As the night faded and drowsiness took over, Luo Chuan couldn't help but yawn deeply.
After a quick rinse, he went straight to bed without bothering with the lottery. That could wait.
A dreamless night passed.
The next morning arrived swiftly.
Awakened by his internal clock, Luo Chuan opened his eyes on time, still slightly groggy.
It didn't take long for his mind to sharpen. Right—he was back at the Origin Mall.
He got up, dressed, and washed up. A standard morning routine that took over ten minutes.
As he made his way downstairs, Luo Chuan began to think.
What should I do about breakfast today?
Forget it. I'll just make do with Wind Immortal Tower.
Yao Ziyan should be back in a few days anyway.
Having made up his mind, Luo Chuan pushed open the door and stepped outside.
Referring to Wind Immortal Tower as a mere fallback option would have left most Nine Stars City residents utterly speechless. After all, for ordinary cultivators, even setting foot in that place was a privilege.
But then again, Luo Chuan's standards were on a completely different level.
As the proprietor of Wind Immortal Tower, Zuo Wanjin had been enjoying a rare stretch of peace and comfort.
Ever since the discovery of the ancient ruins, most of the powerful cultivators—including the Great Emperor and Bai Lao—had departed for the site. The city's pressure had lifted like a heavy fog vanishing at sunrise.
Only a handful of high-ranking experts remained stationed at the Imperial City.
With fewer powerhouses around, Zuo Wanjin finally felt like he could breathe again.
In the entire Nine Stars City, Wind Immortal Tower—being directly under Ji Wuhui's jurisdiction—held an unshakable position.
For the past few days, every time Zuo Wanjin walked down the street, he felt as though the world itself had yielded to him.
He had spent so long treading on eggshells, cautious not to offend the flood of powerful cultivators who had poured into the city. Now, for the first time in ages, he felt like a king.
Today, he intended to enjoy every moment of it.
Early that morning, Zuo Wanjin had dragged a specially crafted recliner outside and positioned it at the entrance of Wind Immortal Tower. The recliner, a spiritual artifact reinforced to support his impressive weight, creaked but held firm.
He leaned back, squinting into the rising sun.
The world was quiet. The streets were calm.
Perfect.
"Good morning, Tower Master Zuo!"
"The host is basking in the morning sun!"
"Haha, haven't seen you in a while. You're looking good, Senior Zuo"
Customers entering the tower greeted him with cheerful respect. No one dared bring up his weight—Zuo Wanjin was notoriously sensitive about it.
Zuo Wanjin didn't respond to their greetings. He kept his eyes half-closed, chin slightly lifted, exuding an aura of supreme detachment.
But inside, he was absolutely reveling in it.
He basked not in the sun—but in the reverent attention of the crowd.
Until—
"You just gonna sit there in the way like that?"
A calm, flat voice broke the stillness.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Everyone turned toward the source of the voice, their eyes wide in disbelief.
Who was this young man?
Who dared speak so casually—so rudely—to Zuo Wanjin?
Zuo Wanjin, for his part, was still soaking in the warmth of the moment. But as the words registered, his eyelids twitched.
Did someone just mock me?
He opened his eyes, fury already surging. Who had the nerve—
And then he saw the speaker's face.
His anger evaporated in an instant. His expression did a complete one-eighty, faster than any cultivator's footwork.
It was hard to believe anyone's facial muscles could shift so drastically, so quickly.
"Se-Senior?! Why are you here?!"
Zuo Wanjin scrambled to his feet. The recliner groaned under the sudden shift in weight, as though it had reached its limit.
His face was plastered with a flattering, almost fawning smile.
But beneath his lowered eyes hid something deeper—an immense reverence. Awe rooted in fear and respect.
Luo Chuan had returned.