The Windwalk Talismans were in high demand. For early-stage Qi Condensation cultivators, they were equally practical for fleeing mortal peril and crossing vast distances, meaning there was never a shortage of eager buyers.

In a single morning, Xu Changshou sold over four hundred sheets. By the afternoon, he moved another hundred, allowing him to pack up his stall well before dusk.

In just one day, he had liquidated five hundred Windwalk Talismans.

Those five hundred sheets translated to a staggering five Spirit Stones. Inwardly, Xu Changshou was practically vibrating with ecstatic joy.

What did five Spirit Stones mean to a lowly Miscellaneous Disciple? It was equivalent to five grueling months of his official Sect stipend.

Of course, even after this windfall, Xu Changshou still held seven hundred Windwalk Talismans in reserve.

He had spent three months tirelessly grinding his brush, producing a grand total of one thousand three hundred and fifty sheets.

After submitting his required quota of one hundred and forty to the Sect and selling five hundred, he had exactly seven hundred and ten left.

Xu Changshou ran the numbers; seven hundred talismans perfectly covered his quota for the next five months.

For the next five months, he intended to enter Secluded Cultivation.

While mass-producing talismans was incredibly lucrative, he could not lose sight of the Great Dao. Wealth was merely a supplementary tool to fuel his cultivation.

If he became blinded by profit and missed the golden window for Foundation Establishment, he would be doomed.

Although a Qi Condensation cultivator boasted a lifespan of a hundred and fifty years, their true "golden age" spanned a mere three decades. If one failed to reach Foundation Establishment before their thirtieth winter, the bottleneck would harden with each passing year. By the age of fifty, attempting the breakthrough was virtually impossible.

There was an ancient proverb in the cultivation world: A struggle at thirty, severed at fifty.

The meaning was brutal and absolute.

Xu Changshou knew his own spiritual roots were painfully mediocre. Therefore, he had to employ every ruthless, desperate method available to force his way into Foundation Establishment before he turned thirty.

Returning to his dao-field, Xu Changshou didn't utter a single word. He immediately sealed the courtyard's defensive Formation and commenced his Secluded Cultivation.

In the blink of an eye, two months evaporated.

During these two months, aside from briefly emerging to submit his monthly quota and prepare mundane rations, Xu Changshou essentially vanished from the world.

Upon reaching the seventh layer of Qi Condensation, the spiritual density required for the next breakthrough surged exponentially, and his cultivation speed slowed to a frustrating crawl.

He estimated that even while gorging on Qi Gathering Pills, it would take him an entire year to breach the eighth layer.

Currently, he refined ten Qi Gathering Pills a month, requiring a hundred and twenty pills to sustain a year of focused cultivation.

His current stash of resources was already beginning to stretch thin. Fortunately, his monthly Sect stipend would help bridge the gap.

The resources might barely suffice, but time was bleeding away. In three months, his buffer of Windwalk Talismans would be depleted, and he would be forced to resume his brushwork.

Sitting in the quiet of his courtyard, Xu Changshou finally comprehended the sheer, crushing despair faced by ordinary Miscellaneous Disciples.

Without the bottomless coffers of an established cultivation clan to support them, a common laborer simply could not reach Foundation Establishment.

Even for those born into minor clans, the wealth hoarded over three generations was rarely enough to successfully nurture a single Foundation Establishment Grand Cultivator.

How difficult was Foundation Establishment? It was harder than scaling the azure heavens!

"Time to hand in the quota," he muttered.

Xu Changshou pushed open his courtyard gates and stepped out, immediately crossing paths with Yang Bailao, who was also carrying his monthly tribute.

The two journeyed together to submit their tasks.

Once the ledgers were stamped, Yang Bailao grabbed Xu Changshou's sleeve with a wide smile. "Junior Brother Xu, tonight is the night. I'm taking you to Senior Brother Zhong's Retirement Ceremony."

The so-called Retirement Ceremony was the final gathering where a broken cultivator, having surrendered to the century-long grind, hosted a banquet for their Fellow Daoists before returning to the mortal dust.

Xu Changshou frowned deeply at the invitation. "I must decline. I need to cultivate tonight. I won't be attending Senior Brother Zhong's ceremony."

He barely knew Zhong Xiuping. There was absolutely no logical reason to waste precious hours of cultivation on a stranger's farewell party.

Yang Bailao's smile vanished, his face hardening into a strict scowl. "Junior Brother Xu, what kind of nonsense are you spouting? Do you understand nothing of worldly affairs and Sect etiquette?"

Xu Changshou scratched his head, feigning awkwardness. "Senior Brother Yang, I'm just not familiar with him. I'm afraid my presence would be..."

Yang Bailao's tone softened slightly, though his gaze remained stern. "Junior Brother, let me be frank. Every single Miscellaneous Disciple on Green Ink Peak will be at that ceremony tonight, regardless of whether they know him or not. Even Uncle-Master Li will make an appearance."

"This isn't about being 'familiar.' This is the way of the world. It is the unspoken rule of the peaks."

"Think about it. If you refuse to honor others when they depart, what happens when your century is up? When you hold your own Retirement Ceremony and find an empty hall, how will you bear the shame?"

