it down carefully, then tucked it away as if it were a blade. “Please wait. Leave your contact information. If we receive a reply, we’ll contact you.

“And… it would be best if you don’t leave this area for now.”

Wang Jie nodded and stepped out.

Outside, Miao Tai leaned in immediately. “Lord, how much did it cost?”

“Nothing,” Wang Jie said.

Miao Tai froze. “Nothing?”

He looked genuinely rattled. Even Zong Cheng Ping had to pay to contact Black-White Heaven. This shop had direct ties to Black-White Heaven and didn’t care about the Four Alliances at all—how could it be free?

While waiting, Wang Jie decided to restock. Too many of his reserves had been burned away. And in the cultivation world, accidents always arrived before tomorrow.

First: pills.

Pills that could replace food.

On Deepweight Star, he’d eaten Whole-Bone Pill like rations. It had been obscene. He still wasn’t Roaming-Star Realm; he couldn’t go without food for long. In Yi Sword Heaven, he’d survived because the stone-sword creature hunted for him.

Miao Tai took him to the largest pill exchange.

A clerk greeted him. “Guest, looking for Food-Stagnation Pill? We have plenty. One starstone each. How many?”

Food-Stagnation Pill was as common as dirt, even cheaper than most starforce pills. One pill could keep hunger away for three days.

Wang Jie bought two thousand without blinking.

Next: Recovery Pill.

Recovery Pill was Star-Breaking Realm grade. Like Revival Pill, it healed injuries—but Revival Pill handled severe wounds and could even purge destructive force planted by Roaming-Star Realm experts. Recovery Pill was for ordinary injuries, far cheaper.

Revival Pill: one million starstone each.

Wang Jie had used too many of those. He only had two left, and thinking about it still made his chest ache. If he’d had Recovery Pill on Deepweight Star, he wouldn’t have wasted Revival Pill at all.

Recovery Pill cost one thousand starstone each.

He bought two hundred—two hundred thousand starstone.

Next: formation scrolls.

He went to the formation scroll exchange and bought a formation scroll for the Eightfold Strong Lock Formation.

It could lock down an ordinary Full-Star Realm cultivator. It didn’t seem especially useful—until you remembered that the Full-Star Realm cultivators he’d faced in Lock Interspace were not the same as the ones outside.

Zong Cheng Ping was called the strongest Full-Star Realm cultivator here, but he was still a lockforce cultivator. Outside, starforce Full-Star Realm cultivators had more complete methods, stronger arts, and strange starforce attributes—like Frost Splendor starforce.

If Wang Jie ever ran into a Full-Star Realm expert with a special starforce, he couldn’t claim he’d win.

The formation scroll cost two hundred thousand starstone.

He bought it without hesitation.

By the time he was done, the one hundred and eighty starsea stones he carried had dropped by forty.

He still needed one thing: a strong defensive Chen Artifact.

Thunder Well and Deepweight Star had taught him the value of defense the hard way. Even if a Chen Artifact couldn’t truly sync with him, if it could block an attack, it could save his life.

But with his current wealth, he could only afford a second-tribulation Chen Artifact.

He searched for days, hopping planet to planet, scanning markets and private stalls.

Nothing suitable.

There were third-tribulation defensive Chen Artifacts—but they started at four million starstone. Completely out of reach.

If he’d known, he might not have bought such an expensive ship.

—

In Black-White Heaven, there was a place called Zhi Upper Realm.

It was the domain of the Ding Chen Zhi family. Outsiders—even Hundred-Star Realm powerhouses—had to apply for permission to enter.

At that moment, Zhi Xing Xue sat with her expression cold as winter.

Across from her sat three people: two elders, one man and one woman, both white-haired with youthful faces, and a young woman standing behind them, smiling faintly at Zhi Xing Xue.

The old man sighed dramatically. “Great-Aunt Ancestor, please don’t make things difficult for us. We juniors don’t have it easy either. The resources you requested are far too precious. The younger generation waited so long for their turn. If you take them, how can we explain it? Please don’t put us in that position.”

The old woman beside him nodded, tone gentle but firm. “Great-Aunt Ancestor, you’ve been away for a long time. The family’s resources are not what they used to be. The war on the Star-Cloud Battlefield never stops. We are struggling as well.”

She spread her hands. “If Great-Aunt Ancestor insists, then… I’ll take some from my own share and offer it to you. How does that sound?”

Zhi Xing Xue’s face remained unreadable. “No need.”

The elders smiled as if they’d won. “Great-Aunt Ancestor is reasonable, as expected.”

Then the young woman behind them spoke, still smiling. “Oh, and there’s something we should report to you first.

“Some of the people you brought back are quite unruly. They stole a seventh-grade tool from a master on the edge of Zhi Academy.”

Zhi Xing Xue’s gaze snapped to her. “What did you say?”

“It’s true,” the young woman said smoothly. “You can investigate.”

Zhi Xing Xue didn’t speak, but the air around her seemed to chill.

The elder continued as if nothing had changed. “Because this involves Great-Aunt Ancestor, we suppressed the matter. But please, educate them. They come from a small place and don’t understand the rules. Even if we don’t use certain items, they are not something outsiders are allowed to take.”

Zhi Xing Xue stood and left.

Behind her, the two elders exchanged a glance and smiled, utterly unconcerned.

Outside, an old crone followed at her side, voice trembling with anger. “Master, they’re clearly provoking you. The resources you asked for aren’t even much—only enough for Hundred-Star Realm cultivation. And they still refuse.”

Zhi Xing Xue’s eyes were sharp as knives. “Investigate the claim about Zhi Academy. They say someone stole a seventh-grade tool.”

“What? Impossible,” the old crone spat. “A master who can forge a seventh-grade tool is no weakling. How could a few disciples steal from him? It’s targeted—nothing else.”

She gritted her teeth. “You’ve been away too long, Master. Even little juniors dare to trouble you now.”

Zhi Xing Xue’s voice turned cold. “Without old geezers backing them, they wouldn’t dare.”

Then her gaze flickered, darker. “In the end, it’s about who holds the right to speak. I’ve been away too long. The elders from my era are gone. Only you remain.

“I returned only wanting a quiet life.” Her lip curled. “Yet everyone insists on dragging me into nonsense.”

The old crone gave a rueful smile. “After all… what you did back then wasn’t exactly—”

She stopped, unsure how to finish.

Zhi Xing Xue didn’t need her to. “If they’d come to me directly the moment I returned, I could have bowed my head. I came back with my head down anyway. I wouldn’t have cared about losing more face.”

Her eyes turned icy. “But now? Are they worthy?”

She straightened. “I’m old. But I’m not dead.”

The old crone’s anger brightened into fierce satisfaction. “Good. If you won’t bow, then we fight. After all, you’re Star-Refining Realm.”

Then she hesitated. “Master… there’s also a message for you. It’s signed Wang Jie.”

Zhi Xing Xue’s eyes widened. “Wang Jie? Why is he contacting me?”

Her first thought was that he’d gotten into trouble too.

Most of the Frost Splendor Sect disciples she’d brought had gone to Zhi Academy—the ones with less promise. Some had gone to Great Chen Mountain.

Only Wang Jie had gone to Lock Interspace.

That kid wasn’t easy to bully. In a place like Lock Interspace, he should be far from weak.

The old crone said, “He claims he obtained a treasure in Yi Sword Heaven and wants to present it to you.”

Zhi Xing Xue stared for a moment. “A treasure… for me?”

“Yes.”

Zhi Xing Xue rose. “Come. I want to speak with him.”