I slipped in silently while they were still speaking, my timing precise enough that neither of them sensed anything amiss.
The farming robe's concealment effect wrapped around me like a second skin, swallowing my presence completely.
Erasing my spiritual signature, my scent, even the sound of my breathing.
I didn't rush forward carelessly.
Rushing was how mistakes were made.
How people got caught.
How they died.
The two bandits walked ahead of me, their footsteps echoing faintly as they followed a narrow corridor carved directly into the stone.
The walls were damp with moisture, slick to the touch.
The air was thick and oppressive, filled with the scent of mold, accumulated sweat, and something darker.
They turned left at an intersection, then right at another.
Then they descended a flight of uneven stone steps that spiraled steadily downward into the earth.
I followed silently, my footsteps making no sound whatsoever.
At the bottom of the stairs, they passed through an hidden wooden door embedded into the wall.
The moment one of them opened it, noise rushed out like a living, breathing thing.
Shouting voices raised in excitement or anger.
Harsh laughter devoid of genuine joy.
Cursing and swearing in multiple dialects.
The constant clatter of spirit stones and dice hitting tables.
An underground gambling den came into view.
The space beyond was vast, far larger than the modest surface building had ever suggested.
Lanterns lined the ceiling in rows, their dim, flickering light revealing countless gambling tables packed tightly with people.
Cultivators and mortals alike crowded together shoulder to shoulder.
Eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and excessive drinking.
Faces twisted with desperation, greed, or hollow resignation.
Some laughed wildly after winning a small amount, already planning how to spend it.
Most stared hollow-eyed as their last remaining spirit stones were dragged away by the house.
They all thought luck would eventually save them.
That the next hand would be different.
Instead, they were being systematically bled dry.
Coin by coin, drop by drop, until nothing remained.
The two bandits didn't spare the depressing scene even a single glance.
Clearly, this place was familiar territory to them.
They'd seen it a thousand times before.
They moved straight past the crowded gambling floor toward a staircase leading upward to what appeared to be a private level.
Reserved for important people, no doubt.
I stayed close behind them, blending perfectly into the shifting shadows cast by the swaying lanterns.
At the corner of the upper floor stood a secluded cabin constructed of dark wood.
One of the men knocked lightly on the door.
A lazy, indulgent voice answered from within almost immediately.
"Come in."
The door swung open.
Inside, a muscular man with scars on his body lounged comfortably in a wide cushioned chair.
A wine cup dangled carelessly from his fingers, half-empty.
A scantily clad woman sat sideways on his lap, giggling softly as she poured him another drink from an expensive-looking bottle.
His eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, his expression arrogant and relaxed.
The look of a man who truly believed himself untouchable.
Above the law.
He frowned immediately the moment he saw the two men entering.
"What's all this noise about?" he snapped irritably. "Haven't I told you repeatedly not to disturb me over trivial matters?"
One of the men, the short, thin one with a distinctive scar running from his eye down to his cheek, Li Gou, bowed hastily.
"Leader, please forgive this intrusion. It's about a man who is a servant from Jin Shang Hall, Lin Qiang. He owes us a very large sum from accumulated gambling debts."
So he is the leader for these scum, As i stared at him.
The leader snorted dismissively.
"Another useless trash drowning in debt. Why should I personally care about such small matters?"
Li Gou swallowed nervously and hurried to continue.
"I heard directly from him that a wealthy merchant group will be passing through the city soon. They're transporting rare and valuable goods to a neighboring city for sale."
The leader's eyes sharpened slightly with interest.
He looked toward the corner of the room.
There, another man sat behind a cluttered desk piled high with account books and sorted spirit stones.
He was older than the leader, thinner, with calculating eyes that never stopped moving.
He continued tallying numbers in a ledger even while listening to the conversation.
"I've already confirmed the information independently," the man at the desk said calmly without looking up. "I sent the message to the Overseer just now. He replied quickly and ordered us to take action against the caravan."
The leader's relaxed mood darkened instantly at the mention of the Overseer.
"Tch."
He slammed his wine cup down on the armrest hard enough to crack it.
"Of course he did. Always issuing orders without lifting a finger himself. Sitting comfortably while we do all the dangerous work."
The woman on his lap flinched but said nothing.
The accountant continued speaking coolly, completely unfazed by the leader's anger.