"This..."

Those words struck Xu Changshou dumb. He violently wanted to retort: I am going to reach Foundation Establishment. I will never hold a pathetic Retirement Ceremony.

But he swallowed the words. If he voiced such arrogance, Yang Bailao would treat him like a delusional fool.

Upon careful reflection, he realized the grim truth. For the vast majority of these laborers, nothing in their miserable lives would ever surpass the joy of finally escaping this mountain after a hundred years of servitude.

Therefore, a Retirement Ceremony was a sacred, monumental event for the lowest caste of the Cultivation world.

Even a mighty Foundation Establishment Grand Cultivator might one day face the decay of their lifespan and return to the mortal realm. After all, how many possessed the unyielding confidence to form a Golden Core?

Comprehension dawned on Xu Changshou. He quickly adopted a sheepish smile. "Senior Brother is entirely correct to scold me. I will most certainly attend Senior Brother Zhong's Retirement Ceremony."

"That is how it should be."

"By the way, Senior Brother Yang... is it customary to bring a gift?"

"Naturally."

"What is deemed appropriate?"

"Whatever your heart dictates."

"Understood. Senior Brother Yang, we shall go together tonight."

"Mm!"

"I will see you later, Senior Brother!"

...

Throughout the daylight hours, Xu Changshou maintained his meditative trance.

When night fell, he accompanied Yang Bailao to the paper workshop.

Zhong Xiuping's assigned duty was guarding the paper stores, his dao-field was situated within the workshop, and fittingly, his Retirement Ceremony was hosted in the adjacent halls.

By the time they arrived, one of the side halls was already packed to the brim.

Every laborer from Green Ink Peak had gathered, mingling with several of Zhong Xiuping's close acquaintances from the neighboring peaks.

"Congratulations, congratulations!"

"Congratulations, Senior Brother Zhong, on escaping this sea of suffering!"

"Congratulations on laying down your armor and returning to the mortal realm!"

At the center of the hall stood Zhong Xiuping, draped in a vibrant, crimson Daoist robe. He was swarmed by well-wishers, constantly accepting their praises and modest gifts.

Yang Bailao led Xu Changshou through the throng. Reaching the elder, Yang Bailao withdrew an intricately carved jade pendant. "Senior Brother Zhong, this Spirit Jade can calm the mind and ward off foul energies. Perhaps it may serve as a protective talisman for one of your mortal descendants."

"You have my deepest thanks, Junior Brother Yang."

Zhong Xiuping patted Yang Bailao heavily on the back. The younger man's eyes grew visibly red.

To Yang Bailao, Zhong Xiuping was both a mentor and a confidant. The old man's departure left a hollow ache in his chest.

"Senior Brother Zhong... congratulations," Yang Bailao whispered, grasping the elder's hands. His voice was thick with a messy blend of sorrow and profound envy.

"Please, take a seat, Junior Brother Yang. Do not stand on ceremony tonight."

"Senior Brother Zhong, a small token from your junior."

Xu Changshou stepped forward, presenting two bottles of Qi Replenishing Pills.

Zhong Xiuping offered a subtle nod of appreciation. "Many thanks, Junior Brother Xu. Please, find a seat and make yourself comfortable."

"Senior Brother Zhong, congratulations!"

"Senior Brother Zhong, a trifling gift for your journey."

"Senior Brother Zhong! It has been too long!"

The tide of guests swelled, every single one bearing a parting gift.

For an event hosted by the lowest rung of the Sect, it was staggeringly grand.

"Uncle-Master Li has arrived!"

"Greetings, Uncle-Master Li!"

"Good evening, Uncle-Master Li."

"Uncle-Master..."

The crowd parted as Li Daotu strode into the hall. He approached Zhong Xiuping and casually tossed him a jade vial. "Martial Nephew Zhong. Ten Spirit Gathering Pills. A small gesture for your road ahead."

Zhong Xiuping caught the vial, his hands trembling as he bowed deeply. "This disciple thanks Uncle-Master Li for his boundless generosity!"

"Heavens, actual Spirit Gathering Pills!"

"As expected of Uncle-Master Li... what a terrifyingly lavish gift."

"Spirit Gathering Pills are true treasures..."

...

"It seems our esteemed guests have all gathered."

Surveying the hall packed with friends and peers, Zhong Xiuping raised his hands, signaling for silence.

"I welcome you all to this humble Daoist's Retirement Ceremony. I offer my deepest respects."

Zhong Xiuping bowed low, saluting the room in all four directions. When he straightened, his eyes were misty with heavy emotion. "I have walked the Dao for a hundred years. The dream of Foundation Establishment proved to be just that-a hopeless dream. I have squandered my life in mediocrity, and looking back brings only shame. Yet, for all of you to gather here to honor this useless old man tonight... it is the greatest glory of my life."

With Zhong Xiuping's final words, the banquet officially commenced.

The remainder of the Retirement Ceremony left no lasting impression on Xu Changshou.

His only takeaway was the sight of several weathered old men drinking themselves into a stumbling, swaying stupor.