LOST CULTIVATION METHODS

The dawn sun spilled golden light across Kavan's Gate City, casting long shadows over the merchant stalls and bustling crowds.

Jin stood near the stable, arms folded, watching the new slaves he'd purchased being organized and checked by Gorvan and Riven.

Over 200 men and women, many of them bruised but alive, some still with a spark of spirit in their eyes. It was a worthwhile investment—but it still felt heavy.

Valeria needed hands to build, fight, and heal. But Jin didn't just want laborers.

He wanted people who could call his city home.

"Make sure the young ones are assigned to lighter work," Jin said to a handler. "And don't brand anyone. Those days are over."

Riven raised a brow but said nothing. She was beginning to see a different side of her city lord. Not just the warrior. But the builder.

Just then, the crowd shifted, and Jin's gaze locked with a trio of robed figures entering a high-end tea house across the street.

Alliance leaders.

He recognized them immediately: Lord Maelis of the Ironblade Syndicate, Lady Velessa of the Northern Frost School, and High Monk Fen, the bald schemer of the Silent Temple. All three had been part of the delegations that Jin humiliated back in Valeria.

Their eyes met his.

Their stares were cold, calculated.

Jin simply smiled and gave them a small, sarcastic bow.

"Enemies in silk," Riven muttered.

"Let them stare," Jin replied. "If their ego can't recover, it means I'm still in their heads."

They turned toward the Red Lantern Inn. Jin needed rest before the return journey. But fate, as always, had different plans.

The next morning, the group set out at dawn, leading a caravan of carts filled with supplies—food, clean clothing, medical herbs, and alchemy kits.

The freed people walked in disciplined rows behind the wagons. Riven rode at the rear, her bow ever ready.

Gorvan marched at the front, like a wall with legs.

About 40 kilometers into the forest trail, the birds fell silent.

"Ambush," Jin muttered.

Arrows flew. Blades flashed. Trees exploded inwards as attackers wearing dark green cloaks swarmed from all sides.

Riven leapt off her horse, nocking three arrows at once. Gorvan bellowed, meeting a charging brute with his shield and slamming him through a tree.

Jin drew the Fangblade, its spirit whispering.

"Time to feed me."

"Gladly," Jin hissed.

He activated his Dragon Scales, letting them coat his arms. Blood Demon instincts surged within him—but he controlled it, keeping his mind sharp.

They fought for twenty breathless minutes. When the dust cleared, a dozen attackers lay dead, others fled into the undergrowth.

Riven checked her quiver.

"Mercenaries. Not beasts."

"Hired to delay or kill us," Jin said. "That tea house wasn't just for show."

They pressed on. He wouldn't let a few blades stop him now.

By the time Valeria's walls came into view, the sun was dipping low.

Civilians gathered to greet the newcomers. Word had spread. Survivors were welcomed like family. A few even dropped to their knees, thanking Jin with tears in their eyes.

He smiled, weary but satisfied.

Yet something stirred uneasily within him.

Later that evening, as he sat on a wooden platform vetting the new arrivals for skills, potential, or medical needs, a name on a parchment made his heart pause.

"Subject 114: Female, age 18, formerly noble class, skilled in etiquette and sword dance."

He looked up. His eyes widened.

"...You."

The girl stood still, head bowed. Her hair was shorter now, her clothes dusty. But he recognized her immediately.

The runaway princess.

The one who fled the palace the same night of Molana's first failed assassination plot.

"Princess Alisa," he whispered.

She flinched.

Riven stepped closer. "You know her?"

"She's... royalty. Or was."

Alisa slowly raised her eyes. They were tired, but determined.

"I ran because I knew what Molana was planning," she said softly. "But I couldn't stop it. I was useless. I didn't want to die in a silk cage."

Jin studied her for a long moment, then stood.

He walked forward, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

"You're not a slave," he said. "You're a survivor."

She blinked fast, trying not to cry.

"You'll serve in Valeria's culture division. Help organize festivals, school programs, and recordkeeping."

"You trust me that easily?"

"No," Jin said with a smirk. "But you survived hell to stand here. That's worth a chance."

Riven gave a low whistle. "You're getting soft, Lord Jin."

"No," he said, glancing up at the stars.

"I'm just choosing what kind of world I want to build."

That night, the fire burned bright in the central square. Jin sat with his generals and wives, sharing food, laughter, and new plans.

He knew the beast hordes would return.

But this time...

He wouldn't just survive.

He'd be ready.