10,000x Cultivation: I Gain Power by Adopting Training Acolytes

The spectral remnant's beady eyes darted between Zhang Yun and his disciples like a cornered rat. "Who... what are you?" it rasped, its translucent form flickering erratically. No mere Foundation Building cultivator could dismantle centuries of meticulous planning. This brat had to be a disguised Nascent Soul expert—perhaps even a reincarnated immortal!

"Lingxian Sect's Ninth Elder," Zhang Yun replied, dusting nonexistent lint from his sleeve. "A minor faction, really. Our sect leader's just a humble Nascent Soul cultivator."

"Nascent Soul?!" The remnant's jaw slackened. If this was how the man treated his own sect leader, what horrors awaited a fading ghost like himself?

"Enough chatter." Zhang Yun snapped his fingers. Xu Ming and Wu Xiaopang stepped forward, their palms crackling with draconic gold and tyrannical qi. "Hand over your treasures, or..."

"I have no legacy!" the remnant wailed. "My plans centered on possession! What use are material trinkets to a wandering ghost?"

Zhang Yun's boot connected with the specter's face in a spray of ectoplasm. "Waste of time! Finish him."

The disciples exchanged wicked grins. Golden Dragon Qi and Tyrant's Essence collided in a coruscating maelstrom, reducing the Nascent Soul fragment to dissipating smoke.

"Did we... just kill an ancient powerhouse?" Xu Ming stared at his trembling hands.

"Rotting remnant," Zhang Yun scoffed. "Weaker than a sickly kitten. Search the area—even rats hoard shiny pebbles."

The cottage yielded its secrets under meticulous inspection. Zhang Yun's fingertips traced moss-caked walls until they caught on an irregularity—a hairline gap behind the landscape painting. A twist of the frame triggered hidden gears, revealing a rusted ironbox nestled in the stone.

"Clever girl," Zhang Yun muttered, retreating to the doorway. Azure qi extended like spectral fingers, prying the lid open from ten paces. No traps sprung—just a brittle parchment scroll resting on moth-eaten velvet.

Crackle.

Dust rained as Zhang Yun unrolled the vellum. Faded ink chronicled a dead man's lament:

**[Celestial Path Calendar 1900, Ninth Moon]**​

Stumbled upon this geothermal vein while fleeing that bastard Qianhai's hunters. The earth pulse here could nurture spirit herbs for centuries—a fitting tomb for this old bones.

**[Eleventh Moon]**​

Rot spreads through my dantian. Damn that Thousand Islands poison! If I must perish, let my vengeance outlive me. Soul division complete. Let future fools nourish my resurrection...

**[1901, First Moon]**​

Three-core puppet constructed. Soul anchor brews prepared. May the next trespasser be a suitable vessel...

To whoever reads this—

Slay Qianhai Lao'er of the Southern Star Continent's Thousand Island Sect. In return, I bequeath:

1. Soulbound Puppetry: Three-Core Amalgamation Technique

2. Nine-Cycle Herbology: Forcing Centuries of Growth in Decadal Spans

- Zuo Qiubei, Last Scion of House Zuo

"Two-century-old herbs?" Zhang Yun whistled. The garden's "century" plants were actually double-aged rarities. His earlier harvest just quadrupled in value.

As for avenging some long-dead noble? Not his circus, not his demonic monkeys. But the techniques...

His fingers trembled slightly while studying the puppetcraft diagrams. The three-core fusion method alone could revolutionize spirit tool markets. As for the herbology—

"Master!" Wu Xiaopang's shout echoed from outside. "Found a jade slip buried near the spring!"

Zhang Yun pocketed the scroll. Let history bury its grudges—he'd reap the rewards.