Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Opportunity

“My name is Liu Ying,” the girl said softly. “I can see the projections in the sky. There’s a sister in one of them—she practices a way of blowing the wind.

“When I got older, I realized it was cultivation. That method… it lets me sense danger carried by the wind.”

Liu Ying looked at Wang Jie with desperate hope. “My brother and the others always took me along. I helped them avoid danger several times.

“But this time, my brother broke through. He didn’t listen to me, so…”

Wang Jie nodded slowly. “But you didn’t sense the man in that house.”

Liu Ying gave a helpless smile. “He was too far above me. Unless he releases a clear aura, it’s hard. The difference is… too big.”

Wang Jie still didn’t answer, and Liu Ying’s jaw tightened.

“Ten tubes of beast blood,” she blurted.

Wang Jie’s eyebrows jumped. She had that much?

“What level is your brother?” he asked.

“Third Seal.”

Wang Jie let out a short laugh. “You think highly of me.”

To everyone else, he was only Second Seal.

Liu Ying’s gaze flicked down—toward his feet, toward the way he stood. “You’re not a bad person.”

Wang Jie’s mouth curved faintly. “I’m not a good person either.”

Even so, he accepted the job. After confirming how she would pay once it was done, he turned and left.

Ten tubes of beast blood was a steep price.

When a mutated beast died, its blood coagulated quickly. Even if you moved fast, you could only collect so much from a single carcass.

Mutated beast blood contained imprint power that cultivators could absorb and refine directly.

And blood wasn’t the only valuable part. Bones, horns, organs, plants—anything that had adapted and evolved could hold cultivatable value. The more disaster materials you acquired, the faster your cultivation would advance.

For cultivators, disaster materials were currency.

For ordinary people, it was gold—barter and trade, scraped together one day at a time.

Jin Ling Base was divided by the massive outer wall. Outside, people dreamed of living within. That wall meant safety.

But inside was divided too, just less visibly. You could tell the boundary the moment you looked down.

Near the gates, sewage pooled and garbage piled, the stench thick in the air. Walk farther in, and the roads became cleaner. The people became cleaner too.

Most telling of all: unless they had to, those living deeper inside never walked outward.

One street’s distance might as well have been a canyon.

Even the air felt split.

Outside was the Wastewater Zone.

Inside was the Clean Zone.

People cursed it, but in the apocalypse, order didn’t hold unless it was enforced. When the world crumbled, lines like these kept the worst of humanity from spilling everywhere.

Wang Jie changed into cleaner clothes, stepped through the sewage at the boundary, and then onto clean pavement. His footprints faded from dark to light as he walked deeper into the Clean Zone.

His home was here.

The Clean Zone had another signature: every road had a name.

That alone had struck Wang Jie, the first time he’d seen it.

He lived at 17 Ming He Road.

A two-story house. From its yard, looking back toward the Wastewater Zone, you could see only ruined high-rises—broken teeth of the old city.

From here, you could barely see the outer wall at all. The towers blocked it.

Wang Jie pushed open the gate.

A small courtyard greeted him—nothing grand, but clean.

A thin young man with a waxy, sickly face lay slumped in a chair, head tilted, eyes rolled back. Blood darkened the corner of his mouth. He looked like a corpse that refused to die quietly.

A thick blanket had fallen beside him.

Wang Jie paused and stared.

Five seconds passed.

Nothing.

Ten seconds passed.

The “corpse” exploded into violent coughing and sat up, hacking so hard he could barely breathe, gesturing at Wang Jie like a man wronged.

Wang Jie walked in. “You do this every time. One day you should actually die. See how funny it is then.”

“Old Boss—cough, cough—don’t be so vicious,” the young man wheezed. “I’m just—cough—setting the mood.”

This was Old Five.

Wang Jie ignored him. “Where’s Old Nine?”

“Upstairs—cough—sunbathing.”

Wang Jie looked up.

On the second-floor balcony, another young man sat with a book in hand, absorbed in the sunlight. His features were refined—handsome enough to look like a scholar from another life.

When he sensed Wang Jie’s gaze, he looked down, smiled, and lifted the book in greeting.

“Old Nine—cough—reads all day,” Old Five complained. “Useless. Old Boss, why don’t you take me out for a walk?”

Wang Jie picked up the blanket and draped it over Old Five’s shoulders to block the breeze. “I think I found something that can heal your internal injuries. Wait for me.”

Then he turned and left.

Old Five blinked. “Uh… Old Boss, I think I’m starting to love the coughing. Maybe we don’t need to treat it?”

Wang Jie was already gone.

Old Five sighed and looked up at Old Nine.

Old Nine shrugged, smiling, and said nothing.

Wang Jie lived at number 17. Number 18 was next door.

He turned right, walked to the adjacent house, and pushed the door open.

Unlike the clean courtyard of number 17, number 18 was sealed and dim. Even from outside, you couldn’t see clearly.

Inside was worse—mess everywhere, debris scattered across the ground.

Wang Jie didn’t react. He crossed the yard, entered the house, and went straight downstairs.

Underground was chaos made physical.

Wires ran in messy tangles along the walls. Strange bones and congealed blood sat in piles. The air stank worse than the Wastewater Zone.

Rows of large tanks filled with green liquid bubbled softly.

