The Bounty Hall loomed like a black monolith in the labyrinth of the Blood Abyss Mountain, its jagged architecture a testament to the sect's philosophy: brutal, efficient, and indifferent. As Wei Feng pushed through the heavy iron doors, the air inside grew thick with tension. Cultivators crowded the hall, most of them outer disciples like himself, their auras faintly crackling with suppressed energy.
The walls were lined with glowing obsidian tablets—ranking boards etched with the names of the sect's most wanted criminals. Each name carried a price, a brief description, and a note of their cultivation realm.
Wei Feng approached one of the boards, his eyes scanning the rankings.
Top 10: Nascent Soul cultivators—living calamities capable of leveling cities. Each name was accompanied by horror stories of destruction and death.
Top 990: Core Formation experts, warriors of overwhelming power and experience. While a step below the top tier, they were no less daunting for ordinary cultivators.
Top 4,010: Foundation Establishment cultivators—regional overlords and sect leaders. Dangerous, but not entirely unreachable for those with cunning and resources.
Top 10,000: Qi Condensation criminals. Though the lowest rung, these cultivators were still formidable foes for someone who had barely stepped into the path of cultivation.
Wei Feng's gaze lingered on the lower ranks. These were the targets assigned to bounty hunters like himself—criminals at the Qi Condensation stage, scattered across the region. They were stepping stones for those desperate for merit points and survival.
A woman brushed past him, glaring sharply as she made her way to the registration counter. Her movements radiated confidence, a sharp reminder that many of these cultivators were far more experienced—and ruthless.
Wei Feng exhaled quietly, steadying his nerves as he approached the counter. Behind it sat a disheveled clerk with an unshaven face, his eyes dulled with boredom. Without looking up, the man took Wei Feng's sect token and slid a jade slip across the counter.
"Registering as a bounty hunter, huh?" the clerk muttered, his voice monotone. "This slip has your contract. Two months to complete a mission or forfeit merit points. Fail to pay up…" He tapped his own chest with a crooked grin. "That little parasite in your heart will handle the rest."
Wei Feng ignored the veiled threat, his expression steady. He took the jade slip, feeling the faint surge of spiritual energy contained within. As he imprinted it with his spiritual sense, its contents revealed themselves—a detailed mission briefing.
Target: Zhou Kai, a rogue Qi Condensation cultivator.
Location: Rotten Apple City, a decaying trade hub rife with criminal activity and treacherous cultivators.
Crime: Stealing a secret item from a merchant caravan. The item was rumored to belong to the Moonshadow Pavilion, a minor sect with a penchant for retaliation.
The jade slip provided a brief description of Zhou Kai. He was an unremarkable-looking man in his mid-thirties, with sharp features and piercing eyes that gave away his cunning nature. His hair was unevenly cropped, and a long scar ran from his temple to his jawline, a reminder of his brushes with death. He was last seen lurking in the eastern district of Rotten Apple City, where the underbelly of the city flourished in shadowy alleyways and illicit trade.
Wei Feng slid the jade slip into his robes, his mind already working through the information. Rotten Apple City… it's not just the target I have to watch out for. The whole place is a den of vipers.
The clerk chuckled, noticing Wei Feng's contemplative expression. "First time? Don't worry. You'll either get stronger or end up as someone else's merit points. Simple as that."
Wei Feng offered a faint, cold smile. "I've always been good at staying alive."
Turning away, he made his way out of the hall, the jade slip's details seared into his mind. The Bounty Hall's oppressive atmosphere gave way to the crisp mountain air, and Wei Feng tightened his robes against the chill.
"Zhou Kai," he murmured to himself, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Let's see if you're as clever as your file says."
As he turned to leave, a ripple in the air behind him made him pause. An old man approached, his steps slow but deliberate.
Wei Feng stiffened instinctively, his senses flaring. The man's aura was like a calm sea masking unfathomable depths—steady, but brimming with power. It took only a moment to identify it: the peak of Qi Condensation. For someone like Wei Feng, this was a power he could not hope to contend with.
The old man's appearance was striking. He wore an expensive crimson robe embroidered with golden alchemical sigils, marking his affiliation with the sect's Pill Concoction Peak. His physique was robust—tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular—contrasting sharply with the sagely calm of his face. A faint herbal scent lingered around him.
Wei Feng's mind raced. Why would someone like this approach him?
"Hello, young lad," the old man said, his voice carrying a warmth that clashed with the oppressive atmosphere. "Nervous, aren't you?"
Wei Feng kept his expression neutral, his muscles taut as he prepared for any sudden move. "A little," he admitted cautiously.
The old man chuckled softly. "Relax. I'm not here to make your life harder—quite the opposite, actually." He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "The Peak Master of Pill Concoction Mountain sent me. He thinks it'd be a pity if you died too soon."
Wei Feng's eyes narrowed slightly. "The Peak Master? Why would someone like him care about me?"
The old man's grin widened. "Care about you? Let's not get ahead of ourselves. He has his reasons, and I have mine." Straightening, he brushed his robe with an air of nonchalance. "I'm making an investment. If you survive and make waves, the Peak Master will owe me a favor—and favors from someone like him are worth their weight in spiritual stones."
Wei Feng stared at him, his mind churning. The logic was sound, but the situation felt no less precarious. "So, you're using me as leverage?"
"Smart lad," the old man said with a laugh. "But don't think of it like that. Consider it me giving you a fighting chance to live a little longer. Besides…" His smile turned wry. "I'm bored of brewing pills for arrogant brats who toss around merit points like they own the heavens."
Wei Feng weighed his options. Refusing wasn't really an option—not when the man's presence felt more like a warning than a gesture of goodwill. He nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But I don't want to be a burden."
The old man laughed heartily. "Don't worry about that. With me around, you might just live long enough to see those merit points pile up."
The journey to Rotten Apple City was anything but ordinary. The old man insisted on flying by sword and, to Wei Feng's mortification, tied him to the back like a sack of rice. Dangling in the air with the wind tearing at his robes, Wei Feng clung to the rope for dear life.
"Relax!" the old man shouted. "Lesson one in flight: enjoy the fall!"
Wei Feng cursed under his breath, vowing to never let himself be humiliated like this again. Below them, the lush sect lands gave way to a sprawling swamp. Rotten Apple City emerged on the horizon, a decrepit and chaotic sprawl surrounded by murky waters. The air reeked of decay and filth.
As they landed, Wei Feng stumbled onto solid ground, his legs trembling. "I hate this already," he muttered, brushing himself off.
The old man clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Good! That means you'll fit right in. Now, find your target and see if you can survive this mess."
Wei Feng's unease deepened, but he squared his shoulders. The hunt had begun.