"He also specifically instructed us to prepare this month's tribute, both spirit stones and goods. He'll be sending someone to collect them very soon."
The leader's limited patience snapped completely.
He struck the table beside him with his palm.
The solid wooden surface exploded violently into fragments.
Wood splinters flew everywhere.
"Who does he think he is?" the leader roared furiously. "Taking everything we've bled for, everything we've risked our lives for, with nothing but a single message!"
The woman on his lap shrieked in fear and scrambled away quickly.
The accountant calmly waved the two messengers and the woman toward the door with a dismissive gesture.
"You may leave now. We'll handle this."
They didn't hesitate or ask questions.
They quickly left and closed the door behind them.
Once the door was firmly shut, the accountant spoke again, deliberately lowering his voice.
"Leader, please calm yourself. We anticipated this situation. You're already at the absolute peak of Qi Refining, just one small step from Foundation Establishment. Until you successfully break through to the next realm, we must endure this treatment."
The leader clenched his fists tightly but didn't interrupt.
"He's a Foundation Establishment cultivator," the accountant continued matter-of-factly. "And more importantly, he's an inner disciple of the Sun Moon Spirit Sect. For now, we have no choice but to bow our heads and obey."
Then he leaned closer conspiratorially, his voice dropping to barely a whisper.
"But there's more we already know for certain that this Overseer, he's secretly cultivating a forbidden demonic art. One that specifically consumes the blood essence of young, virgin girls to advance."
The leader's breathing hitched audibly.
"Once you successfully break through to Foundation Establishment," the accountant said softly, his eyes gleaming, "we can expose him to the sect authorities or Kill him ourselves. Reveal everything about his forbidden cultivation. Then they won't punish us for our past actions, instead they'll reward us handsomely for eliminating a demonic cultivator."
A dangerous, hungry light filled the leader's eyes.
"After that glorious moment," the accountant continued painting the future, "you can formally request sect discipleship. With your demonstrated strength and these significant merits, they absolutely won't refuse you. Our territory will expand dramatically if you join the sect officially. Our organization's power and influence will multiply tenfold."
Hearing that rosy future, the leader laughed loudly, already lost in his imagined success.
"Good," he said enthusiastically. "Very good indeed."
Then he asked more practically, "Prepare the required spirit stones and goods for his collector. And where exactly will this merchant caravan be passing?"
"Northwest mountain passage," the accountant replied precisely. "At evening mostly, or late at night if they're delayed by weather or other issues. The Overseer also mentioned there may be a late-stage Qi Refining cultivator escorting them as protection."
The leader nodded confidently.
"Hmph. No problem at all. I can handle one late-stage cultivator easily."
Then he suddenly paused, as if recalling something important.
"Hm," he said thoughtfully, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the armrest. "The spirit stones we've been preparing for the upcoming auction, are they all gathered completely?"
The accountant straightened immediately.
"Yes, Leader. A total of twenty-five thousand spirit stones have been collected and secured."
He hesitated for a brief moment, then added cautiously, "Under normal market circumstances, they would sell for twelve to fifteen thousand at most. But this year is significantly different."
"Oh?" The leader raised an eyebrow with interest.
"The Foundation Pill auction," the accountant explained. "The major cultivation families in the city are practically at each other's throats competing. Several old patriarchs are at the very end of their natural lifespan."
"Desperation makes people extremely reckless with money, they will push the bidding price far higher than the pill's actual value."
"And I strongly suspect there will be a complete bloodbath immediately after the auction ends, families trying to steal from each other."
He lowered his voice carefully and ventured, "Leader, why don't you simply ask the Overseer directly for a Foundation Pill? Given your service to him..."
The atmosphere in the room instantly cooled dramatically.
The leader scoffed, his expression turning genuinely ugly.
"Ask him?" He laughed coldly, without any humor. "Do you honestly think that demon would ever give me one freely?"
He leaned forward, eyes sharp and penetrating.
"The moment he senses real ambition in me, any threat to his control, he'll replace me without the slightest hesitation."
Then his voice dropped even further, laced with contempt and warning.
"There was a fool who sat in this exact position before me. He thought the same thing you just suggested. He grew greedy, started robbing farmers indiscriminately, slaughtered people without restraint. He brought unwanted sect attention directly upon our entire organization."
