Chapter 52
Chapter 52: I’ve Never Seen Anyone This Poor
Zhou Xiao nearly jumped when she saw Han Tian come back holding a black pig.
“Holy shit—what are you carrying?” she blurted out.
Han Tian lifted a finger. “We’re live. Watch your mouth. It’s a black wild boar. I found it in the woods. It was injured.”
Zhou Xiao leaned in, eyes widening. “A wild boar? It’s so black I almost didn’t recognize it. Damn!”
Then her tone turned bright, almost delighted. “How did you know I was craving pork? I haven’t had roast suckling pig in forever.”
The piglet in Han Tian’s arms started trembling like it understood every word.
Han Tian laughed. “Look at that. It gets it.”
Zhou Xiao swallowed again, absolutely unashamed.
Han Tian continued, “I fed it a Blood-Replenishing Pill. The wound’s healed. I can’t waste my pill, so I’m bringing it back to raise for a while. Besides, I’ve never seen a boar this black. I checked the demon beast encyclopedia too—nothing like it. It’s rare.”
Zhou Xiao’s eyes bulged. “What? You fed it a Blood-Replenishing Pill? That’s worth a low-grade spirit stone! You spendthrift!”
“It’s fine,” Han Tian said. “I’ll gather more wild spirit herbs and sell demon beast materials. Worst case, I’ll buy points from Fan Gu Zhou.”
Zhou Xiao sighed dramatically. “The System hasn’t even opened a cash shop, and you’re already playing like a paying player.”
Any big shot looked like a big shot anywhere.
By now, the barrage wasn’t even fighting about whether the stream was real.
The “effects” were so convincing you could watch it like a TV series.
“Hahaha, I’ve never seen a boar this black. It’s so lively. Which VFX company did this? This tech is insane. If Chinese films had this, would we still be unable to make a good cultivation blockbuster?”
“And what was that pill? One bite and the wound healed right in front of us. That’s not scientific at all.”
“I knew it. The first thing I thought was roast suckling pig.”
“Let’s see what kind of trick the streamer is selling.”
The visuals were exciting, but the journey itself was boring.
Han Tian’s group spent most of their time trudging along. Even novelty wore thin.
After the initial explosion of attention faded, the viewer count dropped hard. Still, the stream held around a hundred thousand online viewers.
Which was still terrifying.
With that trending topic, Han Tian had essentially rocketed into livestream fame overnight.
If he kept this quality up, plenty of people would follow—even if they treated it like a show.
Of course, some stayed with a different obsession: they swore they’d find a flaw.
Meanwhile, the people investigating the stream in the real world were already sweating through their shirts.
Han Tian didn’t care about any of it. As long as there were viewers, his livestream task was done.
And while Han Tian’s side was a long, dull march—
Wu Da Hu and the other players had found a very different landscape.
They left earlier than Han Tian’s group, taking the newly arrived Daoist priest with them. To chase double points, they pushed their spiritual qi to travel faster. When they were nearly drained, they rested briefly, then continued—until they entered the broad region of First Mountain.
Here, First-Rank demon beasts appeared frequently, just like when Song Jiu Lai had first arrived.
Wu Da Hu and the others found something that didn’t belong in this area: the corpse of a First-Rank demon beast, a toad snake.
They halted.
Because beside the corpse sat a young man meditating, restoring spiritual qi.
He wore clean white robes, simple and elegant, with peach blossoms embroidered at the collar.
Wu Da Hu’s group didn’t recognize him, but they’d heard of that mark.
A disciple of Peach Blossom Sect, from the neighboring county.
His aura made it obvious—he was stronger than them by at least a rank.
Sensing their presence, he opened his eyes at once.
He looked young. At this stage on Yun Zhou Continent, most disciples were around A Wu’s age—fourteen or fifteen at most.
He stared at the four unfamiliar cultivators who had suddenly appeared and frowned slightly.
Cultivators had a natural grace about them, subtle but real. Even the ones who tried to hide it couldn’t fully.
Except these four.
They stared too openly, measuring him up with eyes that carried a faint sleazy edge. It made his skin crawl.
Were they planning something?
Before he could speak, the “Daoist priest”—a plain-looking man with a strange air—stepped forward and performed an awkward cupped-fist salute. “Senior Brother, we are disciples of Flying Sparrow Mountain Longevity Sect. Did you kill this toad snake?”
The young man’s brows tightened.
His name was Lv Rong Yu, and he was suddenly a little speechless.
On Yun Zhou Continent, the gap in cultivation wasn’t just theory. Lower-level cultivators usually avoided higher-level ones. It was rare for someone to walk straight up like this—unless they were acquaintances.
And the way these four looked at him was, frankly, rude.
But he had a good temper. He didn’t bother scolding a few juniors.
Besides, Longevity Sect? He’d never heard of it.
His reply cooled. “Is there anyone else here?”
The Daoist priest’s eyes gleamed. From the moment he entered the game, he’d been amazed by everything. Now, seeing a real cultivator up close, he could barely contain himself.
Even NPCs had this much personality?
This game’s intelligence was insane.
Still, he’d read enough cultivation novels to understand rank differences.
And Lv Rong Yu didn’t look like a cruel person.
So the Daoist priest pressed on shamelessly. “Senior Brother, are you heading to First Mountain?”
“…” Lv Rong Yu stared. “Yes.”
The Daoist priest scratched his head, acting embarrassed. “Senior Brother, we’re here to train too, but we’re not familiar with the route. Could we follow you to First Mountain? Once we reach an area with demon beasts around our level, we’ll split off.”
Lv Rong Yu nearly choked.
Who went out to train without even knowing the road?
“Did you come out to train without memorizing the route?” he demanded, disbelief sharpening his voice. “So reckless, and you still dare travel? Doesn’t your sect have a Master guiding you?”
The Daoist priest gave a helpless, honest-looking smile. “Senior Brother, to tell the truth… our sect has only a Sect Master and one Senior Brother. No Masters. Even for training, we’ve been asking for directions the whole way.”
Wu Da Hu and Ma Little Bird exchanged a subtle glance.
Damn. That lie was smooth.
Lv Rong Yu’s eyes widened slightly.
He’d seen poor sects.
But poor to this extent?
He’d truly never seen it.