Li Yuhuan was stunned. She had imagined that Feng Chen Haoran had not encountered Feng Qi, but it seemed she was mistaken.
Noticing her shock, Chen Haoran smiled once more.
"Oh? Oh? It seems I've uncovered a little secret."
Li Yuhuan stood up and fixed her hair, returning to stand before the mirror. Meanwhile, her fiancé merely stared at her with a knowing smile.
"Did you two do something together? Did you betray me?" the young man asked.
Li Yuhuan was momentarily dazed, but she managed to compose herself and replied,
"No. He came to me, and I told him there was nothing left between us. We talked for a while and… well, he started crying and ran away."
"Oh? A man like that crying? Hahaha, that sounds amusing. And then? What else?"
"That was all. We didn't do anything. Isn't my word enough?"
Her gaze turned cold as she looked at the strange man before her. At times, he was gentle and attentive; at others, he seemed like an incarnated demon. Li Yuhuan was in love with him, yet this unsettling behavior filled her with fear and doubt.
"Well, fine. Since my woman says so, I can relax… I was afraid of being made a cuckold," he said with a smile.
Li Yuhuan watched him leave the room. Once the door was locked, she let out a deep sigh. Looking into the mirror, a sorrowful expression slowly formed on her face.
Meanwhile…
"This is this month's revenue, and this is last month's… an increase of 12%. What do you think, sir?"
The man speaking respectfully was Feng Zongyuan. With a hesitant expression, he constantly glanced at the man before him. They were inside the Pagoda, both seated as they reviewed documents, signatures, and revenues. The elderly man carefully examining every detail was Feng Shidao. His expression was neither good nor bad—simply that of a businessman assessing the situation.
"Business in the city increased by about 38% compared to last year, but here it exceeded all my expectations. My congratulations, my son. You truly are excellent at management."
The old man did not smile; he merely praised his son. Though grateful, Feng Zongyuan remained uneasy. His father was known as a punctual man who followed the law, but those who truly knew him understood that he was far more than that—a fanatic for the Feng Clan, willing to do anything for it.
"Father, there are reforms I would very much like to implement here. As you know, we need to make this village more like a city. There are still many straw and wooden houses. I'd like to discuss an investment proposal with you. We could repay it within five years."
"Hm. How much are we talking about?"
"Well… let me see."
Feng Zongyuan rummaged through piles of papers, opened drawers, and checked shelves.
"Here… this amount."
The old man examined it carefully, stroking his long beard back and forth. His son began to feel nervous.
"Fifty thousand gold coins?"
"Y-Yes. More or less. To be precise, around forty-eight thousand, but we rounded it to fifty, in case there are additional expenses. This would allow us to rebuild the village and increase production. It also includes renovating our machines and tools, hiring new servants, and even refurbishing our commercial outpost in Qingyao City."
Feng Shidao compared one document after another, thinking silently. Feng Zongyuan grew increasingly anxious—he was counting on part of that money to open a new shop in the city. If all went well, profits could rise dramatically within a few years.
"When you mentioned this yesterday, I imagined it would be a bit more."
Feng Zongyuan immediately broke into a smile.
"So, what do you think?"
"One hundred thousand gold coins. Do what needs to be done, and leave the rest as reserve. You'll need it."
"O-One hundred thousand gold coins?! Are you sure, Father?"
"Yes, yes. Don't worry about our capital—it already exceeds millions of gold coins."
"Yes, Father. I'll send a letter to the Treasurer at once."
Feng Zongyuan was ecstatic. Fifty thousand gold coins was already an enormous sum, but one hundred thousand? After all investments, he would still have fifty thousand remaining.
He quickly wrote a letter and attached it to a mysterious bird. The command was given, and the bird flapped its wings—yet there was no sound, no movement. It simply vanished from sight. This bird was a gift from Feng Shidao himself. It was magical, far more powerful than a Qi Refinement cultivator. Its ability was to conceal its presence, invisible even to Core Formation cultivators. Bound to Feng Zongyuan through a Blood Pact, it was both reliable and terrifying.
Once finished, the tension returned to the table.
"Well… what did you mean when you said you were close to pulling out the weeds?"
The old man stared at the wall, his expression cold.
"Isn't it obvious? That boy should have died long ago. You waste resources and space on someone who killed his own father. He should've been expelled ages ago!"
The old man was clearly referring to someone. A bead of sweat rolled down Feng Zongyuan's face.
"Father… he is your grandson."
"So what? To me, he is nothing but a nuisance. If it weren't for his damned mother, everything would've gone as planned… just thinking about it makes me furious!"
Stacks of papers were crushed effortlessly in his hands. Feng Zongyuan said nothing—those were merely copies.
Swallowing hard, Feng Zongyuan knew his father had once orchestrated a plan to elevate the Feng Clan's status, all hinging on a political marriage involving one of his sons and the eldest daughter of Qingyao City's Lord.
