Two men, one short and one tall wearing black robes and white masks left the small village behind, somewhat unsatisfied with their results. They tracked an injured core development staged cultivator here, most likely trying to lay low until his injuries; he was an ideal subject for their test.

The short man raised his head towards the sky as if exasperated before saying, "It was a little disappointing. Although the power is not bad, it disperses too far. It's good for crowds of nobodies, but against those above the nascent realm I don't think it will do much."

The tall man quietly agreed. The powder was able to kill the cultivator, but it took a bit longer than expected which he believed was because of how dispersed it became. For smaller villages with weak or no cultivators it was devastating, however, for what they needed it was still a bit lacking.

"Indeed it is a bit disappointing. The materials to make it are not so cheap either. We've been able to store a large number of the ingredients but they'll run out if we don't use them wisely. I don't want to continue with these wasteful tests but we have no choice. We'll only get one chance when the time comes. It needs to be perfect"

The short man was also tired. This was already their seventh village. Each test led to an improvement but they were limited by time. "So what do we do then? That bastard will be going into closed-door cultivation in less than a year. If we don't strike before then it's impossible to tell when he'll come out again and how powerful he'll become."

Thinking about the time restraint gave the tall man a headache. There would be a ceremony before the closed-door cultivation, the perfect time to destroy the entire family. However, this would only be possible if they were able to condense the powder further to the size of a large hall instead of a village.

"For now we'll pressure that alchemist. I don't think we have enough time to find someone as skilled as him to take over. Also, he's quiet. He doesn't ask questions which is exactly what we need."

It was true, secrecy was of the utmost importance and the alchemist was quiet, never even asking their identities. "Alright, let's meet up with him then. Two, maybe three more failures is all we can afford. We'll make it clear he cannot continue to fail." After a brief pause the tall man replied, "Then let's go."

Two blurs shot out down the dusty road before turning towards a mountain pass. It was a long trip but with their cultivation, it would only take a few hours. Behind them, lay just another silent village of desiccation and ash. The victim of a test.

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The old man hummed happily, as he downed one piece of bear meat after another. The meat from the stomach was especially fatty and left a large amount of oil in the pan. However, he did not waste it and used steamed buns to sop it up leaving a layer of grease covering his lips.

It was perhaps the happiest Liang had seen the old man since they met. He, however, was unable to watch any longer. His stomach was feeling unsettled and just the thought of eating the greasy meat made him queasy.

"What's wrong with you boy? Don't you know one of the best things about savage beasts are the way they taste? So crispy, maybe I should salt some of this for later. For an armored bear to have such a soft fatty belly, the heavens love to play cruel jokes."

Liang ignored his words and instead replayed the fight in his head. A lucky strike happened to land on the bear's neck. The old man said he should have pivoted on his left foot when the bear arrived then using a backhanded swing he would be able to slide the sword under the armored plate easily.

The more he thought about it the more unrealistic it sounded. The bear was upon him too quick for him to respond and he was in too much pain to contort his body how the old man showed him. It would also be a weak strike. He was beginning to question the old man's view of reality.

The bear's core was about half the size of Liang's fist, oddly smaller than the eagle core. "Savage beast lineage is what determines the core size" is what the old man told him. He continued to roll it in his hands while staring at it. He held the core from the eagle before but this was the first one from an animal he killed himself.

He wanted to keep it but the old man told him, "Don't be dumb in the head. Once we get to a city, you'll sell that thing. Do you think I'm here to support you forever? Usually the master lives off their disciples not the other way around. Those sect elders they really have it made. I tell you whoever thought up a scam like that was a real genius."

The statement made no sense to Liang so he asked, "Are you saying that sects are a scam? Aren't they places of learning that train people to become powerful immortals."

The old man almost fell over before catching himself replying, "I forgot you wanted to enter one of those places didn't you. Use your head boy. Some old fool close to death just uses them for resources. They're usually one of the strongest people in the area so they'll gather a few followers and call them elders."

"Afterwards they take in hundreds of bright-eyed disciples and call themselves a sect. While sending their disciples off on missions into hidden realms they sit back and cultivate. The disciples will hand over the treasure to the elders, not knowing its true value, and they'll gets a few pills or crap manuals in return."

"That's why all sects are doomed to fail. The elders that join are normally old men and women who are unable to advance on their own any longer. They prey on their disciples, never really passing on a powerful lineage. Over time they become wealthy but grow weak until they're finally destroyed, usually because of infighting and greed."

Liang was unable to accept it. He could not understand how any group could prey on its own disciples asking, "The Warring Crane Sect is over 5,000 years old, how can you explain that? That can't be possible if what you said is true."

The old man scoffed at his words, "Bah, 5,000 years, what would you know. I made it to the seventh heaven by the time I was 5,000 years old. What has anyone done in that sect over the last 5,000 years? What's 5,000 years over the course of one million. Sects are a scam, that's how it is."

Liang could not hold it in and began laughing so hard he started coughing and struggling to say, "Five-thousand years old, you're saying you're over 5,000 years old. Doesn't that make you some kind of relic. Wouldn't you be older than the sect's sacred heirloom?"

The old man's face instantly turned red with anger after Liang called him a relic and sacred heirloom. So angered he stood up saying, "Good, good, you are indeed my good disciple. It looks like that bear wasn't very challenging and you have a lot of energy left. Learning to fight at night is crucial to your development."

Before Liang could apologize, the old man whisked him off several dozens of Li away telling him, "You have until sunrise to come back with five cores. I'll be waiting for a good breakfast." Moments later the quiet forest erupted into a cacophony of noise. He was certain the old man was waking up the sleeping beasts.