“Kid, don't even think about getting that Purple Star Ghostgrass!” Zhao Feng, an outer disciple of the Qingyan Sect, blocks Shen Qingxuan at the foot of the mountain, his face full of contempt. Purple Star Ghostgrass appears once every hundred years and is remarkably effective at helping Qi Refining cultivators break through their bottlenecks. Shen Qingxuan had hoped to try his luck, but he hadn't expected to run into this obstacle first. He's only a low-level rogue cultivator in the early stage of Qi Refining, an ant in the eyes of sect disciples like these. The Purple Star Ghostgrass will mature in just three days. If he gets there late, there won't even be scraps left. Shen Qingxuan rubs his chin, a glint flashing deep in his eyes. Three days? That's plenty. He's no pushover for just anyone to bully. “The Misty Forest is full of danger, and the Purple Star Ghostgrass is guarded by Blazing Wolves. It's not something just anyone can get,” says Old Sun, a hunched old man at a roadside tea stall, speaking in a low voice. His cloudy eyes gleam with cunning. “Zhao Feng relies on the Qingyan Sect's backing to bully rogue cultivators wherever he goes. Honestly...”