"That filthy woman—poor, disgusting, eating dirt off the ground—wanted to climb into our clan by marrying my useless son!" the old man snarled. "Because of that, my plans were ruined. But at least I got rid of her. And her son will be buried sooner or later!"
Feng Zongyuan kept his head lowered, not daring to speak while his father was in such a rage.
"By the way, where is he? I noticed he didn't attend the Celebration. He must be up to something."
"Well, he's been visiting my office for some time, asking about commissions. When Merchant Xing came to the village, he used his savings to place an order."
"An order? For what?"
"He seemed interested in cultivation… trying to find a way to learn it."
"Cultivation? That?""Hahahahahaha!"
The old man's laughter echoed through the Pagoda, loud enough to catch the attention of someone passing by.
"The only thing that trash knows how to do is crawl like his mother, waiting for a chance to stab someone in the back. If not for moral constraints, I'd hunt him down and kill him myself!"
"Please calm down, Father."
Feng Zongyuan sighed deeply, gazing out the window at the clouds.
"Oh? I heard laughter as if the greatest joke in the world had been told. I came to hear it too."
A voice suddenly echoed through the office. Both men turned toward the corridor.
"Feng Chen Haoran… what do you want?"
Zongyuan clearly disliked him. He would rather deal with Feng Qi and grant him countless benefits than interact with this individual—something about him sent chills down his spine.
"Uncle Zongyuan, distant as always. I merely came to greet the esteemed leaders," he said, wearing his usual arrogant smile.
"Show some decency and respect. It's Feng Zongyuan—the clan surname comes first, brat!"
Zongyuan found the address deeply disrespectful, but his father stopped him.
"He may speak as he wishes. He's stronger than you. You're not even a cultivator. In this world, only the strong are heard."
Feng Zongyuan's eyes widened, his heart sinking. His own father defending an arrogant youth over a capable administrator?
"Father… I am his uncle. The least I demand is respect—especially from family!"
"Stop clinging to outdated rules. Culture is not law nor absolute truth, don't you agree?"
Feng Shidao's gaze was icy. It was obvious whose side he was on.
"In this world, powerful cultivators are rare, but good administrators are found ten to twenty on every street corner. Excuse me."
With those words, Feng Zongyuan left without another glance. Grandfather and grandson exchanged looks—and agreed.
Once alone, Chen Haoran spoke again.
"Grandfather, I'd like a word."
The old man smiled.
"Speak, my dear grandson."
"There's someone who's been irritating me lately."
Pulling out Zongyuan's chair, the blond-red-haired youth sat down arrogantly before Feng Shidao.
"Feng Qi."
Elsewhere, deep in the forest, Feng Qi was taking a break from work. It was lunchtime, and everyone enjoyed hot, well-prepared food. Yet Feng Qi was so absorbed in cultivation that nothing else mattered. The night before, he had broken through and become an Immortal—his internal energy slowly condensing toward a new threshold.
"Hey!"
Someone shouted. It was a servant named Chen Bao, friendlier than most.
"I know you've become an Immortal, but you still need to eat. If your body fails, it'll be from lack of nutrients. Eat quickly, then go back to what you were doing."
Feng Qi smiled lightly and thanked him. After a satisfying meal, he resumed cultivation.
He realized that he could strengthen a single bodily attribute at will. Advancing to the Second Layer was unnecessary unless he desired it. He had already touched that barrier—what he lacked was insight or stimulation. Until then, he could continue reinforcing his body endlessly.
And so he did.
He refused help, cutting and carrying logs alone throughout the day. By evening, he noticed he could absorb far more energy, refining Qi with increasing efficiency. His strength, endurance, and speed surged rapidly.
People couldn't stop staring. Even after a grueling day, Feng Qi—who worked alone—outperformed ten men combined, all while remaining deeply focused on cultivation.
"Cultivation must be good business, huh?"
"Good? What's good about sitting all day with your eyes closed?"
"Idiot. Didn't you see his strength? Even the two of us together couldn't do half his work."
As they chatted, Feng Qi silently grew stronger.
That night, he slept only three hours before resuming cultivation. His chest burned with ambition. Despite exhaustion and little sleep, his body overflowed with vitality.
"What exactly does this Sacred Jade Armor do? I reached the barrier today. I could've advanced to the Second Layer, but it felt too fast. Is this normal? What are you, Sanskrit? Can you hear me?"
Hanging upside down on a single finger, Feng Qi cultivated throughout the night like a bat, strengthening every part of his body.
"When I become strong enough… I'll leave this place and never return."
As the sun rose, Feng Qi smiled. His progress was undeniable—what once took an hour on horseback now took him twenty minutes at full speed.
"Mmm… today I can finally test my strength."
"Young Feng! Young Feng!"
Someone ran toward him, shouting.
"What is it? Why the yelling?"
"Young Feng, they're summoning you to the Main Hall!"