In modern society, whether cultivators or demons and monsters, all have blended into the city, restraining each other. Several major sects even have their own industries among mortals—after all, resources nowadays are not what they used to be. In ancient times, a cultivator could refine a flying sword by seeking out iron ore and collecting the essence of metals, jade, and other materials. Now, all mineral resources belong to the state. Want some? Fine, pay for it. Truly, without money, even an immortal can’t get by. As for supreme natural treasures, they were long ago scoured clean by the major sects over thousands of years. Cultivation has an extremely poor cost-performance ratio; often, a spiritual herb that has grown for a thousand years is devoured in a few bites by a cultivator. Too many monks, too little gruel! If one ever appears by chance, a fight to the death is inevitable—David lost his life for just such a reason.

After preparing the cinnabar, he drew a Concealment Talisman on his chest to hide his aura, stuck a Swift Talisman on his leg, and James Clark quietly made his way toward the source of the disturbance.

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“Youngster, you’ve gone too far!”

The python spirit was furious. For the sake of a five-hundred-year-old ginseng, it had been chased for over a thousand miles by two fourth-generation disciples of the Shushan Sword Sect. It had originally been a white python deep in the mountains, absorbing the essence of sun and moon, cultivating for over two hundred years, finally shedding its original form and transforming into a human. In the Tianshan Mountains, it discovered this mature ginseng, and had just picked it, preparing to consume it, when it ran into the two Shushan disciples who came to snatch it. Though its cultivation was more than double theirs, their magical flying swords were simply too formidable. The man and woman were both around twenty; the man wielded a cyan flying sword, its azure light stretching several meters long, and the woman’s sword light was purple. The two beams of purple and cyan light intertwined, shredding the demon aura to pieces.

“Heavenly-born spiritual medicine must not fall into the hands of evil demons!” The young woman was tall, with willow brows and a delicate face, dressed fashionably—a true city beauty!

“Junior sister, why waste words with him? Just kill him—it counts as slaying demons and upholding justice.” The young man, full of arrogance, said impatiently.

“Ha! Ha! What a righteous sect—killing and robbing, yet making it sound so noble!” The python spirit laughed in anger.

“Courting death!” the young man roared.

“Twin Swords Unite!” the man and woman shouted in unison.

Instantly, the power of the purple and cyan lights surged, twisting toward the python spirit. The air shrieked with a piercing wail, rippling as if space itself was being torn apart. The python spirit’s face grew grave. With a strange cry, it spat from its mouth a jade-green orb the size of an egg—its painstakingly cultivated demon core!

Boom! Sword and core collided! A massive burst of energy exploded, and three figures were blasted ten meters away. The python spirit’s face was ashen; its lower body, which had been two human legs, now reverted to a giant white snake tail! Its cultivation had regressed by at least half! The python spirit gave a bitter smile, looking at the unconscious young woman and the young man who was propping himself up with his sword, a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth.

Both sides were gravely wounded. With a flick of its tail and a gust of demonic wind, the python spirit fled! It was no benevolent being—originally, it wanted to finish them off, but feared the young man’s dying counterattack. Besides, fighting in the city, even in the suburbs, would hardly escape the notice of other cultivators. After a quick calculation, it decided it wasn’t worth it—and vanished!

Seeing the python spirit flee, the young man breathed a sigh of relief, retrieved his flying sword knocked away by the demon core, and went to check on the young woman’s injuries. “She’s fine, just knocked out by the shock. Damn python spirit, to have injured both me and my junior sister—once we recover, I’ll gather a few more senior brothers, and if I don’t skin that beast alive, I, Brian Cooper, am no man!”

As he was plotting, a sharp pain struck his chest. Brian Cooper looked down to see a yellow flying sword with black spots piercing through his chest—he couldn’t breathe! Brian Cooper turned his head with difficulty, vaguely seeing a black-clad, masked figure, and then fell into endless darkness.

Originally, James Clark’s strength was far below Brian Cooper’s, but after Brian Cooper’s fierce battle and serious injuries, plus James Clark’s deliberate concealment of his aura and a sneak attack, he succeeded in one strike. He quickly collected the two flying swords.

He searched the bodies: two wallets, a secret manual, several pieces of jade. In an instant, everything was taken—less than a minute! Someone was coming! Two Swift Talismans slapped on his legs, and James Clark made a clean getaway.

He quickly used an array to seal the spiritual energy of the two flying swords, took a long detour, then went to an internet café in the city for a while to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Only when dawn broke did he leave the café and return home.

Killing and stealing treasures—one must be careful with such things! If the victim’s sect found out, they’d probably grind his bones to dust! Back at his place, James Clark was thrilled—what a haul! After a moment of excitement, he calmed down. James Clark began to think: he was just an ordinary person on the surface, so suspicion likely wouldn’t fall on him. As for the loot, there was no rush to use it—better to wait until things cooled down. He packed away all his usual talisman papers and cinnabar.

For the next month, James Clark did nothing—no cultivation, just running around the antique market, doing business, eating, sleeping, living like an ordinary person. Better safe than sorry, James Clark thought. A month passed quickly—nothing happened. The second month, James Clark cautiously resumed his cultivation at night. Another month passed—still nothing. Only then did he relax.

Indoors, James Clark picked up a sword as clear as autumn water, two feet long, its entire body radiating a cyan glow, and examined it carefully.