The elderly receptionist scholar dipped his fresh quill into the black ink, his spectacles practically pressed against his ledger as he began evaluating the shining silver tokens resting on the velvet tray. He picked them up one by one, sorting them into precise categories with the practiced speed of a man who had handled millions of cultivation materials.

"Let’s see the breakdown," the old man mumbled, his voice echoing clearly through the quiet valuation zone as he read the standard bounty rates aloud. "For regular scouts, fifty low-grade stones each... For warrior monkeys, twelve hundred low-grade stones apiece... For the Monkey Commanders, fifteen thousand low-grade stones for each set of lower fangs... And for the four fangs of a peak-stage Troop Leader, a flat fifty thousand low-grade stones."

The scholar’s fingers flew across his wooden abacus, the hard wooden beads clacking furiously in the silent hall.

"Let’s verify the totals," the old man chanted, his voice rising slightly in disbelief as the numbers compounded. "Fifty thousand for the Leader... Seventy-five thousand for the five Commanders... Twenty-one thousand six hundred for the eighteen warrior monkeys... Hmm, no scouts present? You didn’t harvest any of the smaller ones?"

"We didn’t bother chasing them down," Ethan replied casually, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. "It would have been a waste of time."

The scholar paused, looking at Ethan over the rim of his spectacles before finishing the final tally on his parchment. "Total sum calculated: exactly one hundred and forty-six thousand, six hundred low-grade spirit stones. Converted to the standard exchange currency of the local treasury... that leaves you with precisely one thousand, four hundred and sixty-six medium-grade spirit stones."

"One thousand, four hundred and sixty-six medium stones?!"

A sharp, collective gasp rippled through the immediate vicinity. The quiet murmurings of the surrounding hunters and low-tier cultivators instantly died out, replaced by intense, suffocating whispering. Dozens of eyes locked onto the velvet tray, filled with raw envy, disbelief, and naked greed.

"Did I hear that right? Over a thousand medium stones for a morning’s work?" a scarred mercenary muttered to his companion, his hand unconsciously drifting near his coin pouch. "That’s more than an independent squad makes in a bloody year!"

"Look who’s holding it... it’s the widow of that dead outer disciple, Mary," another hunter whispered harshly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her trembling form. "A simple local woman walking out of here with a supreme fortune? She won’t survive three blocks before someone cuts her throat for a pouch like that."

Mary’s face drained of color as the heavy murmurs washed over her. She took a step closer to Ethan’s shoulder, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the strap of her bow. To a common family in the frontier town, a single medium stone could sustain them for weeks. A thousand medium stones was an untouchable, legendary fortune—the kind of wealth that painted an absolute target on a person’s back.

Ethan, however, remained completely calm, though his mind was running rapid calculations beneath his relaxed smile. Internalizing the scholar’s words, he realized he had slightly subestimated the market value of the higher-tier beasts. Back at the public mission boards, he had only glanced at the low bounty prices listed for the common scouts and basic warrior monkeys, assuming the climb would be linear. He hadn’t expected the staggering, exponential leap in price when it came to the leadership core of a troop.

The pure spiritual density locked within the commanders and the alpha’s pseudo-core fangs made them elite-tier cultivation catalysts, explaining why the Heavenly Sword Pavilion was willing to pour out an absolute treasure chest to acquire them.

"Well," Ethan said, breaking the heavy tension with a smooth, untroubled chuckle as he looked at the dumbfounded scholar. "It seems the eastern ridge was far more generous than we anticipated. We’ll take the sum in standard medium-grade stones, elder. Pack them tightly."

"Wait here for a moment," the old scholar said, his voice dropping into a tense whisper as he hurriedly gathered the tokens from the velvet tray. He turned and disappeared into the heavily fortified backroom behind the iron grating.

A few tense minutes passed, filled with the suffocating weight of dozens of predatory stars locking onto the two hunters. When the scholar finally returned, he pushed two large, heavy silk bags through the metal slot. The faint, crystalline hum of one thousand, four hundred and sixty-six medium-grade spirit stones radiated directly through the fabric.

Before Mary could even process the sight or extend her trembling hand, Ethan casually reached forward. He scooped up both massive bags with a single fluid motion and securely tied the thick drawstrings directly to his own leather belt. He didn’t offer a single stone to her in public, entirely shielding her from being labeled as the one carrying the wealth.

Before turning toward the exit, Ethan paused. He lazily rested his left palm on the hilt of his plain iron sword. Without drawing an inch of the steel, he slowly turned his head, his vibrant amethyst eyes sweeping across the crowded hall. He locked eyes with every single mercenary, rogue cultivator, and thug who had been whispering in the dark.

Then, his lips curled into a slow, relaxed, and incredibly cold smile.

He didn’t speak a single word. He didn’t release a massive wave of spiritual pressure. But that sharp, predatory smile communicated everything with absolute, terrifying clarity: I am inviting you to try. Come take the stones. My blade is already waiting.

Without waiting for a reaction, Ethan turned on his heel and strolled casually out of the exchange hall, his boots clicking against the stone floor.

The heavy silence he left behind was deafening. The intelligent cultivators in the room immediately felt a cold sweat break out across their necks, their previous greed instantly evaporating into sheer survival instinct. The way the youth had looked at them wasn’t the look of a lucky amateur hiding his fear—he had looked at them as if they were absolutely nothing. Less than dirt.

To effortlessly slaughter an entire troop, the youth had to be far stronger than the Troop Leader, an apex beast that was firmly established in the Spiritual Gathering Realm. What the crowd didn’t know—and what the old evaluator behind the counter was frantically trying to calculate in his head—was Ethan’s exact stage. Was this crimson-clad monster in the early, middle, or peak stage of the Spiritual Gathering Realm? Or perhaps... was he already half a step into the legendary Spiritual Core Realm?

Only a true Spiritual Core Realm master would have the absolute confidence to mock an entire room of hunters like that. But powerhouses of that caliber didn’t loiter in the frontier resource halls; they were deep within the inner sanctuaries of the Heavenly Sword Pavilion, fiercely maintaining their reputations. For an elite master of that level, a thousand medium stones simply wasn’t enough wealth to risk their status or face by committing a sloppy back-alley robbery.

-------------------

From this moment forward, to avoid confusion regarding cultivation ranks, I will include this footer with the current established levels.

Note: These are only the ranks mentioned so far to avoid spoilers.

Body Refinement Realm

Skin Refinement / Bone Refinement / Organ Refinement

Spiritual Gathering Realm

Spiritual Perception / Spiritual Mist / Spiritual Condensation

Spiritual Core Realm

Core Solidification / Core Awakening / Spiritual Collapse (Half-step Spiritual Core)

Spiritual Soul Realm 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Spiritual Soul Awakening / Soul Nourishing / Soul-Core Fusion

Golden Core Realm

Prime Fusion / Core Perfection / Core Destruction

Spiritual Sea Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Dao Manifestation Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Spiritual Transcendence

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??