Eighteen silver zhu was enough for Lu Zhaoye to buy his first batch of body-tempering medicine. The price was carrying an urgent delivery along an old courier road that no one else would take.
The travel permits had not yet been banned, but rainwater was flowing uphill, and the stone steps beneath his feet were sinking.
He had only two years of delivery experience, an old knife, and a Trace Mirror that could replay twelve breaths of events he had personally witnessed.
Find a way to survive, earn his pay, buy cultivation manuals, and train deadly moves. He would turn the dangerous roads others refused to take into the foundation of his own success.
But the higher his cultivation and the bigger his business grew, the stronger the people blocking his way became. The Merchant Alliance wanted to force prices down, while the sects wanted control of the roads. He had to compete with his rivals for profit and protect what he and his partners had earned.
Starting out as a deliveryman others could push around in Qingshi Wharf, Lu Zhaoye wanted to reach a day when he could decide his own fate and choose his own path.