From behind broken machinery, a man with an explosive mess of hair popped up, thick glasses swallowing half his face. He wore a white lab coat that had once been clean and was now torn and stained red and black, like someone had tried to paint on it with blood and ash.

He looked like a washed-up man in his forties.

“Please, hurry up and cure your Old Five,” he said irritably. “If he keeps coughing, I’m going to get depressed—and I’m a doctor.”

Wang Jie tossed him the bottle.

The man caught it and squinted. “What is this?”

“Hibiscus Tears.”

“What?” The man jolted. “Hibiscus Tears?”

He shoved tools aside and pressed his face close, eyeing the liquid like it was treasure. “No way.”

Wang Jie watched him. “Can it heal Old Five?”

“It can,” the man said firmly. Then his gaze slid to Wang Jie, his grin turning sly. “Not bad. That’s rare. A mutated hibiscus is nasty. Even the Five Extremes don’t like provoking it.

“Getting this wasn’t easy, was it?”

“It might heal your injury too,” he added.

“I don’t need it,” Wang Jie said.

“Sure? This chance doesn’t come often. You could try.”

Wang Jie didn’t argue. He pulled out the tube of beast blood and the mutated beast tooth and tossed them over as well.

“See if any of that helps.”

The man sniffed the tooth and grimaced. “Disgusting. Useless. Absorb it yourself for cultivation.”

He uncapped the beast blood, smelled it, and shook his head. “Also useless.”

“People cultivate. Mutated beasts cultivate too,” the doctor said, his voice turning lecturing. “Materials change as they grow. Even a day’s difference can change how effective something is.

“If you want to heal Old Nine’s leg, we have to test materials one by one.

“Unless you can get Wolf King’s Three Eyes. Like Hibiscus Tears, it would fix these injuries easily.

“Otherwise? Be patient. Keep trying.”

Wang Jie frowned. “You told me Old Nine was almost healed.”

“He is,” the doctor said with a shrug. “A bit more testing and we’re there. If you’re not in a hurry, keep waiting.”

Wang Jie went quiet, thinking.

The doctor suddenly lifted his head, excitement flaring. “Good stuff. It really is good stuff.”

Then he squinted at Wang Jie again. “Why are you still here, kid?”

“I need a flower grown for thirty-three years.”

“Here.” The doctor grabbed a mutated flower and tossed it over his shoulder.

Wang Jie caught it, turned, and left.

A moment later, his vision shifted. The gray world and the field returned.

He placed the flower into one of the blooms.

It fell straight through.

Wang Jie picked it up, returned to the basement, and set it down. “This isn’t thirty-three years old.”

The doctor stared. “What? Why are you so strict about the age? What do you even need that for?”

“Do you have one?” Wang Jie asked.

“No.” The doctor waved him off. “Go buy it.”

Wang Jie didn’t waste more words. He left.

He glanced once toward number 17 but didn’t go back in.

Instead, he headed toward the Wastewater Zone.

He rarely stayed at this Clean Zone house.

Wildgrass had another home—one that existed only in the Wastewater Zone.

On the second floor, Old Nine watched Wang Jie’s back until it vanished from sight.

Wastewater Zone, Dump No. 3. Fifth turn to the right.

That was Wildgrass’s place.

When Wang Jie returned to Jin Ling Base, he lived there.

But today, there were guests.

He sensed them before he reached the door. He didn’t enter. He raised a hand and knocked.

“You knock to enter your own home?”

A woman’s voice answered. The door opened.

A woman stood there in iron armor carved with delicate patterns. Two men flanked her.

Wang Jie recognized one of them immediately: Hui Zhua, another guide.

Wang Jie’s gaze settled on the armored woman.

Beautiful. Seductive. The kind of woman who belonged in the Clean Zone—not here.

She looked him up and down in return, unhurried and confident.

“Who are you?” Wang Jie asked calmly.

Hui Zhua stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Big clients. They want to go out and capture a Snow Colt. You know it, right?”

Wang Jie’s eyes widened. “That really pretty big dog?”

Hui Zhua nodded. “All you need to do is lead us to it. You don’t fight. They do the capturing. The pay is high, and more importantly, you’ll become an exclusive guide for the Zhao Hunting Squad.”

Wang Jie looked at him. “They’re from the Zhao Hunting Squad?”

The Zhao Hunting Squad was local to Jin Ling Base—and strong.

The armored woman spoke, cutting in smoothly. “No. We’re from the Zhao Family. The Zhao Hunting Squad is only one of our businesses. Making you an exclusive guide is a matter of a sentence.”

Her gaze sharpened slightly. “Assuming you can help us find the Snow Colt quickly. And by quickly, I mean within three days.”

Wang Jie frowned. “Why the rush?”

“You don’t need to know.” Her tone made it clear she wasn’t asking permission. “Hui Zhua says you’re Jin Ling’s best guide. Don’t disappoint us.”

She stepped past him, her voice turning colder as she left. “If you fail… don’t bother coming back to Jin Ling Base.”

Wang Jie’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer—neither agreement nor refusal.

As the woman passed him, she added casually, “If you’d walked in without knocking, this opportunity wouldn’t have been yours.”

Then she was gone.

Hui Zhua patted Wang Jie’s shoulder. “East gate. Tomorrow morning.”

He hurried after them.

Wang Jie watched their backs, thoughtful.

Zhao Family.

If they were leaving tomorrow, he had preparations to make.

He shut the door.

First, he needed to buy a flower.