Authentication

Having witnessed the Main Soul's transformation of form, one naturally understood it.

Tu Shan Jun, however, felt no such thing. He looked himself over from top to bottom. The black Daoist robe woven from Baleful Intent fit him far more snugly. He brushed back the long hair at his forehead and casually tied it into a topknot.

Then, while the dawn was still faintly breaking, he left the orphanage through its back gate and headed straight into the streets.

He had previously asked Third Sister about shops that bought pills.

Across Fifth Street stood Rongqing Ward.

It had a complete marketplace.

When he had set out, the morning light had only just appeared. After walking for some time, however, daylight had long since brightened fully.

Brilliant golden light spilled down without restraint, driving away the heaviness and darkness of the night and sweeping clean countless old ailments. Amid the interlacing light and shadow, the wheels of puppet-beast carriages crushed the morning mist.

Silence faded, replaced by roaring bustle.

Tu Shan Jun felt that he had finally walked out of the urban village.

Though only five streets lay between them, the scenery was worlds apart.

At the orphanage, he had felt as though he were still in a village. Now, he had squeezed into a great city. Buildings of varying heights stood row upon row, their scales-like arrangement supported by transit mechanisms that made them seem especially majestic. The shadows they cast pressed down like enormous beasts.

The passing cultivators gathered into a human tide. Most hurried past with urgent expressions, while a few forced themselves to stay alert despite the exhaustion written across their faces. Their auras were mixed and chaotic, making one wonder for a moment—were these truly the immortal cultivators who once soared high above the earth?

Tu