“Here is young Bubai’s share of spirit stones. Sixty-five. No more, no less.”

  "Uh?!" Bubai woke up in a daze, finding himself in the grand Book Pavilion’s entrance hall and facing the old granny rocking away in her chair.

  What… what’s going on?

  Suddenly, Bubai felt a sharp pinch on his waist and heard the sticky fairy’s whisper urging from his side.

  "Fairy brother, why are you still standing around like a wooden block? Hurry up and put it away!”

  “Oh.” Bubai blinked several times, shaking off the haze clouding his mind and focusing on the spirit stones piled on the old granny’s lone desk.

  That’s right... the transaction.

  Instinctively, Bubai began moving the spirit stones, a few at a time, into the pouch on his waist, conveniently counting them as he did so…

  65. The numbers matched, but… Why does he still have a nagging feeling that something was amiss?

  Sitting at her desk, Granny Shu observed the young man’s befuddled expression with a kind smile.

  “Fufu... if there is nothing else, young Bubai can go take a rest for tonight. Hum, the color on your face really does look worse for wear.”

  Bubai stroked his face and felt his human-skin mask still there. Is his face really that bad? He made sure to provide it with daily maintenance…

  But feeling his mind still in a fog, Bubai nodded bnkly, accepting the old dy’s considerate offer.

  “Then Junior wishes Shu Po Po a good night.”

  The old dy dismissed him with her usual casual wave. Getting permission to leave, Bubai went through the motions to disentangle himself...

  “Good night, fairy.” “Fairy brother, see you tomorrow!”

  ...

  Walking down the quiet streets of the North District, Bubai couldn't shake the feeling of unease that seemed to grow with each step.

  A drop of dew overhanging from his green leaf trickled out into his real dantian, dispersing and sparking crity in his mind.

  His refreshed mind went into overdrive, and he felt his situation was more and more wrong, yet… he still couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was wrong.

  Bubai immediately ran an internal scan of his body.

  Running through his mental checklist, he confirmed that his spores hadn't entered a new stage, nor was there any loss in vitality or lifespan.

  No other anomalies were detected here. Still, the strange feeling persisted… it felt like he was missing something?

  “This feeling…” So familiar. Memory?

  The echoes of his hopes in finding some clues immediately brought his consciousness into his memory space.

  Unexpectedly, there was nothing new in his memory space, namely, no new orbs in orbit. This indicated there were no missing memories for him to “remember”.

  "Am I just overthinking?" Perhaps he was just worrying too much.

  After all, the granny had paid him as agreed. There was no hint of deception or trickery in the payment process. The money was in hand. What more could he possibly ask for?

  Deciding not to dwell on it, Bubai turned his attention to more practical matters at hand.

  Collecting his operation funds had been marked off on his checklist. Now it was time to address another urgent matter.

  Gazing out into the darkness shrouding the sect, Bubai drew in a fresh breath of cool night air and mentally mapped out his route.

  Opening the seamless connection with his storage space, Bubai broke off into a ninja run, his hands trailing behind him...

  To the naked eye, there appeared to be nothing amiss, but keen observers might have noticed faint traces of smoke, while those with sensitive noses may even catch the foul scent dispersing in the air.

  However, Bubai's steady yet rapid running pace minimized these telltale signs at every step, making it difficult for even the passing disciples to detect, let alone the w enforcers patrolling the rooftops.

  While running, Bubai’s mind raced even faster than his legs.

  Undoubtedly, the impromptu night run was really a bit high profile for his liking.

  Honestly, if he could, Bubai would rather avoid this extra rundown by not contaminating his personal storage space. As…

  The ideal option was to handle the corpses in his tower’s dungeon. The towers does come equipped with air circution and purification formations, but...

  Due to the sect’s monopoly over food, cooking in general wasn’t really a thing amongst the disciples… well, except for cooking pills, cooking up schemes, cooking with companions- ahem.

  Anyways, for craftsmen, the South District was their home.

  Thus, any signs of heavy duty cooking, such as pill refinement or… what he’s burning, will draw the scrutiny of others in the residential districts.

  Law enforcers always keep a lookout for lunatics brewing a disaster in a pill furnace, and smoke funneling out from towers or residences was a worrying sign.

  To rub salt in his wound… considering the foul smell resulting from his activities, even if the patrols don’t stop by, neighboring disciples will be the first to compin.