The leader's lips curled with disgust.
"So to avoid a full investigation from the sect, the Overseer killed him personally. Cut off his head with his own hands and presented it to the sect as proof of loyalty and proper management. Even then, that complete idiot thought himself indispensable, believed the Overseer would protect him at all costs."
The accountant's pupils shrank visibly.
He immediately bowed deeply.
"So that's the real reason why Leader strictly ordered us to avoid all unnecessary killings, to maintain a lower profile. Your foresight and wisdom truly surpass ours."
The leader laughed, clearly pleased by the sincere-sounding praise.
"Enough flattery for now. Just continue doing your job well."
He rose to his feet, stretching.
"I'm leaving. Watch this place very carefully. Don't let anything go wrong. And don't leak anything suspicious to whoever comes to collect the tribute."
"I will obey your instructions completely, Leader," the accountant replied respectfully.
The leader exited the cabin, went down the stairs, and gathered some of his men.
They left through a concealed passage at the front of the gambling den, one that likely connected directly back to the surface entrance.
I remained perfectly hidden in my corner.
Waiting.
Watching.
The accountant stood there at the cabin entrance for a while longer, gazing down at the underground gambling hall below.
The flashing lights, the desperate faces, the endless cycle of loss and false hope.
Then he turned back into the cabin, carefully locked the door, and walked purposefully toward a particular section of the wall.
He reached into his spirit bag and withdrew a small token.
With a practiced, familiar motion, he pressed it against what appeared to be a concealed mechanism.
The wall shifted silently inward.
A hidden safe was revealed.
Inside were neatly arranged pill bottles of various sizes, several bulging spirit bags, and boxes containing medicinal herbs.
The accountant chuckled softly, a low, self-satisfied sound.
"That idiot..." he muttered to himself. "He really thinks he's in charge. He actually believes he's the one in control here."
His grin widened as he continued rummaging through the valuable contents.
"If only he knew the truth. I'm the Overseer's real agent, planted here years ago."
His laughter grew bolder, more confident.
"I didn't report his treasonous plans yet only because I was waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment. Waiting for the Overseer to kill him personally."
He lifted a heavy spirit bag, his eyes gleaming with naked greed.
"Five years. Five whole years he's been saving desperately for that Foundation Pill. Once he's finally dead, all of this will become mine. Every last spirit stone."
"Hahaha..."
The laughter stopped abruptly.
Cut off mid-sound.
A thin red line appeared across his exposed neck.
For a single heartbeat, he seemed utterly confused.
His brain couldn't process what had just happened.
Then his head slid cleanly from his shoulders.
It hit the wooden ground with a dull, heavy thud.
His body remained standing for another moment before collapsing.
I dispelled the concealment effect, becoming visible.
Silence reclaimed the room completely.
I stepped forward calmly and methodically picked up the spirit bag from the dead accountant's waist.
Inside were multiple items the Overseer's communication token, the safe's control token, several expensive pill bottles, hundreds of spirit stones...
As I kept checking through the contents carefully, a familiar chime echoed clearly in my mind.
[Congratulations!]
[You have harvested a mid-level Qi Refining cultivator.]
[Random Reward acquired: Tier 1 Talisman Legacy.]
I froze completely.
"Harvested?" I said aloud in disbelief.
For a long moment, I simply stood there, stunned by the notification.
Then memory surfaced from the system description.
Farm and harvest plants, animals...
"I had thought those trailing dots were just a typo," I muttered.
I let out a slow, controlled breath.
"So living beings count as harvestable as well," I murmured quietly. "Even humans can be harvested."
I glanced down at the headless corpse on the floor.
"System," I said quietly, shaking my head, "did you really think I was so naturally bloodthirsty that you didn't bother explaining this mechanism earlier?"
There was no reply from the system.
Only silence.
My gaze fell back to the dead body.
I went through his spirit bag more thoroughly this time.
"Five Tier 1 cleansing talismans, three Tier 1 earth escaping talismans, seven Tier 1 sword talismans, one Tier 2 sword talisman, complete talisman-making tools and instruction books, along with five unused talisman papers."
"So you were a talisman master, huh..." I observed.
I straightened up and looked at the opened safe.
"Now the real harvest has truly begun."