Chapter 23: Counter Every Move, Reverse the Harvest!
The sky was still dim, the east barely whitening with dawn.
Outside the West Mountain Pill Institute, a team of over two hundred people had assembled, ready to set off.
Each person carried a hoe or shovel over their shoulder, a tattered pack on their back, and under Chu Feng’s lead, they marched toward the Black Miasma Forest behind Qingyun Sect.
Not one of them showed the slightest trace of discouragement at being “punished” for labor.
On the contrary, they looked spirited and full of energy—chests out, heads high, steps light and brisk.
Someone who didn’t know might have thought they were going on an outing.
Just as the team was about to leave the Sect’s boundary, a figure suddenly stumbled out from a side path, running after them in a panic.
“Chu… President Chu, please wait!”
The newcomer was none other than one of Li Aotian’s most trusted underlings—the same one who had strutted around the Disciplinary Hall and Mission Hall just yesterday.
“Oh, it’s you.”
Chu Feng stopped, his eyes glinting with amusement as he looked the man up and down.
“What’s the matter? We’re heading out to perform an emergency Sect Mission. If we’re delayed, can you afford to take responsibility?”
The underling felt uneasy under his gaze and hurriedly pulled out a storage pouch from his robe, holding it up high with both hands, his waist nearly bent to the ground.
“President Chu, this was sent by Steward Wang. He said the brothers are heading to clear the Black Miasma Forest—a far and dangerous place—so he specially prepared some Detoxification Pills and Fasting Pills, as a small token of goodwill.”
Chu Feng reached out to take the storage pouch and weighed it in his hand.
It felt light.
The muffled clinking sound of the pills inside told him all he needed to know—they weren’t good quality.
He casually stuffed the pouch into his robe, his movement no different from tossing away a bag of trash.
“Much appreciated.”
Then Chu Feng’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“I’m curious—under Li Aotian, how much do you earn a month?”
The underling froze, stammering,
“T-Ten low-grade spirit stones… and three Qi Nourishing Pills.”
“Not bad.”
Chu Feng nodded, then asked again.
“Did he ever teach you how to cultivate?”
“Did he ever plan a path for your future?”
“Does he treat you as a real brother—or just as a dog he can order around?”
Each question hit like a hammer.
The underling’s face turned pale, lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.
Of course.
When had Li Aotian ever looked at them as people? They were just runners—tools to make him look impressive, the backdrop to his glory.
When he was in a good mood, he’d throw them some scraps.
When he wasn’t, it was curses and beatings.
As for the future? Their future was to be Li Aotian’s dogs forever.
“Look there.”
Chu Feng jerked his chin toward the group behind him—his “family members,” tattered yet radiant with spirit. His voice carried a strange, compelling power.
“Our Ascension Group might be poor now, but we have goals, we have systems, and we have a clear ‘promotion channel.’”
“Here, everyone is a partner of the Group. Everything you do can be exchanged for Contribution Points. Your future lies in your own hands.”
“You’re a smart man.”
Chu Feng’s eyes seemed to pierce straight into his soul.
“So tell me—will you keep being a dog for a moody, self-righteous man for the rest of your life? Or will you join a promising, sunrise-bound team and become a founding elder of a new era?”
“The choice is yours.”
With that, Chu Feng no longer spared him another glance. He turned and waved his hand.
“Let’s move!”
The team marched forward once more.
The underling stood frozen where he was, Chu Feng’s words still ringing in his head.
“Founding elder”… “your future in your own hands”…
He looked up at the receding backs of Chu Feng’s people, then thought of Li Aotian’s sharp, disdainful face.
Finally, he gritted his teeth and stomped hard on the ground.
He didn’t return to report.
Instead, he turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.
He had to contact the others—the brothers under Li Aotian who, just like him, had long grown sick of their treatment.
Every single word Chu Feng said—he was going to repeat to them, exactly!
…
Half an hour later, inside an Inner Sect cave dwelling.
Li Aotian was holding a teacup, waiting for his underling to bring back the “good news” of Chu Feng’s miserable cries.
Instead, another underling stumbled in, rolling and crawling as he shouted:
“Senior Brother Li! Bad news!”
“What are you panicking for?”
Li Aotian’s brow furrowed.
“Is it those useless Chu Feng’s men crying and begging not to go?”
“N-no!”
The underling’s face had gone white.
“They—they were banging gongs and singing songs when they left! They looked so happy—it was like a festival!”
“What?”
Li Aotian’s hand trembled, spilling tea everywhere.
“And… and…”
The underling’s voice shook.
“Senior Brother Zhang, the one you sent to deliver the pills—he… he hasn’t come back! And several of our brothers who stayed in the Sect—they’re… they’re all missing!”
Crack!
The teacup in Li Aotian’s hand shattered to pieces.
He sprang to his feet, a terrible premonition crawling up his spine.
That bastard… had played him again!
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
Qingyun Sect, Central Martial Arena.
This was the heart of the Sect—usually solemn and majestic—but today, it was bursting with noise and festivity.
The annual Grand Sect Competition was about to begin.
Tens of thousands of Qingyun Sect disciples—from the outer sect, inner sect, and even private mountain peaks of various elders—had gathered, surrounding the vast arena layer upon layer.
In the sky, streaks of sword light occasionally flashed by—true disciples and elders arriving by sword flight. Each descent drew waves of thunderous cheers from below.
At the center of the arena stood ten enormous arenas, towering and imposing.
The competing disciples had already arrived early, waiting in their assigned areas in their respective teams.
The most eye-catching among them was naturally the team led by Li Aotian.
His twenty-man squad consisted entirely of Inner Sect elites, the weakest among them at Qi Refining Seventh Level.
Each wore identical white long-sleeved sword robes, carried fine spirit swords, and exuded pride and strength—standing out as a class above the rest.
“Look, it’s Senior Brother Li Aotian! I heard he’s almost reached the threshold of Qi Refining Ninth Level this year!”
“And those beside him are all Inner Sect experts! Is there even any suspense for the team championship this year?”
“That lineup—it’s basically a dimensional crush!”
The surrounding chatter and praise drifted clearly into Li Aotian’s ears.
Outwardly calm, his chin nonetheless lifted slightly, basking in the adoration.
His gaze swept through the crowd like a monarch surveying his realm.
Then, suddenly, his eyes froze.