  Plus, for the experienced, cruel members of the sect, the foul smell was a dead giveaway. So, cremating directly in his tower was a no-go. The same applies for most other pces in the sect.

  This left his storage space. Between handing over intact corpses to those chasing his tail and smoking his storage room, Bubai chose the tter.

  So, this trip was a foregone conclusion. Of course, Bubai only gave the pn a green light after taking into consideration the risks. Truthfully, the risk index was rather low.

  If there’s anything worthy of notice, it would probably be the unseen spatial fluctuations left wherever he passes, but the minor fluctuations wouldn’t trigger any significant arms.

  In fact, most cultivators can’t even perceive these fluctuations. Cultivators with special spiritual roots or physiques weren’t like sand that could be easily found.

  From what he learned, those with talent for spatial perception were once-in-a-millennium geniuses.

  A while back, the w enforcers only hunted for him due to the notable phenomena that occurred when he utilized his mysterious formation because that was one of the telltale signatures of spatial disturbances.

  Right now, the minor amount of Qi sucked away into his space didn’t even warrant the attention of most cultivators. At most, they will likely assume he was simply cultivating as usual.

  True to his expectations, on this journey, there were occasional w enforcers giving chase across a couple rooftops, but after confirming there wasn’t anything suspicious, they let him be.

  After all, while Bubai’s running style looked funky, it wasn’t unheard of for disciples to hurry toward their destinations in their own unique ways.

  Running and running, Bubai went from the North District to the West district, weaving through alleys, pavilions, towers… his pnned route skirting through the more isoted, less poputed areas of the sect.

  Not once did his route come close to the walled-off farms or other strictly-guarded locations, lest it draws too many eyes.

  Thus, it was normal for him to attract little attention.

  The w enforcers had better things to do than to chase after a man running out on the open road, while the night-roaming disciples were too busy to poke their noses into the business of a man that had no female companion.

  With nobody stopping him, Bubai’s operation eventually came to an end in the Central District.

  “Whoo.” Exhaling a refreshing breath, Bubai’s consciousness once again checked on his now smokeless storage space.

  Bringing a hand up to his nose, he sampled a whiff of the repced air, confirming its freshness with a satisfied nod, “Vacuuming done.”

  Shutting off the link to his storage, Bubai lifted his other hand to take a simir sniff, only for his expression to immediately sour. “Definitely needs a wash.”

  One hand served as the inlet, sucking in fresh air, while the other acted as the outlet. The inlet was fine, but...

  The unseen spatial force certainly didn’t get paid enough to act as a protective glove for his hand.

  So no matter how fast he ran, as the conduit for the passage of foul air, this other hand inevitably bore the brunt of the contamination.

  Bubai wrinkled his nose in distaste, his hand forming a series of seals.

  Gradually, a cone of water condensed in the air above his hand.

  Shortly after forming, the cone of water shot down at his foul-smelling hand!

  "Puff..." The cone exploded upon impact, sending a rush of cold water gushing through the gaps between his fingers and rinsing his hand.

  Observing the modest effectiveness of his spell, Bubai couldn't help but ruefully shake his head.

  Xiao Lan's Flying Swordfish spell can condense into small swords that can shave the bck jade bed with obsidian-like hardness, while his can only summon a little cone enough for a quick hand washing.

  The disparity was real.

  “Well, at least it’s a spell I can use.”

  There were many other techniques that require sword Qi as a basis. Those… he really had no way of learning unless he resets his foundation.

  As, life isn’t a game. So, that was definitely not happening.

  Reflecting on his limitations, Bubai proceeded to bst his hand several more times with cones of water, diligently rubbing and washing away.

  After a final sniff to ensure the lingering smell was gone, the satisfied Bubai dried his hand on his robe, nonchantly looking around while he did so.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar w enforcer with a billowing ponytail observing him from high up atop the roof of a multi-story pavilion.

  Giku! Officer Ponytail.

  Merlin’s beard! Why does he keep seeing her everywhere?!

  Pretending not to notice, Bubai calmly straightened his robe before leisurely walking off into the byrinthine darkness of the night.

  Well, let’s just say he didn’t run all the way here for nothing. The night was still young. Now that his pockets are fat…

  A plethora of options were opened up for him to py this game of clearing suspicions, and here in the Central District, there just so happened to be a good reason to spend the night on.